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wondernus · 2 years ago

Text

˗ˋˏ a winter interlude ˎˊ˗

synopsis: maybe this is meant to be an interlude – an unforeseen passing moment in each other’s timelines. but with the stroke of a conductor’s baton, the symphony lands on the fermata hovering above the note. do we allow this interlude to become something longer than a short period in our lives, or do we end it after all of it is over?

pairing: wonwoo x coworker!reader

genre: romance, drama, light angst

tags: children's book illustrator wonwoo, publisher reader, enemies to lovers, fake marriage, food/drinks, work husband jeonghan cameo, small town dynamics, snowed in, scene where reader almost gets physically injured

wc: 11.3k

message from nu: waaaa first fic of the year. special special special thank you to my beloved madi (@heartkyeom) for being my beta reader well after midnight. I also wanna thank mars (@onlymingyus) for being mars c: I remember a while ago I answered an ask with a possible wonwoo work husband spinoff. this is it. this is wonwoo's work husband spinoff. this can be read as a standalone fic. happy winter and happy new year to all of you. I hope you all enjoy this svthub snowventeen collab fic - nu ♡

wondernus's masterlist / snowventeen collab 18+

one

“Don’t forget to wear you layers because it’s about to be chillier as the week passes by. For those trekking into the mountains, make sure you look out for weather updates from the signal tower and stay indoors because a large snowstorm is about to paint the mountains white. Stay safe, and have a great day. Now, onto Yoon Jeonghan with the traffic.”

“‘Trekking?’ What are you? A protein bar wrapper? Anyway, thank you Joshu-"

Never really understanding why other people say they often find themselves turning down the music while driving to see better, you find yourself doing the same – driving in silence as if the silence could create such a frictionless surface that would shoot and propel your car to your destination. A couple of hours late to your annual winter work retreat, a clear understatement defined by the speed at which you are driving, what was supposed to be a carpool event turned into you sitting in a pool of cars while stuck in traffic.

The Sun shines lightly, a gentle kiss against your skin, but not enough to hug everything it touches in warmth. With the heater on high, you sit in your front seat sweating and dreading the moment when you have to get out of your car, thighs peeling off the leather seats and leaving a pool of sweat where you were sitting. Perhaps it is not the Sun and the heater’s heat that causes you to sweat, but a psychological factor – an amalgamation of stress and anxiety that stemmed from the moment you realized you were late.

No longer can you allow yourself to forgive him that easily, yet you really did not want t blame him for giving you incorrect meeting minutes. But when the retreat itinerary clearly stated to meet in the morning at seven in front of the publishing house, you should have known better than to wholly trust your ditzy new intern to attend your office meeting while you traveled out of town to hunt down your author for her overdue speculative fiction novel draft. Instead of writing the correct time to meet, he incorrectly noted the arrival time.

This unprecedented-precedented blip is the catalyst for a series of chain reactions that would metaphorically send you pummeling down the steep side of a mountain in a snowy avalanche that you could have avoided. But you do not know it, nor do you know how it, whatever “it” is, ends.

Dark circles under your eyes and a forgotten paper-thin pimple patch a jolt over a speedbump away from falling off your oily skin, you keep telling yourself that everything will be okay once you get to the camping grounds. Hopefully, this sort of denial could make up for the fact that you spent all of last night kicking your feet under your covers while binge-watching the reality show that your favorite boy group filmed rather than packing for your trip. But there is only so much your heater turned on high can do for someone wearing an old flimsy university tee with a couple of cat teeth-made holes who forgot to put their contacts in last night. You are better off skipping the winter retreat, but you are already nearing the mountains. There is no turning back – especially on winding roads.

And the embarrassment. This feeling of creeping anxiety seemingly washed away the moment it stepped foot into your head even though you are utterly unprepared and inappropriate for being late to the paid work retreat. Because this sudden realization hits you mid-drive: the only person who you would be embarrassed to meet in your current situation is excused for the retreat. Reasons unknown. And not that you would let any man define you, but at your core, you are simply a person with an embarrassingly big fat crush on your co-worker (and seemingly everybody else you work with). This crush is so bad that if HR made every team create their own set of photocards, you would put his in a protective cover with tiny holographic hearts, and then in a sturdy toploader decorated with overpriced stickers. One glance at him would put you in a trance, daydreaming about what it would be like to wake up in his arms on a sunny day with birds chirping outside your window, and him with a soft smile on his face.

Except for one thing – he hates your guts, so you decided to hate his too.

They always say “try, try again,” but how many tries would it take before the attempts turn Sisyphean? Sure, Hades enchanted Sisyphus’s boulder so that it would roll away before Sisyphus reached the top, but what about you? Car tires struggling against the icy roads, you drive carefully so your car does not turn into a giant hockey puck or a curling stone on (what is essentially) a giant ice rink. But being careful does not help the fact that you are unprepared. And being unprepared means your car has absolutely no way for you to drive over any sized slopes, no matter how many times you try.

You only realize any further attempt of going over the slope or taking any other route is fruitless when your tires spin in place after digging themselves well enough into the road. And you slump against your steering wheel like an exasperated character in a movie – pounding your head against 12 o’clock a few times for good measure. So much for a fifteen-minute-saving de-tour through a small town you have never seen before. And so much for you trying to drive over a slope you could easily walk over. Trying sucks.

Still, the only thing that keeps you from abandoning your hand-me-down car to trek forty-five minutes to the campsite is the fact that it is freezing outside, and your cellphone Wi-Fi gets especially spotty when you are in areas of high altitudes. With one final sigh, you push yourself away from your steering wheel to sit upright, leaning the back of your head against your headrest. There is not much to do except to put your car in neutral and try to push your car out of the little hole it dug itself in.

The thing is, the texture of real snow is a lot different from the snow that giant portable snow machines shoot out of their gigantic cylindrical nozzles to cover the courtyard in front of the city hall whenever the local city has its annual winter festival. Real snow is also incomparable to the “snow” a child creates along the perimeter of an ice skating rink, hands holding onto the rails for support while they repeatedly scrape the inside of one of their blades towards the inside of their other shoe, creating soft ribbons of shaved ice before the navy blue Zamboni can create a clean slate before private lessons start.

Real snow is relentless toward anybody who does not come prepared to interact with it. So, no matter how much you try to dig and twist your sneaker sole into the snow, that tactile grip that you wish to create that supports your feet while you are pushing against the back of your car can seldom be created. You slump against your car’s bumper in defeat. The Sun still shining on your skin, a little bit stronger now, leaves you with the same warmth you felt against your skin, a bit tingly and upsetting, when you knew your skin would still burn no matter how nice the cordiality of the Sun felt on that one Spring day in the past.

Plus, there is a little more time to observe your surroundings when you have given up completely.

In the grassy median strip that denotes the entrance into the small town is a wooden welcome sign with the name in loopy golden lettering against a beautiful pine green: “Welcome to Interlude.” A few feet ahead of you, the mountainous road marries smooth concrete, and the sidewalks pave in a festival town-esque brick lining. And you conclude you must be on the outskirts of the town. Leftover snow fills the grooves between each brick and covers the dark-colored awnings in front of each shop along the town strip. Where flashy LED shop signs and brightly colored bulbs decorate sidewalk trees drawing visitors in from around the world, is surprisingly a lack of people. And you frown while thinking about how you would be able to push your car to the side of the road if another vehicle wants to enter the town.

Not a few moments later, a navy blue truck slowly climbs up the road, and you feel the littlest bit of hope surge into your body. Forcing yourself to stand up, you move out of the way and wave at the incoming car. But as your day could not have gotten any more unfortunate, your car starts rolling backwards towards the pickup truck. And you cannot help but see your entire life flash in front of you – a person dressed too lightly for the snow and the used car passing by like a celebrity on a parade float, all in a moment.

What is scarier than the fact that your car is now bumper-less and the pickup truck remains unscathed is the man who hops out of his truck. Looking like a snow-stage boss from a video game, the man who is large and menacingly looking enough to make his shiny dark green car look like a minivan next to him stalks over to you with his finger pointed directly at your face. The only thing missing from the scene is the army of ice ogres that are supposed to follow closely behind him.

However, the only thing you can register is the fact that he is yelling at you – face glowing bright red and spit flying out of his mouth. Your body is frozen in fear. There is a lack of capacity for you to be able to stand up for yourself while you are shocked and unable to recognize your surroundings while terrible words spill out of the man's mouth. And you cannot do anything except take in his expletives while teardrops well up, ready to spill out of your tear ducts.

But they do not. A figure puts himself between the man and you, and your view is too obstructed to see the other side.

“I called the insurance company. Give me your information and I’ll handle it,” the mysterious person says.

“And who are you?” You hear from the other side.

“I’m their husband.” He fishes for his wallet in his back pocket and takes out a business card, handing it to the man between two fingers. “Call me. Email me. Your choice. I’ll get it sorted. Sorry about the whole thing, I didn’t have time to drive my partner. Bad husband right?... So, I heard you’re the new fishing shop owner? I’ll drop by sometime.” He tries to switch subjects to lessen the tension while slipping his wallet back into his pocket.

The thing is, it works. The presence of the man who uses his body to shield you calms the angry pickup truck driver almost exponentially. And the man who yelled at you seemed to forget he was yelling at you just because he realized your marital status. The man calms down, and even falters in his speech.

“Ahh…I’m not a fishing shop owner. I guess it’s fine now that you’re here, but you know men. There aren’t bad husbands, only ba-”

“I’ll be at Town Hall if you need more information from me.” The man who calls himself your husband purposely and curtly cuts the other man off, knowing very well that he would be even more upset if he heard the man finish his sentence.

The man does not turn back to address you until he is done taking photos of both cars and waving the other man goodbye. And your piece of junk car stays in the same spot, bumper-less and bruised, while the pickup truck, clearly without any injury, smoothly makes its way into Interlude, disappearing from your sight.

“You’re just going to dumbly let that man say those things to you? About you? Do you have no respect for yourself?” He lectures you, his deep voice muffled by the black wool scarf wrapped around his neck and mouth.

You see him clearly this time, how his black locks fall in front of his face in neat curtain bangs, set in a defined “C” shape. The oversized fleece-lined collar jacket falls to the middle of his thighs, leaving little room for his cream-colored sweater to peep into view. And his stance, focusing his weight on his right heel while his left foot slightly protrudes forward, allows him to tap his foot against the snow while he waits for you to answer him.

But what is shocking to you is not the code-switching he uses when speaking to the driver versus when speaking to you. What is shocking, you realize, are the thin silver-framed glasses that sit on the bridge of the man’s nose and the familiar deep woody scent that clings onto him, touched with a hint of peach.

It couldn’t be.

A cold chill leaves your tongue dry and squeezes your stomach.

“Are you dumb? Did you not hear about the snowstorm coming?” He asks you, a voice without concern, all while pulling out his phone from one of his pockets.

He tugs his manicured thumbs out of his gloves to wake his phone and proceeds to reveal his face from under his scarf to unlock his phone. After a few loud keyboard taps, you hear your phone’s notification sound from your car. But all you can do is stare back at the man, stomach gurgling and queasy.

“Yn,” your co-worker sighs, clearly annoyed by your lack of response. “Why are you here?”

two

A backpack-wearing piglet who happily crosses the street. A fashionably dressed lumpy toad who rows across the pond in a wooden paddle boat. A shrew who picnics with a chipmunk in a grassy city park. Tiny children who sit between each of a stegosaurus’s scutes. An angry and scruffy-looking Siamese cat who wears a cone too big for it to see. The backside of each illustration states:

Jeon Wonwoo ILLUSTRATOR Same Dream Publishing House Work Email | Work Number | Personal Website

Nicely squared recycled textured card stock printed with soy ink, Jeon Wonwoo’s business cards can very well double as collector cards. And the owner of these cards himself, in your eyes, is the most beautiful man you have ever laid your eyes on. No fantasy writer, no Renaissance artist could ever truly depict how you see this man. Yet it makes you feel terrible, so entirely rotten on the inside, knowing that he would rather crawl up several flights of stairs made of tiny plastic building blocks than take a fifteen-second elevator ride with you.

If you could pinpoint the exact day Jeon Wonwoo started hating you, it would be the Monday after coming back from a previous work trip to the vacation home of a poet the two of you were assigned. The two of you were amicable with each other, even more so – close friends. A power couple in the children’s books and short stories field – a force to be reckoned with. And the hotel rooms adjacent to each other where the two of you decided to sit on opposite sides of your shared door and talk to each other with both your backs against the door. You remember the sound of his hair brushing against the wood and his soft chuckle when you accidentally bump your head against the door. The goodbye after the trip lingered for a little too long while the first hello back never came. And you can only watch from the back of the crowd during meet and greets and panels, sometimes only catching the tip of his tiny flyaway from far away.

It would hurt your feelings a lot less if he turned away whenever you walked near him, but he chooses to frown instead. Unfortunately, it doesn’t make you like him any less. But you do not know what you are holding onto (or if there is anything to hold onto at this point).

Even now, there is a blatant emotional and physical distance between the two of you. He briskly walks at least a meter in front of you, never turning his head back to see if he left you behind or if you were following closely behind.

The thick uncomfortable shoulder strap keeps slipping from your shoulder, unable to find any traction against the smooth nylon of the puffer you put on earlier. And it is just a walk, a measly ten-minute walk to the police station where you can report the accident, but it is hard to walk while looking ahead when you are so close to crying. No matter how much you try to adjust your shoulder strap so it doesn’t stop falling, it finds a way to slip from your sore shoulder or frozen grip. Overwhelming emotions usurp any will to continue onwards and leave you feeling so annoyed, so dejected, and so frustrated with everything that happened today. And when your bag’s strap slips again, you let it slip from your shoulder, sending your entire duffle bag crumpling against the wet and icy brick pavement.

And so you crumple with it, sinking to your knees and wallowing in your unhappiness.

The winter boots that clop in front of you never stop. Jeon Wonwoo would never stop for you, never walk backwards to pick up your heavy duffle and offer you a hand. So it wracks your head trying to understand why he would help you out in the first place, leaving you in the snow once everything was settled, and threatening an IOU coupon for the future. Why he would be in this town in the first place.

The shop window lights of the tiny electronics store to the side of you flicker on. On display and pressed flat against the glass are a bunch of old television sets stacked on top of each other, creating a large screen if not separated by the thick plastic television frames. Golden tempera paint in a modern Serif font exhibits the store’s logo across the glass: “Stay For A While,” in a wide downward pointing arc.

Every single television screen livestreams the local news. According to the subtitles, a giant snowstorm is about to hit the local area. Residents are advised to seek shelter and stay home. The sunny weather is only a farce.

But you don’t notice the news. To you, the only thing in front of you is a lachrymose shadow of a blob trapped in a foreign town with nowhere to go. And your heart follows closely behind the man as if dragged by him on a leash – blindly bouncing, cobbling, and getting scratched by the various pebbles and dirt on the pavement.

The man never looks behind to check on the organ. He doesn’t even know it’s there.

“What do you mean you’re cat sitting? Jeonghan, you never volunteer to do things willingly…Oh, for the friends who are high school teachers? Then road trip with their cat and save your cousin who is stranded in the mountains.” You adjust your grip on your phone while mindlessly browsing through the several knickknacks for sale in the souvenir shop in the town’s only lodge.

Passing the wall of graphic tees and sweaters and passing through a shelf of souvenir mugs, you stop at a shelf of tiny woodcarvings. Your eye lands on a figurine of a whittled cat, hand-painted orange with a white belly. On the other end of your phone call, your cousin complains about the weather, but you don’t listen – clearly too entranced by the tiny cat.

“Of course I listened to the radio this morning,” you mutter while running the tip of your pointer finger against the cat’s ear, feeling the smooth sanded wood under your touch. “Okay, you got me. It was for background noise. Look, I’m not asking you to pick me up today. I somehow ended up booking a room after finding out cab services are down today. But if you’re not going to pick me up then I’m going to hang up and solve this myself. But if you don’t hear from me in three days, then call a search party. Okay?”

Except he hangs up before you can say goodbye, grumbling about how you never listen to him. Still, you’re unbothered by his action. The tiny cat, now in the palm of your hand, looks so content with life, unbothered by what goes on around it. Your mind wonders about its artist, how long they must have spent carving the cat from a single block of wood, the hours it must have taken to create something so tiny yet so fulfilling to own. And you wonder about the artist’s emotions, if they ever felt sadness after parting with their cat. If the cat was the artist’s friend, even for the brief moment, that juncture, in their individual timelines.

It would be best if you left the cat on the shelf, you think. Just in case the artist ever changes their mind about selling the cat. And the cat looks happier sitting on the shelf with its other animal friends, happier than what its painted lazy smile suggests.

And for the first time today, you feel a tiny bit of happiness – a halcyon moment surrounded by forest-themed trinkets and flashing keychains with generic names and soft 2010s pop music playing from the store speakers. That is until you see a familiar figure being escorted to the lobby of the lodge. Curiosity causes you to leave your spot in the souvenir store, edging closer to the creation of a new scene.

“I have a room.” You hear him try to reason with the security guard. “It’s not called loitering if I am a guest.”

You can’t hear the security guard, but it seems like Wonwoo’s bluntness is not a strong enough source of logos for the guard. And the guard stands in front of the illustrator, fully unconvinced that the man wearing a suit and holding his work briefcase would be any other out-of-town guest. And one look of pure panic on Jeon Wonwoo’s stupidly handsome-looking face sends you on autopilot, making your way to his side for no good reason.

“Babe.” You lie through your forced smile while looping your arm around his right arm. “Where were you?”

His arm jerks in the tiniest bit before it relaxes as if he hesitated for a moment before making his decision. Of course, another explanation could simply be because he experienced a negative bodily reaction to your mere presence. Flabbergasted, he would mutter. The nadir of today’s excitement. And you would hate him even more for using vocabulary without incorporating any malapropisms. He is as pretentious as the outfit he wears.

“Baby,” he grits through his teeth. “This gentleman seems to think I’m stalking the halls like some animal out to hunt its prey.”

“Sorry, Sir.” You pout at the security guard, hoping your natural pathos could appeal to the man. “My husband has a tendency to walk around whenever he’s bored. It’s been a while since we went on vacation, and he clearly has too many thoughts in his head. You see his outfit? It’s a bad habit.”

The security guard strokes his chin and nods, eying Wonwoo’s ineffable outfit. He wonders why the man in front of him would pack a business suit for a vacation in the mountains, but he doesn’t want to be the one too quick to judge. Rather, he agrees with the fact that the suit actually fits the man very well. If the man wasn’t stalking the hallways just a few moments ago, he would’ve asked him about which tailor he sees. “If he’s so bored, why don’t the two of you join couples night tonight? Winners get a free bedroom upgrade. And between you and me, I heard there’s a famous author who’s staying with us,” he whispers the last portion, a quick cheeky wink.

You don’t realize that you are still grabbing onto his arm until you dragged him into your room. And he shrugs you off, taking the extra step to smooth out his suit fabric while looking through your vanity mirror before turning to you.

“You have the grip of a snapping turtle,” he scoffs while looking around your room.

It is a standard room with a single queen-sized bed at the center of the room. If it were not for the carpeted floors, the entire room would look like a wooden box from its Western Red Cedar planks that make up the four walls to the wooden paneling that covers the ceiling, giant circular wooden beams that keep the ceiling steady by design. The rooms in this lodge are a termite’s dream feast and an art deco enthusiast’s nightmare. Even the bedframe is made of logs, cylindrical in every piece, and the bedsheets are of deep burgundy red bordered with silhouettes of black bears as if it came straight from the video game your cousin was so obsessed with a few Summers ago.

What catches his eye is not the fact that your duffle bag is thrown across your bed, nor the fact that the lamps in your rooms may as well be oil lamps. Rather, he stares at the door to the right of your mounted television, the divider between your room and your neighbor’s. And you can’t help but wonder what is going on in that head of his.

“You are insufferable, you know that?”

“How long did it take for you to think of that comeback?” His attention is drawn away from the door and aimed toward you. “Just because I compared you to a turtle didn’t mean you had to act like one.”

Your jaw drops and becomes your turn to scoff at him, loudly. You cannot believe what you are hearing, and your breathing becomes shallower as you glare at him. “Are you kidding me? Me helping you literally saved you from being pathetically kicked out by the security guard. You should be happy I didn’t record it and post it online.”

“Like you would have enough followers for it to go viral,” he sneers while taking a step toward you. “And I never asked you for help.”

“Loitering in the hallways? Wearing a business suit when you’re supposed to be at the retreat?” Now there is almost no space between the two of you. And you reach over to his chest, grabbing the plastic nametag that dangles from his neck, and holding it up to his face. The item feels as cold as the person who wears it. “Wearing your work badge? Fine, I’ll admit I have no idea why you’re here. But if you thought that walking around and waiting for some author to come out of their room and have some preplanned accidental meet cute could work, then you’re so wrong. And I’m not going to let you defame our company just because you have no social skills whatsoever.” You let go of the item you’re holding, letting it drop against his chest.

“Okay, I’ll be the bigger man and admit that I was waiting for the author my team wants to work with to show up. But talking about defaming the company? You want me to care about what you say when all of that was coming from someone who would rather let some random man verbally degrade their worth than to stand up for themselves? You’re all bite and no tongue. Just like a snapping turtle,” he says, his face entirely without emotion.

“SNAPPING TURTLES HAVE TONGUES. DUMBASS,” you snap at him.

“That’s exactly what a snapping turtle would say,” he challenges you.

The thing is, Jeon Wonwoo likes to keep things short even though he is not as quick-tempered as you are. He prefers to relay everything he wants to say at once, saving anybody from asking for clarification. Yet, you can feel that Wonwoo only seeks to maim you with his words. Even at your most imperturbable composure with your intern, you cannot stand being alone in a room with Wonwoo once he starts opening his mouth to speak. And stupidly and repeatedly you let his elementary quips affect you like rubbing salt on an open wound. The laceration in your heart.

“You’re so rude Jeon Wonwoo. No wonder I hate you more and more every single day. You’re the single-most worst person in the entire world, and I hate how I once considered us friends.”

He looks like he has something to say to you but mentally drops the notion. Instead, he sighs and makes his way to the door beside your television, unlocking the knob and opening the door. He doesn’t make some offhanded comment about being your neighbor and only quietly closes the door behind him, making sure it’s locked with a tiny click.

three

It is a tiny office breakroom, the kind with a beige refrigerator whose motor is a little too loud, a low-watt microwave, and light green walls decorated with random pen marks from the lodge workers signing up for holiday potlucks. The late afternoon sunlight shines in an ethereal orange glow through the window, casting what could be the day’s last warm ray across the round wooden table in the middle of the room. Central heating runs throughout the building, and the lodge manager sits in the hot seat, his hands folded in front of him while he stares at you and your “husband.”

“Darling?” A nice elderly receptionist on break holds up a bag of mini marshmallows, the tri-colored kinds you can only find in baking stores, and points to it with her manicured finger. “Marshmallow?” she asks you from her place near the kitchen cabinets.

“No thank you,” you reply, your hands wrapped around a warm disposable cup filled with generic brand instant hot chocolate. Gratis, courtesy of the elderly receptionist before the manager arrived to talk to the two of you.

You bring the sugary drink to your lips, blowing softly and watching the steam disappear into the air. The drink itself, velvet chocolate that coats your tongue, is a warm invitation to this little town in the middle of nowhere. However, you cannot help but feel the only thing – or person – that unwelcomes you is the man who tries to angle his body away from you and the manager if the two of you ever cause trouble for your neighbors. Again.

“Look, we’re not going to kick you out. It would be inhumane to kick someone out during a snowstorm. And also we’re all kinda snowed in…actually, we’re super snowed in so nobody is coming in or out at this point. Funny how it was sunny earlier, right? Anyway, word has it that the two of you are married. So why don’t you two take some time to work things out, yeah? I’m no relationship counselor, but this is a small lodge in a small town so word gets out fast. So, seeing how far the two of you are sitting apart from each other, maybe channel that pent up anger into some competitive spirit during couple’s night because we can’t have you two being loud and arguing elsewhere. And I hate to be the bad guy here, but no more calls from your neighbors complaining about the two of you arguing or else we will contact authorities. Alright? Just keep it down and work it out, would ya?”

The manager’s lengthy spiel is immediately followed by silence, although not awkward, but one that provokes thought. And when you sense Wonwoo, being the smartass he is, open his mouth to counter his marriage status, and you immediately kick him in the shin with the heel of your tennis shoe. And he folds like his latest pop-up book, glaring at you while trying not to wheeze in pain. A fake smile and a solemn pledge to not bother the other patrons for the rest of the night are enough for the two of you to be excused from the conversation with the manager.

But not from each other.

How you ended up blindfolded and dizzy with a bat in your hands while Wonwoo angrily yells at you from the sidelines is beyond you. For the time being is what the two of you agreed with, albeit this one is far from Ruth Ozeki’s version. It’s a small promise to try to prove the two of you are more than amicable: attend a few games and activities together with the other couples, attempt to act like a married couple, and dip after an hour.

After twelve elephant spins with your forehead against the baseball bat, you and the other blindfolded contestants try to cross to the other side of the banquet hall in order to smash one of the many squashes on the large blue-colored plastic tarp laid across the floor. And Wonwoo, along with the other separated pairs, barks into the open air in the direction he wants you to move.

The funny thing is, you would expect to hear him call your actual name out of all of the pet names being thrown around, but Wonwoo cannot yell for the life of him, so much to shout your name in public. So even though you hear a bunch of people getting confused with the various forms of “honey” and “baby” being called out, you struggle to find his voice amidst the cacophony of shouts. Once the physical dizziness from spinning around evaporated, you feel a new kind of dizziness from being agitated as an aftereffect of trying to find Wonwoo’s voice in the middle of the crowd. By the time you decide on giving up, the shrill sound of a whistle signaling the end of the game fills the air. Shrugging the blindfold off your face, you look around to see the aftermath. While the other pairs are on the other side of the room surrounded by broken pieces of squash, there is only one man standing in front of you alone and separated from the others.

Your breathing hitches when you realize he’s walking towards you – long, even strides like the romantic lead in a movie. By the time he places himself in front of you, your baseball bat is in his hand while your cheek is in his other.

“It was hard, wasn’t it?” he whispers while looking into your eye.

Except you can’t help but train your eyes elsewhere, unable to look him in his eyes while it feels like your heart is beating erratically. And even though you know very well how he is faking everything, you can’t help but regress to the same you, the same you who is so helplessly in love with the man you hate. The same you who spends every day wondering how did the two of you end up that way.

“You only took the bat from me because you’re scared I might whack you with it. And not going to lie, I was contemplating it,” you mumble.

“It’s okay babe.” He tries to cheer you up, a slight undertone of insincerity in his voice. He continues to ignore your statement. “You did your best. Snapping turtles are slow, but they still manage to survive.”

Ignoring the fact that Wonwoo’s hand is warm because he has warm packs in each of his loungewear jacket pockets (and the fact that he refused to share one with you), someone catches your eye in the distance. Where workers are cleaning up the aftermath of the squash game, a familiar-looking man stands to the side where some lodge patrons flock around him with rectangular objects in their hands. Once you see him turn his head your way, your entire body freezes – Wonwoo’s touch suddenly begins to feel cold against your skin. And Wonwoo, who was expecting you to get mad at him for calling you a turtle, can’t help but notice your state of panic. And he not so subtly turns around to see who could be causing you so much fear.

“Oh my,” he mutters, coming to his realization.

“I can’t believe –” you begin before Wonwoo interrupts your train of thought.

“I hope he rots in hell before he can get his next book deal,” he almost spits at the man from several feet away. He drops his hand from your cheek and takes a tiny step back before taking a deep breath as if he is about to ask you something that he would regret, “Do you mind staying a little longer? I want to make sure chauvinists never win book upgrades.”

“Room upgrade,” you correct him while glaring at the other man from afar.

“What?”

“You misspoke.” You guide your attention back to the man who is, for what you think is the first time, looking at you attentively and without malice. And the fact that he is looking at you amicably makes your brain go haywire, but you subdue your thoughts and continue the conversation. “It’s the ‘room’ upgrade that we’re trying to stop him from winning.”

“Book upgrade or room upgrade, it’s the same thing.” He frowns while tapping the end of the bat against the ground. “It turns out your pickup truck man is the author my team is after. But I’d rather be jobless than to work with someone like him.”

So he works with you, absolutely demolishing the competition during the Dinner and Paint section and loudly cheering for you while you stacked plastic cups. And the way he smiles at you, lovingly and with the glimmer reflected from the ceiling lights contrasted against the cocky attitude he surrounds himself with when one of you wins a game – it almost makes you forget that you’re supposed to hate him. How easily he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly against his embrace so much that his cologne lingers on your clothes, leaves you feeling hopeless. Because the only time Jeon Wonwoo could ever approach you without visibly withering in repulsion is when he acts like he is in love with you.

Outside the cozy lodge, the Sun sets its rays on the heavy layers of snow. While the Earth turns to face the other way, the rays wash the pillowy white crystals in a warm and deep burgundy orange – a warm embrace, a promise to return, before parting for the night. As you clean Wonwoo’s smudged glasses with the hem of your shirt, he sneaks his right arm around your waist while he leans further into his seat as the Couple’s Night host announces the next game. You feel something warm enter the pocket of your jacket and look down to see Wonwoo’s hand back on your waist. The untouched hand warmer gradually feels hotter in your pocket when you gently place your fake husband’s glasses back on the bridge of his nose. He whispers a small “thank you,” and you can only smile back at him with a heaviness in your heart that only you can carry.

The hand warmer feels like it would burn through your clothes at any second.

four

“Team Snowball, what did your partner answer for the question: ‘What is your partner picky about eating?’” The emcee points at the woman sitting next to you who gladly flips her sketchbook around for the other half of the room to see. She squints her eyes, trying to read the woman’s squiggly writing, and smiles when she realizes it’s a match. “Soft grapes? It’s a match. Point to Team Snowball.”

Despite everything going around you, you can’t help but fidget in your seat, the sketchbook’s pages starting to feel damp in your sweaty palms. Wonwoo sits with the separated pairs across from you. He crosses his legs, and his sketchbook lays comfortably across his lap so he can twirl his black marker in his hand. Even when you know you wrote the correct answer to Wonwoo’s food preferences, the two of you are still several points behind the other teams. Your stomach cannot help but feel queasy every time you embarrassingly flip your sketchbook for others to see. Because every single wrong answer about your “husband” whom you love very much feels like a punch in your gut every time you hear snickers from the others around you.

Seafood is your answer; you’re the last to answer this round’s question. You earn a small cheer from the woman reading your answer and a small smile from Wonwoo. He sneaks you a tiny thumbs up, the tip of his thumb poking out of his sweater.

“Next question,” dictates the emcee. “When did you know they were the one?”

It’s an abstract question – one that doesn’t necessarily need matching answers from both sides. Still, you look across to look at Wonwoo, uncertain whether or not he would put much thought into an answer he would have to pull out of thin air. Uncapping his marker with his mouth, he pulls the sketchbook closer to him to scribble down whatever comes to his mind. The action leaves your mouth feeling dry: one, obviously, because he uncapped the marker with his mouth; and two, he was the first to start writing.

Some answers are simple. Some answers are meaningful. Some answers are like yours – “love at first sight.”

Corny, overused, and unusual, your answer is the safest route you knew you could take. And despite how clichéd your answer is – its timelessness, its Hallmark-ability – still garners a series of awws from everybody around you. Technically, there is some truth to your answer. You developed a tiny crush the first time you saw him at the office. Who wouldn’t? He surrounds himself with illustrations of anthropomorphic animals and has a laugh that bellows and fills any room with joy. He made your days brighter by simply existing.

Now, the brightness struggles to navigate its way through the thick fog. And you’re left alone in the cold, the fog’s misty droplets clinging onto your skin.

It’s weird how in this life, time moves linearly, but moments and experiences with others exist in intervals – interludes that we can relive over and over again through memories. Sometimes we experience interludes of happiness, interludes of pain, and interludes where it only seems like there are only two people in this world. But nobody can determine how long these interludes can last and for how long you can try to hold on to these moments before letting go.

“Let’s see if Team Turtle can earn a point. Please show us your answer.”

“I’m kind of embarrassed,” he softly chuckles, voice more sonorous than ever, while standing his sketchbook on his knee.

9 pm is his answer. You, and the rest of the people sitting beside you, cannot help but gaze at his answer in confusion.

It is only when he sees you staring at him he finally clarifies, “When we were sitting in my car eating donuts while the waves crash on the shores in front of us. You smiled at me with pieces of maple donut glaze stuck to your upper lip.”

You. He speaks in the second person and looks directly at you with a soft gaze. It couldn’t be, you think. But it is true, you recognize his diction as true. He’s speaking to you.

And you remember that shared moment in the front seats of his car, the night of the work trip. The donuts were for the poet, but the two of you had the door slammed in your faces before being able to hold a full conversation with the poet. And after an entire day of confusion and apologies, the two of you were finally able to fulfill your portions for the work trip. Who knew that the tiny suggestion of walking along the pier after dinner would turn out disastrous – frigid ocean winds strong enough to blow people away? The clothes the two of you packed were not meant to sustain harsh winds but harsh sunlight – after all, the work trip’s destination is a beach town. So the two of you sat in his car, eating donuts, people-watching, and sharing anecdotes to get to know each other better. It was the type of conversation that you would do anything to prolong its duration, the type of conversation with the right type of person.

“You were so happy,” he finishes.

You were so happy, it echoes in your head.

Are you happy now?

“How about you?” The emcee turns to you for clarification. “Your partner gave us such a beautiful explanation. So, you have to explain your ‘love at first sight.’ Tell us about it.”

“Ohh,” Wonwoo begins awkwardly while giving an equally awkward chuckle. “You don’t have to if you do-”

“I was having a really bad morning.” You smile into your lap and look up at your supposed husband. You don’t know why or how the full day with unease bubbling inside of you dispersed so quickly after Wonwoo’s particular answer. But you launch into your story, letting the words flow out of your mouth like melted snow on a grassy hill under the bright Sun. “A really bad morning. I ended up working overtime and accidentally missed my morning alarm. I had to chase the bus while my hot coffee poured out of its opening and onto my skin. My entire day at the office was a mess because I kept messing up. I felt awful and exhausted. So I worked overtime for the second day in a row to clean up my errors. Someone places hot green tea in front of me, the free ones at the office. There is a doodle of a stingray with the dumbest-looking smile on its face. It looked so pathetic that it made me feel a little better about myself. He says that he accidentally boiled too much hot water and thought to make a cup for me. And then he holds his own up in front of his face. There’s a picture of a cat wearing glasses. ‘You can do it,’ he tells me in a squeaky voice. And he leaves. We don’t meet again for about a month, but his kind gesture pieced me back together. And I held onto his kindness for days.”

He stares at you, a few strands of his hair out of place and in front of his eyes. He doesn’t care to move them back in place. There’s that smile on his face, the exact one you imagined to be on his face that time he sat on the other side of your shared door. Soft coral lips relaxed, but the cupid’s bow is slightly perked as the corners of the lips turn upward. He tries to hide the fact that he is smiling, keeping his happiness hidden and only to himself.

So you smile at him. An honest, genuine smile where the cheeks kiss the lower lashes. And his lips stretch thinly so that his brilliant white teeth shyly make their way into the open. He smiles back at you.

Musicians know that an interlude, in music, is an interrupting or intervening passage that connects different parts of a song. An interlude can also be a song in an album. In other words, there are different ways for musical interludes as well as temporal interludes to exist. Now, there is a new interlude in your timeline, this shared moment where two timelines from two completely different lives collide and converge. Anybody can tell that this shared moment is filled with happiness and understanding…perhaps, even longing.

But what do you call it when these two timelines have converged in the past? If two timelines that once converged reconverge at a further point on the timeline, did that initial interlude ever truly end? Are interludes simply short periods in our lives if these interludes stay in our timelines forever, even when the moments they denote end?

Nevertheless, at this moment, you know you’re happy. And you can only hope the man who sits across from you, the one who looks at you with a reminiscent expression you once experienced so long ago, is feeling the same way.

“Okay. We’re in third place. If we win this one, then we’ll be a point ahead of them.”

“I tied it pretty tightly. Is the tightness okay with you?” Wonwoo frowns from below you, seemingly exploring a different problem at hand. He inspects the rope he tied around your leg, poking and prodding at different sections. “It’s a three-legged race, but I don’t want you getting hurt from an accidental rope burn because I tied it too tightly.”

“Wonwoo, it’s fine.” You pat his left shoulder, letting him know he doesn’t have to worry.

He grabs your stretched hand, and you help hoist him upwards. But there is an apparent frown on his face.

“Why do you still call me Wonwoo,” he mumbles while wrapping your arm around his back and on his waist. There is a tiny pout on his face pointed downwards as he naturally loops his arm around your shoulders like he had done it a thousand times. “Are you not comfortable with calling me ‘babe?’ Any other name also works.”

Deep down, or not even deep down, you know he is right. You are uncomfortable with the idea of casually calling him by these pet names over and over again. Calling him by fake pet names, not counting the many idealistic scenarios that once played in your head, in this case, feels very wrong. His sudden change in attitude towards you as well as his overall demeanor after the last game left you in shock. A plot twist in a season finale would be less shocking than what you feel at this very moment. Like every other hypothetical person in your situation, you choose to ignore your problems by focusing on your other problems at hand. Because you know very well, allowing yourself to fully play into this fake husband rouse, even in times when you’re truly happy, would only hurt you in the end. And you’ve been hurt by him before, not really sure if you ever fully healed.

But you can’t deny he looks and seems nothing like the literal he-devil he was this morning. In fact, he seems to be the opposite. Even without being physically tied to you, he trails behind you like a lost puppy and clings onto your sleeve like a cat who kneads dough on your arm, nails hooked onto the fabric of your clothing. And you let him hold you close to him so much that he leans his chin on your shoulder while listening to others talk. And you let his hair tickle your scalp and would let him melt into you if he asked.

Getting hurt by the same man twice does not make a right. Succinctly, it only makes you dumb. So, to protect yourself, you use the image of the screaming man from the morning to remind yourself that everything is a rouse no matter how much you enjoy each moment with the illustrator.

The three-legged race’s course starts in the banquet hall, passes through the hallway and into the lobby, takes several twists and turns throughout the sitting area, and finishes in the banquet hall. Wonwoo takes the lead, firmly holding you against him while he chants “in, out, in, out” to direct how the two of you should speed-walk. But the excitement of the games and the promise of the upgraded room must have gone over the heads of several of the teams, causing each team to speed walk into a sprint once they left the banquet hall.

Wonwoo and you are also victims of wanting to win, or at least of wanting to beat the author. But in this incredibly small lodge, there are only so many paces you can take before having to try to squeeze past another team. And Wonwoo practically hoists you onto his foot without notice, penguin-walking you to make it past another team to navigate through the sectioned seating area.

Startled by his sudden lack of communication, you demand he set you down. “Let me go,” you grunt after being jostled against one of the round wooden tables. You are absolutely sure your hip would bruise in the morning if he bumped you into one more object. “It’d be easier if one of us walks ahead of the other.”

Does it look like I care?” His ego slips from his tongue, completely coating the sweet words that came out of his mouth before the game started. His sudden change in tone catches you by surprise. “I’ll buy a sled from the gift shop if it means I get to drag you instead of hauling you around.”

“It’s just a game.” You try to push yourself off of him, annoyed that he’s suddenly being uncooperative with you. In the meantime, the team behind the two of you catches up and pulls ahead. “Let me go before one of us gets hurt.”

Wonwoo’s eyes aren’t trained on you. Instead, he stretches his head to look at the few teams in front of the two of you. Surprisingly, the two of you make it out of the seating area without any trouble. Before the two of you can make a sprint back toward the banquet hall, you pull yourself away from Wonwoo, yanking his arm off of your shoulder.

“Babe, come on.” He holds out his hand for you to grab onto. “We’re going to end up being last.”

But your hand never reaches out to meet his.

“Babe? Are you serious? Are you kidding me? Are you really calling me ‘babe’ right now?” You almost shriek at him if it weren’t for the fact that the two of you are standing in proximity to the reception desk. But you are exasperated, your voice wobbles as you voice what is bothering you. “I’ve had it with you, Wonwoo. I tried communicating with you. I tried voicing my fears. But your head is so far up your ass that you couldn’t even think about the safety of the person right beside you. Am I sad and mad about what happened this morning? Yeah, I still am. Nobody deserves to be treated that way, but nobody deserves to be ignored. I don’t care about winning anymore. I feel humiliated, utterly and devastatingly humiliated by you and by myself. To think I let myself have fun around you. To think I believed for a second that you truly did care about me. At one point, I thought we were friends. At one point, I really did like you for who you were. But I guess I can’t expect people to stay the same, can I?” More words and sentences pour out of your mouth – like a small tornado that grows larger in size after picking up all of the things you left unsaid, the words that threatened to slip from your tongue all picked up and twirled into the tornado, you ended up saying more than what you meant to say.

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say,” he begins, but he can only hopelessly stare at you squatting in place to untie the rope that binds the two of you.

“There.” You bitterly drop the rope in his free hand. “You’re free from me now. You can go back to hating me all you want.”

“But I don’t hate you.”

“I’m done, Wonwoo. I’m done with being confused so I’m just going to give up and wallow in my room until Jeonghan picks me up once the snow clears.”

five

“No offense, but I would never spend that much time or energy on a guy…especially a guy who treats you like that. He even stopped pounding on your front door so that obviously means that he’s the type to stop trying after a while,” your cousin rants from the other side of your phone screen. He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose while the cat he is looking after purrs contently on his lap. “So what are you? A masochist? You like men who treat you poorly and then reward you with like an hour of happiness? That’s literally like if professors gave you the hardest final you’ve ever taken in your life and told you to grab a free cookie after you turned in the final. What are you even holding onto at this point?”

“I don’t know,” you wail at the older man, crumpling your used tissue in the palm of your hand. It quickly joins the growing pile of snot-riddled balls of tissue at the edge of your bed. When you recline into your initial position, the shifted blanket knocks Wonwoo’s hand warmer onto the floor.

“Eww stop holding your phone so close to your face,” Jeonghan complains, “Vernon says I kinda look like you, and I can’t help imagining that’s how I look when I cry.”

“I don’t know why I still like him,” you mumble to your cousin. You honestly still don’t understand why you like him despite every single recent negative encounter with him. To be honest, your heart doesn’t flutter as it does with the characters in the novels you read. Nothing cliched happens when you see him, like how the world stops and he is the only one who walks in slow motion. Quite frankly, your days pass by whether you see him or not, but it doesn’t mean that the thought of him crosses your mind every once in a while.

“Maybe you just like the idea of him,” he offers with a sigh. There isn’t much that he could do for you in the middle of a snowstorm except to be on a video call with you and hope that the can solve whatever you have going on before his bedtime.

“I make up scenarios of him in my mind but I still prefer the real him,” you admit with a twinge of embarrassment. You can only sink deeper under your covers, pulling the cabin-themed sheets closer to your chest. Maybe you’re still holding onto the Wonwoo who existed during the work trip, and maybe, you think, he still exists somewhere.

“Hypothetically, do you maybe think that the reason why he’s so bad at everything is because he spends most of his time with children and draws instead of writing so his communication skill is basically hindered? Like how you’re good with feelings and ideas because that’s the bulk of the media you surround yourself with daily so you have more exposure to that area. So you have man-child versus person with skewed expectations on love and relationships. But then you literally have people like me…perfect in every aspect.”

“Shut up. You talk about traffic every morning but you can’t even name the model of your car. You were also tricked by a catfish.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“I’m sorry,” you beg him. “Please don’t.”

“My point is.” He places his phone down on the sleeping cat to use as a temporary phone stand while he gathers his thoughts. “The two of you seem like total opposites. And the only time the two of you seem to work well together is when you meet in the middle. So, have you ever tried communicating with him? Ever pulled him to the side to ask him why he’s such an ass?”

Yoon Jeonghan’s simple solution to your problem causes your brain to briefly short-circuit. Silence fills your lonely cabin room as your mouth slightly hangs open while your cousin silently judges you from the other end of the phone. It took a simple suggestion to make you realize that you have been hanging onto Wonwoo’s personality change to even think to consider the idea of confronting him about it. And Jeonghan’s hypothesis may not be wrong at all – life isn’t a fictional novel where everything can be magically solved in the incoming chapters.

“No?” Your answer is meek. You don’t know what to feel after this revelation. Anger? Despair? Peacefulness?

“And is he still knocking on your door? Trying to talk to you?” His tone is gentle for once.

“Yeah?” You look to the right side of your room where the door stands between his room and yours. Slips of lodge notebook paper often found in the nightstand drawers slowly shove themselves through the tiny crack under the door. “I think he’s pushing slips of paper under our shared door.”

“Then go talk to him. But throw away your snot pile and fix your appearance before you do. Yeah?”

“What would I do without you?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t care. Bye.”

Sitting on the floor with your back leaned against the door, you shuffle the sheets of paper in your hands. There are a couple of sorry notes partnered with sad and apologetic-looking animal doodles. There are a few slips where he asks you to forgive him. Then there are these series of slips – a mini cartoon of his morning, this morning – that somehow cause a small upwards curl to form on your lips.

Blue ballpoint pen ink depicts a series of panels starting with a text he received this morning. This comic is void of cute tiny animals and can only be drawn with the sincerity of a children’s book illustrator. He draws himself staring at his phone screen in confusion – you’re missing, and the rest of the work group chat has no idea where you are. And he’s worried. Everybody is worried, but nobody is worried enough to send search parties for you. Blue-figured Wonwoo rushes out of his room, completely abandoning his presentation for the author, to rush to the entrance of Interlude. Because he knows that your team always passes through Interlude, but you’re known to arrive at the campsite while rubbing your eyes, hair frizzing from the static built from your head rubbing against the headrest while you were sleeping on the way there. But the scene he stumbles upon makes him angry despite how relieved he is to know that you are okay.

The few pages that you hold in your hand are smudged with blue ink, and the ending is unfinished. Wonwoo softly rasps his knuckles against the shared door, calling out your name. When you don’t reply, he sighs and sits down with his back against the door. You feel a tiny jolt with his added pressure against the door. Still, you can’t bring yourself to confront him. At least not yet.

“I’m childish and I let myself get caught up in moments. And you were right, if something happened to you, I would never forgive myself for hurting you. At one point, I really did forget that the reason why we agreed to work together was because we didn’t want him to win. I ended up wanting us to win, or at least for you to win so you could have the upgrade. I’m really sorry for not communicating well with you, and for how I acted.”

The sound of his hair leaving the door lets you know that he probably dropped his head toward his lap.

Taking a shallow breath, he mutters into his hands, “And I wasn’t lying when I talked about us at the beach. I really did like you then. I still like you.”

“Then why ignore me? Why act like you hate me? What did I do to deserve how you treated me?” The questions leave your mouth in a flare of anger.

“I started ignoring you because I was hiding from you. I couldn’t confront you because I knew I would make it obvious that I liked you. But I guess I hid from you for too long because you thought I hated you.” His voice muffled from being on the other side of the door.

“So all of this happened because of some big misunderstanding? Just because we couldn’t confront each other?”

So it really was a simple problem with a simple solution. The revelation feels like a sore punch in the gut, one that’s so surprising that all you can do is laugh.

“I’m sorry, Yn. I really am.”

“I’m also sorry.” You feel really guilty now that you know that you were wrong to believe that he hated you. “I should’ve confronted you about this earlier.”

“Does it still hurt?” His voice sounds clearer as if he shifted his body so he sits facing the door.

“Oh, from the race? Actually nothing happened.”

“From when you fell from heaven,” he finishes with his voice trailing in diminuendo, almost as if he is slightly embarrassed from using the overused pick-up line.

“It actually hurt a lot,” you joke. “But I’m glad it was you who found me in the middle of the road.”

“Then can I stay by your side? Not separated by doors, but by your side?”

So you push yourself away from the door, turning around to unlock the brassy knob. The door slowly swings open to Wonwoo, who is still sitting on the floor, now facing you. And you awkwardly sit in front of him, not really able to meet his eyes.

“I think I have a lot to learn.” He fiddles with the hem of his sweater. “I’ll start by being more communicative about my feelings,” he promises with a soft smile. “Because I really do like you.”

“I like you too.”

There is a magnetic pull that slowly draws the two of you closer together, a comforting sort of sensation that offers a moment of solace created from two extremes. The outside world is dark. The snowstorm has long gone. The surfaces where the sunlight once touched are replaced with the soft yellow glow of several lamps around both of your rooms. Kaleidoscopic remnants of shards of light scatter around every surface. But the two of you, seemingly in the very corners of your shared world exert a different type of glow - one that can only be created in a collision like the break of dawn after a devastating snowstorm.

“I really like you too,” you can’t help but reaffirm.

“It’s actually ‘I also like you.’” He can’t help but playfully correct you. “You’re the publisher. You shouldn’t be making these errors.” He teases.

“And you’re the illustrator, so shouldn’t you stay quiet so I can kiss you?”

one month later

At the base of a computer monitor, a tiny wooden whittled cat naps lazily next to its turtle counterpart. Two people sit side-by-side in the breakroom a few rooms away, the metal seats practically stuck to each other. While their lunches heat up in the microwave, the two happily discuss the upcoming young adult novel they are finally working on together. Under the table, their pinkies naturally interlock. The man who scrolls through art ideas on his tablet can’t help but let his eyes linger on his partner for a little too long while they scroll enthusiastically through the several concept art slides he created. When the microwave sounds, he quickly leaves a soft and brief kiss on the side of his partner’s temple before getting up to remove their heated lunches. And the partner smiles while turning back to look at him, a smile brighter than the soft sunlight that wraps the room in a warm afternoon glow.

There’s a new interlude in their timelines. In this interlude, the two opposites are taking it slow, learning to meet in the middle.

dedicated to ellie (@flowershu/@eliphant). just wanted to thank you for supporting wondernus for all these years. happy new year <33

#svthub #svthub.collab #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo au #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x yn #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #wonwoo scenarios

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hatsukeii · 5 years ago

Note

i havent seen anything for assassination classroom, so how about some headcanons for karma finding out he has a crush on the reader + if he'd confess how he'd pull it off?

sajdfhasd I’m so sorry I left this here for so long!!

Assassination classroom has joined the server, glhf!

❗️Karma Akabane❗️

✨Crushing✨

- Yeah no.

- He was trying SO HARD NOT TO ADMIT HIS FEELINGS TO HIMSELF.

- Karma Akabane does NOT have time to fall in love.

- He thinks.

- But like goddammit you were just so fucking amazing.

- Never would he have thought someone like you existed.

- And it wasn’t like you were some martial arts god or some genius savant student or anything like that.

- You were just you.

- Average, Bs and sometimes As, will punch people once in a while, yeah about that.

- Yet there was something that intrigued him.

- Maybe it was the way you laughed at all his jokes.

- Or how you broke up his fights.

- But with time, Karma definitely developed some form of interest in you.

- It took MONTHS for the guys in the class to succeed in explaining what “feelings” were.

- And even then, he was in denial.

- “No wayyyy I don’t like her. I don’t like anyone.”

- “Bullshit Karma.”

- Well let’s just say he got way less violent during his infatuation period.

- He rarely picked fights, was constantly dreamy, would stare at you from time to time.

- And after all that, he finally admits it.

- He likes you.

- But he’s a biiiit of a sociopath.

- Doesn’t know how to handle complex emotions like this.

- He’s happy to see you scared you hate him flustered because of you but sad because you probably dislike him.

- Mix of emotions? What’s that and how do I deal with it?

- He deals with it by coming up with the best confession ever known to mankind.

✨Confession✨

- Okay so in order for this to work, Karma had to bite back his pride and eventually tell all his friends about his situation.

- Let’s just say they responded enthusiastically.

- “Waaaa, Karma-kun finally making a move!” - Nagisa

- “Hell yes boi, go get your lady~” - Hiroto

- “Glad to see you’re finally dealing with your feelings.” - Isogai

- So what Karma did, was he got the entire class in on this confession.

- Yes, even Irina and ESPECIALLY Korosensei.

- If he’s gonna confess to someone, he’s gonna make it clear that he doesn’t want ANYONE laying those googly eyes on her.

- So during parkour training, they made this plan.

- Since this time was a special training involving a whole ass confession, Korosensei decided to change up the rules.

- Students would have a memo that they customise on their own.

- Their goal is to stick it on someone’s back while Karasuma chases them.

- Whoever gets a memo on their back loses and is eliminated.

- While Karasuma started chasing, the rest of the students and the two teachers were talking via these little headphone things that Korosensei built.

- Two students would constantly be by your side.

- Whenever they see Karasuma coming, they would divert his attention and make him chase them instead.

- Seeing that, Korosensei would tell students your location and send in two others to guard you.

- Eventually, almost everyone got tagged by Karasuma.

- Except for you, and Karma.

- And NO this is not my way of ‘tWiSTiNG THe EvEnt” so the confession is easier oh nonononono.

- You wanna know how you managed to not get tagged?

- You had to climb to the top of a random tree.

- Couldn’t blame you, you were out of stamina and dehydrated as fuuuuuu-

- But Karma got the information via the headphones.

- With Karasuma chasing him, climbing up that tree would not be easy.

- But boy he is determined to do this thing.

- He will climb any goddamn tree to do this.

- So you hear leaves rustling and BAM-

- Out jumps a wild Karma Akabane, memo sticker ready in hand.

- Out of fear and shock, you slam your memo right into his chest when he sticks his onto your back.

- Then Karasuma catches him.

- “You brat, do you know how long it took me to climb up this stupid ass tree? I get tired too you know.” - Karasuma

- It isn’t until the two of you get down, does Karasuma see the memo on your back.

- He’s confused but just chooses to ignore it.

- Young love you know.

- The two of you are arguing over who won.

- “No way it wasn’t me, I literally screamed and shoved it into your chest.”

- “Oh so what? The game was to stick it on someone’s BACK, not CHEST.”

- The three of you set foot on the ground to see the entire class standing there, almost expectantly.

- “Huh? Why are you all staring at us?”

- Everyone’s just smirking at you with no context.

- Until Karasuma picks the memo off your back and starts questioning.

- “Why is this memo the shape of a heart?” - Karasuma, denser than a neutron star

- “Huh?” - You, probably, and maybe some other people in the class

- You snatch the memo, and read it out loud, expecting it to be some dumb joke or witty comeback.

- “Go out with me? Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? Because I’m into you? Like very, very into you?”

- “HAH? FOR REAL?”

- Yes, Karma is blushing, very hard.

- Like even harder than when Korosensei was making fun of him for his bad maths scores.

- “Just say yes or no, I can’t wait any longer.”

- “Hell yes, what’s the date? And why didn’t you tell me about this? Do you know how hard it is NOT knowing how your crush thinks about you? I swear to God you’re gonna give me a heart attack someday-”

- “Just shut up and kiss me.”

- And you do just that.

- Koromama took so many photos don’t even-

Ahhh I hope this satisfies your request!! <333

#assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #korosensei #karma akabane #karma x reader #assassination classroom headcanons #assassination classroom imagines #assassination classroom x reader #karma akabane imagine #anime #imagine

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snarkwrites · 4 years ago

Text

17.12, kissing booth, sweetpea

Title: kissing booth

Theme: holiday carnival/fair

Fandom / Character(s):Riverdale, Sweetpea x OFC, Alyssa Andrews

Warnings: Swearing, Sweetpea being a smartass, Reggie being an antagonist, and floofy kisses.

Word Count: uhh.. 1k-ish?, roughly.

Look.. I blame my niece for getting sucked into this show and fandom to begin with. I guess I just have a connection and deep love for grouchy types, because when Sweetpea was first introduced I was instantly hooked on the character. This is my daily entry for @champbucks 12 days of Christmas. Hope you guys enjoy it. I had a blast writing it. I guess sometimes it’s just fun to write something that’s not purely related to a thirst I happen to have, who woulda thunk it, huh?

Also, again.. I made the banner for this. Don’t steal or repost.

TAGGING:

There’s actually nobody on my riverdale tag list. If you’d like to be on it, let me know on my main to add you or click the lil link below and add thyself.

[ about my writing | masterlist | multifandom tag doc ]

“Oh come on!” Cheryl pouted, tapping her foot impatiently because she knows full well that I’m the only person her demanding and bossing around doesn’t work on. In fact, it usually makes me dig my heels in even more.

“I said I’m not doing it. Why do you want me to take two hours at the booth anyway, Cheryl? We both know there’s probably no one in Riverdale who will line up to kiss me. Can’t Betty or Veronica take the extra hour?” I eyed her, a brow raised.

“Actually, that’s where you’d be wrong, Alyssa. I have proof that you’re the one they’d rather have in the booth for an extra hour.” Cheryl dug around in her backpack and produced a piece of paper. I eyed her and then it, taking it with an amused laugh. “Right. You totally just fabricated this. I’m not doing it, Cheryl. Nope.”

From nearby, Toni spoke up.

“Doing what? What’d I miss?”

Cheryl beamed and went into Toni’s arms, hugging her, taking the paper back from me to show Toni and the two shared a laugh.

And then both of their gazes settled on me expectantly.

“Ah fuck. Look, I said I’d do an hour. That’s absolutely it. I’m already going to spend most of that kissing freshmen or something, shit. That paper proves absolutely nothing, by the way.” I nodded to the paper that Toni was now holding in her hands.

“We don’t have time to argue this. Jughead took Betty home and your brother’s spirited Veronica away. Everyone else has gone.”

“So have I. And I’m still not over that sophomore with the Hoover suction. Do you know that little shit tried to cop a feel?”

“Waaaa.” Cheryl mimicked. Toni leaned in, whispering into her ear and then Cheryl muttered “Interesting.” as her gaze fixed on me again. As Toni walked off, I pinched the bridge of my nose and eyed the empty chair. The booth was on a break right now. The line was pretty small.

Riverdale High needed the money. Taking on a whole other student body recently had pretty much depleted the school’s funds. Everyone else on my team had already gone. I eyed Cheryl as I mulled it over. “Is anyone else going twice?”

“Actually, both Toni and I are. Cheek kisses only, of course.” Cheryl gave me a pleading grin as her words fell away.

I felt a little better knowing that I wouldn’t be the only one being offered up for sacrifice twice. I tapped my foot and dragged my fingers through long red hair, giving it a tug. “Fine.”

Cheryl hugged me and I laughed, letting her. Even hugging back just slightly. “I’ll go take my seat I guess. But I’m telling you, my second turn is going to be a total bust.”

I caught sight of Toni talking to Fangs and Sweetpea over by the hot chocolate booth and I bit my lip, my gaze lingering on Sweetpea for just a few seconds longer than it should’ve.

,, My fantasy kiss is not gonna happen. I can hang it up.”

That was my last thought before flopping into the chair positioned behind our booth. And nearly as soon as the few people waiting realized that the line was opening up again, they started to push to the front slowly. One or two walked away.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Three times. Then a fourth. But I wanted to just get my second turn in the kissing booth over with because I’d pretty much resigned myself to the fact that like my first turn, I’d have mostly underclassmen in my line. Or friends of my brother Archie. Luckily my brothers friends seemed okay with just a hug and a peck on the cheek. I hadn’t had to actually… Lock actual lips with anyone.

XXX

Sweetpea watched as Alyssa took her seat at the kissing booth a second time. Toni wandered over, tapping her best friend’s shoulder and nodding towards the booth. “Are you gonna stare all afternoon or grow a pair and get in line, Pea?”

“I’m not taking part in… that shit.” Sweetpea nodded his head in the direction of the booth. Toni reached into her back pocket and smirked to herself while Sweetpea was busy watching Alyssa Andrews get settled into the booth for her second go. “Yeah? Well if you won’t.. I have a long list of guys that Cheryl has spoken to who all seem to say that they’re more than happy to.”

She unfolded the paper right as Sweetpea heard her and focused. He reached for the paper, snatching it from her hands. His eyes darted over the poll and sign up sheet and then settled back on the red-head currently manning the kissing booth.

When his eyes got to Reggie’s name on the list at least three times, his fists clenched tight. He tugged at the collar of his tee shirt. It wasn’t a secret that Alyssa and Reggie liked to flirt back and forth and frankly, it was something that annoyed Sweetpea continuously. To a point where lately, it caused him to stay constantly irritated.

Especially when she’d blow off their little gang of friends to go on drives with Reggie.. Or study. Or grab a milkshake at Pop’s.

“She’s only doing this because she’s part of that stupid cheer thing.” he said it to himself, mostly to keep himself from doing something stupid and crazy and marching over, dragging her away from that booth and telling her that the only guy she needed to kiss was right in front of her. And had been for months now.

“Actually, she volunteered. And she’s the only one people have specifically asked for twice.” Toni shrugged as she tried to stop the laughter. Sure it was a small fabrication in details, but Sweetpea didn’t know that, nor did he need to. What he did need right now was a nudge. Because for one thing, Toni was beyond done with seeing him mope over Josie and their little fling ending. For another, the tension in the room between Sweetpea and Alyssa lately when they were all hanging out was almost unbearable. And rather than stand back and watch her grumpy idiot of a best guy friend let a chance at actual happiness pass him by, she was determined that today was the day. She was going to give him that loving but firm little nudge in the right direction.

Because lately, Alyssa was starting to think that Sweetpea didn’t feel the same way about her as she did about him, hence all the dates with Reggie Mantle. Toni was also sick of watching Alyssa try to feign happiness when lately, she’d been down. Because every attempt she’d made thus far to tell Sweetpea how she felt wound up Sweetpea, bringing up Josie in conversation.. Or lately, with Alyssa just talking herself right out of it altogether.

Something needed to happen, otherwise someone was going to explode.

Reggie Mantle wandered over, getting into the line for the kissing booth. Sweetpea looked as if it were taking literally every single shred of willpower he possessed not to storm over and make a scene, especially when Reggie smooth-talked his way right to the front of the line almost.

“You know she’s only going out with him a lot more lately because the guy she really wants ahs made himself so hard to be around that we all wanna strangle him most of the time now.. Right?”

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah? Let me show you something.” Toni grabbed her phone and held it out. “Have a read at our text history, Pea. See for yourself.”

Sweetpea took the phone reluctantly. At first, he was skeptical. By the middle of the most recent conversation, about Alyssa blowing them off to hang at the quarry in favor of going to watch Reggie at football practice because he asked and Alyssa admitting that maybe it was time she… Moved on. Got over her huge crush on Sweetpea… He wanted to kick himself.

His eyes fixed on the booth and his jaw set firm.

He knew her well enough to know that she’d never own up to anything she’d admitted to Toni in the texts. And he knew that lately, he’d made it almost unbearable to be around him. Picking fights with her, grilling her about pretty much everything. Just purposely being an ass.

His pride was going to cost him a shot with her if he didn’t swallow it soon. And the thought was not a pleasant one when it settled in his mind.

“Nothing to say, Pea?” Toni teased, flashing him a smirk as soon as she managed to break through his thoughts and gain his attention for a second or two. Sweetpea dragged his hand over his hair, taking a breath or two. Reggie was just about to the front of the line. His gaze fixed on Alyssa, almost as if he were willing her to look at him. Catch him staring.

“If you really want her to know how you feel and not have any doubts, you know what to do.”

Toni’s statement had Sweetpea wandering over to the line for the kissing booth. What Reggie Mantle had in charm, Sweetpea made up for in sheer intimidation skill and a second or two later, Reggie scowled as Sweetpea wound up right behind him in line.

“The hell are you doing, Serpent?”

“I know what you’re not gonna do, Mantle.”

Reggie whirled around, staring Sweetpea up and down. “You think so, huh? Watch and see.”

“I don’t fucking think so.” Sweetpea towered over Reggie, his fists shoved safely inside his leather jacket.

From the front, Alyssa cleared her throat. “It’s,uhh.. It’s your turn, Reggie.” she bit her lip as she looked back and forth between Reggie and Sweetpea. Sweetpea caught her gaze and held it, biting his lip.

After a little digging, he found a badly wadded twenty dollar bill.

Reggie sauntered up to the booth and slipped a five dollar bill down, giving Alyssa a playful gaze as he leaned in for the kill.

And Sweetpea’s fists clenched even tighter in his pocket. He barely managed to bite back a growl. And after about five seconds, he cleared his throat and spoke up, addressing Reggie.

“You’re holding up the damn line, Mantle.”

“I paid, Sweetpea. What are you even doing in the line to begin with, huh? Didn’t we have a talk about this Friday afternoon?” Reggie was body to body with him until Cheryl hurried over.

“Break it up you two!”

XXX

I think when I saw Sweetpea wandering over, my heart fluttered a little and I tensed up all in the same breath. I honestly thought he was coming over just to start something. To heckle me for offering myself up to do this. He looked mad.

Or I thought he did, at least.

When he didn’t start with the heckling and instead, intimidated about ten of the guys waiting in line to let him go before them, I found myself having a harder time focusing on the task at hand. A guy named Ben who played basketball with Archie every few weekends came up and put a dollar into the basket, chuckling as I rose to tiptoe and gave him a friendly and slightly awkward cheek kiss. He pulled me into a hug and muttered into my ear, “The rowdier guys are still waitin, red.. If you want me to hang around… Hell, maybe I should. Archie would kick my ass if somebody got out of line with his kid sister.”

“Ben, I’ll be fine. I’m perfectly capable of handling things.” I explained, giving him a gentle smile and thanking him for the offer because his heart was in the right place. Reggie was next and I took a deep breath.

Truth be told, I was a little irritated because Reggie doing this made it kind of clear that Reggie was just going to try and find ways to skirt around any boundary I set. I got that this was in good fun, but there was a perfectly good reason I hadn’t really… Kissed him yet. Even when he’s tried to initiate at least two or three times now and each time, I’ve politely declined.

If this were a few months ago, I’d have jumped at the chance. I was shocked at myself when we were sitting in front of my dad’s house and he tried to kiss me the first time and I didn’t go for it then, if I’m being perfectly honest.

Because I’ve always had a soft spot for my brother’s friend Reggie. I guess that’s when it really hit me… After I met Sweetpea, a lot of things changed. And my feelings for Reggie just kind of slowly died.

The argument between Reggie and Sweetpea caught my attention and if I had any actual hope left of Sweetpea being into me like that, it would’ve grown as I listened to the words being exchanged back and forth before clearing my throat.

As I got their attention and for a few seconds, they glared one another down, I found myself kind of wondering what Sweetpea was up to. I honestly hadn’t even thought he’d show up at the carnival. I mean yeah, Toni most likely dragged him, but… He’s in line… For the kissing booth. And not just any line, my line.

My brain seemed to start working then and it hit me that in a few seconds, I was going to have to kiss Sweetpea.

,, I’ll give him a peck on the cheek. Because if I had my way and gave him a real kiss, things would get so awkward between us, holy shit..” the decision was made and I felt a little better.

Reggie finally approached the table and I bit my lip, eyeing him. I could feel Sweetpea’s intent stare burning a hole right through me, even as I pretended to be happy and interested in the kiss I was about to give Reggie.

Maybe knowing Sweetpea was watching was what made me decide to settle with a clumsy corner of the mouth kiss. Reggie muttered quietly against my mouth, “Red?”

“Sorry, I just.. I thought I could but I can’t.” I muttered so that Reggie could hear me.

Reggie gave an understanding nod and smiled, shrugging “It’s cool. Do you wanna meet up later?”. I shrugged and told him I’d text him when I left the carnival if I felt up to hanging out or going to Pops and he walked away from the kissing booth, leaving me frustrated at myself and panicking a little because naturally, Sweetpea was next.

For a few seconds, I felt bad about the half hearted attempt. Especially when I thought back on just how wrapped up in Josie Sweetpea had been and just how little I’d given him hell for it in comparison to how much hell he’s put me through for going on a date or two with Reggie lately.

I zoned out a little, mostly just trying to pull myself together and in that time, Sweetpea stepped up and smacked a 20 dollar bill down on top of the table, gazing down at me expectantly as he swallowed hard and dragged his hand over his hair.

I eyed the 20 dollar bill and eyed him. “I,uhh.. A kiss on the cheek is only a dollar.”

,, you seriously open your mouth and say that?”

“Obviously, that’s not what I got in line for, princess.” Sweetpea muttered quietly, licking his lips as his gaze settled on mine. I gulped and I swear, it felt as if all the air got sucked right out of the space between us. I dragged my hand through my hair and raised a brow as his eyes left my lips and settled on mine, locking me in a gaze.

“Is this a joke?” I muttered quietly, dazed.

“I believe somebody once told me I have zero sense of humor, so no. No it’s not, doll. You gonna kiss me or not? I paid.” Sweetpea’s tone took on a hint of teasing and I felt my stomach starting to flop lazily, just like it always does when he’s in the rare mood to tease and make it hard for me to tell whether he’s flirting or just being a teasing ass.

I usually play safe and put my money in him simply being a teasing ass, but right now, I wasn’t sure what he was up to at all.

The way he was looking at me right now did not feel like Sweetpea teasing. The look in his eyes was downright hungry.

“I..”

From the back, Reggie heckled. “What the hell makes you think she wants your disgusting Serpent mouth on her, man?”

I grumbled to myself quietly, frustrated because apparently, I was going to freeze up. “You don’t have to..” I trailed off. Sweetpea chuckled to himself and leaned across the booth, his hand tangling in the hair at the back of my neck, tugging at a handful as he pulled my mouth against his. His tongue trailed slowly over the outline of my lips and I whimpered quietly. The palm I had resting flat against his leather jacket wound up curling in it instead. His hand settled on my hip, guiding me partially over the table and halfway out the opening of the booth that we’d been leaning through.

I could feel my face heating up as people started to catcall and whistle and slow clap. When somebody said “Oh shit. Listen man, I don’t wanna die, I think I’ll just.. Wait for Cheryl to take over in a little bit.” I barely heard it, but I couldn’t help smiling into the kiss.

The kiss broke and I slowly raised my hand to my mouth, wiping the back of it across. I was beyond stunned at the moment. At a total and complete loss for words. But when Sweetpea leaned back in and pecked my cheek before whispering with a laugh, “Go on.. Finish working your kissing booth, princess.” and copped a feel, I bit my lip before pouting at him.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means, I’m gonna stick around. Keep these fuckin knuckleheads left in line from getting too much enjoyment, princess.”

“Oh, it does, hm?”

“I mean.. Unless you have a different idea as to why I kissed you like that, Red.” Sweetpea teased, smirking at me for a few seconds.

I eyed him and he muttered quietly, “Later.. We’ll talk, doll. The kiss was just something to think about.”

And somehow, god help me, I don’t think I’ll be able to get it off my mind for the rest of my time left to go in this booth...

#12 days of christmas #12daysofchristmas #sweetpea #sweetpea fanfiction #sweetpea fanfic #sweetpea imagine #sweetpea imagines #sweetpea oneshot #my writing; sweetpea #my fics; sweetpea #my oneshots; sweetpea #// gahhh. i hope this isn't wildly out of character for the guy #// i feel like it isn't but i have been wrong about a character before..

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drblueneck · 5 years ago

Text

Little Naruto is a time traveller

Naruto has been a time traveller his whole life. It just took him years to realize it...

The first time it happened, the four year old boy just tripped on his own two feet. One second he was in a backstreet, waving his arms around trying to regain his balance, the next he was in the main avenue of the village, spitting out a mouthful of dirt as he stood back up, knees bleeding from the hard impact with the ground.

The blond kid just looked around him, confused, before shrugging it off and going about his day, shoulders hunched around his head and shooting suspicious glares at the villagers who had yet to show distaste at his presence.

He ended up relaxing, mingling with the crowd and bumping into people just to see their reaction. Some scoffed and told him to look where he went, others sighed with indulgence and a small number even laughed and apologized. It was surreal. Feeling daring, he even bought an apple from the old woman who usually pretended he didn't exist. It was a good day, Naruto decided.

Then he tripped on a stone, his nose met the ground, and when he looked up, he was still in the main avenue, but there was a wide breadth around him. His sharp ears caught a mumbled sneer, "little freak, always gets in the way" and he turned around, stuck his tongue out and bellowed an insult that went along the lines of "poop face" before storming away from the market place.

So much for having a good day.

The next time was similar. He walked, tripped, and went he got back up, people were nicer -- or at least didn't mind his existence. Naruto happily went along with the weird fluke, thinking that adults were odd creatures with strange rites.

He decided to fall more often just to escape the stares.

It never worked.

He tried buying an apple from the woman. Her face kept changing one day from another. Naruto wondered if it was a cool jutsu. He asked the Old Man and he laughed, the thin skin around his eyes crinkling with mirth. "No, no, my boy. This is just a trick from life. No one escapes the mark left by the passing of time."

Naruto didn't get one word from that speech and shrugged, placing that under the "mysteries of life" mental checklist he kept.

Still. The lady kept changing faces. One day wrinkled. One day smooth.

He quickly learnt to which face he could buy his apples.

Stingy old hag. Adults were weird.

He met a boy one day. The villagers kept shouting at him, scoffing at his excuses and muttering about no good orphans causing trouble.

Naruto kept his distance -- it was a "good" day, the villagers left him alone and he got his apples plus a full bag of lemons, which was a real treat as the yellow fruit was a rarity in Konoha and always sold out fast. He definitely didn't need to attract bad attention by associating with the other troublemaker.

Nodding wisely at his decision, the blond boy munched on his green apple, enjoying the sweet-acid juice and thinking about the lemonade he'd make when he got home. Not a second later, the other boy bumped into him and his lemons spilled onto the ground.

"WAAAA!!! SORRY!!!! I DIDN'T SEE YOU!"

Almost jumping out of his skin at the screamed apologies, Naruto just stared with wide eyes and apple-filled-cheeks as the boy grew teary-eyed the longer he apologized and bowed to him.

He bowed.

Nobody ever apologized to Naruto, or bowed or even talked really. They just ignored him.

Blinking owlishly, the blond boy mumbled "it'sh okay" through the crushed apple bits he had yet to swallow in his surprise.

Immediately, the other kid beamed at him and Naruto felt his eyes prickle.

Someone was talking to him and smiling. Just for him.

"I'm Obito, by the way! I never saw you around before."

Sniffing back the snot that wanted to trickle down his nose, the four year old roughly scrubbed his eyes and tried to introduce himself after swallowing his mouthful. He took a step forward, a smile tugging at his lips, "I'm Uzu--" and promptly met the floor, right foot rolling on a forgotten lemon.

When he got up, rubbing at his smarting skull, there were no more lemons and the brown-haired kid was long gone.

There was a burning feeling in his eyes and he sniffled before slapping his cheeks. He won't cry. It didn't hurt at all.

"AH! YUZU!!"

The yell came from behind him and before he could react, a boy was draped over his back, talking a mile a minute about how he missed him and where did he go and he forgot his lemons and was it a shunshin and it was so cool he should teach him and--

"What did you call me?" Naruto asked, confused.

Surely Obito mistook him for someone else. No one missed Naruto Uzumaki, ever.

Obito looked sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Sorry, you were gone so fast I didn't quite catch your name. Then I saw the lemons and "yuzu" just stuck."

Yuzu. Huh.

Maybe it was better than telling his name. People always seemed horrified when he told them who he was. It was like a curse.

But Yuzu...

"I like it," he decided, and Obito smiled proudly.

They spent the rest of the day together, running up and down the streets, echoes of shrieking laughters the only sign of their passage.

It was a really good day.

So Naruto quickly understood that there were two Konoha. There was the one that recoiled at his name, and there was the one that didn't care about him. There was the one where he was known as Naruto Uzumaki and the one where he was simply Yuzu.

To his young mind, it was just the normal order of things. Everyone had bad days and good days. Everyone experienced cold Konoha and warm Konoha. People changed moods, changed faces, some streets even disappeared, but Naruto guessed it was normal in a ninja village -- once you witnessed a shinobi breathing fire nothing seemed strange anymore.

All in all, he only wished that he could have more good days than bad days.

And if sometimes at night he'd close his eyes and wish really hard to be Yuzu, just Yuzu... well nobody had to know, right?

He didn't realize he was so dependent on Good Days until he met with the Old Man one morning and had to clear his voice twice before talking. Nowadays, the only one he spoke with was Obito, and it'd been a month since they last met. He tried searching for the older boy, but he didn't know his last name, nor did he know where he lived. Naruto would never say it, but he often wondered if he was just "touched in the head", like he heard people say with sympathy about the old Taka-san who lived down the street. He wondered if Obito was even real, if the Good Days even existed.

"Old Man... you're real, right?" He asked as he looked up at the only person who seemed to care about Naruto Uzumaki.

They were walking down a worn out path in the forest where they first met. The Old Man had promised they'd fish.

He seemed surprised by the question but took it in stride as he pondered his answer, a large, wrinkled hand coming to pat his head.

"I'm as real as you are," he settled for as he offered his hand. Naruto grasped it, sticky fingers squeezing around calloused flesh. The Old Man squeezed back, tight enough that Naruto could almost feel his bones grinding together as he gasped in shock. "See? No illusion. Now come, I think this spot will be nice for fishing."

They sat and fished and Naruto kept quiet, unsure if he was happy or sad that this Konoha was the real one.

He started the Academy and things were good. He was learning about being a ninja! He hadn't seen Obito in months, and the stingy old hag hadn't sold him apples in months too, but it was okay, the Academy kept him busy enough to forget about his tentative friend. Maybe the other kid was a civilian and that's why he hadn't seen him at school.

Naruto didn't make any new friends, but it's not like he had been trying, to be honest. He spent much of his time trying to understand the given homework or planning a prank on some mean villager. It had nothing to do with the fact that most kids just ignored him to begin with. He didn't care one bit! So what if the blond haired girl in his class was always with the pink haired one and seemed to know every other kids but him? She clearly didn't see that Naruto was awesome, and that was her problem, not his.

With that thought in mind, he jumped over a puddle of mud and landed right into another. He blinked, confused. Either his aim was crap or he hadn't noticed the other puddle.

The blond boy shrugged, looked at his stained clothes and after a moment of reflection, decided to jump again in the puddle to see how far the splashes went. Now that his clothes were ruined, no need to be careful!

He was so absorbed by his silly game that he didn't see nor hear anyone coming.

"Yuzu?!"

At that, the boy looked up, startled. Oh, he thought, this is a Good Day then.

A smile quickly grew on his lips, genuine joy spreading in his little body as Obito ran towards him. There was a forehead protector tied above his protective glasses and Naruto shouted with delight and awe. "You're a ninja!"

Obito grinned widely and adjusted the spotless headband before gasping dramatically like he remembered something, eyes going wide as he reached for the blond boy’s shoulders and violently shook him.

"Where have you been?! I was worried ya know... I thought you died..."

The older boy quickly pushed his glasses up and rubbed at his eyes.

Naruto blinked, startled. He tilted his head on one side, then the other, as if trying to understand a complicated math problem. "Are you cryin'?"

"NO!" Obito said as he snatched a bottle from his pouch and dripped some liquid in his eyes. "There was dust or somethin' in my eyes... that's all! Uchiha don’t cry." The last sentence was recited with so much conviction that Naruto didn't have the heart to point out that the boy still had snot dangling from his nose from his dramatic crying feat, nor the fact that he had glasses that should've kept the dust away.

Instead, he went with sympathy. "Once I squeezed a lemon so hard I got juice in my eyes," he confided, pursing his lips in remembrance.

That got a snicker out of Obito who patted the younger boy on the back, still sniffling a little. "I missed you Yuzu, I'm glad I finally found you again. Say, wanna meet my team?"

PLEASE SOMEONE STOP ME I HAVE NO FUCKING LIMITS WTF WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF?? WHO NEEDS THIS STORY ANYWAY?! AAAARRRRGGGHHH

#naruto fanfic #time travel #i don't even know #someone needs to stop me #Obito Uchiha #Naruto Uzumaki

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

Text

Gift for Effie214

Here is my fic gift for @effie214. Thanks again for organizing. Please drop me a message to let me know you’ve received this and I’m all set.

Thanks - Lauren @laureningall

Third Time’s the Charm

Dear Effie214: You suggested I ignore COIE… well that’s what I did. This is a new!parents!mode Olicity story full of fluffiness - with some eventual romance for our very exhausted couple. Thanks for giving me such a great idea to mull over. I had a lot of fun writing. Wishing you all the best in the coming year - #OlicityForever - Lauren

Summary: Parenting is hard work even if you last job title was ‘superhero’. Oliver and Felicity enjoy a simple life in their Bloomfield cabin with their daughter Mia. If only she’d sleep long enough for her parents to spend some quality time together.

>>>>>———————–>>

Bloomfield Cabin - Mid November

Felicity stepped into the warmth of the cabin laden with grocery bags. Scuffing her feet on the mat just inside the door she paused to admire the view before her, her husband was lying on the floor, face to face with their daughter Mia who was desperately trying to lift her head from the floor.

He might have put the fear of God into many a criminal during his time as the Green Arrow, but he was so gentle and loving with Mia. Moments like this were perfection. Just when she thought she couldn’t love the man anymore she would see him like this and feel the tears blossom.

“Damn hormones.”

She looked up to see Oliver smiling back at her from his vantage point on the floor.

“Hey, your back.”

He gently rolled Mia onto her back and slid her to the center of the animal print quilt that filled most of the floor area of their small living space. Oliver quickly rose to his feet and took the bags from Felicity arms to set them on the kitchen counter.

“You didn’t have to stop at the market. Remember, you’re supposed to be resting,” he added with a quick kiss on her cheek.

“It’s the least I can do, you do all the cooking. I’ll be back to put everything away, I want to change into something warmer. Feels like snow outside.”

After pulling on a turtleneck and hoodie she returned to the kitchen to see Oliver unloading the groceries from the bags on the counter. Felicity stepped up behind Oliver and slid her arms around his waist. She snuggled her face against his soft flannel shirt, “mmmh, you are so warm.”

“Are you cold? I can turn up the heat or maybe I should start a fire. We should enjoy the fireplace more before Mia gets mobile. I swear she’s going to roll over any day now.”

“She is motivated. I guess that is normal for all kids.Then again she’s my only frame of reference,” added Felicity.

Mia let out a wail from the living room.

“Duty calls.”

“You feed Mia and I’ll make dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

>>>>>—��—————–>>

After Dinner

“I forgot to ask, how did your doctor’s appointment go? Anything I need to know?”

To be honest Felicity was amazed that she had kept the precious little nugget of information to herself all the way through dinner.

“Everything is good. Really good. I still need to limit my caffeine and alcohol since I’m breastfeeding”

“Do you think you can manage that? I know you’ve really been missing coffee.”

That’s not the only thing I’ve been missing

“I’ll manage. How about we have a glass of wine to celebrate?”

“Yeah, let me just put Mia down and then I’ll help you clean up. When is her next check up?” added Oliver shifting a sleeping Mia to his other arm.

Felicity rose from the table taking her plate and silverware to the sink, “in two weeks. And the midwife said we’re clear to have sex again.”

Expecting Oliver to comment on the critical info she had just dropped Felicity she paused at the sink, but the silence lingered. It was too much. She turned around to an empty table.

Where did he go?

She stepped back to the dining table, stacked the remaining dishes and then deposited them next to the sink while she turned on the water and opened the dishwasher. As she waited for the water to warm she felt him behind her, one hand on her hip and the other moving to sweep her hair away from her neck.

His lips made contact just below her ear, “I put Mia down, she’s asleep. Just so I’m sure I heard you correctly, no more limitations,” as he pulled at her hips to press them firmly into his own.

Felicity leaned back into his body lost in all the sensations.

“Nope. And I got the shot, so birth control is set for three months. She reminded me that we need to take it slow.”

Felicity felt a smile against her neck, “slow, hmm, I can do slow,” he answered pressing his growing erection into her more firmly.

Oliver released his hold and led her down the hallway. He sat down on the bed and pulled Felicity into his lap. Felicity pulled his shirt over his head and pushed him down onto the bed.

waaaa, waaaa

Felicity paused and turned her head in the direction of the baby monitor on the nightstand willing the sound to stop.

waaaa, waaaa, waaaa

Following the second cry, Felicity smiled at her husband and moved to get off the bed, but he was faster and said, “you stay, I’ll check on her and be right back.”

Felicity scooted to lay down on the bed.

I’ll just close my eyes for a minute

Awhile later she woke with a start in the now darkened room. Mia wasn’t crying. Why wasn’t her husband in the bed?

How long have I been asleep?

She rose quickly and walked into Mia’s room to find Oliver in the glider rocker, holding Mia, both of them fast asleep. Felicity gently touched his face and his eyes fluttered open. Felicity moved to take the sleeping child from his arms and whispered, “come to bed.”

Felicity returned to their bedroom and lifted back the covers to place Mia in the middle of the bed. The baby opened her mouth and began to root for her mother’s breast. Felicity pulled off her shirt and bra and then slid carefully into the bed. Mia latched quickly and Felicity snuggled closer.

A few minutes later Oliver returned to the room and slipped into bed too. She noticed that Oliver was wearing different clothes than she remembered from earlier in the evening.

“Why didn’t you wake me when you had trouble getting her back to sleep honey?”

Oliver answered, eyes already closed, “diaper explosion, twice. It was all over her and the sheets and blanket, and then all over me. I had to change and then run a load of laundry, oh and I gave her a bath. I must have fallen asleep rocking her.”

“I slept through all of that?”

Oliver’s answer came in the form of a small snore. He had spent all day with Mia while she ran errands and went to her doctor’s appointment, and now he had single handedly taken care of the monumental diaper crisis and let her sleep. Obviously they were both exhausted. Felicity felt the pull of sleep as Mia continued to nurse.

The only sex I’ll be having tonight will be in my dreams.

>>>>>———————–>>

The Next Evening

The next day was filled with more of the same as most days with a new baby are. Feeding, burping, changing, baths and lots of laundry. Felicity knew intellectually that she would eventually be able to have sex with her husband, but it seemed so odd to think of scheduling that sort of activity.

Oliver had left early to head to Star City for the day to check in with the Team. He was supposed to be back around dinner time to allow for their scheduled *date*. Well not a date-date as they were not going to leave the cabin, but a date nonetheless.

What do you call a date with your husband for sex?

Felicity spent the morning wheeling Mia around at the market picking up some special pre-cooked treats for dinner so that Oliver wouldn’t have to cook. Who could know how cooperative Mia would be that evening.

Time will be of the essence.

Mia slept peacefully the entire ride back to the cabin. Once Felicity has unpacked her dinner treats she repeated the cycle of feeding and changing and laid down on the couch to sleep while Mia was napping.

Oliver returned home just as Felicity had begun to pull the dinner treats from the fridge.

“Hey, your back early. How did things go?”

“Good. It was great to see John. I meant to text, but once I was on the road, I just wanted to get home. Looks like you have dinner ready.”

“Yup, cooked by someone else and ready to be reheated.”

“Is Mia sleeping? I was expecting to see her keeping you company in her bouncy chair.”

“Still sleeping. I was a bit worried at first she’d been asleep since before noon, but she’s peacefully sleeping. My breasts on the other hand do feel pretty full.”

“See, I told you she’d start sleeping for longer stretches soon.”

Felicity turned to poke her husband in the chest, “don’t you dare tempt fate.”

Oliver smiled, kissed his wife and moved to set the table for dinner.

Just as Felicity lifted her fork to take a bite of the steaming mac and cheese on her plate…

waaaa, waaaa

“I guess I’m not the only one whose hungry.”

Felicity sighed. She quickly popped a morsel of food into her mouth, pushed back from the table to get Mia from her room. Once she returned with her freshly changed little girl, Oliver helped her get settled back in her chair with her nursing pillow.

“Can you eat while you nurse or do I need to help you?” he asked.

“I’ve got it. I knew all the practice typing with one hand would come in handy someday. You need to eat too.”

Oliver and Felicity had a wonderfully relaxing dinner. Mia on the other hand didn’t stop eating all evening. By 8 pm the entire Queen family was exhausted and asleep.

>>>>>———————–>>

One Week Later

“Fe-li-ci-ty - let’s just rock her. We can wait.”

“No, we will not wait. I has been 7 weeks, 3 days and (checks her phone), 2 hours. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“Honey, Mia has been crying for the past 2 hours, she’s been doing this for the past few nights. It’s colic. You know we just need to wait it out and she’ll eventually fall asleep, come and sit down next to me,” as he patted the sofa next to where he was sitting.

Felicity hung her head in defeat, but noticed that Mia was no longer whimpering as was typical during one of these bouts of colic.

Why is she quiet?

Felicity looked up to see Oliver rocking baby Mia using his foot to move her bouncy chair. His eyes were closed and his head rested back onto the couch.

“She’s not crying.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’ve been holding out on me - you’ve known the secret all this time.”

“No secret, it just seemed easier this way since I’m tired”

“Genius. You Oliver Queen are a genius.You know what that means don’t you.”

“No.”

“Can you multitask?”

“Multitask?”

“Yes. You keep Mia quiet by bouncing her and do something else at the same time?”

“Why would I need to do something else at the same time?” he answered as he opened his eyes.

“If you can keep her busy, then we can get busy,”

Oliver snorted at her innuendo, but without another word, he swooped up Mia, bouncy chair and all, and carried her into their bedroom. Felicity was close on his heels, peeling off her sweater as she walked down the hallway.

He gently placed Mia and her bouncy chair on the floor next to the bed and turned to take Felicity into his arms. Oliver wasted no time and moved in to kiss her firmly. Felicity pressed closer and slid her hands up around his neck to deepen the kiss.

Mia began to whimper, eyes still closed, but sensing a sudden lack of bouncing. Maybe their short window of opportunity was closing.

“I’ll keep bouncing, you get undressed,” added Oliver.

Felicity yanked her shirt over her head. Next she toed off her shoes and shimmied out of her jeans, leaving her in only her bra and panties.

“Are you sure you can manage this?”

He leaned over to caress her face, “Felicity, I am highly motivated to keep Mia busy so that we can… get busy too.”

Felicity laughed and leaned in to kiss him again. Oliver pulled her close and snaked his arm around her back. With practiced ease he unhooked her bra and slipped it off her shoulders.

“I thought I was undressing myself?”

Oliver pulled back and shrugged, “what, I’m helping.”

Felicity pushed his foot away and took over the bouncing.

“Your turn.”

Oliver stood quickly, pulling his shirt over his head, and then dropped his pants and boxers in one fluid motion.

Felicity raised an eyebrow.

“What? I’m anxious too.”

Oliver laid down and shifted so that he had one leg hung off the side of the bed, his foot moving at a steady cadence. Felicity carefully stepped around the bouncy chair to reach the foot of the bed. She had to smile at the view laid out before her; her husband, in bed, completely naked - and miracle of miracles they were both awake and their daughter was not crying.

Felicity wasted no time in crawling onto the bed so that she was face to face with husband.

They would remember this day for many years into the future and laugh at all the effort it took that day to complete their pressing task.

Parenting was hard work.

>>>>>———————–>>

Effie214, I hope you liked the fic. I do have an idea for a second fic/second part that would be Christmas / Hanukkah focused. Obviously I didn’t get to write that yet, but I’ll share that on AO3 later on. Christmas in March anyone?

#arrow #olicity #olicity secret santa #goodbye olicity #submission

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btswishes · 6 years ago

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BTS Reactions: Them falling in love with you again after waking up from surgery with temporary amnesia caused by the medicine.

A/N: That vid was super cute!!!

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: “ hii, I watched a video of a men that was with amnesia and fell in love for his wife still in the hospital and it was sooooo cute af and I thought if you could make a reaction of the boys falling in love for their gf after an amnesia??? thank youu💖 “

Jin:

You kept holding his hand trying to clam him down, after his voice was getting louder and more hyper after each minute. Finally his face turned towards you. He said as loud as ever “Nice to meet you!But do you know who I am madam!?” he swung his arm in the most ungraceful was possible. You shook his hand and smiled. Before anything could leave your lips he yelled

“MR WORLDWIDE HANDSOME AT YOUR SERVICE!” you giggled “I know, I have been dating you for 4 years now stupid.” Jin stopped talking and his eyebrows shot up to the sky “Me? You been dating me for like...” he tried to count to four on his wobbly fingers, showing you 5 of them. You gently reached out and tucked in his thumb “4 baby, not yet 5.” “Oh wow,wowwwww, you pretty, like wowww.Do they call you worldwide gorgeous? CUS THEY SHOULDDD!”he was becoming too loud so the nurses decided to give him some medicine.That didn’t stop him from swinging his arms around the place” Hey hey nurseeeeeee nurseeeee! Bring me some of your finesttttt water for my LOVELY GIRLFRIEND here!”

Min Yoongi/Suga/Agust D:

Yoongi was one special patient, he wasn’t loud, he didn’t yell, he just kept looking in one spot on the wall and sitting there like he was figuring out the meaning of life.

You leaned towards him and your head popped in front of him. “You ok honey?” After his eyes were focused on you, you sat back down and waited for him to say something. Low key you wanted it to be funny, so when he snapped out of it you could tell Yoongi.So far nothing was happening.

All of a sudden he turned onto his side and leaned his head onto his body, flashing you a smirk. “So, you come here often?” you wanted to burst out laughing, but tried to act serious to see how far he was going to take this “I am here with my boyfriend.” “Oh really?Ditch that bitch and come hang out with a real man sweetie.” you placed your hands onto your lips whispering “Yoongi!”he shouldn’t be cussing at a hospital, yet you were kinda hiding your smile behind your palms too. “I will tell you a little secret,come closer.”so you did “I am one of the rappers in BTS. Min Yoongi.”you sat back down looking as amazed as you could act “Oh really? But I can’t ditch my boyfriend because that is you.Want me to ditch BTS’s rapper?” he pointed at himself and you nodded. A couple of minutes silence followed before he smirked “You know, I told you your boyfriend is the coolest dude sweetie.”

Jung Hoseok/J-hope:

Hoseok was laughing so much when they brought him in the recovery room with you. The moment he saw you sitting there, he stopped laughing and waved shyly. You waved back and he started giggling and hiding under his covers. From time to time he would peek from under them and hide again. “Miss...?”he asked shyly “Yes?” “By chance are you single?” “No, I am not.” “Oh....” all of a sudden he let go of the blanket and looked down a bit sad. He wasn’t moving or reacting, so you thought it was from the medicine. A couple of minutes later you heard sniffing and low and behold he was crying.

Worried you jumped off your chair and pulled out some tissues “Why are you crying? Are you feeling ok?” he sniffed “It hurts.” this made you very worried, but before you were about to call the nurse, he pointed towards his heart. “It hurts here.” “Why does it hurt there Hobbi?” “Cus, cus *snif snif* you are sooo pretty and and I wanted to take you out, but you have a boyfriend and you dont like me.” cupping his cheeks, you kissed his cute nose “Honey, angel you are my boyfriend. No one else is as important to me as you are. I don’t like you, I love you.” “Really?” you nodded. Lets just say he told everyone that walked in ,that you are his gf, one very proud baby over here.

Kim Namjoon/RM:

Jooni was one hilarious mess. He was saying so many random facts, that most of the people could swear he was some kind of professor or teacher. He was looking all over the place, telling anyone and everyone stuff they probably didn’t want to know about, but with the medicine he took before the surgery it was understandable. “Nams, honey don’t be so loud people can hear you outside.” he looked at you and pulled out his glasses, placing them gently onto his face.

“You are quite correct my lady.” “Thank you.” you were surprised he listened to you so fast “Where are my manners. My name is Kim Namjoon, rapper of the well known group of musicians BTS.I am sure that you might have heard of us at some point with your, might I say, very lovely ears.” you were shocked by that sentence “Honey are you ok?” “Judging by the matching rings and the lovely names you are calling me, we are a couple. So tell me my love how does wine and a nice restaurant sound to you? Just the two of us ,enjoying your beauty?” he was trying to act like a detective and gentleman at the same time “Is there anything I can say that will stop you from doing that?” ”Not at all. I now shall proceed to explain the details of our meeting.” which he did.

Park Jimin:

Jimin was one of a kind when things like this happened. You were waiting to film him, but he took longer than expected and sadly your battery died, so you had to pull out a power bank. The doors soon opened and the nurses brought in your boyfriend, as drugged out from the medicine as he can be. You tried to turn your phone on but it wasn’t working. “Hey nurse nurse!” he called out and the woman stepped back in again “I think I am in the wrong room. I don’t know this girl.” for a moment your heart felt heavy “Jimin! How could you say that!” “Miss, you are sooo pretty I am sure that if I knew you I would have already asked you to date me.”

Your eyes were the widest they have ever been. The shock, followed you laughing out so loud that you made the boy jump “It’s true, but you already asked me out 4 years ago and I said yes.” “So, if I asked you to marry me...would you still say yes?” “PARK JIMIN! I don’t want talk like that when you are still high from your surgery!” “I went to surgery ?” he started poking his leg “Oh wow I don’t feel anything.” the nurse told you to just let him poke his knee, better than having him talking about such stuff right now.

Kim Taehyung/V:

Taehyung was awfully flirty with you. He couldn’t speak much since the doctor was still in the room. But this guy was winking at you, flashing smiles and random smirks. You found it extremely funny. Each time you giggled under your nose, it fueled him to continue with his childish teasing.

The doctor walked out and you decided to break the silence ”Anything you want to tell me? Or you going to continue winking.” “Oh sorry about that. You were too pretty to look away. I wasn’t winking actually, I was trying to take a mental picture of you to remember, but I don’t think it will do your beauty justice.” he looked towards you and closed both his eyes making a clicking sound “There now I have at least 20 pics of you. Under what folder do you want me to put them? I have 6 names in my head, you chose one you like.” “Let’s hear them.” “ Would, You, Go, Out, With, Me.” “I have a better name Already, Am.” he looked shocked at you, that face didn’t change till the medicine weared off. The boy couldn’t believe that he was dating someone so pretty.

Jungkook:

When the nurse left Jungkook with you he was so shocked. His mouth was wide open and his finger slowly lifting off the bed pointing at you. You were a bit surprised but waiting to see what gold he has in store for you.

Youtube made you believe that everyone coming out of surgery says stupid things. 1 minute passed than 2, 3, 5 he wasn’t saying a word. “Um...everything ok with you?” “You are an angel?!” this would have made you spill your drink on the wall, floor anywhere if you had one .

“What?!” “Yeah....you are so pretty.....such a pretty angel.” “Jungkook I am flattered, but I am not an angel honey.” “Oh..” he looked a bit disappointing ,yet calmed down. It wasn’t even a second before he swung his head back towards you “I know what you are doing.” he smirked “You are not supposed to tell any human that you are here. Don’t worry I will keep it a secret. So...how did you get in here?” you pointed at the door, answering him completely normally. “Oh cool cool. So how does this all work? Does heaven send the most beautiful angels to Earth?” he was jumping a lot so you were worried about his IV

“Honey, don’t move so much you just had surgery.” “Surgery ?Oh I know! You must be my guardian angel. Waaaa so pretty.” “No, babe I am your girlfriend.” you tucked him in, since Jungkook was obviously slowly falling asleep “No wayyyyy. I am dating a pretty angel...such as.....yourself.....no,,,way....” he was out cold in a matter of seconds. Hands down you could bet that all the boys would kill to see a vid of Kookie like this.

sorry for this gif XD XD scroll down for the better one

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commentaryvorg · 5 years ago

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Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 6.6

Be aware that this is not a blind playthrough! This will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.

Last time as trial 6 began (and no, this trial is not getting any exclamation marks), we retried Rantaro’s murder, Rantaro’s Survivor Perk note was not a video, Kaede still did meaningfully bear responsibility for his death but her execution was not justified even by the game’s rules, Kaede’s twin was a ridiculous and very telling red herring, Himiko continued to be a little bit Kaito (though only on a surface level) in her desperation to keep believing in Tsumugi, Shuichi still hated accusing his friends of murder but managed it anyway, and Junko Enoshima waaaas…

Tsumugi: “Junko… Enoshima is…”

“Junko”: “Right the fuck here!”

…Not actually even remotely here at all, of course.

“Junko”: “Even if nobody was waiting, even if it makes you go, ‘What, again?’… The diva of despair takes the stage once more! Junko Enoshima the 53rd!”

So… are we seriously to believe that in every single in-universe Danganronpa series up until this point, they’ve always found some excuse for it to be Junko each time? That this really is literally the 53rd time she’s appeared? Damn, no wonder she’s lampshading the repetitiveness and how bored everyone must be of that.

That’s difficult enough to believe that I’d rather assume she’s only saying 53rd to give them a hint, and really Junko has appeared more than enough times for people to be tired of it but still not nearly every time.

(This also reads like a dig by the out-universe writers at themselves for this, even though she only returned once and that was pretty believable because of the situation they were in. Unless she also somehow returned from the dead in the anime or UDG. Geez, I hope not.)

Monokuma: “Bwah-hahahaha! There you have it! Once again, the mastermind is Junko Enoshima!”

Monokuma has apparently just become like a sports commentator, now that the mastermind herself can play the role he usually has. This is after all the first time Monokuma’s still been around once the mastermind takes the stage, because he’s not a literal puppet this time.

Himiko: “Tsumugi… wh-what’s the matter? Aren’t you… Tsumugi Shirogane? Our friend who survived with us?”

“Junko”: “Hahaha, sorry about that. You can go ahead and forget about Tsumugi Shirogane.”

Tsumugi: “Cuz I’m just a character! Y’know, a lie!”

This is, in a certain sense, not wrong. The Tsumugi they thought they knew and were friends with never existed – it was just an act being put on by the real Tsumugi who was cruelly making this fiction for entertainment and enjoying every second of it. It may have been somewhat based in reality in that Tsumugi based that lie off herself and just did what would come naturally to her if she wasn’t a fucking terrible person, but it was still ultimately not a person who really exists. “Tsumugi” was the only one of the students here who really truly was just fictional.

“Junko”: “Sorry to all her fans out there. If any of you even exist, that is.”

And now joining Monokuma in the Not Remotely Subtle club: Tsumugi! Not that she probably cares because she’s intending for Shuichi to figure out the real truth soon enough.

“Junko”: “Tsumugi Shirogane was nothing more than a cover for me, the mastermind.”

However, here she’s trying to imply that there never even was anyone called Tsumugi Shirogane in the first place and she was just Junko in disguise the whole time. And for some reason, the students seem to kind of buy this (as did several of the blind LPers I’ve watched), when nobody should? Tsumugi is a cosplayer. It is still perfectly possible that this is just Tsumugi cosplaying Junko rather than the other way around, and especially since Junko is supposed to be super super dead, that should be what everyone immediately jumps to rather than believing this.

“Junko”: “As you can see, I am a perfect reproduction of Junko Enoshima.”

Maki: “So… you’re just a freak pretending to be Junko Enoshima, huh!?”

“Junko”: “No, a perfect reproduction!”

Tsumugi: “Perfect reproductions are exactly the same as the original.”

She’s clearly talking about cosplay here, guys! At least Maki seems to get it, but nobody quite zeroes in on the fact that beneath the mask she still is Tsumugi the Ultimate Cosplayer and it’s just that the Tsumugi we thought we knew was mostly an act.

Maki: “So if we kill you, then that’ll be the end, correct?”

Maki Roll, no! Didn’t you decide back in the investigation that you weren’t actually going to kill the mastermind?

Shuichi: “You killed Kaede, and Monokuma covered it up with a false narrative!”

Hah, I like how he calls it a narrative. Way more appropriate than he realises.

“Junko”: “I knew of Hope’s Peak Academy’s Gofer Project, and my inner Junko told me…”

…

Tsumugi: “And then I took the name ‘Tsumugi Shirogane’ and sneaked in among them.”

She can’t even keep her own narrative straight! “Junko” is implying she’s not really Junko and just wanted to be, and Tsumugi is saying she’s not really Tsumugi! Which one is she even trying to go with here!? Apparently she’s just trying to confuse everyone as much as possible.

Maki: “Did… Kokichi know about this? Wasn’t he a Remnant of Despair?”

Maki, you were with Shuichi when he saw Kokichi’s motive video, you should know now that he wasn’t! It seems she was so fixated on her belief that he’s a Remnant (for reasons we will get into soon) that she told herself the motive video must have been some kind of hoax.

Himiko: “Who’s this killing game being shown to!? Where are the survivors of humanity!?”

Tsumugi: “There’s nobody watching.”

You literally just talked about your “fans” like five minutes ago, Tsumugi, I don’t know why you expect this to work on anyone.

Shuichi finally brings up with the notion that their memories might not be true. He let Tsumugi ramble on for far longer than he needed to about things he had every reason to think were most likely lies before coming out with this, but.

Shuichi: “This book contains years of research about Hope’s Peak Academy. Nothing would indicate this book is a prop. I believe this information here is accurate.”

Oh, no, Shuichi, this book is very much a prop and everything written in here is also a lie. I guess he’s saying this because, for the out-universe audience, they already know that everything written in that book is the real truth about the Hope’s Peak story. But it’s still pretty flimsy the way Shuichi just takes this book as the truth at this point in the trial in order to argue that their memories are the part that’s wrong. Especially when he now has plenty of other ways to prove that anyway.

Monokuma: “Alright! Time to play some Danganronpa trivia!”

…Apparently this is why the narrative is doing this and is about to make us go through three Nonstop Debates just about this: because they really did just want to make us play Danganronpa trivia. Anyone playing this game who hadn’t played or seen the other games can just use the book to be able to do this, but man, surely they’d feel so bored and left out and questioning why they should care about all this.

(Also, the students are probably wondering why the hell Monokuma just started talking about Bullet Rebuttals like that’s supposed to mean anything. …Or maybe they’re not, because Monokuma was always full of non-sequiturs anyway and this is probably just another one, right.)

Maki: “Wasn’t Junko the Ultimate Despair?”

Keebo: “…That’s what I recall as well. That label should only apply to her.”

Apparently they don’t think that the Remnants of Despair count as being called the Ultimate Despair in any capacity. In DR2, a certain group of people who were referred to as “Ultimate Despair” were definitely also called “Remnants of Despair” in at least one or two lines. However, that’s the part of the story that everyone’s fake memories seem to be missing out, so I suppose that explains why they see the Remnants of Despair as a totally separate thing.

“Junko”: “Ugh, does it even matter? I’m bored already.”

Really? Because you don’t seem that bored. This “Junko” we’re seeing here is only really showing one personality, the “base” Junko so to speak, rather than switching between multiple different ones like the real Junko would do because she kept getting bored. Of course Tsumugi isn’t going to get bored like that – how could she ever be bored of being one of her favourite characters?

Keebo: “…because Junko had prepared countless ways of spreading despair.”

“She did no such thing!”

“Oh, maybe she did…”

Is Tsumugi switching characters mid-debate in order to disagree with herself? Boo, only Kaito was allowed to do that. (Or maybe she’s just arguing with Monokuma.)

“Junko”: “It just means those documents were written all half-assed. There’s no need to worry about it. Your memories are all correct.”

Shuichi: “What you’ve been saying isn’t consistent! First you said it was just ‘coincidence’.”

I appreciate Shuichi picking up on how inconsistent her narrative is and calling her out on that. The previous time he’s talking about was her claiming that everyone coincidentally misremembered the same thing, which is the complete opposite of her claim here that the book is wrong and not their memories.

Keebo: “And with that… recruitment of talented students resumed.”

This is supposed to be Keebo remembering that they all applied to Hope’s Peak when the “truth” is that the school didn’t accept applications and scouted all its students. But the phrasing “recruitment of students” definitely sounds like Keebo is saying that they were scouted. Probably a localisation error, but way to mess that one up, localisers.

Shuichi: “Me too. I *chose* to come to Hope’s Peak.”

And if you think about it, that really isn’t in character for you, is it, Shuichi? Until you met Kaede and Kaito, you hated your talent and didn’t think you deserved to be called the Ultimate Detective. You were scared of revealing the truth and certainly wouldn’t have decided on your own to apply to make that something you had to do even more of.

On that same note, why in the world would Maki have applied to be recognised as the Ultimate Assassin and have that become well-known?

Shuichi then goes on to mention the other evidence of this all being bullshit, specifically that they have no memory of the killing game Rantaro participated in, and that Kokichi wasn’t a Remnant of Despair. It’s almost like we didn’t need to do all of this business with Shuichi inexplicably insisting the book must definitely be the truth in order to prove this.

Maki: “He wasn’t… a Remnant of Despair?”

Maki in particular looks very shocked to hear this. If he wasn’t, then it means she had no good justification for trying to kill Kokichi – not only was he not actually the mastermind, but she had no genuine, non-fabricated reason to even assume he was. It means she was just being manipulated into doing what others wanted of her and killing who others wanted her to kill on an even greater level than she was already aware of. She’d thought at the time that it was her own decision and her own desire, but all of it was just manipulation, just someone else using her as a puppet to kill, like always.

Shuichi: “An organization centered around petty crimes, one that forbids murder.”

Whoops, there’s a remnant (no pun intended) of the original Japanese line in Kokichi’s motive video that mentioned their explicit motto about not killing people. Apparently Shuichi’s localiser is not the same one who localised the video and did not get the memo.

Maki: “You mean… he wasn’t a Remnant of Despair? That’s… not possible…”

Because if it is possible, if it is true, then why did she try to kill him? Was she really just killing for someone else’s whims yet again? Is she not allowed to have any of her own agency at all?

Shuichi: “Kokichi didn’t tell us because he wasn’t exposed to that Flashback Light. And… neither was Kaito.”

…

Exisal Kaito: “… Junko?”

I like that it calls back to this and allows the players to very explicitly realise how utterly fucking confused Kaito must have been during those bits. (Even though it’s technically wrong for the text box be calling him “Exisal Kaito”; sure, we know now it was Kaito, but he was pretending to be Kokichi at the time and that makes him “Exisal Kokichi”. The name “Exisal Kokichi” never referred to the real Kokichi at all.)

Shuichi finally gets to the point and starts talking about how the Flashback Lights were fake. Since he has pretty concrete proof of this, I really don’t know why he couldn’t have brought this up sooner. (Because clearly we all really needed to play some Danganronpa Trivia, I guess.)

Keebo: “So the memories we recovered with the Flashback Lights were…”

Shuichi: “Not real. They were all false memories. They were all lies!”

One thing to note is that nobody remembers the very first Flashback Light at the beginning where they “remembered” their talents – understandably, since it created their entire characters and overwrote everything that came before. So, even though Shuichi now knows that the entire backstory about the Gofer Project was all a lie, he’s not yet able to think this through to its conclusion of just how bad this is.

Monokuma: “Then everything was a lie! All the suspense and foreshadowing was for nothing! Can you believe it? It’s like everything that happened didn’t matter at all.”

You’re giving yourself and your in-universe writer friends way too much credit, Monokuma. It’s not like the backstory ever actually really mattered. The things that mattered most in this story were the deaths that happened in this killing game and the efforts everyone went to to avoid letting more happen, all of which was very, very real. All this changes is that a few of the murders – Kirumi’s and Gonta’s, and Maki’s attempted one – were done for a reason that was based on a lie. But that doesn’t make it not matter, that just makes it more tragic in hindsight to know that they were manipulated.

Tsumugi: “Lies are just like snowballs. The more you roll them, the bigger they get. The bigger they are, the more fun and shocking it is when they’re revealed.”

“Junko”: “That’s why everything up till now has been lies! That’s the truth!”

Not even remotely “everything”. Tsumugi is right to say that a bigger lie being revealed makes for a better plot twist, but doing so to too great an extent does run the risk of making the entire story seem pointless. I think the out-universe writers struck a good balance here, though, because not everything has been lies. Everyone still formed bonds and fought and struggled and died, and all of that has been real. Everything which really mattered still matters. And most of the actual meaningful foreshadowing and suspense we’ve had has been very much on an out-universe level, because the in-universe writers couldn’t have predicted what would happen in future, especially not for cases 4 and 5 which were all “written” for them by Kokichi.

Himiko: “We’re not students from Hope’s Peak?”

Himiko is the only one who even seems to be particularly upset about this part of the relevation, probably because she’s the only one of them who’s truly proud of her talent and would have been happy to think she’d been part of a huge legacy of talented people.

“Junko”: “Looking back, it was a mistake to have you remember Hope’s Peak.”

Tsumugi: “I didn’t originally plan on giving you those memories, but… I was in a rush and overlooked all those inconsistencies, so you figured it all out…”

It wasn’t only a mistake because it let them figure everything out, Tsumugi. It was also just bad writing.

There’s no reason to doubt this claim that she didn’t plan this from the start. Everything about the Hope’s Peak part of the backstory was clearly shoehorned in and not truly connected to everything that had come before it; nothing about it was foreshadowed in the previous memories. That book in Kokichi’s lab was thrown in there in a hurry and had nothing to do with the rest of the room.

(It would have been perfectly possible to foreshadow Hope’s Peak in their memories. They could have all vaguely remembered growing up in a world that was slowly recovering from some apocalyptic event, even if they were unclear on what that event was. Instead of remembering being at ordinary schools and just having their talents recognised by a separate Ultimate Initiative, they could have remembered being at some fairly prestigious kind of school and just forgotten the name of the school and that it was the same one for all of them. And they maybe could have had it so they didn’t remember why they knew of their Ultimate titles, only for it to turn out that that’s because Hope’s Peak bestowed those titles and they forgot the specifics about Hope’s Peak. But nope – none of that was in their memories, because none of this was planned.)

Shuichi: “So that’s why Kokichi had to die?”

I mean, really, Kokichi was planning on getting himself killed for his grand plan anyway whether the mastermind had any say in it or not.

Shuichi: “He usurped the mastermind’s role, but in doing so, became a thorn in their side. So to get rid of that hindrance, the mastermind played along with the lie.”

However, the mastermind was probably hoping to get Kokichi killed before he could pull off whatever grand plan was going to be the endpoint of all his scheming and possibly make things even worse for them. Too bad that didn’t work out – all thanks to Kaito jumping in the way of Maki’s arrow, which is emphatically not something that was part of the writers’ script.

Tsumugi: “At the same time, having everyone remember Hope’s Peak Academy… made you guys target him because you thought he was a Remnant of Despair.”

Yep, she’s straight-up admitting it. It wasn’t just believing he was a Remnant, but also the fact that they believed they themselves were these symbols of hope whose duty was to “defeat” anything associated with “despair”. Hope’s Peak was very much a part of the manipulation.

Maki: “Then the reason I tried to kill Kokichi was…”

Monokuma: “You were being controlled by false memories, like putty in the mastermind’s hands.”

I’m afraid so, Maki.

Monokuma also goes on to confirm that the Hope’s Peak memory was also to artificially make them recover from the despair they were in. Really they should have been able to figure this out themselves at the time, but hey.

“Junko”: “New mysteries and truths turn to motivation. Motivation drives a story. Everything from the Flashback Lights was just motivation to move you forward. But… I guess it was fake motivation.”

Monokuma: “You idiots kept getting jerked around by meaningless lies!”

I mean, yes, she’s right, they needed motivation to make the story interesting and that was a lot of the point of the Flashback Lights. But it really wasn’t to the extent that she’s claiming. Most of their motivation was just wanting to get the hell out of here and not die, which was entirely the truth and nothing to do with the Flashback Lights. The only fake motivation that actually drove the story was some of the motives for murder – but then everyone’s reactions and further motivations in the wake of those murders were very real.

“Junko”: “This class trial was like that too, wasn’t it? Why was it you were so motivated to do it? Because you got a memory from one of the Flashback Lights, right?”

Haha, no, stop giving yourself credit you don’t deserve. She goes on to talk about all of the flashbacks they had during the investigation and how that supposedly filled them with the hope to fight back, but no, that had nothing to do with why Shuichi and his friends were determined to do this. This trial would still be happening exactly like it is now if they’d never had those flashbacks. Shuichi is doing this because of his determination to end the killing game, thanks to the promises he made to Kaede and Kaito and everyone else, because he doesn’t want their deaths to be in vain. All of that is completely real and had nothing to do with the pointless flashbacks that were entirely irrelevant to anything that’s actually been happening here.

“Junko”: “Remembering the weight of that hope should’ve made you feel stronger.”

Eh, that depends. That could also have just put too much pressure on them and made them hesitant to act for fear of messing up and letting down everyone who’d supposedly been relying on them – especially for someone like Shuichi.

Tsumugi: “Even though Kaito and Kokichi were gone, and Keebo started to go berserk… You guys didn’t give up hope.”

Oh, you can fuck right off with your implication that now that Kaito’s gone he has absolutely nothing to do with them holding onto hope. Kaito’s death is precisely why Shuichi is so determined now! And if you didn’t think that was going to happen when Kaito died, why in the everliving hell did you even *kill him*!? Am I seriously going to have to accept here that Tsumugi didn’t have any kind of meaningful narrative in mind for Kaito’s death? That she killed him not even for the sake of at least Shuichi’s arc in her story, but purely for the hell of it?

I can try and tell myself that she doesn’t quite mean this and is only saying it in a pathetic attempt to sell the importance of her pointless backstory and even more pointless flashbacks, but geez.

It also sounds awkwardly like she could be saying that Kokichi ever inspired anyone with hope, but I presume what she means there is that he was providing an obvious enemy whom they could be inspired to fight against.

Maki: “You were controlling our emotions? Even our resolve to defeat the mastermind?”

Maki’s voice sounds very distressed here. She is not at all happy to realise that she’s still just being controlled and used by a higher power that doesn’t care about her, even now after she’d begun to feel like she’d started to make her own decisions and break free of that. Her desires matter? No, actually, her desires were never really hers in the first place.

I really enjoy how, even though it’s never explained why Maki’s so distressed over this and over learning that Kokichi wasn’t a Remnant of Despair earlier, it’s still very much there in her voice. This is hitting her right in the issues in a way that’s going to continue to be very relevant as this trial continues.

Himiko: “A-All the memories… were fake? Then… what was everything till now?”

Still real, Himiko! Angie and Tenko still really died, you know! This doesn’t change that much!

Himiko: “If they were all fake memories, then… Where… are we? Why are we in this killing game?”

She’s acting like the memories of the Gofer Project and everything somehow justified that they were being put through this killing game, but… they really didn’t. The killing game part of that was unrelated to the actual backstory and was supposedly because one single evil asshole suddenly decided “hey wouldn’t it be fun if the survivors of humanity all killed each other”. Which is the only reason a game like this would ever happen: because some asshole thought it would be fun. The wider context of it really isn’t that relevant – it only served to make it more tragic that they were killing each other despite how important their lives were to humanity – so it really doesn’t matter now that it’s all been revealed as fake.

Shuichi: “But we have nothing to do with Hope’s Peak, so you can’t be Junko. So who the hell are you!?”

I… don’t know why this is only just occurring to you now, Shuichi. It should have been obvious from the start that she’s not really Junko. Why is it so hard for you to think that she could just be Tsumugi, albeit a different “Tsumugi” to the one you thought you were friends with?

“Hajime”: “I’m me. No one else.”

Shuichi: (…What?)

Keebo: “What… is this?”

Tsumugi: “Huh? You know him, don’t you? He was in the Jabberwock Island killing game.”

The general public in the Hope’s Peak universe didn’t watch that killing game, though. Shuichi and friends shouldn’t have fake memories of Hajime or anyone else from DR2. At most, they should vaguely remember a list of names and faces of the people who were involved in that conflict that the general public maybe learned about afterwards, but they shouldn’t be familiar with them.

Tsumugi: “What am I doing? I’m just cosplaying.”

Shuichi: “Cosplaying?”

I would say “come on, Shuichi, this isn’t hard to grasp”, but, to be fair… at this point, it becomes less cosplay and more shapeshifting. I can just about stretch my disbelief to buy that she can change clothes ridiculously fast – sure, whatever, this is an anime-style universe, let’s go with that. But now, she’s not only cosplaying Junko, she’s cosplaying several characters who have completely different body types to her. To some extent cosplayers can copy body types by using binding or padding, but not to this degree! Some of these characters are significantly shorter than her, and there’s no way you can do that!

So, everyone else’s talents are faked, but Tsumugi is so talented at cosplay that she can just do what has to be literal shapeshifting. Sure, sure, I guess we’ve just got to go with that. Tsumugi is a shapeshifter, okay then.

“Kazuichi”: “Check it out! Even my voice sounds exactly the same!”

(Haha, hi, Kaito’s voice actor. The English dub had all of the V3 characters voiced by someone who did one of the DR1 or 2 cast in order to spend less money on this. Apparently the Japanese dub didn’t and yet still managed to get all the old VAs back anyway.)

We’re also supposed to believe that Tsumugi can just perfectly mimic all the voices, even the deepest male ones. I guess the Ultimate Imposter could do that kind of thing (even though they couldn’t change their body type), so sure, whatever, even though this is not supposed to be a universe where some people are born with talents that are practically superpowers, I guess Tsumugi can do that too.

I suppose her being able to do this does make it slightly more justifiable why the Exisals randomly have a voice changer that can perfectly mimic anyone’s voice, right? That’s a plus to this, isn’t it??

This is the moment at which Tsumugi’s magical cosplay aura is meant to appear… but there’s a well-known glitch where if you save and quit and then resume at any point before this while “Junko” is here, the aura will show up before it should and somewhat spoil the reveal. I write this commentary in sessions that don’t necessarily correlate with the post breaks, so this happened to me too this time. Whoooops, game devs.

Shuichi: “How can she cosplay as students of Hope’s Peak Academy!? Because Tsumugi told us…”

Shuichi, that stupid cospox claim should not be taken as any kind of evidence for anything! You have no proof she was even telling the truth about that!

Tsumugi: “Ah, you remembered! Yes, that’s exactly right.”

“Makoto”: “So then… what does this mean?”

The cospox nonsense is supposedly used to “prove” that the characters she’s cosplaying are all actually fictional. But that really is not necessary, because Tsumugi is clearly ready to have Shuichi figure that out and would have therefore been quite happy to just tell him if he couldn’t figure it out himself. This entire stupid cospox plot point was just 1000% Not Needed. Even if they wanted Shuichi to be the one to figure this out to give the players a game to play, they could have just used the fact that Tsumugi always very strongly argued that it was wrong to cosplay real people and seems to still be agreeing with that philosophy even as Shuichi brings it up now.

(I mean, I suppose since Tsumugi is a literal shapeshifter maybe I shouldn’t be considering it such a ridiculous leap compared to that that her superpowers come with the caveat of only being able to do it with fictional people. But still. (And when she “demonstrated” it to Kaede, she did not attempt to shapeshift into her, just put on her clothes, so.))

Shuichi: (Hope’s Peak Academy is…) “It’s fictional… It’s all fictional!?”

Shuichi looks incredibly shellshocked at this realisation… but I’m not sure why it’s getting to him so much now. As soon as he realised that their memories from the Hope’s Peak Flashback Light were all fake, it follows that not only were they not Hope’s Peak students, but also that the school and all the backstory surrounding it may well have never existed in the first place.

Shuichi: “Dangan… ronpa…?”

I love how bewildered Shuichi sounds at hearing this name for the world he thought he was a part of. Okay, sure, maybe rebuttals are kind of relevant to these class trials, but what do bullets have to do with anything???

Himiko: “S-So… this was all fake? Everything was made up? And the whole time… we thought it was real?”

What do you even mean, the whole time? You guys started thinking Hope’s Peak was real literally only two days ago! Again, this should not be the point at which everyone’s being the most shocked about this – that should have happened simply when they realised their memories from the Flashback Lights were all fake. I think the out-universe writers are slipping a bit too much into having them react like the audience would to such a revelation, because obviously Hope’s Peak is totally the most important thing, right? Not to these characters, it shouldn’t be. The last time they reacted more like a fan than they should have done regarding Hope’s Peak revelations, that was probably in-universely deliberate brainwashing from that Flashback Light, making them super excited for the sake of artificial “hope”. But this time there’s not that excuse.

I’ve also seen one or two blind LPers get kind of upset at this revelation that DR1 and 2 were “all fictional”, as if it callously retconned things so that nothing in those games ever mattered – but this is completely misunderstanding how fiction works. Of course Danganronpa 1 and 2 were fictional. We ourselves consumed them as works of fiction. But within that fictional universe, it all really happened and really mattered. All this is saying here is that Danganronpa V3 does not take place within that universe after all – instead, it takes place in a universe similar to our own where DR1 and 2 were works of fiction. That does not make the events of the Hope’s Peak storyline any less meaningful to itself – it just means that those events aren’t a part of this story like we’d been led to believe.

(And like I mentioned back in chapter 5, this is a good thing, because it means that those surviving characters we cared about in the Hope’s Peak universe weren’t randomly, meaninglessly killed off by meteorites! They did still live somewhat-happily ever after!)

While Himiko’s saying this, we also get a bunch of flashback images from both DR1 and 2… and again, she shouldn’t be remembering any of the specifics of Danganronpa 2, because the general public didn’t watch that killing game.

Tsumugi: “Did you think the Ultimate Cosplayer’s talent was only limited to characters?”

“Junko”: “It’d be kinda lame if that was all the big bad mastermind could do…”

I guess that’s our reason for why she’s a straight-up shapeshifter. Because she’s the big bad mastermind, so she’s got to be able to do something over-the-top like that. Sure.

Tsumugi: “I can do far more than that… I can cosplay the world itself!”

…No, not really? Shoving memories of that world into people’s heads and making them think it’s the truth isn’t “cosplaying” it and has nothing to do with your superpower and everything to do with Flashback Lights.

Shuichi: “B-But… why? Why would you do this? Why make us think it’s real—”

“Hina”: “Well, duh! It’s so you’d all play the killing game!”

That’s really not why. They were all playing the killing game just fine long before they thought any of the previous Danganronpas were real. You don’t need to know about the previous ones to be forced to do what the bear tells you to. The only reason she made them think it was real was to pander to the in-universe audience when they were mad at her after Kokichi had made things temporarily boring.

“Nekomaru”: “In other words, it’s Ultimate Real Fiction!!!”

In other words, you’re still killing real people for this killing game, regardless of how fictional the backstory is.

Maki: “But… if it’s fiction… If everything… isn’t real… Then… the world being in ruins is also fiction, right? The world outside… is fine, right?”

It would be a little surprising that it took so long for someone to mention this part, the thing that would be good news about all this… but I suppose they didn’t only get the “truth” about the outside world from the Flashback Light. It’d be harder to find a reason to doubt what they also saw with their own eyes until reaching this point.

Unless, of course, you’re Kokichi and are already certain there’s an audience and using that as your base premise, resulting in a thought process of, “there’s definitely an audience, so what do you mean the world’s been destroyed?”. But since everyone else only learned there was probably an audience after seeing the outside world, they had the destroyed outside world as their base premise instead, and so they were faced with a mystery of, “the world’s been destroyed, so I’m not sure how there can be an audience even though the evidence suggests there is one”.

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#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #ndrv3 #chapter 6 #class trial #commentary

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loulicate-recs · 3 years ago

Note

Hello sweetness!

I’m sorry for the delay, I somehow got so busy, but now I’m more free!! How have you been? I just saw your sweet message and thank you for thinking of me. I also often think about you. What have you been up to?

I’ve read Save Your Heart and wow. First of all, 66k is a lot of work so you should be proud of yourself for writing so much. Second, I loved the story. I might have not seen the movie but I can tell I’ll love it from your story. I love how you portrayed both Harry and Louis, it was awesome and their relationship was so pure. You’re such an amazing writer, thank you for blessing us with your works 💝

I promise to send you more messages from now on, now that I’m no longer too busy. You’re awesome, thank you for being patient with me. I promise I haven’t forgotten you at all, I just don’t want to bother you too much with my messages.

Sending you love and happiness;

Your Secret Santa

hi secret santa! i’m finally free from assignments phase too <3 its finee i’m late at replying too so it’s fair :D since i had nothing left to do i got to have an alone time for the whole day so all the cleaning, washing and messages that have been piling up for days were completed and knowing all the burdens have been lifted up i’m feeling pretty amazing ❤️

and waaaa thank you so much i really appreciate you reading it 🥺💞 it’s something so so personal to me because i spent the longest time writing it and eventho there are other wips that i’m pretty sure better than save your heart, still! she’s my favourite child because of the film :’) you should watch it j promise the movie is 100x better than the fic itself hehe 💞 istg you’re gonna make me cry from all your kind words, i don’t deserve such an angelic secret santa like you :( ❤️

i’ll always look forward to receiving messages from you! not long now until 25th december and i’m excited to find out about you :o i think i might have an idea about who you are but i’m just gonna be patient and wait until the reveal day to see if my suspicion is correct or false 🤧 AND PLEASE, you’re never a bother! always thinking about you my sweet 🍄

hope you’re doing really really amazing,

- H

#ss

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clevercatchphrase · 7 years ago

Text

You Monster Chpt. 30

Click Here To Read On AO3! Chapters:[First][Previous][Next] Notes: I’ve been writing this for over 2 years now, god damn. (also I so badly wanted this out by Christmas but I got the flu instead, waa waaaa)

The remaining the trip to the elevator is made without incident, and the monster and child board without hesitation. Once inside Alphys does an about face and pushes the top button on the level select. Beside her the human leans against the wall and exhales with relief as the lift rumbles and gently begins to rise.

The scientist nervously taps her fingers and steals a side long glance at them. Guilt itches at her scales as she watches them take a moment’s respite, knowing it wouldn’t last much longer. If her timing was right, the elevator would malfunction in three… two… one…

With an ominous buzz, the lights overhead flicker and die, followed by the elevator lurching to a complete stop. An alarm symbol flashes red among all the buttons by the side of the door and a distress signal cries out for help.

The human looks at Alphys too petrified to speak as they brace themselves against the wall. Their expression says everything their throat cannot as they give her a terrified look. Alphys does her best to feign ignorance as she pretends to inspect the controls.

“Uh-oh. I-I th-think the e-elevator’s been sabotaged!”

“Does that mean we’re stuck in here?”

“P-possibly. B-but! Before we panic, let’s see if we c-can pry the doors open!”

The human nods and bravely straightens up away from their corner. On shaking knees, they move beside the scientist, wedge their fingers into the seal, and grip one side of the door while Alphys gets the other.

“On three?”

“Yeah. Ready?”

“R-ready! One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

With a mighty heave, the two monsters pull against the doors with all their strength. The metal resists at first, groaning and complaining until it finally gives in and opens just wide enough for both occupants to squeeze through.

“G-great job! Please, after you!”

The human slips through the crack and Alphys follows suit, wiggling through the tight squeeze. She practically pops out the other side and face plants on the ground. The human falls to their knees at her side.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Alphys assures them, brushing red dirt off her lab coat and adjusting her glasses. She turns back to the elevator.

“Hmm. ‘R2’,” She reads the lettering overhead. “Dangit. We only went up one floor. We need to go up one more.”

“Is there any way to fix it?” the kid asks, biting their lower lip.

“Oh certainly, but from the looks of it, it would take me a couple hours to repair. Maybe even a whole day.” Alphys pushes the call lift button to experiment. The ‘up’ button buzzes disapprovingly when pressed, but the ‘down’ button readily complies with a pleasant ding.

“Hm. Looks like it will still go down from here. Just not up. But never fear! Th-there are multiple elevators around Hotland for this very reason! W-we can take the west wing elevator up to the capital instead! I-i-it’ll be a bit of a walk, but anything is faster than waiting around until this gets fixed.”

The human sighs and gives her a little nod, and together the pair head west.

The resume their walk in silence, the human in front and the scientist slightly behind, just as before. At first the human seems sullen about having to take a detour, but before long they become absorbed with the architecture around them, aweing at the multiple platforms suspended in the air like crisscrossing hammocks, or raised up like aqueducts. A couple of times they dare to peak over the edge to get a look at the islands now far below and gawk at the volcano’s geology. From up here it’s easy to see that Hotland is not just built over one bubbling pit of lava, but several, each contained in its own valley surrounded by smaller mountain ranges of brimstone that obscure one’s view from the others. Dumbfounded by Hotland’s true size, it’s not long before the human skirts back to the center of the path. Alphys suppresses a snort at their childlike wonder and pulls out her note book to jot down her observations while they are distracted.

“Highly… inquisitive nature… expresses strong…. spatial awareness… of body and… understanding… of potential…. safety…. hazards. Done.

“Oh!”

Alphys looks up from her note book at the human’s sudden interjection. They’re studying something off in the distance. Following their line of sight, Alphys tries to pin point what they’re looking at. Squinting through her glasses, she thinks she can just make out the brown and white roof of a very familiar, and highly illicit, hotdog stand.

And someone appears to be working the register.

The two close in on the business without taking their eyes off of it. It seems Alphys and her examinee aren’t the only ones who noticed that the concession was open. The platform around them widens into the size of a plaza, and a sizeable crowd stands in front of the counter in a sloppy, snaking line. Quite a few individuals sit on the edge of the platform, eating their purchases with their legs dangling off the ledge.

Alphys and the human stop a ways off and just watch as the line inches forward. Sans is working behind the counter, which surprises Alphys for more than one reason. Well, okay, maybe “working” isn’t the most accurate word. He’s leaning back in his chair with his feet on the counter and sleep mask over his eye sockets. On one side of the counter is a large glass jar with “Hotdogs! 30G ea. (Max purchase limit = 30 per customer)”written on the glass in black sharpie, and on the other side of the counter is a pyramid of the tin foil-wrapped entrées.

By some sixth sense of awareness (or maybe he wasn’t really asleep at all) Sans lifts one corner of his sleep mask off his face and focuses in on the two with the soft light of his eye.

“Hey there, kiddo. Alphys.”

“Hey Sans,” the kid says neutrally. “You know Alphys?”

“Sure do, buddy,” the skeleton says, straightening up. "Alphys is probably just as famous as the king himself. Plus we used to work together as lab partners. But that’s not important. Nice to see you out of your lab for once, Al. What brings you around these parts?”

“I-I-I’m escorting our friend here to the capital,” Alphys says nervously, putting her notebook back in her backpack as inconspicuously as possible.

“Oh? You’re taking the long way?” Sans asks.

“We had some elevator problems,” Alphys counters.

“Yeah, that robot Mettaton keeps trying to get in our way,” The human says. “But what are you doing here in Hotland, Sans?”

“I work here,” Sans says bluntly.

“I thought you were a sentry in Snowdin.”

“What? Never seen a guy with two jobs before?” Sans teases. “Say. It’s getting close to noon, which means it’s getting close to lunch. You guys hungry?”

Upon hearing the word “lunch” the human’s stomach audibly rumbles. All eyes turn towards them and they blush a bright red.

“You know, now that I think about it, I didn’t have breakfast.” They laugh sheepishly. “I came straight from Waterfall to here. I am really hungry.”

“Well, that’s good ‘cause I really gotta sell these hotdogs,” Sans says. “I can’t leave until I get rid of my entire stock. So what’ll you have?”

The kid shrugs. “What do you got?”

“Well,” Sans grunts, leaning forward over the counter. “I’ve got your classic ‘dogs, and your fan favorite franks, both of which are thirty gold by the way. Oh, and I’ve got this sweet new deal if you buy the bun for fifteen gold, you get the hotdog for only fifteen gold as well. Take your pick.”

The kid snorts and tries to keep from smiling. “Well, I’ve never had a hotdog at all before. What do you recommend?”

“Never had a hotdog? Buddy, that’s a crime in some places. Here, I’ll give you your first two ‘dogs on the house. You too, Alphys. Here.” The skeleton hands the two traveling partners two wrapped packages each.

“I suggest trying this one first,” he says to the kid, tapping one of the wrappers indistinguishable from the other. “It’s my new vegan option. No monster magic used in this product.”

“Wow, thanks, Sans.” The human smiles, and opens the entrée.

The bun looks fluffy, warm and is a beautiful golden brown, while the meat smells savory with spices Alphys can’t identify. It really does look delicious, but she holds off on eating her own, wanting to see the human’s reaction first in case she wanted to write it down. Taking a deep breath, the human turns the hot dog’s narrow end towards their mouth and bites down without a second thought.

Immediately she can tell they regret all their life’s choices.

The “hotdog” filling explodes into white cotton the instant it comes in contact with their teeth and they choke, sputtering and spitting as they cough out hundreds of fluffy seeds. Beside them, the pair hears boisterous laughter and Alphys angrily glares at Sans, only to find him absolutely losing it.

“Sans! What is this?” the kid sputters, vainly trying to clean their tongue off with their sleeve.

“Oh, the middle bit? That’s a water sausage. What d’ya think?”

“Water sausage?” Alphys echoes. “Like the cattail water sausage?”

“Yup. Locally grown too.”

“Sans those aren’t edible! They’re seed pods!”

“Oh, really? And here I thought they were just jam packed with mini flavor explosions. No worries, though. I can give you a full refund if you don’t like it.”

The child narrows their eyes and gives him an exasperated glare.

“You knew that would happen, didn’t you?” They interrogate him. “Are the others booby trapped as well?”

“Ha ha, no, just the one,” Sans promises. “All the others are made of tofu.”

The kid inspects their next hotdog with scrutiny, and Alphys does too, carefully poking at the sausage for any sign of a potential explosion. When their remaining hotdog fails to detonate, they deem it safe and take a tentative bite and Alphys follows. The flavor is amazing. She can’t remember ever having something so savory in her life. No wonder so many call San’s hotdog stand illegal. Food this good should be a crime.

The kid finishes their hotdog in four bites, then, reaching into their pocket, scoop out a handful of gold and slam it on the counter.

“Give me another!” they demand.

“Sure thing, kid.” Sans says and passes them another wrapped package. “But mind if I ask you to not eat this one in front of my stand? I gotta move this line along.”

“Okay,” The human says, swiping the hotdog off the counter. “Alphys, I’m gonna find a place to sit.”

“D-don’t go far!” Alphys calls after them as they begin to move away through the crowd. She watches them until she sees them find a spot on the edge to sit and eat amongst the other patrons before Sans makes a throat clearing noise to get her attention.

“Alphys, I thought you were gonna slow the kid down, not personally escort them to their execution.”

“I-I-I never made such an agreement,” Alphys says defensively. “I only said I wanted to study them. And you won’t believe how much I’ve already learned! Humans are nothing like the ones in anime! And they’re certainly not as one note as our history makes them out to be. Even this one is so much more complex!”

“Kind of like us monsters, huh?”

“Hm, I wouldn’t go that far. I would need more observational data before I make a claim like that.”

“Alphys, are you really going to go through with this?” Sans changes the subject.

Alphys dares to look at him, expecting to find him ready to chew her out, but his expression is neither angry nor scolding. Instead, it’s rather sad in the way his shoulders sag and how the light in his eyes blur just a bit when he tilts his head to a certain degree. It was uncanny how such a rigid face could convey so much emotion.

“I… w-w-whatever happens, happens, Sans.” Alphys stutters. “I’ve already promised them I’d see them to Asgore, a-and they trust me. I-it feels good to have someone believe in me.”

“Yeah, I bet they’ll thank you when Asgore runs a trident through their middle.” He snorts sarcastically.

“Sans, that’s not fair and you know it!” The reptilian monster scolds. “It’s my job as the royal scientist to find a way to make monsters strong enough to break the barrier, and studying a human would help me with that!”

“Alphys, you keep saying that, and yet your actions and motives don’t line up,” Sans argues. “If you just take the kid straight to Asgore, then the king would have seven souls, which is enough to break the barrier, so there’s no point in studying them when you know that research won’t be of any use. And if you really wanted to study them so meticulously, why lead them through Hotland at all? Who are you really trying to help? The kid? Monster kind? Your own ego?”

“Why I-! What do you mean by that?” Alphys says with hackles rising and sweat beading on her brow. “Of course I’m trying to help monster kind! But can’t I pretend to be helping the human too? At least I didn’t lie directly to their face like you did!”

“Oh, and what you’re now doing isn’t lying?” Sans challenges.

Alphys is about to make a retort when her companion’s voice interrupts them.

“Sans, can I get two more hotdogs? I want some incase I get hungry on the way back to the ruins.”

“No problem, buddy,” Sans happily complies, his attitude instantly shifting to hide is bitterness. “Hey, good timing. These are my last two.”

“Thanks!” The human says, slipping the hotdogs into their sleeves.

Sans gives Alphys a sour look when the kid turns away. “Just… ask yourself if you really are helping anyone, or if you’re just doing work to look busy.”

Insulted but unwilling to raise her voice with the human so close, Alphys turns away in a huff. All around them, other monsters steadily thin out as their lunch hour ends and they begin to make their way back to work or to school. Through the dissipating crowd she spies two armed figures headed her way, and immediately all her anger at her former colleague drains away.

Two of the royal guards were coming.

Oh crap.

“Sans,” Alphys gasps, absentmindedly placing one hand on the skeleton’s sleeve. The tension in her fingers is enough to relay to him her trepidation and plea for help. There’s no time for words or explanation, and any previous grudges are temporarily put on hold as both monsters scramble into action.

“Oh, hey, kid. I have a favor to ask you,” Sans says to the human to get their focus. “Now that I’m sold out of hotdogs, I should get back to my sentry station, but before I do that I, uh, need to organize all the condiment packets. Do you and Alphys mind helping me sort them out?”

“We’d be happy too!” Alphys decides for them both a little too eagerly. She grabs the kid’s arm and leads them behind the register just before the guards can spot them.

“Great, they’re all back here under the counter.” Sans says, frantically motioning to Alphys to get the kid under the counter where a mountain of ketchup, mustard and relish packets lay in a jumbled pile. “Thanks guys,” Sans exhales as they begin to sort the condiments just as the guards reach the stand.

“Sans!” the first guard says to the skeleton.

“Oh, hey guys. What can I do for you?”

“Hey Sans! We’ve been trying to get to your stand for almost an hour! All the elevators are, like, completely wonky right now though. It took us forever to find a way through! But now that we’re here, we’ll just have our usual two hotdogs!”

“Oh, geez. Sorry fellas,” sans says sincerely. “I just sold my last two.”

“What! Nooo!” the first guard wails, falling to his knees in despair. Alphys pauses her sorting and peaks her head just over the edge of the counter to keep an eye on the guard’s positions. Through his helmet, she can see two white rabbit ears sag in defeat. “Aw man, why’d the elevators have to break on today of all days? I’m sorry, 02.”

“It’s okay, 01. These things happen. It’s not your fault the elevators broke.” The second guard says, placing a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. Only his green dragon fins poke out through his helmet. “I hear the MTT emporium does take out deliveries now. We can order that for lunch.”

“But getting a hotdog each day was our thing, dude! We can’t break tradition! Especially not today, because I was gonna-”

“Hm?” 02 hums.

“…never mind…” 01’s rabbit ears droop as his companion moves to the side and pulls out his cellphone to place his order. Alphys watches the two separate and turn away from the concession stand. She and Sans both exhale in relief. Thank God. They didn’t notice her or the human. Now would be her chance to slip away undetected.

“H-hey, w-we should get going,” She says to the kid, only to realize a moment later they’re not under the counter anymore. Looking around in a panic, she nearly faints when she catches sight of the child tiptoeing up to the first guard from behind.

So much for keeping them hidden from the guards.

Alphys screams internally, not daring to blink. If she runs up to them now, her cover will be blown and the guards will arrest her for treason for sure. Frozen in fear, she can only watch and listen.

“Um, pardon me,” the human speaks up, approaching 01 tentatively. “Do you need help?”

“Aww, I appreciate the concern little bro, but I don’t need any help. Helping other is MY job. It’s what we royal guards are trained to do!”

“I meant with your boyfriend.”

“Woah! What? Who? 02? Pssh! He’s not my boyfriend!” 01 sweats nervously. “Though… though it’s a nice thought if he wanted to be. Unfortunately he doesn’t even know how I feel.”

“He doesn’t? Why haven’t you told him?”

“I was gonna!” 01 explains. “I had it all planned out perfectly, too. I was gonna buy us each a hotdog and we were gonna sit and watch the core together. Then I was gonna take a bite of my hotdog and say ‘Man, this ‘dog’s amazing. But you know what’s even more amazing, bro?’ and then 02 was gonna say ‘what?’ and then I was gonna say ‘you, bro.’”

Even at a distance, Alphys can tell the human has to fight back “aww”ing at the cute mental image of such a sweet and corny confession.

“I’ve been trying to say it for days, but every time 02 asks ‘what’, I chicken out and say something stupid, like ‘this view is amazing’, or ‘this weather’s been amazing.’ We don’t even have weather here. But 02 plays along anyways because he’s a good sport. He probably thinks I’m an idiot.”

“You’ve been trying to say this for weeks?” the human asks.

“Yeah! And today it really was going to be different because today is the one year anniversary since we became royal guards. It was gonna be perfect, but now I’ve missed my chance. I don’t think I’ll have the nerve to try this again until next year.”

“I’m sorry you missed your chance at the hotdog stand,” the kid says empathetically, and pulls out their spare hotdogs. “But today still is your anniversary, and I’ve got two extra hot dogs if you want them.”

“Woah! Little bro, are you serious? I couldn’t possibly take your hotdogs from you. 02 might think I stole them from you.”

“It’s okay. I was gonna save them for later, but it looks like you need them more now than I do.” The human firmly paces the wrapped packages in the guard’s gloved hand. 01 stares at it like he’s been given a priceless diamond.

“Thanks little bro… but what if he says no? What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

“What if he does and he’s just scared to admit it as well?”

01 seems to ponder this possibility.

“Isn’t it better to have a definite answer than to spend your whole life wondering? And even if he does say no, that doesn’t mean you have to stop being friends.”

“O-okay. I’ll try. For you, little bro.”

Gently taking the hotdogs, 01 stands and turns towards the bench where 02 is seated. The guard inhales then exhales before boldly marching over to the bench while the human stand behinds him silently rooting him on.

“H-hey bro! Great news! I got us two hotdogs!”

“Oh? Did the concession have an extra in stock after all?”

“Y-yeah! Boy did we luck ou-!” Like a scene from a bad comedy, the first royal guard stumbles on the path, falling forward and launching one of the hotdogs into the air which goes sailing over the edge of the platform down into the lava below. The child covers their eyes, unable to look. Alphys flinches at the bad luck.

“Oh no… I’m so sorry dude… I… here, you can have my hotdog instead.”

“But 01, what will you have?”

“Nah, I’m fine bro. Don’t worry about me. I’ve skipped lunch before. Besides, I’d never want to see my best buddy go hungry!”

“01, I couldn’t possibly do that. How about we split the hotdog. It may not be much, but at least we’ll both get something.”

“Stellar idea dude! Man, 02, you’re a genius. This is, like, why I love you, man!”

There’s a moments pause. 01’s ears spring straight up and turn a faint pink hue as he blushes under his fur.

“Uh… I-I mean, like, this is why I love y-you as my partner! You always come up with great ideas. Yep, you’re definitely the brains between the two of us. Ha ha! I had a brain fart for a minute there! I don’t love you like that! I-I mean, well, I do love you, but like, platonically? Ha ha, what am I even saying? Don’t listen to me bro. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say any more.”

“01…”

“Y-yeah, bro?”

“How about… after we split this hotdog, perhaps we can go get some ice cream as well? It is our one year anniversary of becoming official royal guards. You didn’t forget, did you?”

“O-of course I remember bro! How could I forget? Getting ice cream sounds great! Let’s do it!”

02 stands up from the bench and extends his hand. It takes a beat, but when 01 finally understands the invitation he readily grasps it, lacing his fingers through his companion’s before walking off to resume their rounds. Before they’re out of sight, 01 looks back over his shoulder and gives the kid a triumphant thumbs up. The human turns back smiling at Alphys and Sans.

“Wow, kid. I didn’t know you were a match maker,” Sans speaks up.

The kid puffs out their chest a bit and stands a little taller. “Oh, that? That’s nothing. I’ve hooked up more Loox and Froggits than I can count back home. I’ve even found dates for every shy Whimsun and antisocial Migosp.”

“Impressive,” Alphys says finally coming out from behind the counter. She’s genuinely surprised at how well they handled the situation, but that’s enough close calls for her for one day. “But it’s about time we get going, d-don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Let’s get moving before Mettaton shows up again. See you around, Sans!” The kid says waving goodbye.

“Take care, bucko,” Sans sighs. “And Alphys? Don’t do anything you think you’ll regret later.”

Alphys opens her mouth, but no words come out. Instead she clicks her teeth shut and swallows before turning away without looking back.

The human forges ahead with renewed vigor after a good lunch and a good deed, but Alphys is lagging behind.

Despite how hard she tries to shake them, Sans’ words keep buzzing in her head.

”Who are you really trying to help? The kid? Monster kind? Your own ego?”

“Both,” She tells herself under her breath. “It’s both. Even if it’s small, even if it’s temporary, it’s going to make up for all the terrible mistakes I’ve made in the past.”

She repeats the words until they sound true in her ears, but underneath it all, she can’t ignore the fact that the roots of these statements come from lies.

The scientist grinds her teeth and squeezes her eyes shut in frustration. So what if they came from lies? She’s lied before in the past. No doubt she’ll be lying about something again in the future. What was one more lie on the pile now?

But then she sees the child’s face in her mind’s eye, smiling at her, trusting her, relying, depending and believing in her, and the weight of that pile feels like it will crush her-

She doesn’t realize the human has stopped in front of her until she nearly runs into them, and blinks until her mind is back in the present.

“You stopped.” She says, pointing out the obvious. “What’s up?”

“There’re a lot of vents up ahead,” The human says, pointing to the field of steam and metal plates before them. “There’s also a lot of buttons. It could just be another one of Mettaton’s puzzles, but it might also be a trap.”

“Oh, this is definitely just another one of his road blocks to slow us down,” Alphys says, studying the tiles. “I-I’ve seen it before. All the buttons and vents are connected, so when you land on one, it closes one set of vents and opens another.”

“If you’ve seen it before, then does that mean you know how to solve it?” the child asks hopefully.

“I-I’m not sure,” Alphys stutters. “He’s always switching the vents around so the solution’s always changing.”

“Hm. I bet we can figure it out together,” the human says, punching one of their hands into the palm of the other. They give her a confident smile.

“S-sure!” Alphys says without thinking. As much as she’d love to just sit on the side lines and just watch the human try to figure out the correct answer themselves, that trusting smile of theirs wins her over as soon as she sees it and all her previous plans are thrown out the window. Forget what Sans said. It felt good to be the benevolent guide. It felt good to be helping.

Self-assured once more, the human eagerly steps on the first vent and gets launched into the air. They land with grace perfectly on target. There’s a loud clicking noise as opened vents close, and closed vents open.

Studying the vents ahead, they pick a path, keeping track of when a vent will open or close, and trying to plan their route accordingly. A few more hops and the human lands on a bare island without any unavoidable, vent altering buttons.

“I think this is as far as I can go without messing up the last vent!” they yell through cupped hands at her. “Now you try triggering a button!”

“On it! St-stand by!” Stepping on the vent, Alphys squats, ready to take a leap of faith. Below her the pressure of the trapped steam builds until it threatens to burst.

Three… two… one…

With an explosive push, Alphys springs into the air and lands square on the nearest switch. The click echoes through the room.

“Okay! Now I’m gonna go!” her patient alerts her, and jumps on the next vent. They jump again, and then Alphys jumps, and they jump one more time, and-

“It worked!” The human whoops, landing on the other side. They turn around just in time to catch Alphys making it to the other side as well.

Feeling like they could take on anything, the human blazes ahead into the next room where a circular conveyer belt spans a gap and three buttons lay in wait along its side.

“I know this puzzle, too,” Alphys says. “All three switches have to be pressed within a few seconds of one another, but they’re way too spaced out for one monster to hit all at once.”

“Good thing there’s more than one monster, huh?” The kid winks at her. “I think I can hit the last two. Do you think you can hit the first one?”

“Certainly!” The scientist enthuses. “Go on three?”

It takes the pair two tries to get their timing down, but they get it right on their third try. The human roars in triumph and Alphys can’t help but give a little cheer herself. Their confidence is contagious. Together, she felt like they could do anything.

Puzzles conquered, they steadily continue forward. The platforms wind and twist into an incline, up further and further towards the next shadowy ceiling, until another stage set shrouded in darkness lays before them.

“This has ‘trap’ written all over it,” Alphys says.

“If you know it’s there…” the kid says sagely. “Is it still a trap? Or is it a dare?” They rub their hands together in anticipation, bright sparks leaping from their fingertips. “I say we make a break for it. Maybe if we’re fast enough, he won’t catch us.”

“A-alright,” Alphys gulps. “Go on three?”

“Yeah! Just like before!”

Alphys can’t help but smile. It was startling how quickly she and the human learned to work together and how cooperative they were. She’d have to remember to write that down after they escaped Mettaton’s next “trap.”

“Okay. O-on Three,” the doctor says, bracing themselves to sprint. “One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

Putting on a burst of speed, the scientist and human make a run for it in the total dark, trusting the other to stay by their side.

The hum of the laser is all the warning she gets, and she puts on the breaks, grabbing the human’s sleeve in the pitch black to make them do the same.

“Stop!” She warns, just as a dozen vertical blue lasers cut through the darkness, inches from the kid’s face.

“Quick! Retreat!” The human shouts, and tries to make a break to the left, but either the lasers sense their movement, or they were too slow, because blue lasers come to life on their sides and behind them, cutting off any route of escape. Then, from within the box of lasers itself another row of beams slice the air between the monster and human, separating them into their own cells.

“Alphys!” The human cries, trying to reach out to her. The lasers snap at them with a scolding pop of electricity when they try to touch the beams, and the human pulls back, shaking their hand furiously to rid their fingers of the biting sting.

“D-don’t move!” Alphys tells them. “As long as you stay still, the lasers can’t hurt you!”

There’s a familiar booming sound of stage lights turning on, and suddenly the endless darkness is replaced with blinding light.

“Grab your sledgehammers and sawhorses, because it’s time for D.I.Y. Darling!” A voice says over a musical track. “Here’s your host and computer-slash-carpenter! Mettaton!”

Alphys blinks repeatedly until the spots vanish from her vision and she takes in her surroundings. Once again three walls boarder the stage, but instead of being filled with children’s toys, the walls are lined with carpenter tools and crafting supplies. Circle saws, blow torches, wrenches, screw drivers and hammers hang on the walls in neat organized rows from biggest to smallest. Rows of drawers labeled with construction paper, googly eyes, safety scissors and glue sticks line the back wall. A giant pile of saw dust sits between a dangerous looking wood chipper and an industrial sized vat of glitter. Cans of paint are stacked in a pyramid next to a giant bin filled with a hodgepodge of nails, washers, nuts and bolts. Good god, it was like an unholy hybrid of a woodshop and a child’s craft corner in here.

Polite, organic applause plays from the sidelines. Alphys blinks in surprise. Did Mettaton really have a live studio audience this time? And for a D.I.Y show?? Who did he bribe?

“Welcome back, beauties and gentle beauties,” Mettaton says, rolling onto the set. “Today on D.I.Y. Darling we have two very special guests; my dear friend, the brilliant, Doctor Alphys and the underground’s newest celebrity boss monster!” There’s more applause, this time a little more excited than the first. “Today’s episode’s sponsored product is the MTT-brand home security system, guaranteed to catch any crook attempting to break in, or house guest trying to break out without saying goodbye first! As my dear friend Doctor Alphys and her companion have demonstrated, this product works on all monsters, even boss monsters!”

A neon sign out of sight of the camera directs the audience to ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’.

“That’s right, beauties and gentle beauties! Call in right now and you can get the MTT-brand home security system today for the low price of two ninety-nine gold, or find it in any retail store near you for three ninety-nine!”

“Okay, okay, you proved your point and caught us,” the human grumbles. “Now let us go!”

“Not so fast, sweetheart!” Mettaton scolds. “Those were just the sponsors! The real show hasn’t even begun!”

Pushing a button on his chassis, the lasers of their cages switch from blue to white and begin to shift, separating the pair and forcing them to move forward or be zapped by the electricity. Alphys can see their prisons are moving towards two ominous red “X”s, and swallows. Sure, the Xs could simply be used for stage directing, but her hopes weren’t high.

As if on cue, shackles spring from trap doors on the floor once they’re over their targets, and clamp around their ankles, chaining them in place. Once secured, the lasers switch off.

“What-?”

Distracted by the ankle cuff, Alphys doesn’t notice Mettaton swoop in behind her until he’s confiscated her backpack from right off her shoulders.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, darling!” Mettaton says completely unapologetically as he wheels out of reach. “We can’t have any unauthorized equipment in this workshop! You can get it back after the show ends, which is to say, never!”

Beside her, the human grunts and growls as they struggle to get the shackle off their leg. Mettaton watches for a second before pressing a button in his chassis to play a laugh track on his speakers.

“An admirable attempt, darling, but save your energy for the show! Without Alphys’ little gadgets, there’s no way you can hack your way out of this trap. Not that you could even if she did have her little gadgets! There’s no substitute for good ol’ reliable steel chains!”

With their feet shackled, a new trap door opens in front of them, and a carpenter’s work bench rises from its depths. Across its top, hammers, nails and pieces of wood in various sizes and shapes are strewn before them. Mettaton turns back to the camera.

“This week on D.I.Y. Darling, we will be continuing our series on functional décor by building a classic; a bird house! It’s fun for family and friends of all ages!”

“Let us go, Mettaton,” Alphys warns him. “You can’t keep us here forever!”

“Oh, but darling, I can!” The robot says sweetly. “You two are going to help me build the most extravagant things! Vanity mirrors that only reflect images of my face! Coffee tables in my likeness with matching coaster set! Bureaus in my form! Wood! Marble! Metal! We’ll D.I.Y. it all!”

“And if we refuse?”

Mettaton picks up a handsaw and studies his reflection in it. “Oh, I know you won’t,” he says menacingly. “Trust me.”

“If we build your dumb bird house, will you let us go?” the human asks.

“Why, of course not!” Mettaton says cheerfully. “I’ve learned my lesson last time! Never make deals with royal scientists or their little boss monster friends. They’ll just find a loophole to get out of it, or worse, they’ll trap you inside a force field while they break their end of the bargain!”

“But Mettaton! This isn’t fair!”

“Where in the law is it written that it has to be fair, Alphys? Hm?”

“Well, what about being a good sport?”

“Alphys, darling, this is my D.I.Y. show. Sports are on channel seventy-two and I won’t be filming that block for at least another month when sports come back into season again. Now, if you’re done with your interruptions, I must make sure that the watchers at home have all the necessary supplies if they wish to build along with us. Darlings at home, before you begin, make sure you have all the following items…”

While Mettaton is busy listing off all the materials, Alphys takes the moment’s distraction to talk to the human.

“D-don’t panic. I’ve got a plan. I-I’m going to pick the locks on our ankle cuffs while he’s not looking and get us out of here. You just by me some time like you did before.”

The human nods once, short and quick.

“Ready folks?” Mettaton asks the crowd. They cheer obediently.

“And are my lovely assistants ready as well?”

“I guess it looks like we don’t have much of a choice!” the human over exaggerates, flinging their arms wide in despair. “It looks like you’ve truly out witted us this time Mettaton. I will build a bird house with you.”

“Excellent! Let us get started!” Mettaton rolls up to the table, taking his place at the end, with the human between him and Alphys. His case buzzes and chirps as it begins to print out a mile long blue print and instruction sheet that nearly covers the entire work table.

“First step lovelies, find the two pentagon pieces and set them aside…”

The human scratchers their head. Watching Mettaton, they try to copy his steps. Alphys pretends to do the same, waiting for an opportunity to make her next move.

As discretely as she can, Alphys pockets a nail and picks up her hammer. The human looks at her out of the corner of their eye, and Alphys nods at them ever so slightly. Then she “accidentally” drops the hammer. A second later and she yowls in legitimate pain while hopping on one foot.

“Alphys! Sweetheart! Are you alright?” Mettaton cuts off his speech to address her directly.

“O-oh! Y-yes, I’m fine! I’ve j-just got butter fingers is all! Don’t mind me, I just dropped my hammer. I’ll just…. I’ll just pick that up now.”

Flushing with embarrassment, Alphys sinks to the floor and rubs her smarting foot. While she had intentionally knocked the hammer off the table top to give her an excuse to duck beneath the counter, she certainly hadn’t meant for it to hit her. Oh well. Better to just roll with it. Maybe if everyone thought she was too embarrassed now to show her face, she’d get away with a little extra time under the counter.

Taking a deep breath, Alphys takes out the nail from her pocket and inspects the lock on her ankle. Mettaton hadn’t been lying; these cuffs weren’t any fancy computer controlled digital locks, just the plain old tumbler and bolt kind.

Actually, it was even simpler than that- it was really just a simple hook and latch covered in metal so it looked more complicated, but if one knew where the secret button was hidden, that when pressed, lifted the hook from the latch causing the shackle to fall apart, someone could escape in a matter of seconds.

Still, Alphys pretended to pick the decoy lock on the outside of her cuff while the human continued to build with Mettaton, and the camera crews filmed.

“Alright beauties at home, our next step is to assemble the roof. You will find two asymmetrical rectangular pieces labeled “roof”. Make sure the slightly wider piece overlaps the smaller, and nail them together at each corner…”

While the cameras roll, Alphys thoughts drift back to what Sans had said. What was she going to do after the kid conquered all her and Mettaton’s silly tests? The kid has been incredibly nice to everyone, especially her. Could she really just… betray them like that at the end of the day? Oh, what would it matter? She’s already lied so much too so many, she’d disappointed and let down and angered so many people. What would the human hating her as well change? Not like it mattered. After the human went to the king, all monsters would be free. Who would have time to worry about hating her then?

“Alright lovelies at home, we have now finished the bird house! But we can’t give these plain barren homes to potential birds! Let’s add some artistic detail to give it a little flair!” Mettaton says.

Alphys glances at her watch. Okay, they were about half way done, so it was time to stop pretending to mess with her lock and switch over to the human’s.

“And what better way than to add a little flare than with some actual fire!”

Above her head, a jet of fire magic roasts the air and a chorus of gasps and “aaahs” echo from the crowd. Alphys pauses for a moment to get a peak of the commotion.

Beside the human, Mettaton has his bird house raised high above his head in one hand while his other hand conjures fire magic to burn intricate designs into the wood. Tongues of flame gently graze over the surface, delicately scorching their pattern with precision and intent as the magic fire bends to the robot’s will. When the flames die down, Mettaton lowers his arm to reveal the finished product. The live studio audience erupts into cheers. Even Alphys has to admit she’s impressed. While every face of the bird house has a picture of Mettaton in some ridiculous pose, each one is incredibly detailed, right down to his rivets. The use of shades and tones is impeccable, and the edges are boarded with rose patterns, complete with tiny thorns.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Mettaton bows. “But don’t use up all your applause just yet! That was just a little show of a common monster’s fire magic. I’ve heard boss monster magic is something truly to behold! What do you say, gorgeous? Care to show us your skill?”

Under the table, Alphys’ breath quickens. What luck! This test was originally just to observe the human’s logical puzzle solving skills. She hadn’t anticipated capturing their magical aptitude as well. Was she truly going to see the human’s magical prowess up close? They had reported being able to do fire magic on her questionnaire, but she could hardly believe the claim. All her research on humans had said otherwise. Now she’d really know for certain.

“Y-you want me to show you my fire magic?” the human blinks, taken off guard.

“Indubitably!” Mettaton says. “Surely your talent far surpasses anything we normal monsters could ever hope to achieve! We would love to get a glimpse of such splendor! Please darling! Dazzle us!”

Apprehensively, the human looks at their bird house. They visibly swallow.

“I like my bird house how it is.” They say. “I don’t really want to decorate it.”

“Ah, yes. Minimalistic is very in style right now,” Mettaton agrees. “How trite of me to ask you to embellish a simple bird house. But we have to give the people what they want, darling! A full grandiose display of your magic power!”

“I-I don’t want to seem like a show off,” the human resists.

“Nonsense, darling! No need to be modest and hide something as simple as fire magic! That is… unless you can’t DO fire magic…”

“I can do fire magic,” the human says hotly. “It’s just that… I’m not that practiced and I’ve never tried to light anything thicker than a branch before…”

“Then now’s the perfect time to try, darling! Give it your all!”

“O-okay,” The human stutters, stalling for time. Glancing at Alphys, they beg her to hurry up with their eyes, but Alphys pretends not to see.

Pushed into a corner with no way out, they swallow and face the live audience. They raise their arms wide apart and squeeze their eyes shut.

“H-here I go! Ready! One…! Two…! Three!”

With a massive clap, sparks fly like a blown fuse and rain down on their bird house, but not one ember even discolors the wood. The human, already grimacing in despair, opens one eye. The crowd stares at them, some in confusion, some in disappointment, and several in pity.

“Hm! That didn’t seem to work,” Mettaton notes. “Ah! I see the problem! These gloves are blocking your power! Here, let me take care of those,” Mettaton says taking the mittens off the human’s hands.

“H-hey! Stop! I need those!”

“Whatever for, darling? Boss monsters don’t need silly clothing for magic. Though I must say white gloves are all the rage!” Mettaton points finger guns at them to show off his own gloved hands.

The human tries to jump up and grab their gloves back, but the chain on their ankle holds them fast as Mettaton dangles them tauntingly out of reach, and Alphys has to jerk her hands back to avoid her fingers being stamped on.

“What’s the holdup darling? Stage fright? Performance anxiety? Or perhaps… is boss monster magic not all it’s cracked up to be? Or! What’s this? Have we just exposed a boss monster who can’t cast magic? Oh, it is isn’t it! That’s a title for the papers tomorrow!”

“Alright, you caught me,” the human’s voice hitches as their face grows red and their eyes well with tears. They manage to swipe their gloves back, and pull them on before hiding their hands in their crossed arms. “So I can’t do fire magic, or any kind of magic on my own. Happy now?”

“It’s alright, darling! We understand! Not every monster can perform magic tricks. In fact…” Mettaton leans in close. “You know who else can’t perform magic?”

Alphys sharply looks up. Where was Mettaton going with this?

“Uhh…” the human eyes him wearily, also lost with where this was headed.

“Why, our dear acquaintance Doctor Alphys!”

Mettaton pushes a button on his chassis and the work table Alphys had been hiding behind lowers back into the ground, exposing her and her lock picking. The crowd gasps in shock.

Uh-oh. The jig was up.

“What’s this?!” Mettaton gasps, dramatically throwing an arm across the top row of his screens where his forehead would be. “Alphys?! Are you trying to escape!?”

“N-not trying! Succeeding!” Alphys says, stalling no longer and unlocking the human’s cuff. “Run for it!”

The human springs, not needing to be told twice. Mettaton spins around, revving up his wheel ready to give chase, but before he can floor it, Alphys clamps the shackle on his exposed axel. Mettaton lurches forward, only to fall flat on his face.

Alphys hops over him, but turns back in concern when she hears him crash.

“Oh, geez, Mettaton are you okay?” She whispers.

“I’m fine, darling! I’m fine! It’s all part of the act! Now go! Go! The camera’s still rolling and I have to make this look convincing!”

“Alphys hurry! He’s probably got they key!” the human reminds her when they get to the other end of the stage. “We gotta get out of her before he breaks loose!”

“O-on it!” Alphys says catching up to them.

“Blast! Foiled again by the great Doctor Alphys! You have bested me this time, darling! But like star crossed lovers, our paths will meet again! Until next time beautiful!”

The human doesn’t wait around to hear the end of Mettaton’s speech. As soon as Alphys catches up to them, they take off running without looking back.

#undertale #my writing #fan fiction #you monster #alphys #mettaton #sans #frisk #and an honorable mention for RG01 and RG02

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