#thought that he has it too easy- with that self-sufficiency and yeah essentially playing life on creative mode- so i wanted to fuck him up-

[spotsupstuff]

No wonder he is always angry...

At least he has his family.

Does Sparrow knows? Do the others iterators know? Is there another city that does the same!??!

Also "venom of the lower circles"? What is happening there?

how very angry Boreas is is a testament of how much he has had to suffer, in both the lighter funnier ways as putting up with constant knowledge of everyone's life such as roadrage to darker ways such as actual torture, and how much self respect he has to recognize that he didn't deserve this. "just because we can heal does not mean it is alright for us to get hurt."

everybody knows about it! but it feels like it's always been like this, so it's okay. this is just how it is. it is just another fact of life. (yet both Zephyr and Orion still remember the first time Boreas has dragged himself online in their chats and how closed off he was- too hurt to interact with them normally)

there isn't anyone else with this kinda thing! the bigger the city the easier the empathy gets lost. and as we all know at this point, Boreas was blessed with being the biggest of them all

with the venom- i've laughed in the tags of that one big Boreas raging pic how it's funny that someone would rather put warning sign program into him rather than find a way to help him with his anger and as i've been working on him a bit more, i decided to take this idea a little further

he gets angry, the warnings pop up. he gets more angry, past what the Houses consider alright to allow him to feel, they "cool" him down by automatic injection of the paralyzing venom directly into the puppet. it hurts like a bitch and causes a very small Hivemind unsync, damages his puppet's internal organic systems (but "that is okay. he can heal." they say.) + sort of works like a sedative. nothing too severe that would affect the parts of his consciousness that controls the city, of course, can't be inconvenient to the citizens, but it pulls on his metaphoric reins like That

this was originally implemented because back when he still used to have Mechanics looking after him (those were from the Wellspring, too), he started being a little too... daring and disrespectful for their tastes. so it's his little "controlled shock FNaF: sister location" moment

it is no fun

after his facilities were deemed stable, he no longer had any Mechanics workin on him (an Admin and a Mechanic are two different roles, even though they r very similar). then he had only one Admin that sometimes checks in on his systems without directly interacting with him. the paralyzing doses were instead used when the Houses had to arrange things with him n he didn't want to comply for whatever reason and when the school became a thing, it was a way to ensure he doesn't actually hurt any of the students

because there is an exception in his taboos when it comes to laying harm upon certain kinds of Ancients instead of covering all of them. he is allowed to kill anyone who is considered an intruder And he is allowed to harm Iterator Mechanic students (not severely though) in order to rough up the to-be Mechanics. they have to be ready to deal with the absolute worse an Iterator can offer, Just In Case. this taboo gets a little bit more broken for the Mechanics' last test, which is looking after Boreas' systems for a few days

during this last test period, all of the students are guaranteed to be in the respawn cycle now. which means Boreas can wound them fatally if they provoke him enough (since that is a big No on what to do with ur Iterator charge as a Mechanic, the severe punishment would be warranted). the first meeting between the student n Boreas is monitored by the teachers- the student comes into his chamber to introduce themselves and lay out their plan of system check ups. if a student manages to severely anger/provoke Boreas Here already, the teachers will administer the venom n just send the kid home to retake the year or leave. if they can't handle the first meeting right, they are pretty much helpless. and for this helplessness Boreas has to suffer

the venom is advertised to come from willing lower circles (or levels), but it hardly is. while it is rarely extracted by force, it is usually gotten by financial manipulation of people who are well or as an abuse of unfortunate poor citizens/lower circles. if you give us this resource, we will compensate you, give you money, take it as part of your taxes. it's dehumanizing, but out of desperation the unfortunate souls give in

they do not know what their venom is then used for. they don't ask out of fear. and while Boreas is aware of this manipulation, he blames the unfortunate ones either way. the end result it that they've allowed him to hurt with those generous donations of theirs. he's too bitter, angry and hurt to give much of a shit. all of the Ancients are the same. all of them are a part of the problem

which is why the fuckin -ruffles hair- his and Sparrows' relationship gets me so hard

in his eyes, she's just as guilty as his Houses at the beginning. but she's strange, she gets bullied a lot, she's thrown away by everyone of these high city levels. she breaks one of his overseers- such expandable unimportant things to him- and she cries over the broken eye. and the most puzzling thing... during her last test, once she enters his chambers, she bows to him as she gives him a shortened version of her name- "just Three Sparrows, i know you don't want to waste your words on me"- she still flinches when he approaches to judge her, but she suppresses any other sign of distress that would warrant a venom administration. she offers to make him a deal. she offers to listen to what he's comfortable with her working on him. she says she won't force anything on him. it just makes no sense. cautiously, he accepts. he watches her like a hawk during her work, but she never breaks the promises she's made to him

this doesn't change his opinion on the Ancients. when later Sparrows changes Zephyr's, he's salty and still angry about it. they all should pay. this is just one individual. she is an anomaly. she is dangerous. with how sick his puppet feels from those doses at the end of each semester, there is no other way for her to be

and he holds on to that opinion until he witnesses that reconciliation between her and Euros after the 1st Rot situation. she could've been mean, she could've screamed, she could've hurt him. first two of those that he has done to Euros before the euthanization, even though he's already been made aware of his fault and the situation was considered in control (he's done it out of concern, his own fear and worry for the young thing, but still-). but no. Sparrows was better than him, then (she screamed at him at first becuase she had no idea how bad it could've been- maybe he was damned already n there was nothing she could've done to save him). she was kind and warm even after being lied to- betrayed- she gently whispered explanations, she leaned against him softly and allowed it when he leaned against her back.

an Ancient was a better person than him- the same venom held at bay in her fangs coursing through his bloodstream, remnants of yesterday's dose still ringing off- and he has no other choice but to see and recognize her for it

[crystalelemental]

And now, ranking the Fates characters by how good they are as parents.  I’ll just be ranking the canon parent, since generic supports annihilated cohesive characterization by making all the parent dialogues identical.

Also, I do need to address this.  Every parent in Fates is garbage.  They throw their kids into an interdimensional time portal and essentially don’t raise them at all.  So comparing them like this is basically comparing turds by how rank they are.  It doesn’t matter that some aren’t as awful as others, you’re still not gonna find one that smells good, you know?

Corrin - Honestly, she’s got a strong Camilla-esque vibe to her protectiveness toward Kana.  I like it.  Also Kana knows when Corrin is coming to visit, and seems to imply that this is a routine thing, making Corrin one of the few known parents who actually makes a point to visit her kit.  A-rank.

Azura - Once again, your decision to be cryptic for no reason causes nothing but problems for everyone involved, and your son, who you didn’t raise on your own, had his entire village annihilated by foes that went after him to get to you, but you never warned him or them about anything?  D-rank.

Jakob - While hyper-critical, he’s not entirely off the mark, in terms of what Dwyer needs to be doing.  He’s not a bad kid though, so it does come across as more harsh than he really needs to be to make a point, since Dwyer is ultimately self-sufficient and capable.  C-rank.

Silas - Actually a pretty good dad.  He’s one of the few that just actively admires his child coming out of their deeprealm to help others, is fully supportive of them staying with the group, and is supportive of Sophie in general. It is Silas, so he’s a little generic with his praises, but it’s still a better parenting approach than most of them. A-rank.

Kaze - And here to completely outdo Silas is Kaze.  Again, Midori seems to know when he’s coming, meaning like Corrin, his appearance is a routine thing in her life.  Not perfectly routine though, which creates a bit of conflict between the two, in which Kaze is able to express that he always did his best to be there for her, but kept her here to be safe.  Willing to admit mistakes, accepting of her decisions, clear care for his child despite the poor general decision of leaving your children unattended in deeprealms, but is willing to actually be a parent and reprimand them for their poor decisions, while still being compassionate in his approach.  S-rank.  Kaze’s a good dad.

Ryoma - Honestly, I love that Shiro actually calls him out about not raising him at all.  Also the unnecessary secrecy about who he is and not letting Shiro know his status, and then being irritated when Shiro grows up without any direction in life.  Honestly I’m coming around on Shiro, who has so far been right on the money about how shit a father Ryoma is.  D-rank.

Takumi - Honestly Takumi’s pretty solid?  The support has him being a bit of a dick because he’s jealous of his own kid’s ability, but in the paralogue proper he’s honestly a pretty solid dad?  Like he shows up unannounced so we know he’s taking time to actually meet with his kid, and is fairly protective of him.  He does give in to letting Kiragi come along for dumber reasons, but on the whole he’s solid.  A-rank.

Saizo - He’s kind of a dick?  This is very much how Saizo is, but his entire thing is like...the honor of the family name to the point he doesn’t seem to have any connection to his kid, just his bloodline.  He does eventually let his kid be himself, but only in that, when he demonstrates “his own brand of honor,” Saizo gives him that freedom, but by basically disowning him as next in the Saizo line.  Which is I guess what the kid wanted, but still, it’s kind that “Grant your freedom, but you’re not my son” type feel.  D-rank.

Kaden - He’s alright?  He doesn’t do much, but he at least makes plenty of time to go visit his daughter just for the sake of visiting.  Still, he’s so bad at raising his child that she doesn’t know what dead means, and thinks poachers are there to play.  So present, but perhaps too permissive and uninvolved in actually raising her.  C-rank.

Hinata - Apparently just fucking forgot to make time for his kid.  He’s loving in his own way, but clearly not putting his child as a top priority in a lot of cases.  Not the worst, but certainly not good.  C-rank.

Azama - F-rank.  I don’t really need to explain this, do I?  Fuck Azama.  Even Saizo realizes how much of a callous fuckhead he is toward his own kid.  SAIZO!  Also you somehow gave your daughter a separate world from yours, in the attempt to give her a life of peace, which she achieves and is happier without you, so you storm in only when she’s in active danger, then insist on dragging her out of this peaceful realm into the world of constant war...just because?  Fuck Azama.  F-rank forever.

Subaki - He’s a decent dad.  It does kind of imply that he’s been away for a while, so questionable how much time he’s actually spending with her.  And while he’s generally doting and kind toward his daughter, there is that weird ending bit where he gets nervous about her outperforming him.  I’ll give it a B-rank overall.

Hayato - Honestly, he’s wishy-washy.  Either you fully support your daughter’s mad science or you don’t.  You can’t half-ass this, acknowledging she loves the dark arts and permitting her to mess around with it, and then step in and insist it’s off limits when it turns out the dark arts also have some potentially evil consequences.  Stepping in when he does to take things away feels more like backpedaling on a decision he already made to let her do as she pleases, which was probably too permissive as it stands.  C-rank, which is honestly pretty good for a teen parent compared to some of these other shitheads.

Xander - Finally on the Nohrians.  Xander actually like...talks to his kid.  Siegbert knows what his role is, and even if Xander can’t visit as often as he’d like in person, he keeps in contact through missives.  Now, there is the issue of his stance being “You have to learn to shoulder some burdens alone,” and thinking his son refusing to contact him about these fucking swamp demons was commendable.  So he’s definitely not perfect on this front.  But he does acknowledge that this is the burden of a leader having to make such choices, is accepting and understanding of his son’s autonomy and decisions while still being firm about keeping him safe from war and sending him back should he prove himself unready.  A-rank overall, I think.

Leo - Okay listen.  While I do recognize that Leo comes around and starts trying to be a better father, and I recognize the importance of growth and improvement. But the fact that Leo has spent most of his son’s life avoiding him because he disapproves of his interest in feminine fashion is just inexcusable.  The time to step up as a parent and learn this shit was a long-ass time ago, man.  You’ve basically been out of your child’s life this entire time, shown up only to angrily disapprove of how he lives his life, and now want to walk back in and expect that trying to change means he should give you that chance?  Why?  There’s no reason for Forrest to be the one who has to acknowledge you’re changing and growing as a person.  If nothing else, at least Forrest completely tells him off, and when Leo makes his attempt at reconciliation, his first thought is that he’s excited to get to know Elise.  Get fucked, Leo.  At least you go to save your kid, and don’t seem to express that you’re willing to let him die.  But you did stall on going, so like...fuck you.  F-tier.

Benny - And now for the exact opposite.  Benny’s an absolute sweetheart, and it’s no surprise he’s the same with his son.  He seems to care greatly for his son, is proud of his actions, and while protective, is willing to support his son’s decision to become stronger and learn to defend others with courage, while also teaching him that he’s not as fearless as he seems.  Honestly, maybe it’s just the feeling coming off of Leo, but S-rank.  We don’t really know how often he visits Ignatius, but I’d like to believe it’s often.

Keaton - Nothing too exciting, nothing too bad.  An easy, uninteresting B-rank.

Arthur - Apparently he’s never visited.  And openly stated that because he thought his son was safe here, his job was done.  This is the most intense version of just literally not being there for your child at all.  Still, at least he gives a shit, so D-rank, but a low D.

Odin - I think he’s solid.  Honestly there’s nothing outstanding here, but I really like Odin as a person, so A-rank.

Laslow - Okay, so in the intro to her chapter, Laslow mentions that Soleil has a band for town watch, and that she should be in her Deeprealm but goes where she pleases.  Which implies he knows she’s in his world already.  So he’s already letting her do as she pleases.  He’s openly aware she’s bi (let’s be real, here) and is fully supportive (LEO).  He taught her some great mechanisms for coping with difficulties in her life, and helps her realize it’s okay to not be positive when it feels forced.  And when confronted with the reality that Soleil is way better than him at flirting with the ladies, instead of being an insecure prick about it, he’s like “Hell yeah, that’s my girl!”  S-rank, easy.

Niles - I hate Niles, but as far as parenting goes, he’s not the worst.  It’s not clear if he’s been to visit her much (sounds like a no), but he at least has clear care for her.  He does try to emphasize to her what kind of life he’s had and that he doesn’t want her to have to live like that too, so I do appreciate that angle for him.  B-rank.

And that’s everyone.  There are some decent parents in all this.   The only real failures are Leo and Azama.  I think Azama’s a bit worse based on not showing any inclination to change or any particular care about his child, while Leo at least learns something and grows from it.  Though Leo’s issues are such a problem for me.  I think Laslow’s the best, though Kaze and Benny were also really great.

Shame about the Baby Realm thing, though.  That whole idea was just so stupid...

[btspremiumtrash]

carving your love

⇓ Ship: Incubus!Hoseok x Vampire!Yoongi

⇓ Genre: Fluff, suggestions to smut, Creatures AU

⇓ Summary:  The mortals are throwing a party. A Halloween party. Where they dress up as creatures of the night. But why dress up like them when you can be them? That’s a question that the Bangtan Boys don’t need help answering since they themselves are those things that go bump in the night. But the question that has never dawned any of them was: What would happen if an incubus and vampire were to intermingle?

⇓ Word ct.: 5k

⇓ Warnings: None :)

⇓Prompt:  “I assumed we were both mediocre pumpkin carvers and made a bet saying my pumpkin would be better and you just turned yours around and I’m horrified because you didn’t tell me that you were going to kill it, especially since mine is just our initials and a heart.” (In collaboration with @sunshinebtss ❤)

Masterlist

“I’m not going,” Yoongi said in his famous (or infamous if you will) deadpanned tone to the older man, Seokjin, who was trying to convince him to join him and the rest of the gang to the Halloween party being thrown by the humans not too far away from their place. “We know how the last party went. Why would I waste my time with another incident happening like that again?”

It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. No one would dare throw a party in the most haunted mansion in Seoul. Except for the group of hormonal, ignorant teenagers who didn’t even think twice when persuaded by the shapeshifter Seokjin in hopes that they would fall for it. Thank goodness they were high off their asses when he offered them the deal. Otherwise, it would’ve been just like last year: a solid no.

The last time someone threw a party there, the werewolf Jeongguk took things a little too far. Although it wasn’t his fault for the full moon that just so happened to be on that night, it made his temper skyrocket, making it extremely easy to set off the man with even the slightest thing. Which is exactly what happened. A teenager dressed in a Big Bad Wolf costume called Jeongguk a fake werewolf and that comment ended his life. Ever since then, no one has come back in fear of the werewolf but also the ghost. Fortunately enough though, the only ghost that inhabits the mansion is Taehyung. The other guy was sent to hell for what he’s done during his time on Earth.

So with all this mind, Seokjin couldn’t bear the thought of Yoongi not coming back to the mansion. “Please Yoongi? Jeongguk will be on a tight leash I promise. Jimin can keep him in check or he can go to a spare room and watch anime while the party happens.”

Yoongi cocked an eyebrow as he looked up from his computer to see the pleading Seokjin beg for his appearance at the party. He was currently doing research for a liberal arts assignment for his online university that was due ironically enough on Halloween, AKA tonight. “Is Namjoon going?”

Ah, the man—or rather merman—that stole Seokjin’s heart at first sight. He would go to visit him in the ocean every chance he got, shifting into a merman himself to see him and all he had to offer. Of course, Seokjin never spoke to Namjoon about his true feelings for the merman. Why would he take the chance to ruin the beautiful friendship that he had with him? And so he kept his feelings at bay.

That comment made blood rush to his cheeks, which he shook off and responded, “Yes he is. But so is Hoseok. And you need to be the one who shows him the ropes.”

Yoongi groaned. Hoseok moved from Gwangju to Seoul not that long ago. Taehyung, being the Casper he was, invited him to the party. He thought it would be a great opportunity to meet other creatures like him and befriend them. “What even is that dude anyway?”

“An incubus. I’m assuming you know—”

“Yes, I know what an incubus is.” Yoongi stopped Seokjin from further explaining. The last time he asked Seokjin to explain something, he was met with the most vivid, haunt-inducing, descriptions that he refrained from ever asking Seokjin to ever describe anything for him. It was for anal sex. Something that before Yoongi was curious about until he asked Seokjin about it. Now he feared it more than dying a second time. “But why do I have to be the one that ‘shows him the ropes’?” He used his fingers as quotations marks to emphasize how stupid this situation was.

Seokjin scoffed. “Uh, I hate to be the one to break it to you buddy but you need to work on your social skills. If you didn’t know any of us in your past life then you probably wouldn’t have any friends.”

“Gee, thanks.” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Why isn’t 5 a sufficient number?”

“Because I said so. Now get your ass up. We’re going to that party whether you like it or not.”

“Spoiler alert: I don’t,” the vampire said with sarcasm dripping in his voice.

Two could play at that game. With Seokjin grabbing Yoongi’s hand to lift him out of the seat, he matched Yoongi’s sarcasm to a T. “Spoiler alert: I don’t give a shit.”

--

Midnight came around pretty quickly. At least for Seokjin. Yoongi on the other hand, dreaded every second of shopping for a stupid costume with his companion. Seokjin got a matching set for him and Namjoon to wear to the party. Yoongi already had an outfit at home, but Seokjin persisted that he upgrade his wardrobe. And so Yoongi put a little effort in dressing up as himself essentially. Or as the human fantasy of a vampire. He got makeup to make his skin paler than the white walls of the mall they went to and black eyeliner to make his eyes stand out. He even got cute purple eye contacts even though his irises naturally turn red. He doesn’t know why mortals think they had purple eyes, but he didn’t have the capacity to ask or care. Maybe Seokjin was right about this whole “antisocial interactions” thing. To put the finishing touches on his look, he got the Dracula costume package. He had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes at how humans depict him.

Despite initially hating the idea of going out to get a new costume, he actually outdid himself. He enjoyed looking at himself through the specially designed mirror that allowed for his vampiric self to show. Seokjin helped him put some red streaks in his jet-black hair. Now he was fully a heartthrob vampire.

The pair walked over to the mansion that was only fifteen minutes away from their cottage in the woods. They didn’t live far from the cave Jeongguk and his 97-line gang slept and were a good walking distance from Namjoon’s ocean—Hence why Seokjin takes every chance he can to see his merman. Jimin and Taehyung lived in the mansion together so that Taehyung had someone to talk to.

“Huh,” Jimin greeted Yoongi at the door with his arms crossed in amazement that he would come. “So Seokjin really did the impossible.”

Yoongi fought the urge to say something smart to the younger demon. “Nice to see you too, Jimin.”

He smirked, enjoying being able to tease Yoongi like this. “How’d he do it?”

“By dragging him out of his self-loathing chair that he never leaves,” Seokjin answered. “Not even when he’s sleeping.”

Jimin giggled and moved out the way to let the two inside. Besides the very real cobwebs, the Halloween decorations were on point. From the plastic pumpkin baskets full of candy at the buffet table to the fog machines placed all around the house. Very spoopy indeed.

There was no mortals insight. Yoongi would’ve smelled them if there were. However, he did get the faint smell of wet dog—

“Yoongi!” He heard his name being called by Jeongguk from the top of the stairs. “You came!”

The vampire was getting irritated with both the demon and now the werewolf not believing he came to this event. “Is it really that big of a deal?”

He heard the echoey sound of Taehyung’s ghostly self lurking around him as he answered his question. “Uh, honestly, yeah. Didn’t think you’d show up, Dracula.”

“Fuck all of you.”

“You mean that?” Jimin asked.

Seokjin immediately shook his head. “Oh, I’d rather not. I’ve seen Yoongi naked too many times to count. Not a pretty sight.”

Yoongi cracked a wicked grin. “Somehow I think it’s for a different reason. A fishy reason.”

The shapeshifter elbowed Yoongi which made Yoongi bite back a laugh. “You aren’t funny.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“Anyways,” Seokjin turned his attention to the very empty mansion. “Where are the humans? They should’ve been here like twenty minutes ago.”

“I think you meant ‘Where’s Namjoon? He should’ve been here like twenty minutes ago.’” Yoongi mumbled to which Seokjin smacked the back of his neck to silence him.

Jimin shrugged. “I don’t know, chief. Maybe when they were sober they realized the mistake they made and—”

Just before Jimin could come up with his grim conclusion, the doorbell rang. A couple of times before Jimin irritatingly rushed over to open it.

With their high off their minds expressions, one human dressed as a Minion greeted Jimin. “Heyyy dude. Is this where the Halloween party is?”

Jimin tried not to look visibly disgusted with the smell of marijuana oozing from their clothes. He couldn’t even believe he agreed to let these creatures into his home. At least last year the only thing the humans did was drink and that’s something Jimin could do all day if he wanted to. He mustered up an eye smile and welcomed the mortals into the haunted house. “Of course! Come on in so we can get this party started!”

Everyone rushed inside while Taehyung got the music going. Seokjin noticed Namjoon the second he stepped into the house. Jimin shook his head as Seokjin passed him to meet the merman and bring him inside, internally agreeing that Seokjin is indeed whipped as cream for Namjoon. Too bad the only people that don’t know they like each other are Seokjin and Namjoon.

That’s more than he could say for his situation though. Although this isn’t how he pictured his date with Jeongguk going, he was more than elated to watch over the young werewolf as he was kept away from society by entertaining himself with video games and anime.

As everyone had something to do or someone to talk to, Yoongi was alone at the kitchen bar, watching from afar. That was until an unfamiliar scent caught his attention. It was intoxicating. He turned his attention to where the smell was coming from and was greeted with what he assumed to be the new incubus in town. Jung Hoseok.

“Mind if I sit here?” His voice was a thing of beauty. He could listen to it all day if Satan would allow it. His features were everything to gawk about. Wearing a stylish police officer costume, it was like he was sculpted by the goddess Aphrodite herself. And that jawline? That could stab him in the heart and he would say thank you.

Yoongi realized that he was staring at him for probably too long so he stuttered over his words. “Uh yeah sure.” Hopefully, he didn’t catch it. That would be so embarrassing.

Wait a second. Since when was Min Yoongi embarrassed? Since the last time he was alive which was about 3,000 years ago. Nowadays it’s been more of secondhand embarrassment with his friends doing something stupid in public. But now? Now he felt… Dare he say he had butterflies in his stomach.

Hoseok took his seat next to the vampire. He could’ve sworn that his heart skipped a beat when he spoke to him. “You don’t wanna mingle with these lowly excuses for humans too huh?”

Despite the comment he made, he still found it funny and chuckled. “I’d rather not, no. Seeing them make a fool out of themselves is my entertainment for the night.”

Hoseok also laughed along with Yoongi. Taehyung watched from the sidelines. Unfortunately, Yoongi sensed the young ghost’s presence. Without looking in the direction of where Taehyung was hiding, he exclaimed his voice to where he could hear it but it wouldn’t draw attention from the humans. “You know, just because you’re called a creep doesn’t mean you have to act like one.”

Taehyung came out of the walls. He snapped his fingers and turned from a ghost to a human. He smiled that famous boxy smile and said, “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. Do you want any drinks? Jimin had me stock up. Although I can’t help but think it’s for himself for the aftermath of this party…”

“I’m good.”

“Hey, Taehyung!” Hoseok said with a smile as he greeted his first friend he made since he got to Seoul. “I think I’ll have a few shots if you don’t mind.”

Dammit. He probably sounds like that old sober grandpa that you hate sitting next to at family reunions and does nothing but talk your ear off about how this generation is going to shit.

Oh my god. I’m really overthinking it. What the fuck is wrong with me?

While Taehyung made the drinks, Hoseok was the one to keep the conversation between him and Yoongi going. “I’m assuming you’re a vampire, right?”

“Right.”

“Hmm...,” Hoseok studied Yoongi’s features closely and it took everything in Yoongi to not visibly blush with how close this man was to his face. He took a step backed and cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Then why the purple eyes?”

Yoongi took a pregnant pause to go over what he was going to say in his head. He didn’t want to sound stupid. Not yet anyway. “Humans.” Was his simple answer.

“They’re all wasted anyway, I bet you could just take those off and no one would even bat an eye. Eh, but either way you look nice uhh...”

He realized he never told him his name. “Y-Yoongi. Min Yoongi.” He hated the way his voice audibly stuttered.

Hoseok extended his hand for Yoongi to shake. “Jung Hoseok. But I’m pretty sure Taehyung told you that already.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi held onto Hoseok’s hand for probably a tad longer than what the average time length is spent on shaking one’s hand. Regardless, Hoseok either didn’t mind or didn’t notice. And so he kept them there until he broke it off. “I’m actually supposed to be showing you around Seoul.”

“I’ve done my own walk around the neighborhood,” Hoseok joked. “Although, I wouldn’t mind doing it again if you were my tour guide.”

Oh, I can be more than just a tour guide. Just say the words and I’m all yours.

Wait what the fuck?

Stop thinking like that!

As Taehyung placed the drinks on the island bar for Yoongi and Hoseok, the three turned their attention to Seokjin as he got ahold of a microphone. Those two combinations usually never end well. Tonight was no exception for that combination either.

“Attention humans and creatures of the night,” he exclaimed. “We’re about to have a pumpkin carving contest! Whoever is the winner gets the house!”

At hearing this, Taehyung, now visibly reddened with anger, turned back into a ghost and zoomed as fast as he could above the humans’ head to Seokjin. Once he made it he snapped his fingers to turn back into his fleshy self. He pulled Seokjin away from Namjoon and to the kitchen bar. There he went off on the shapeshifter and the decision he made to basically sell his house free of charge. “Are you fucking crazy, Seokjin? This is my house! Not yours! I don’t see you giving away your little cottage to those strangers!”

“Calm down, Taehyu—”

“Calm down? Calm down?!” Taehyung growled as he pushed Seokjin with all his might. “I don’t know about you but Jeongguk’s pack is really mean to me so I can’t go live with them. I can’t breathe underwater so Namjoon’s place is definitely out. Yoongi would honestly kick me out the second I move in. I won’t have any place to go. What about Jimin—”

Before Taehyung could finish his ranting, Seokjin went over to rest his hands on his shoulders. “Relax, Taehyung. I know how much this place means to you.”

“Do you?” Yoongi questioned with just a hint of sarcasm which earned him a delightful giggle from Hoseok.

He didn’t acknowledge the vampire directly, but he did continue with his explanation. “I very much do. Which is why the contestants that are playing are us. Me, Joonie, Hoseok, and Yoongi. The judges are you, Jimin, and Jeongguk. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

Taehyung pouted. He crossed arms and looked down. “Yeah... But you should’ve told me beforehand...”

“Well, that was before I found out there was an entire pumpkin garden outside in the back of the mansion.”

“Wait. For real?”

“Do you—Do you go outside your own place?”

The ghost looked anywhere but in the direction of Seokjin. He mumbled, “No.”

Seokjin shook his head. “Maybe those witches like you after all.”

Taehyung’s face turned into one of utter disgust. “Ugh! Don’t ever bring them up again. I hate those bitches with a passion.”

While Seokjin was laughing (Taehyung was definitely not), Hoseok leaned to Yoongi to whisper, “Who are the witches?”

Yoongi whispered back without stuttering this time. Improvement is key. “Aptly titled ‘The Four Horsewomen of the Apocalypse’. Kim Jisoo, Kim Jennie, Park Chaeyoung, and Lalisa Manoban. They’re the ones that killed Taehyung all those years ago. They gave him a potion that gave him irresistibility since he was going on a date with his girlfriend, Amber. Unfortunately, that potion was actually cyanide. So when the Devil offered him the proposition of making Taehyung into an immortal ghost to haunt the witches, he took the offer. Although he’s been slacking on the haunting part a little. He couldn’t scare anyone even if he tried. He’s too friendly.”

The vampire thought he was speaking too much. If he wasn’t tripping over his own words, he was going off on a tangent. But Hoseok didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Hoseok would love nothing more than to hear the little Dracula in a very different setting...

Hoseok had to suppress his naughty thoughts as they would awaken his own irresistibility powers. It’s been a struggle as he hasn’t had any luck as of recently. His recent partners were all weak humans with little to no power for Hoseok’s inner sexual demon to feed on. Meaning that his demon was all for taking his lovely vampire to his house. But the little humanity Hoseok had left wanted to honestly win him over without using his incubus powers.

If only he knew how well it was working.

They stared at each other for what seemed like forever, getting lost in each other’s eyes. It wasn’t until Seokjin snapped his fingers in front of them to avert their attention from one another to Seokjin’s waiting stance. Arms crossed, tapping his feet impatiently. “If you two lovebirds are done with the cringe lovey-dovey ogling, we have a pumpkin carving contest to win.”

They both blushed, but Yoongi’s was more noticeable with his paler-than-average skin tone due to the makeup. Hoseok wanted to comment on it and call him cute. But he, along with Yoongi, was swept away from their seats to the cleared out buffet table that was replaced with four pumpkins equally spread apart and carving utensils.

Jimin and Jeongguk were brought downstairs by Namjoon. Jimin hated that their “date” was cut short while Jeongguk was thrilled to be invited to join the party albeit to judge a pumpkin carving contest. Taehyung situated himself in between the duo. They all sat at another table directly in front of the buffet table. The humans all sat on opposite ends of the tables, waiting for the battle to begin.

Hoseok once again leaned down to whisper to Yoongi, “Bet I can beat your pumpkin carving.”

Yoongi scoffed, “Challenge accepted.”

“Alright,” Jimin started.

“On your mark,” Jeongguk continued.

“Get set,” Taehyung added.

“Go!” The trio said at the same time. Telepathy had its perks.

The creatures went to work on their pumpkins. Humans left and right was screaming out who was gonna win. So far the majority of the crowd shouted that the sexy part-time police officer full-time incubus was gonna win. Although that was probably because he was emitting some of his lascivious powers to attract the crowd to help him win. He wasn’t trying to. But he’s so goddamn hungry that it’s getting harder to suppress his demonic urges.

Then again, it wasn’t to show off. He could care less if he were to win with or without having an unfair advantage. It was to impress Yoongi. Maybe winning the contest would also earn him at least one night with this vampire. That’s all he wants. But his heart wants more than just one night. It needs the rest of their immortal lives.

“Five-minute warning!” Jimin shouted above the very loud crowd of annoying humans. Oh, how he was going to enjoy having drink upon drink when this is all over.

Yoongi was already done with his creation. It didn’t take long to decide what he was going to carve. His otherwise cold heart actually felt warm for once. It skipped beats. It felt like he was alive again. Like he had a reason for living. And it was all because of the incubus standing right beside him. He couldn’t help passing a goofy grin to Hoseok. Hoseok could feel Yoongi staring at him, and as much as he would love to return the favor, he had a vampire’s heart (and also contest but that came second) to win.

Five minutes passed like a blur. It felt more like five seconds for Hoseok. Fortunately, he did manage to finish his carving just in time.

“Judging time~” Taehyung sang happily. It was almost as if he was all for this idea although he was the main one throwing a fit about it fifteen minutes ago. “Each of you has to explain what you carved. Once everyone is done we’ll tally up the votes and announce the winner. Cool?”

The contestants all nodded and Jeongguk spoke. “Alright. Joonie first.”

The audience went silent as the merman explained his carving. The amount of detail a man can carve into a pumpkin was telling. “So I drew inspiration from the wonderful sea and all it has to offer. From the different fishies I carved here”—he pointed to each tiny fish as he spoke—“to the seaweed and then of course in the middle is my sandcastle that me and my family live and rule the sea.” He gave a dimpled smile to signify that he was done with his explanation. Everyone was in awe as they clapped their hands during Namjoon’s gentlemanly bow.

Next was Hoseok. He took a deep breath, careful to say the right words to win this contest. He had to get Yoongi out of his mind which was nearly impossible. But somehow he was able to do the impossible. “Okay so, I carved my home, Gwangju. It’s a trail that I used to walk on. The path was so beautiful, especially during spring. The cherry blossoms in full bloom and petals falling down into the lake. I would sit down on this red bench just to clear my mind.”

Now while his words depicted what he had in mind, his carving clearly didn’t support what he was saying the slightest. It was as if a kindergartner was given a knife, told it was a crayon, and to color the pumpkin. But the audience didn’t care. No one cared. Welcome to seducing your victims taught by your local incubus, Jung Hoseok. They still cheered him on.

Oddly enough, his powers didn’t work on the immortal creatures, especially Yoongi who couldn’t hold back the pure laughter that escaped his system as the crowd really bought that half-assed job.

After Yoongi finished laughing (AKA Seokjin kicked his knee to shut him up), Seokjin explained his masterpiece, if you could call it that. “What you see in front of you is a beautifully designed man. He is godly and should be treated as such. I call this ‘Worldwide Handsome’.”

With every contestant, it seemed like Yoongi’s chances of winning were slim. Except for Seokjin and maybe Hoseok if he turned his powers off.

While the art of seduction worked for Hoseok, it didn’t work for Seokjin. Instead, it earned him mockery from everyone excluded Namjoon who comforted him while everyone laughed at his own ego.

“Oh my god, Seokjin!” Taehyung laughed uncontrollably. “You couldn’t even bother carving Namjoon’s face?! It just had to be yours?!”

Seokjin was flushed. His ego had never been more damaged than now.  

Amongst the chaos, Hoseok asked Yoongi what he carved into his pumpkin.

Yoongi complied and turned his pumpkin to Hoseok, giving him his explanation. “I assumed we were both mediocre pumpkin carvers and made a bet saying my pumpkin would be better and you just turned yours around and I’m horrified because you didn’t tell me that you were going to kill it, especially since mine is just our initials and a heart.”

“I—”

Yoongi blushed visibly. He attempted to put away his pumpkin “I-I’m sorry. I just—”

“No, no.” Hoseok stopped Yoongi from putting his pumpkin away by covering his hands in his own. “It’s beautiful. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

I didn’t know I could feel until you came into my life.

He kept that part to himself. But he did smile as he felt the warmth of Hoseok’s hands over his own. He loved that feeling and would love nothing more than to have that every day for the rest of eternity.

“I think I love you, Hoseok.”

Hoseok returned the smile back to him. “I know I love you, Yoongi.”

Jimin cleared his throat audibly so as to gain the attention of the pair who haven’t been able to pay anyone else attention than themselves. It did do the job as they unlocked hands and gave their undivided attention to the demon.

Jimin looked down at Yoongi’s pumpkin, then Yoongi, then the pumpkin again. Then he shot the vampire with a telepathic thought. Do you want yours to be included?

Yoongi shrugged but then shook his head. It was made for him. I could care less about the contest. Just make Seokjin the winner if you don’t mind. I really don’t wanna hear how pissed he was that everyone laughed at him tonight.

Jimin raised a haughty eyebrow. So you aren’t going back with the incubus? Odd.

Shut it, Park.

Did I press a button?

He rolled his eyes as Jimin went over to Hoseok’s pumpkin to give it one more look over. It took everything in him to not crack a smirk. He really did fuck that pumpkin’s shit up entirely. Satan curse this child.

“Aaand the winner is,” Taehyung began.

Jeongguk shouted with a smile as bright as the sun and as cute as a bunny, “Kim Seokjin!”

While the crowd was shouting that Hoseok or Namjoon should’ve won, Seokjin took it as an opportunity to tell them to suck it. “I won idiots! Get over it losers!” He blew raspberries at his haters. He could have their heads served on a platter but they didn’t deserve such a swift death.

Namjoon congratulated his destined counterpart with a bearhug. “My family is throwing a party tonight. It’d be great if you could make it. That way I have a familiar face that isn’t my family around. Plus you always manage to make it interesting.”

Seokjin blushed. “O-oh… Okay then. I’d like that.”

Namjoon flashed him a smile and Seokjin returned the gesture. “Glad to hear it.”

Jimin nudged Seokjin’s arm suggestively. “Looks like you got yourself a date huh? I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t push it.”

“You are no fun at all, you know that?” Jimin pouted. “Learn to lighten up.”

“Learn to follow your own advice,” Seokjin said, nodding his head over to Jeongguk. “There’s literally nothing that could go wrong.”

“Uhh, you’re absolutely wrong about that chief. Literally, everything could go wrong. What if I say the wrong thing. Or mayhaps—”

“Thanks for watching over me today,” Jeongguk said to Jimin. He snuck his way over to the two while they were blabbering on. With a hand scratching at the back of his neck, he continued. “I know I can be a handful. But you play games better than I do. I admire that… Anyways, the gang is out tonight for feasting and that means I have no one to play games—”

“I’ll play with you.”

Kinky.

Get the fuck out of my head, Seokjin.

Jeongguk was taken aback by the sudden response. He didn’t know he already knew what he was going to say without him even getting the full thought out. Regardless, he smirked. “Cool. Ready to go now?”

Jimin turned to his ghostly best friend. “You’ll watch over the house while I’m out?”

“You got it!” Taehyung smiled. “By the way, did you know we have a pumpkin garden in the backyard?”

Jimin was confused at hearing this. But then it all came together. He enclosed his face with his hand as he shook his head in disappointment. “The witches must’ve put them there. Hopefully, they aren’t—”

And just before he could finish, humans left and right started dying. They had bitten off the delectably poisonous pumpkins from the contest and they paid with their lives. Hopefully, Jimin’ll see most of them in hell. Satan knows they deserve it.

“Poisonous. Goddammit. Now I have to clean the house and these disgusting bodies. Can this night get any worse?”

Jeongguk was about to say something, but Jimin silenced him before he could. “Don’t answer that. Just—take me away from here before I honestly blow a fucking gasket.”

“You got it.” Jeongguk swept Jimin off his feet and placed him on his back, transforming from human to werewolf and taking off with his super-speed back to his cave.

“We should be heading too don’t you think?” Seokjin persuaded. Namjoon nodded and they left Taehyung alone to at least try to clean up the mess.

And what of our happily in love incubus and vampire duo?

Well, as the ruckus was going on inside the mansion, Hoseok and Yoongi took their business elsewhere outside the mansion. To the pumpkin garden in fact. They sat down on a bench and kissed the night away with their hands ever intertwined.

Thank goodness they didn’t eat the pumpkins. That would’ve been two more bodies for Taehyung to not clean up.

[alteridolriley]

The Day After Christmas

A/N: I hope everyone had a very Merry Christmas!! Here’s a fic with just very slight angst and then ends in all fluffy cuteness!! Also most of this was written before the video came out yesterday but I didn’t change things and I did add some stuff. It’s a mess honestly!

This is a Christmas gift for my two best friends: @anxious-patton and @availe! You two are just the light of my life and I hope you both had a very Merry Christmas!!

Ships: Platonic LAMP/CALM Word Count: 1,633  Tag List: @thelogicalloganipus, @introverts-assemble, @pattonspuns

Summary: It’s the day after Christmas and all the excitement of the holiday has simmered down. Virgil is alone in the mindscape as the others have gone back to help Thomas through some things.

December 26th.

The day after Christmas.

Everything was back to normal in the mindscape. The Christmas tree had been poofed away as well as the stockings on the walls. Patton had asked if the lights could stay on the stair railing and around the windows until New Years and all the others had happily obliged his request.

Virgil sat on the couch, his hoodie pulled up over his head and his headphones on his ears. He wasn’t blasting his music the way he normally would, choosing to listen to a soothing ballad instead. The anxious side had his eyes closed, trying to ignore the silence around him.

Yesterday had been full of gift giving and celebration, mostly led by Patton and Roman. As it was Virgil’s first Christmas with them, they wanted to make it extra special. Tons of food and gifts had been passed around and for once, Virgil couldn’t deny he was feeling pretty good.

He opened his eyes to an empty living room. The TV in the corner was on but it was muted, simply on for background ambiance. Light filtered in through the vertical blinds, giving the room a yellow hue. It was early afternoon and yet it felt like late night thanks to the winter season.

Virgil flipped onto his side, laying his head on a couch pillow. He took a deep breath and released it. The others were busy today since everything was back to normal. Logan hadn’t come out of his room, noting the new year coming soon meant more plans had to be organized. Roman and Patton were out helping Thomas with… something. They hadn’t been clear on what.

In comparison to the day before, it was… lonely.

Virgil shook his head, ignoring the thoughts creeping up. Everything is fine. He told himself, changing the song on his new iPod given to him by Logan. It had all of his favorite songs on it perfectly organized with album covers and playlists.

With the soft song playing in his ears, and the warmth of his hoodie, Virgil felt his eyes start to close. All of the excitement from the day before had exhausted him especially the silly video they had all done together for Thomas’s fans. Thomas had been determined to get it out before Christmas and so much overtime had been put into it. Virgil couldn’t deny it had actually been quite fun to spend time with all of them. He truly belonged.

Virgil’s lips formed a smile as he let himself fall into dreamland.

“Awwww look at him… so cute!”

“Patton, I think you’ve taken enough photos without his consent.”

“How can I not?? Our kiddo is smiling while asleep!!!”

“Yes our dark prince is relaxed enough to smile. It’s quite a good look for him.”

Virgil heard voices above him but they sounded so far away in his sleepy state. Abruptly light was shined into his eyes which woke him up even more. He cracked his eyes opened just enough to see it was a lamp in the corner that had been turned on. Since he was sleepy it felt brighter than normal. Upon opening his eyes completely, he was met with Patton’s smiling face.

“Hey there sleepy head!” Patton said, sitting down on the edge of the couch next to Virgil.

“Hi…” Virgil murmured, sitting up. “Didn’t realize you all came back already.” He rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

Patton stood up, nodding. He seemed to be bouncing with excitement and he couldn’t stand still. The moral side stared at Virgil as he untangled his headphone cord from around his head and arms.

“Patton… um… is there a reason you’re just staring at me?” Virgil asked.

“Oh! Well um… Roman and Logan and I had another surprise for you.” Patton explained as he bounced from one foot to another.

Virgil raised an eyebrow while looking around the living room. Roman and Logan were not around at the current moment but it was then that the anxious side noticed a very large box, sitting behind Patton’s legs on the floor.

Just as he was about to ask what the box was for, Roman and Logan returned to the living room from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. They also had a box but it was small enough for Roman to carry alone. It had holes in the top of it but it also had a big black bow tied on the handles to hold it closed.

The prince walked over to Virgil and sat the box down on his lap, a smile spreading across his face. Virgil’s eyes widened at the weight of the gift.

“Go ahead and open it, Virgil.” Logan insisted as his face also showed some joy with a smile edging at the corners of his lips.

Virgil looked at all three of them before back at the box apprehensively. He untied the bow and the flaps fell open. His heart was racing a mile a minute as he looked inside. A gasp slipped from his lips as he met the eyes of a very small black cat.

“Wait wait….” Virgil whispered softly. “This can’t… this can’t…” he kept repeating to himself as he reached in and picked up the kitten. She immediately began to purr as he sat her in his lap. Patton cooed at the kitty as Virgil sat the box aside. He petted her softly. “Wait, Patton! Aren’t you allergic?!” Virgil’s head turned to the moral side, his eyes widening.

“Fret not, my purple clad comrade. Patton and I did some research with Thomas and I made her completely hypoallergenic!” Roman said proudly, puffing his chest out proudly. Virgil released his held breath and took a deep one to calm himself.

“Cats are good animals to help with anxiety. Their breathing is easy to match and they’re naturally calm in everyday life.” Logan explained. “They’re also easy to take care of, pretty much self sufficient. As for the reason we got her for you, Roman, Patton, and I realized how often you’re alone, whether for your own mental state or if we are busy with our own jobs. We came to the conclusion that maybe a pet for you would be best. She can also help you with your breathing control. A good grounding tool for you as well as a companion.”

Virgil looked back down at the small kitten as she pushed her paws back and forth into his hoodie, purring loudly.

“…Merry Christmas, Virgil.”

Virgil looked up at the other sides as they all said the phrase together. Patton was smiling still petting the kitten, Roman had his arms crossed, a soft grin spread across his face, and Logan was taking some kind of notes in a small pad of paper but he couldn’t hide the smile on his face as well.

As Virgil scratched the kitty under her chin, his vision went blurry before he felt tears rolling down his cheeks. Patton noticed his tears and sat down on the couch beside him, holding up his arm, inviting a side hug from Virgil. The anxious one accepted, laying his head on Patton’s shoulder and Patton wrapped his arm around Virgil’s neck. Logan sat down on the opposite side of Virgil, taking his turn to pet the kitty. Roman sat down on the coffee table in front of Virgil.

“So… what’s her name going to be?” Roman questioned, pulling around the box still sitting on the floor.

He opened it to reveal toys, a small bed and all the necessary essentials to take care of a cat. He began to play with her with a small string.

“I get to name her?” Virgil asked, wiping his face of dried tears with his sleeve.

“Of course you do, kiddo! She’s yours!” Patton exclaimed, rubbing Virgil’s arm with his hand.

Virgil looked at the small kitty. She had just a bit of white on her fur on her left ear, left paw and the tip of her tail. As he stared at her, she looked back at him and closed her eyes in a slow blink: a kitty’s kiss.

“Amy Lee.” Virgil said simply, reaching up to scratch her behind the ear. The kitty then meowed as if to respond with an agreement to her name.

Logan made a noise of acknowledgment. “Ah I recognize that name. Amy Lee is the name of the lead singer of your favorite band you mentioned before. Evanescence, correct?”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah…” his voice trailed off distracted by Amy Lee licking his fingers. She had laid down completely and had Virgil’s hand in her paws.

“Beautiful! Excellent name for an adorable kitty!” Roman replied as he stood up vibrantly. “I also conjured up a cat tower for her and we could even may be put some floating shelves up too!”

“Yes, I believe it’s been called a "cat super highway” by professionals to help cats get around a room from a comfortable height and if they need or want to get away.“ Logan explained. "It’s also good for her physical health as it is exercise.”

Roman and Logan continued to discuss different new layouts for the mindspace and Virgil’s personal room to help Amy Lee accommodate to the new space.

Virgil allowed himself to relax completely, all of the excitement catching up to him again. Amy Lee had curled up in his lap, falling asleep.

Patton looked down to see Virgil’s eyes fluttering closed and his head falling against Patton’s shoulder, his breathing becoming even and calm. The parental trait leaned his head against Virgil’s, pulling a blanket over them both but around Amy Lee as to not disturb her.

“God bless us… everyone.” Patton said softly.

And it was a very blessed Christmas for the small family.

[pucketknife-blog]

WE’LL CALL YOU~ self para [G]

↪ TAGGING: Noah Puckerman ( @pucketknife ); mentions of... pretty much everyone that manages a shop at JIH AND ELVIS THE DWARF MONGOOSE BLESS; ↪ LOCATION/TIME: NYADA Campus’ JIH Marketplace; May 11th & 12th; Friday afternoon and Saturday morning and afternoon; ↪ SYNOPSIS: It do take nerve! Puck tries his best at being “normal”. It starts with getting a job. Don’t call us, we’ll call you; ↪ WARNINGS: language if any, but nothing major. this is like 14 mini paras in one aka the longest para of all time rip my writing lol;

He’s got a pile of resumes in his hand and nothing but time ahead of him. He’s made sure to schedule every interview at least an hour apart from each other and split them into Friday and Saturday, even fit them to his classes so he doesn’t miss any more. Still, Puck’s hands are sweaty as he walks past Notos Towers as he heads to the JIH Market.

He doesn’t know what to expect. His eyes fall to his curriculum vitae, nothing on it but his personal data and one item that says “Trained Slayer” on it, the date of his thirteenth birthday, a dash, and the date of the sentencing. He downloaded a form from the internet trying to look professional, but it feels like he was reaching. He can’t even put himself as an A-ranked Slayer anymore.

He feels stupid.

However, it’s not like he has a choice. Puck likes eating. He likes being able to pay for his own expenses. He likes being self-sufficient. He doesn’t particularly like clothes, but he likes not getting arrested for walking around naked. Besides, at that particular moment in time, Puck doesn’t have anywhere to fall back onto. He’s on his own, and, even if the times were trying, a Puckerman never gives up.

( Even when other Puckermans are still debating if he could be considered as a Puckerman or not, that is. )

Ergo, him standing there, in a marketplace filled with laughing students, playing nice and being normal and getting a part-time job --or a few, if he manages to succeed.

The mere thought of what his father would say if he was still alive makes him sick to his stomach, and not for the first time in his life, he’s really glad his old man didn’t live long enough to see him where he is now.

He steps into the office of NYADA postal services, just a few people around coming and going, and he approaches the main desk to ask for the manager.

“It’s Amram Puckerman,” he tells the girl. “I believe they are waiting for me? I have an interview scheduled for today.”

She types something in her computer, then gives him a solid nod. “Yes, of course. You are welcome to wait for mr. McNaab right there,” he adds pointing at the chairs under a shelf of flying piggy bank deliverers. “Please, take a sit. He will be with you as soon as he’s free.”

He nods back and sits down, unsure of what comes next. What’s he supposed to do once inside? He’s never been in a job interview before. Are they going to ask him to fit him for a messenger bag? Is he supposed to know anything in particular? Is he overqualified? Or worse, is he underqualified?

“Amram Puckerman,” A whiny voice calls after him a moment later, and he stands up so fast the chair behind him menaces with falling back.

“Yeah, yes, here! I mean... That would be me.” He raises a hand awkwardly, and the old man peaks at him from over his rectangular glasses. They kind of look like envelopes, Puck thinks, but grandpa looks like he’s got little time to deal with bullshit, so he makes no comments and follows him into his office.

He keeps the introductions short, speaking only when he feels a question is directed towards him and hands his crappy resume. Mr. McNaab has to make a double take in between the resume and him a couple of times, but he doesn’t ask. He thinks that’s going to be something he needs to get used to. Maybe he’s read his name on the news. He wonders if that will affect his chances of making it in.

“So, tell me, Amram --may I call you Amram?” he asks politely putting the sheet of paper down and interlacing his fingers as he locks his bright honey-gold eyes on him. “Do you believe that the punctual delivery of mail can contribute to student happiness and health?”

Puck raises a brow.

“Excuse me?”

Mr. McNaab grimaces, but he repeats the question, this time slower. However, it doesn’t really help Puck to hear it again.

“I guess?” he answers. Mr. McNaab is not amused. “I mean, sure. Some students... need the support of their families, right. Like, their gifts? So it’s... like, super important... to get their shi- their stuff. On time. Sure.”

The old man’s expression doesn’t change as he speaks, and Puck can feel a drop of sweat slide down his temple.

“It’s important to keep people communicated,” he tries in a desperate attempt to fix it. “I’m sure it’s not easy to do it, but I’m willing to learn everything necessary to be good at it. I’m a morning person and I wake up before the sun is up, so if you give me a shot, you could have someone delivering mail even before the sun is out. I am also a really fast runner, so I can guarantee my deliveries will always be on time.”

Mr. McNaab nods slowly and his eyes go from Puck, to his resume, then to Puck once more. “Well, that’s most definitely something we like to see. At least you are willing to commit yourself to this job.”

“I am,” Puck adds quickly, almost talking on top of him. “I’m very good at following orders, and I don’t get tired easily --I’m in great physical shape.”

The old man dips his chin again.

“Good. Very, very good.”

He doesn’t say anything else as he stares at Puck intensely, and he squirms in his seat.

“So... Do I-” he starts, but Mr. McNaab raises a hand.

“Thank you so much for your time, Amram.”

Puck frowns, but presses his lips together and doesn’t say a word.

“We’ll call you.”

WITCHKEA looks just like a Common store he’s seen almost all over the country, full rooms in display for someone to point at and buy in it’s entirety. Puck doesn’t really understand what drives people to spend so much money in furniture when he’s managed to survive his whole life with a tent and a sleeping bag, but he’s still applying for a job there. Maybe he doesn’t get it, but he could probably lift one of those armchairs over his head without almost no effort at all --he thinks it’s a reason enough to get hired.

“Have you ever made a purchase at WITCHKEA, Amram?”

Mr. Edison Syven looks like 1800′s oil painting brought to life. His white blonde hair is slicked back into a high pony tail adorned with a white bow, at tune with his white vest and slacks. He walks among the furniture as a model would walk on a runway, fingers grazing at the items as if he was caressing them. Puck shakes his head as he follows him through the store.

“Here at WITCHKEA, we believe comfort is everything. Do you believe in comfort as a root for happiness?”

“Sure,” he shrugs involuntarily, and he’s happy Mr. Syven is more focused in wiping a spot on a mirror and smiling at his reflection than him.

“Tell me, mr. Puckerman, why do you think a properly furnished dorm room is essential to student success at NYADA?”

“Comfort?” he asks, and when the other man looks back at him with a raised brow he knows he should’ve answered that some other way. “I mean,” he clears his throat, “It’s important for students to feel at home so... they don’t get... stressed.”

Oil Paint Gent doesn’t seem to love his answer.

“Thank you, mr. Puckerman.”

“I’m really strong,” he adds in a desperate attempt to save himself, but something tells him he’s too late.

“We’ll let you know,” Mr. Syven smiles, yet the gesture never reaches his eyes. “Thank you for applying.”

He steps into Wholefoods Market and sees nothing but a line of cashiers, gazes blank as they pack groceries like robots. He swallows hard.

This was his future now, wasn’t it?

“Hello! Welcome to Wholefoods Market!” a thin redhead with a surprisingly low voice calls out excitedly, and his huge grin kinda makes Puck want to punch him in the face. “My name is Petey! How can I hep you today?”

He opens his mouth to ask for the manager, tell him he has an interview, let him know he’s desperate for a job, but nothing comes out. All he can see is Petey’s smile and the manic way in which he’s staring at him intensely, almost as if it was a hopeless cry for help. He turns his head to the cashiers, none of them smiling.

This was never gonna be his future.

“You know what, Petey?” Puck taps his shoulder a couple of times, offering a fake smile. “I’m good.”  

He turns on his heels and walks out, leaving Petey and his crazy smiling as he waves him goodbye. First dead than dead inside.

“Amram Puckerman, here for an interview?” He leans into the counter as the cute girl on the front desk types into her tablet, sending her a seductive smile. American Witchpparel was never a place where Puck thought he would work, but seeing the girls that worked there really made him want to change his mind. “Here for your number, too, if you’re up to it,” he flirts shamelessly, smiling as the brunette looks up to meet his eyes.

“Mizra will see you now, Puck,” she smiles back, and he raises a brow at the use of his nickname. “What? I watched the NAO,” she shrugs and he can swear she’s batting her eyelashes at him before pointing to the office.

“Of course you did,” he winks as he straightens up. “I’ll see you later?”

“Maybe,” she singsongs, and he feels a boost of confidence. If he fucked it up, maybe she would speak up for him. Even if she didn’t, maybe he’d come back anyway.

“Hello, you must be Amram,” Mizra greets him as she opens the door for him and points at a chair. “You’re interested in becoming a part-time Sales Associate, if I’m correct?”

“Yes ma’am,” he nods handing her his resume before sitting down. “I... don’t have any previous experience, but I’m a quick learner.” And my smile can sell pretty much anything, specially to rich white girls, he wants to add, but he doesn’t. Just in case. So he smiles. He gives her his best, most seductive self and hopes that’s good enough.

“It’s exactly what we need! At least you’re honest about it!” she covers her mouth as she lets out a little snicker. Puck takes that as a win.

“So, Amram,” she starts sitting at the edge of her desk as she looks back at Puck. “What do you think about the phrase ‘dress to impress’? What does it mean to you?

Puck’s smile falters. “What’s it mean to me?” Nothing. Absolutely. Nothing. “Well... I’m more of a ‘dress for the occasion’ kinda guy myself...” he shrugs. “I see clothes as...” Annoying, most of the time. “A practical thing.” What.

“What?” Mizra asks.

“What.” Puck shrugs.

A long pause.

“I’m... not sure I follow...” she tries again, gently.

“I don’t really care how I look, I’m mostly into durable clothes. Like, the ones that won’t set on fire, or wont tore easily when I’m in the field?”

More silence.

“I’m not sure you will be a good fit for this job, mr. Puckerman.”

Puck gulps. “I can do this,” he says, then takes off his belt in a quick sweep, turning it into a whip.

Mizra jumps off the desk and yelps.

“OHMYAETHER, GET OUT!!!”

He doesn’t even try to ask for a second chance as he apologizes and puts his belt back on, hurrying out of the office. The door slams behind him and he sighs deeply.

Well, there goes working among the pretty girls.

“Cheer up,” the girl at the front desk tells him as he walks towards the door, and makes her way up to him, taking his hand in hers and pressing an American Witchppparel card with her number on it as she stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You’ll do better next time. Call me,” she whispers in his ear before walking away, flipping her hair and swinging her hips as she walks back to her workstation.

He lets out a snort and grins to himself as he walks away, saving the number to his phone’s contacts. At least it was not a total waste of his time.

The smell of Cookery & Cauldron makes his stomach groan and bark, but Puck doesn’t let that stop him from trying to act professional as he introduces himself to Patrick and Ersatz Spitz. They seem nice enough, and the shop is inviting. It’s not his dream, but at least it’s not Wholefoods Market.

“What does being a good customer advocate mean to you, Amram?”

Puck has no idea what ‘customer advocate’ means, but he thinks it might have something to do with being a waiter. Patrick and Ersatz’ piercing blue eyes fall on him, and Puck thinks about having them looking over his shoulder every day at work, which doesn’t help him relax.

“I think customer service is super important,” he blurts out. “If you make people feel good enough, they’re gonna come back all the time. Even if the food is not good enough,” he shrugs.

Their smiles falter. Both Patrick and Ersatz Spitz wince a little bit.

“I’m not saying yours is bad!” he adds hurriedly. “I’ve honestly never eaten here before, but the smells right now are pretty phenomenal.” There is a pause of silence, only interrupted by Puck’s stomach protesting again. “Sorry. But, eh... yeah. It’s like, if you treat people well, you make them feel comfortable and at home, it just makes them feel good. They feel like they’re among friends, so they tend to come back for more, right?”

He looked back at the couple, who were now nodding at him silently.

“And I can juggle,” he reaches. “And I do a mean Barak Obama impression, too.”

Just give me chance, Puck begged in his head. All I need is one chance.

By the exchange of looks between the Spitz, he wasn’t sure if he was going to get it.

He steps into The Spa at NYADA taking a deep breath as he is welcomed by the scents and aromas of the place, its warmth seeping into his skin and making him feel relaxed for the first time in the afternoon. Even if he doesn’t know the first thing about Spas, he thinks this wouldn’t be the worst place to be working on the downtime. At the very least, he can predict he’ll be chill, something that he can’t say very often.

“Missus Graeme will see you now, Mr. Puckerman,” the boy on the front desk tells him, his cheeks blushing green as he smiles up at him. “Please, follow me.”

The changeling guides him through a long hallway, doors to each side with different signs that list the special treatments, until they get to the other side and he opens the last door to reveal Millicent Graeme’s office.

“You must be Amram,” she greets him with a smile as he takes both his hands in hers and kind of bows. Puck does the same, just in case. “Please, take a seat, love.”

He does as he’s told, smiling back at her without being able to help himself. Wow, this Spa place was powerful.

“Hi,” he grins. “Thanks for having me.”

Her eyes seem to sparkle as they crinkle in upside down half moons, “Of course, everyone is welcome here at The Spa at NYADA, dear boy.” She takes the resume the changelling hands her and reads it over, brow quirking and smile faltering only slightly.

“Oh,” she sighs, and Puck can swear she looks disappointed. “Well. That’s unexpected.” Still, she puts the curriculum down and looks back at Puck.

“Tell me, Mr. Puckerman, do you have experience or knowledge in physiology and therapy?”

He shakes his head. “I... have some experience in healing others on the field...” he tries. “I can also carry a lot of weight on my shoulders.”

Ms. Graeme lets out a soft, airy giggle.

“That is very interesting, dear. Now, can you tell me something about the scents, and essential oils that help you relax after a long day?”

“E-essential oils?” The only oils Puck knows about are cooking oil and the one that goes in the car. He stays silent for a moment. If he weren’t under the influence of whatever it is they put in the air in this place, he’d be nervous again. “I like the smell of cinnamon and mint,” he offers as a last resource.

“You are a such a sweet boy, aren’t you, mr. Puckerman?”

He raises a brow. He doesn’t know how to reply to that.

“Thank you for your time, love,” she smiles again.

“Okay...”

“I’ll let you know.”

He doesn’t know why he’s trying anymore, but as she smiles, he does the same, too. His smile stays on until he steps out of the shop, when it falls, just as his shoulders and the realization that that was probably a terrible interview. He hates reality.

He schedules his interview at Madame Jason's for Friday morning before his classes, and as the bells chime as he walks into the shop, he is greeted by Ermis Johannes themself.

“Good morning, Puck! The same as always?” they ask with a smile as they reach for their amazing Babka.

“Ye- wait, no, actually,” he stops himself. “I am here for an interview? I kinda need a job and I thought, what could be better than working in my favorite shop in the JIH, right?”

Ermis laughs as they walk around the counter and guides him to one of the empty tables near the window. Once they settle down, they reach out and take the sheet of paper Puck is holding out, brow arched as they read.

“It looks like you don’t have much experience with baked good, don’t it?” they snicker as they slide the page back at him.

Puck shrugs and gives them an apologetic smile. “I’m a quick learner? I can also make some mean-ass waffles,” he offers. “C’mon, I gotta be one of your best customers,” Puck smirks. “Maybe you’ll end up paying me in nothing but baked goods, huh? Seems like quite the offer to me...”

Ermis shakes their head, amused. “You are quite the character, aren’t you, Puckerman?” They roll their eyes at him. “I’ll give you a chance, just for that. How about you tell me about your favorite homemade family recipe, what does it mean to you?

Puck is taken aback by the question. In the back of his mind, an alarm rings. He can almost smell the fain aroma of freshly baked Challah, the taste of the Babka heavy on his tongue, double chocolate chocolate because he’s earned it. The faces are blurred. He can almost hear the voices speaking in gibberish, out of tune, calling his name, his first name.

He shakes his head. Too real.

“Does rice count as a homemade family recipe?” he only half-jokes.

Ermis laughs. “I’ll let you know, Puck. Now, c’mon, let me get you your Babka --aren’t you late for class?”

After class, he doesn’t even bother leaving his backpack in his dorm. Instead, he heads directly to Magical Best Buy and asks for the manager. Soon enough, Ayal Varfolomey walks up to him and shakes his hand. “You’re a little late, but it’s fine. We are in the down season, but we do not tolerate tardiness when school is on. If you want to work here, is important you know that.”

Puck nods, letting them know it was a one time thing of his course running late, and it won’t happen it again, but he’s not sure if Varfolomey is even listening.

“You don’t have any experience with altered electronics, I see...” Ayal points out as they rearrange their cufflinks.

“I don’t, but I’m a quick learner.” He seems to be saying that a lot in these interviews.

“I doubt it,” the employer dismisses him before looking into his eyes. “At least you’re a New Age. So, Amram, what’s your favorite kind of altered electronic?”

Puck doesn’t know how to react to someone like Varfolomey. In other circumstances, he would’ve probably walked away, but he had already walked out from another shop the day before, and his options were limited. He couldn’t take the risk anymore.

“Well, after being hacked when I came to NYADA, I started using magic antiviruses in my computer, so I’d say that’s among my favorites...” he points out, but by the way Varfolomey is raising their eyebrow told him he isn’t selling it. “I also bought a tiny necklace that works as a one tera disk.”

Ayal smiles, cold and clearly unimpressed.

“We’ll let you know, mr. Puckerman. Thanks for stopping by Magical Best Buy; may I interest you in our new collection of Gonzalo the Dragon USB flash drives?”

“Please, sing for us the classic Commons melody ‘The Candy Man Can’ from the iconic movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, while you glide around the shop on this rolling ladder!”

“Excuse me?” Puck blinks incredulously as he looks at Valent Antigonus, surrounded by his smiling employees.

“‘The Candy Man Can’! It’s my favorite song. Everyone here has done it!” he squeals excitedly as he points at the people around him, who nod eagerly. “Do you suffer from stage fright, mr. Puckerman?”

“Not really, I just...” he replies as he scratches his head. Antigonus stares at him, eagerment visible in his eyes. He shrugs his shoulders. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Puck settles himself, grabbing the rolling ladder that sits to the side as Antigonus claps and cheers. “Go for it, mr. Puckerman! We believe in you!”

Oh, how wrong they all were in believing in him. Because Puck is not as well versed in Common music as he thinks he is, and he starts blurting out Christina Aguilera’s version of ‘Candy Man’ at the top of his lungs instead.

🎶 ‘I met him out for dinner on a Friday night He really got me working up an appetite He had tattoos up and down his arm There's nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm He's a one stop shop, makes the panties drop He's a sweet talkin' sugar coated candy man A sweet talkin' sugar coated candy man’ 🎶

He’s kind of getting into it, too, shaking his head to the imaginary music as he glides around the shop to the best of his abilities. He has to admit, it’s kind of fun.

It’s not what Valent Antigonus expects, but he respects the effort. He doesn’t tell him he’s got the wrong song up until after he finishes the first chorus.

Puck would feel stupid if gliding in that ladder wasn’t as enjoyable as it was. He kinda wants to have another shot. He kinda wants the job.

Familiarsmart is bigger than he thought it would be, and as he waits for the manager, Puck can’t help but look around. There’s a huge variety of unnecessary things for animals and familiars, a really cool cowboy hat he thinks would look great on Elvis included, and he’s about to grab it so he can see how much it is when someone taps at his shoulder.

“Puckerman, yes? I’m Saleem Katmandu! Why don’t you come with me? Let’s talk.” Her smile is warm, as it is the hand she places on his arm as she guides him to her office in the back of the shop.

The room is small but cozy, the soothing smell of incense heavy in the air. Puck takes a sit in a puff opposite the one she takes and tries not to look stupid as he sinks deeper and deeper into it, but he probably fails.

“So, you’re interested in working with us?”

He nods. “Seems like a really cool place to work, not gonna lie,” he shrugs a shoulder. “You guys have all kind of good stuff out there. I’m pretty sure Elvis would go bonkers if he saw it...” he smiles back at her.

“Is Elvis your familiar?” she asks excitedly interlacing her fingers and tilting her head. “I would love to meet him, if that’s okay with you.”

Puck wants to say no, that Elvis a hurricane and he will destroy everything on his wake, but her eyes glisten with hope, and Puck feels that denying her this would be like taking candy from a child. So, he smiles.

“Of course, I don’t see why not.” He reaches for his Grimoire inside his pocket, trying not to fall in the process and only half-succeeding. As the book lays on his palm, it starts growing in size until is about as big as his hand, and he opens it to summon him. A blink of an eye later, Elvis jumps out of the pages and lands on the desk to their side.

“FREEDOM!!” Elvis yells at the top of his lungs into Puck’s brain, but all that comes out of his mouth is a ridiculous squeak that makes Saleem giggle.

“Well, aren’t you a delight,” she smiles at Elvis as Puck silently begs him to not fuck up. “Elvis, do you want a snack?”

“Do I want it!” Elvis is quick to jump on top of Puck’s head and land on the manager’s extended hand, taking the treat into his little hands and chomping on it loudly.

‘Be nice, be nice, be nice,’ Puck repeats in his head. ‘Do not screw this up, Elvis, or I swear, you’re not coming out in a whole month.’

Elvis, however, doesn’t have time to listen to Puck whine. He’s all over that tasty treat ms. Nice Eyes hands him and is humming as he savors it. “This is SO good, you need to get me more of these, WOW. Hey, can I be her familiar instead?”

Puck rolls his eyes, “I think he really likes you.”

Saleem’s eyes don’t leave Elvis as she speaks, a kind smile plastered on her features. “I like him too... You’re a little sweetheart, Elvis, aren’t you?” She tickles his stomach with her finger, and Elvis pretty much melts in her hands.

“Ooh, yeah, right there,” he purrs, and Puck is a second away from snatching him away. His little foot taps against Saleem’s palm rhythmically as he leans into her touch.

Still, she doesn’t seem to mind it. She doesn’t even look back at Puck as she follows up with the interview. “Tell me, Amram, how did you meet? Why do you think your relationship with Elvis is important?”

Puck thinks about the question as he watches Elvis lay down on her hand, rubbing himself against her as he keeps making really weird sex noises in his head. Damn, he was a kinky fucker.

“We met way back when,” Puck starts, and then gives her a short version of the story. “He found me in a time of my life in which I felt very alone, and he... kind of became my best and only friend. He can be a bit sassy and annoying at times, because he’s super demanding and he won’t let me cut his nails and he keeps jumping on me and scratching me, but... at the end of the day, he’s always there, y’know? He knows what to say to make me snap out of a funk or encourage me when I need a buddy. He helped me get more in tune with my magic and myself, he helped me understand my powers and, even if he’s got quite the mouth, he’s always been very supportive... in his own way.”

He smiles, and Elvis looks back at him as he lays on Saleem’s hand comfortably and hugs her finger with his tiny hands. “Dude, that was so beautiful,” he mocks him. “C’mere, I wanna kiss your bald-ass head, I wanna smooch your ugly face.”

“Shut up,” Puck snorts rolling his eyes at him, but he’s still smiling.

“You two are adorable,” Saleem chimes in, and in that moment, Puck is sure she heard every singe word Elvis said to him. He doesn’t ask.

When he walks into his next interview in the Coughing Coffee, he’s feeling somewhat confident. He thinks his interview at Familiarsmart wasn’t as bad as every other he’s had this far, and even if he doesn’t want to go on record on it, he believes he might have that one in the bag. He would never tell him, but it probably was thanks to Elvis, who has once again had crept into his Grimoire --he has considered keeping him around, but upon second thought, he was pretty sure he didn’t have the manners to be freed in a public space like the one he was walking into right then, specially not during a job interview. Specially not with so many tasty treats displayed around.

With or without him, Puck is not feeling as crappy as the day before. For the first time since his sentencing, he thinks maybe he could make this work. Just being a student. Having a couple part-jobs to support himself. Get his degrees, at least major in Engineering and Jewish studies --he believes he can get somewhat of a normal job with those. He could design shit. He could fix shit. He could teach. He could blend in.

It’s not ideal, but he has an option. Quinn wasn’t wrong. He does have something to look forward to.

He introduces himself to the manager and follows him to a table far away in a corner of the shop. Mr. Yanick Haanraads sits up straight as he watches Puck closely, just as if he was trying to find what was wrong with him. Puck straightens up himself, smoothing a hand over his chest to fix his shirt, looking down to make sure there were no stains before he looked back at the other man.

“Well,” mr. Haanraads starts, his voice low and soothing, “Why do you want to work on the Coughing Coffee?”

Puck sighs, and he stops himself from shrugging just in time. “I think you guys have the best coffee in NYADA,” he chooses to say with a solid dip of his chin, and he’s not lying. He also think it’s the most expensive in school, but that’s beside the point. “I think, if given the chance, I could... learn to be an amazing barista.”

“Learn?” the man repeats, and he picks up Puck’s curriculum vitae and reads it, brows raising in surprise. “Oh. You don’t seem to have any previous professional experience brewing coffee or other hot beverages. I understand now.” He puts the sheet down and gives him a tight smile. The silence that sets between them makes Puck fidget in his seat.

“I make coffee in my dorm a lot,” he chimes in, and the manager nods.

“Of course you do,” he comes back, clearly unimpressed. “Tell me, mr. Puckerman, what type of coffee bean you consider to be the best and what’s, in your opinion, the ideal way to prepare it and consume it?”

Puck is startled by the question, brows raising in surprise. “Type of coffee bean?”

Yanick Haanraads arches a brow.

“Black?” Puck tries.

“Thank you for coming in, mr. Puckerman,” the man says politely, and Puck’s chest deflates. The interview is over.

“Thanks for your time, mr. Haanraads. I’ll show myself out.”

Dick's Sporting Goods seems like an easy bet, and Puck walks into the shop with much more confidence than he’s had in almost every other job interview he’s got this far. He’s not so much into sports, but he’s always been an athletic guy, he’s sure he could fit in Dick’s Sporting Goods with ease and almost no effort. That’s if he manages to get through the interview without screwing it up.

“Amram Puckerman,” he repeats for what it seems the hundredth time in the past few days as he shakes mr. Pertu Leoni’s hand.

“Ah, yes. Yes, we were expecting you, Amram,” the short man nods as he squeezes his hand. The Italian accent is heavy on his tongue, and his grip is much stronger than he thought it would be. However, even if the man didn’t smile up at him, he appears to be willing to give him a chance.

After a quick round of introductions and Puck letting him know a little about himself -what he studies, what sports he likes, what was he looking forward in a job- the manager looks back at him with intensity in his gaze. “So, tell me, are you a guy who likes to display your school spirit?”

Puck chews on his bottom lip and shakes his head. “Honestly, not really. I’m more of a solo player, most of the times.” He knows it’s not what the man wants to hear, but he hopes at the very least he values honesty. “But I have no problem in being a team sport when necessary. In fact, I was one of the Thundercats, the NAO semifinalists. I think you could say I was kinda getting into the school spirit?”

“Aha, aha, and, do you think sporting events are events are important to student unity?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Because, really, who cares about student unity. It’s not like this school will be the rest of his life. This is supposed to be nothing but a stepping stone in his path to success and eternal glory. Yet, he wants to do good. Working in Dick’s sporting goods sure sound better than WITCHKEA.

“I think so, yeah,” he replies, very little conviction in his voice, but he really wants to try. So, he appeals to the only thing he knows how to do well: he gets brutally honest. “The thing about sporting teams and sporting events is that with the whole team spirit, they give you a sense of belonging, and a sense of having something to fight for. Most of these kids, they’re not really used to fighting. Growing up in the field as a Slayer, I think it’s kind of different. We learn to trust ourselves, but also rely on others to achieve our goals. We are a team, because we have no other choice. Relying on each other, how well you can work among other people, can make the difference between living and dying. We train others to make ourselves stronger. Passing the torch is as much of an honor as it is to yield it, you know what I mean?” he sees himself drifting from the point and clears his throat. “What I mean is, sporting events are like the field I work on, but in a controlled environment. You get to learn about your own strength, and by being part of a team, you make each other stronger. You learn to share and to work together as a unit, which is really something many kids who come here never been through before. I think... it’s a healthy and ‘fun’ way to grow. And that’s... well, it’s nice. To belong somewhere.” He gives the manager a smile, sadder than he wishes it was.

“That is one way to put it,” the man nods solemnly. “Thank you, mr. Puckerman.”

He has no clue what that means for him, if his response was enough or if he had just buried his chances, but he knows for sure the interview is over.

“Thanks for your time, mr. Pertu Leoni. I’ll wait for your call.”

He notices the smell of dust and old paper heavy in the air as soon as he walks through the door of Grim & War, and he sniffles as he makes his way to the counter and rings the little bell. As he waits, his eyes drift to the floor to ceiling shelves stocked to its maximum capacity and wonders what kind of things are just sitting there. Puck has never been a big fan of books, but he can understand the appeal. Books aren’t practical, and he’s never been one to read more than what’s absolutely necessary for him (aside from Fight Cub). He respect books, of course he does. He just... rather watch the movie.

“Are you Amram Puckerman?” Mr. Moore smiles at him, lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s nice to meet you, my name is Lazarus Moore. I’m the manager of this store.”

As he tells him a little bit about the history of Grim & War, Lazarus leads him through a mini-tour guide of the shop, pointing at shelves and telling him which section is which and why, how to guide the readers from the best sellers that he wouldn’t buy, to the treasures in the back, those that make his eyes sparkle and sigh in content.

“What kind of experience do you have with magical texts and literature, mr. Puckerman?” Lazarus asks when the tour comes to an end and they stand on the front desk again, and Puck gulps as he works out a way of saying he’s not an avid reader in a way that doesn’t get him dismissed as a candidate for the job immediately.

“I guess you could say, I don’t have much experience with them,” he finally confesses with sincerity. “I’ve never been an super into reading, but I’m slowly but surely learning the appeal of a good book.”

Well, maybe not full sincerity. He’s running out of options, after all.

“My family likes more the kind of hands-on approach of learning, but since I started here, I’ve found myself relying on books and magical texts a lot. If you’d ask me the same question a couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to reply at all, but today... I wanna say, I’m a work in progress. I enjoy reading about things I find interesting as a hobby, specially things that revolve around engineering and constructing things. I’m trying to... train myself, if you will. Make it a habit, reading a little bit everyday.”

“It’s always a good way to start,” Lazarus nods and gives him a little smile. “Are there any books in particular you gravitate towards?”

Puck chuckles and shrugs a shoulder “I’m a bit basic when it comes to literature, so I was hoping maybe working here would somehow... educate me? You see, the only books I read are the Torah, text books on Slaying and weaponry and Chuck Palahniuk. Mostly Fight Club. Several times. Someone I care about gave me some books on engineering that have become my favorites, too.” He can see the manager is amused, and even if he knows he has little to no chance there, he takes that as a good sign. “But, I’m open to suggestions... Is there something you can recommend for me?”

Finally, Lazarus teeth shine through from in between his lips, flashing him his pearly whites as he nods in excitement. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He’s been in Jiggly's more than once before, sometimes with Finn and sometimes alone. He finds it to be a great place to unwind after a long week, so as soon as he walks in, he waves at the staff as he sits on the bar.

“The usual?” A blonde boy at the bar asks as he sets shot glasses in front of him, hand already reaching for the houses’ best Tequila, but Puck puts his own over the glasses and shakes his head.

“Can’t. I’m here for an interview, actually. Do you know where Bert is?”

“Office on your nine,” he points at it with his chin as he wipes the dust off the exhibited bottles. “You think you can keep up with me behind the bar?” he teases him with a smirk. Puck shakes his head as he stands up.

“Oh, Rudy,” he chuckles as he walks away, “You know no one compares to you, babe!”

He laughs as the blonde shakes his head, knocking on the door and waiting for the manager to let him in.

“Mr. Puckerman, no?” Bert asks once he’s sitting in front of him. His bushy brows take over half of his face, expression menacing as he glues his eyes to Puck’s. “Do you have any previous experience in bartending and mixology?”

He sighs softly as he tries to say ‘no’ in the nicest way possible. “It depends on what you call experience,” he chooses to say looking back at Bert. “I’ve done my fair share of bartending for the Guild, but no one’s ever payed me for it.”

Bert doesn’t laugh. Instead, the corner of his lip twitches up and he nods his head. “Funny. You’re funny. I like you. Tell me, what’s your favorite drink? Please describe the best way to make it for me.”

“Favorite drink?” Puck has always been into beer and tequila before fruity cocktails, but he’s lucky his father used to be such a big fan of a good Old Fashioned. “Is there anything better than an Old Fashioned? Just some good bourbon poured on a Angostura bitters saturated sugar cube, a slice of orange and a cherry... In my opinion, it’s even better if it’s a Maraschino Cherry, but my father preferred to use fresh ones. Whiskey works fine, too, but bourbon is ‘for real men’. Or at least, that’s what my dad used to say.”

“Your dad seems like a smart man,” Bert nods solemnly, and for the first time in his life, Puck silently thanks his father for literally beating that recipe into his brain.

He leaves the interview at Black & Deck Her for last, knowing it was going to be the easiest one. After two days of talking to people and begging them for jobs he doesn’t want, Puck finally gets to the one shop he really wouldn’t mind working at. As he watches the display of weapons sitting in the window, he finally feels at home. He’s got this one in the bag.

“It’s nice to meet you, ms. Deck Her,” he says with his most charming smile as he shakes her hand. “I’m Amram Puckerman, here for a job interview?”

“Ah, yeah,” she eyes him carefully. “The Slayer, ain’t ya? Yeah, Davis said something about ya stopping by...”

Puck tries not  to take the way she’s looking at him personally, and hopes she’s not one of those people who think ‘Slayers are murderers’, but he’s pretty sure hating on the people who buy from you would be a stupid choice, so he chooses to believe that’s just the way she looks at people in general.

“Well, I’m very interested in the open position you have. Not only I have a good deal of experience with weapons, but I’m also majoring in engineering --I kind of want to expand on my weapon manipulation abilities and be able to create new weapons that are more effective and practical for the field.”

“Weapon manipulation?” she asks, a spark of interest glistening in the corner of her eye. “Do tell...”

Puck smiles and points at an empty cup on the table, “May I?” She nods, and the Slayer wraps his hand around it, an orange flash covering it for a second as it shifts into an RE-45 autopistol. He shows it to the manager, then closes his hand around it and the flash covers it again. He opens his hand to revel a classic Bowie knife, and when he places it on the table and moves his hand away, the knife turns back into the cup.

“That’s a first,” Hilda Deck Her quirks a brow at him. “New Age?”

“Yes, ma’am. Developed that myself,” he states proudly, and even if her face is inscrutable, he knows there’s no way she’s not impressed if she’s as much into weaponry as she is.

“So,” she blurts out a second later as she plops her elbow on the counter, chin resting on the palm of her hand. “What kind of weapons do you practice with? Why do you like them?”

“I’m trained in multiple fighting styles, so I have basic knowledge of how to use most traditional weapons -firearms, swords, the eventual bow and arrow, though personally I’ve always preferred a crossbow, knives and other things- but I usually lean into guns I can yield in one hand. I tend to combine a lot of body combat with weapons and magic, and the good thing about guns is that you can always use them with one hand and punch with the other,” he shrugs with a little smirk. “I think they’re practical, easy to use and effective. Plus, who can resist the smell of gunpowder?” he adds with a teasing wink. He doesn’t get much of a response, and he shrugs a shoulder as he continues. “If I don’t have a gun, my second choice would be a handy combat knife, mostly because of the same reason. They give me the freedom to fight freely and a good back-up plan in case things don’t work my way.”

Ms. Deck Her nods again, writing something down on his resume before she looks back at him. “Seems like you know your way around weapons, huh?”

Puck smiles at her. “I could always learn more. If you’d let me, that is.”

He really wishes she would.

/// Do you want to help Puck get a job? 👉🏿 Call me, maybe? The Survey. ///

[5hfanfiction]

Wicked Games (Chapter 8)

Heading towards my theater class, I began to grow nervous. Not just because our professor was assigning our big end of the course performances today, but because I will be coming face-to-face with Lauren Jauregui.

Last spring, when I was signing up for classes, I realized I had put off taking my fine-arts credit, and it would have to be done in order for me to graduate. Then I learned Lauren also needed a fine-arts credit, and we figured, why not take it together.

At the time, it seemed like a no-brainer, and I was even excited to have a class with the green-eyed girl. Now, post-sexcapade with Lauren, I was absolutely dreading having a class with her.

Since the game yesterday, we had been amicable with eachother, but we still were being distant. I didn’t want to overstep boundaries, and neither did she. I was mainly avoiding her because I was afraid to tempt myself. Out of sight, out of mind right? In other words, out of sight, and I’m physically unable to kiss her, so I won’t be tempted to kiss her.

I slumped into my chair in the middle of the room. I was pretty early, so only a few other students were scattered around. Mr. Vogel was sitting at his desk, wearing a bright red tie, with a light blue button-down shirt, and khaki shorts. He was a very eccentric man. I suppose it made sense, since he’s a theater teacher. He always wore a bright smile, and equally bright clothes. In other words, he liked to stand out.

My thoughts were interrupted, when I felt someone brush by me, and a figure quietly sit next to me. Lauren was here. No more avoiding her.

Normally, we would immediately turn to eachother and erupt into easy conversation. Now, this being the first class since we had sex, things were weird. Hell, it was the first class since we had kissed too, since last week’s class had been cancelled.

I leisurely turned towards Lauren, and forced a small smile. She brushed her dark locks aside, and met my gaze, giving me an equally small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Hey,” I said after a few moments of silence.

“Hi,” she said uncomfortably.

God, I hated this. Things were so awkward between them. It was infuriating. The two of us had made so much progress in our friendship the past couple years and now it was as if we were just meeting, trying to feel eachother out, and see whether we were compatible or not.

As I was desperately trying to come up with something to talk about, Mr. Vogel started speaking. I was grateful for it to be honest. His loud and booming voice echoed across the walls.

“Good morning, class! Today is an exciting day!” He began clapping his hands together enthusiastically. “And why is that, Carlos?”

Carlos was a kid who sat in the back every class, and was clearly unhappy to be here. He was one of those ‘cool, rebel’ types. Mr. Vogel enjoyed forcing his participation.

“We’re getting our performance assignments,” Carlos stated emotionless.

“Exactly!” Mr. Vogel exclaimed. He turned toward the white board beside his desk, and wrote with the marker, covering the entire board with one simple word. Arguments.

“Now remember, these performances are VERY important for your grade. This is essentially your final, and accounts for 50% of your semester grade.” There were a few groans around the room once he finished that statement. If he noticed, he didn’t act like it because he continued on with an impassioned tone, “For your finals, I have decided on scenes that involve arguments. It could be scenes from a play, a movie, or a TV show. I truly believe that some of our most honest thoughts, and most real emotions, are expressed through arguments. This is why I have chosen it as our focus. Arguments and debates are where we get to express ourselves, express our true selves, our identity and thoughts..” Mr. Vogel continued rambling on and on about fights, and personalities, and true self and blah blah blah blah blah. He tended to get carried away when he got passionate. I pretty much stopped listening.

Then he started handing out our assignments. My hands grew clammy, like they always did when I got nervous. My foot started tapping up and down on the floor, my impatience growing. What kind of scene would he give me and Lauren?

He stopped at our table, and looked between us with an excited smile, then he slid a packet towards me, and swiftly moved on to the next table.

I looked down at the front sheet anxiously to find in bold print at the top of the page, “The Notebook (2004)” - What do you want?

“You have got to be shitting me,” I gasped out loud. I recalled the exact scene from the movie. I knew what it entailed, and I couldn’t believe this is what he had chosen for us. It’s extremely romantic. That’s the exact opposite of what me and Lauren need right now.

I turned to Lauren, hoping for an agreement. I found her to be staring blankly at the page, reading through the lines. I groaned irritably when she refused to acknowledge me.

There’s no way she didn’t know what this scene was, and the movie it was from. I have never met a female in my life who’s never seen “The Notebook”.

Finally, I saw Mr. Vogel return to his workspace. I immediately took hold of the stapled pages and rushed towards him. I only realized once I got there, that Lauren had followed behind me.

I slapped the pages down on the desk, while he looked up with one of his generous grins. “What seems to be the problem here?” he asked with a curious tone.

“We’re two girls,” I said pointing between me and Lauren. “How can we do this scene?” I asked, practically begging for him to give us something else.

He blinked at me as if the question was ridiculous, then stated simply, “Ladies, it’s a changing world these days.”

'If only he knew the irony of that comment, considering these two ladies had already been intimate before’ I thought, before I shook it off, and returned to listening.

“There will be no judgment in this classroom, I can assure you. I already adjusted the script to ensure everything is gender neutral, so you don’t need to worry about that.” he paused, still smiling, and looked at each of us in the face. Then he said, “The point of this exercise is to make you step out of your comfort zone. If you don’t think you can handle that, you are more than welcome to pick a new partner,” he suggested.

“No!” I shouted urgently, but realized there was a harmony in the word. I wasn’t the only one who had said no.

I turned to look at Lauren, bewildered, shocked that she would be so against not having me as her partner. I would have thought she would jump at the opportunity, especially considering our chosen script.

Mr. Vogel looked at us with a smirk, then affirmed, “The Notebook it is then.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but then closed it, accepting defeat. There was no getting around it. When Mr. Vogel assigned something, it was final. There would have to be some intense extenuating circumstances for him to retract and change an assignment.

In reality, me and Lauren’s situation probably fit the bill for those extenuating circumstances, but there was no way, no way in hell that I was going to come up to my professor, and explain to him that 'well, we’ve been lusting over eachother for a few years now, and we had sex, and now we don’t want to have sex, and I technically have a girlfriend back home, and things are awkward between us two now, and we would really appreciate a non-romantic argument’. Yeah, no. Hell would have to freeze over before I did something that humiliating to get out of a project.

I turned, sharing a knowing look with Lauren, and sulked back over to our table. I threw the packet down in frustration, and it started to slide off of the edge, but Lauren skillfully caught it. If I wasn’t so mad, I would have been embarassed at my outburst.

I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. Lauren set the pages back down and sat as well, rubbing her temples with her hands.

“Ok, well this is sufficiently awkward.”

I laughed at Lauren’s words. Atleast she was speaking the truth.

“But if we want to get an A in this class, we’re going to have to do this, and we’re going to have to do it convincingly.”

She was right. With the performance being 50% of our grade, it would basically be impossible to get an A in the class with anything but an A on the performance. There is no way I am not getting top marks in an entry-level theater class. That would be one huge blemish on my transcript to professional physical therapy schools. Not like I could explain why I did badly to those schools either. I nearly chuckled at the thought. 'Well, sir, I had a one night stand with the girl I was partnered with, and I was really uncomfortable doing 'The Notebook’ with her, and that’s why I didn’t get an A.“ Ha! That would be a disaster.

I finally glanced back towards the script and internally cringed. I always thought "The Notebook” was overrated. It seemed like everyone else was all goo-goo gah-gah over it. Me, I always felt “A Walk to Remember” was Nicholas Sparks’ best story. No matter how many times I watched that movie, I always cried. To me, AWTR felt more realistic, but it also hit closer to home. My mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer while I was in middle school, and nearly died. She’d been perfectly healthy since, but that time in my life still held a searing scar on my heart. So many times, I woke up in a cold sweat, having dreamt that she was gone. The fear that her cancer would return gripped me constantly, despite my best efforts. My mother was my rock. If I lost her, I’m not sure who I would become..

But anyway, “The Notebook” never seemed to get me emotional like it did other people. I appreciated the sentiment it provided, and of course I related to the theme of love that covered it, but something about it always seemed detached to me. Especially the ending, which spoiler alert, was ridiculously hard to believe.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I flinched when I felt Lauren nudge me. “Class is over, Camz.”

My jaw dropped slightly at the nickname. Lauren didn’t use it very often, and I found it especially surprising, considering our current tense circumstances. I looked up to see her standing, looking at the floor, with a grimace on her face. She was probably criticizing herself for using the nickname.

“Thanks, Lo,” I said, using her nickname, in the hopes to indirectly reassure her that it was ok.

Her piercing greens looked into my brown ones as I stood. My knees nearly buckled and I almost fell back into the chair. It felt like she was staring into my soul. We were incredibly close. For whatever reason, she did not move away at all when I stood. We were a mere inches away, intensely staring at one another.

Lauren cleared her throat, “Well, I’ll see you at practice later.”

I only nodded in response. For some reason, I could not form words anymore.

I started to walk out of the class after her, but then frowned when I felt like I was forgetting something. I slammed my palm against my forehead when I realized what it was. I rushed back to the table and grabbed my bag from the floor, feeling embarassed. Lauren’s eyes had distracted me so much, I nearly forgot my backpack. I glanced up as I was leaving to see Mr. Vogel with a questioning expression across his face.

My cheeks burned slightly from embarassment. I felt like an imbecile. 'Here we go, yet again’ I grouched internally. Lauren made me feel like an uncontrollable idiot. Why did she have this effect on me?

–

Wattpad: munkeytutu

[haeroniel-doliet]

thbleugh but what bich is gonna fight me for me

idk im just gonna rant again, im sorry if youre on mobile just like, give it a big flick and fly past this i tried i actually have a read more this time

anywy im feelin shitty an dumb n weird an its not fun?? like do we try categorize these feelings: 

1. i have 3 days to pass a course and all the course work i failed to do in fucking march 

1.b. all those emotions to do w unis great! but also ive been solow and sad and dysfunctional its not rly even funny, grades dropping many levels in half a year like. sure grades dont define my life but considering how easy it is for me to get those grades to see them consistently and kinda dramatically dropping isnt helping (even though like i actively know i got lower grades bc i didnt fucking attend class or take in any knowledge. i realise hahah im making a psychology reference bc im a smart psychology uni student.... hmh oh yeah we, we learned about this, i dont know it. my peers do. oh. oh i didnt, i didnt learn anything. oh no. im here to learn abt the subject im supposedly loving and thats the best fit for me bc like hell id be an artist. anyway i have a lot of shit down here i havent figured out who to talk it out to. the mental health advisor didnt have the time for it rly and w counsellors its been different topics but now were in summer and id rather spend the spare money i can rattle off my parents on ballet than a psyhc i could see 2 times best. im just gonna have to wait till septembet bc my dumb white wall subscitption expired too damnti. ugh im just, okay lets move on

2. inadequacy thats not justified? like it is obvs bc it bothers me and i know i can do better and i am better than this all and i clearly have smth stopping me. while to others im doing just fine if not better than them who are really struggling and kinda dont have sympathy for me who goes ‘ugh im doing so badly and struggling, i mean i write perfect essays in one go but its just so hard to do thattt and i know im smarter and better than this’ esp bc say putting words together in that way is difficult on them and not been good at school

2.b. like being good at school but noot being good now, classic phenomenon or has my school system always been the softes most coddliest and where in the normal or worse school 1would have performed average and maybe learned to study and the worth of it to do better, ive just been good enough that caring became so unnecessary i need to waste my time on pointless but constant other things. like youtube and rpchats. constant monotone stimulation for hours. andhours. 

2.c. asking for help bc im struggling w actually getting over the fuzzy and struggle and self hate and blegh feelings to do some work thatd allow me to pass the coursein my 3 days of the very last extended time. and then realising, ah either youve slaved over your work and stressed and panicked to have it good and on time and have no pity left for me and my foolishness, or you never got to uni/struggled to go to uni and think im wasting my opportunity by being an ungrateful lazy piece of hsit. and i know ia m. and 2.d. its the reason why im not doing extra volunteering or serious extra curriculars thatd give the headstart in my lfie. bc, even tho on one side i wanna be that kid and owuld scoff at ppl not doing it who are here for fun and get a degree on the side, rn i see it as not stealing away dedicated good peoples spots who deserve to get the extra recognition for being clever and independent, meanwhile knowing htat probablyill be just fine. worst case scenario for me is literally (ok theres worse but v unlikely) living w my parents and ending up at a mediocre service job to another mediocre office job or smth and never get to a lab bc i wasnt sufficient enough and i never got the cotton balls out of my head and cleared up again to be smart enogh

okay what next, shitty privilige, crying abt my cotton ball head or not being smart

3. okay were gonna do the smart first bc my chest hurts and i kinda feel like crying or smth abt it. like in a dumb (fun) chat im playing athena known for wisdom and all this shit, and though i can throw out a quip or two or cleverly use smth to keep the smartass wisdom stick going on, every now and then i realise how dumb i am and not smart enough that another person could clearly fill this in much better. like. you know all the hilarious posts abt mansplaining and women being pushed out of their fields by dumber men who think they know better bc the others a woman and like, yeah? things where they are confident enough to say, actually i am way smarter than you and i know this bettr. here i am feeling like even if i spent years researching smth i wouldnt have the confidence to feel smart and knowldegeable abt it. like rn, i cant even hold arguments anymore bc im a fool. and i come off as dumb and i dont want to be, i still wanna be the smart kid, but im not working my brain im not doing work or research or learning, im jsut floating by w my cotton ball head thats getting fuzzier and fuzzier and though i can do tasks and would probably b v compeittive if it came to that and need to prove myself as smart, i can no longer feel like id hold my own, esp when people poke holes so easily, trap falls, “hah you dont know what to say ive bested you you dumb bitch” vibey things i just. its horrible? i wanna be smart and be confident in my smartness and feel recognized as smart by other people and live up to that expectation of actually being clever. and not just, knowing im smart enough in some ways bc school ive  passed so easy w always good remarks and participate well in class discussion and all, and im sure nobody thinks im rly dumb bc if i have to ask things im v friendly and try to be attentive. and idk if nobodys expecting more than me, bc again if i cant answer ive developed to be v chill about it and come off as average i guess. 

anyways 4. privilige; like thers multiple inc. the fact im fucking finnish aka my education system was supposedly one of the best, i grew up international so i wasnt even confined to one shitty school in one shitty town, ive had varied school experiences and switching so much i think has given me confidence in myself and shit like that. also bc im finnish i get grants in uni, like free money. and so far i have barely had to use it bc surprise my parents are togther and decently well off bc they got lucky w a job being fancy ppl for 3 years and my older brother is already  adulting and slowly doing his own thing so i can have more money from them. aka. catch my dad paying all my rent and food and everything i need/ ask for on the condition we keep a good releationship. and im reasonable bc he raised me smart apparently idk. but that still means im living at home i have no intentions of becoming an independent home owner bc idk how i would esp since ill be with my parents most holidays for years to come and idk even when or how ill become a real adult being in a real home w real comapnionship. bc rn idk who im even gonna live with, hopefully be civil w them maybe even make a bit of friends but im not gonna have a significant other to move in and support me for a while bc thats a thing idk if were getting into today in this why im feeling shitty rant. 

4.b. so im priviliged in everyway to go to uni for free (damn i gotta apply for that again) in a nice country and a nice and supportive school and get funding from both my parents and my country and not worry abt money and just get a degree all supported and babied again. im also, idk. priviliged bc, fuck writing comes easy to me, i know nayone reading my rants would be like... yeah this is barely legible and terrible writted and mind blurts so i say it is yes bc its mind blurts but i can organise my htoughts into fancy essays surprisingly easy and critical stuff like psych and english came  mad easy to an extent. sure, i wasnt talented in math but i still made it, i am not talented in science but sometimes the concepts click and i can . but then, im also talented in art. and im not ashamed to say its privilige disposition or talent or smth, bc damn. i do not practice or dedicate enough love to claim that. sure, ive drawn always, sure, ive practiced more as a kid thatn other kids and thats probably carried me thru pretty far, but i think ive just had a natural disposition to be good at art technique (creativity maybe not so, or inspiration) but i know what looks good and sometimes how to achieve that. cue montage to art class where i sit w my friends who are talking about bands or making outlines w nut shells bc there i am beside them doing the work in half the time twice as good. mostly bc the teacher wasnt great and would assign essentially copying a picture from a4 to a2 u know like drawing the same thing. and thats not easy. and youre supposed to build up really light layers and slowly refine it.  and ppl who listened only ended up w shitty light drawings that either look like potatoes or vaguely like the picture, while i with boosting confidence would go, we only do one super light sketch one medium sketch and one dark layer. bc by the medium one everything is in its place and looks abt like everyone elses and i need the dark hues to show it accurately even if it isnt perfect, and my work would like almost always stand out on the wall bc it was so different/advanced. i wont lie it influenced my friends to not draw as well or as much sitting next to me, and ofc id feel bad and i could never boast bc i felt bad that they didnt try bc they saw me, thought mines not gonna be like that so im just gonna fuck around and do whatever. and i obvs needed praise but would always feel bad bc it was obviously me who was the best in that class and its so self conceited but, it kinda just was true in that small class half of whom didnt want to be there. me butt kissin and trying to impress myself w my skill. catch like, that first day he asked us to draw the person next to us, and i made my partner draw me first, bc i just knew if i went first theyd look at it and draw me a potato stick figure in 5 seconds and say i cant draw like you. and true. while the rest of the class made sketchy circle guys, some looing so childish, here i went and said, okay i find it awkward having you stare at me and if  you move a lot it makes it harder to be accurate, so, like take out your phone and get comfortable and look down at that for a while hence drawing3/4 unlike anyone else w eyes cast down and damn if i dont remember it being beautiful and identifiable as that friend, even tho the teacher told ppl around me like, ah yes she did it this way, 3/4 not face on which is much easier. which is true but bitch you never said. sides it looks so much better and was so much less frustrating. anyway, even now in that chat i go and like drop my drawings in bc partially i just wanna draw more and showing people makes me draw? u know. and i kinda wanna get compliments. but ive figured im pretty humble abt it. and sure i get comments that are like god i wish i could draw like that from someone that doesnt draw arms or legs and theyre v bublehead cartoon. and im like. you could. but yours is still middle school level, so just, keep working at it, get confidence to break your mold. 

that andtheres this one chick that,,,, gawd, well they admit to being a sociopath in chat which is great and seem real attention seekery in general (theres a surprising amount of people, while in midst of rp and getting compliments go “well i guess im a shit rpr because nobody wants to rp with me ://) post art and then be like dramatically UGH i hate it it looks so bad im terrible at art, literally poster girl for fishing for compliments. and even if i dont like the style at all, i try give in anatomical pointers or smth abt the drapery or smth technical i can complement. bc id want the same i guess? and i dont love let alone like the art itself. and then, while getting so many of those theyre like “yeah well nobody likes my art, say it reminds them of this character (jessica rabbit while all hers have big hips big tits tiny waists massive lips massive eye, but just one eye bc the otehrs covered by hair like theres obvious similarities) which means im totally not original like i thought so why even try!” and other melodramatic things that i can argue, but they dont wanna hear it they want attention and praise and i just ughhh i could preach you about how no art is original and its all from influence, or how someone doesnt have to like your style to appreciate it, or someone might love your style and like. basic stuff ive figured out myself. and it gets frustrating trying not to get a superiority, or to start shoving my own art in there to try compete or smth. and its just. hard. idk. id k. i know theres people who are averse to art and never tried to be good at it who are obvs gonna be omg thats so good i cant even draw and ill be like, hah yeah sure dude if you tried maybe btut thanks. 

also drawing man its so weird, whenever i see someone elses drawing a part of me goes “we must draw so that we can show were better than that” like, either to get complimetns and shift it to me? or to just show them off. to be like. i can do it better. which i kinda hate about myself? that i draw mostly bc of that and a need to show off? like amxxs art or smth, them talking like yeahh ugly art is good art, drawing is so healing i feel great or im so proud of myself for improivng so much look at my art, and a part of me goes, awh yes! my theorys proven working on art for yourself improves and can cheer you up, another goes, yesnow i must draw to show how good i am and show how i too feel fulfilled by drawing but also make it about me by weeping how i hate drawing myself. literally smths wrong w me seeing others pot abt their midrift, or learning to accept their curves or drawing themselves or smth, and theres a gremlin of me going like yeah but i cant draw myself bc i tried once and it looks like shit and ill only highlight my flaws and im slightly afraid of someone saying it looks exactly like me or other dumb shit, or i dont have curves to accept bcim not big hip big thic thigh girl im just. my legs are big but mostly ugly bc of the skin on them not bc of their size (ankles tho oof) and i have no hips i have no butt bc it allwent to my stoamch thats also ugly and my broad   badly postured back thats also ugly w these spots and marks and scars soon probably. and saggy boobs dont forget those. bc theyre literally fat sacks aiming for the ground i guess. anyway. no cute curves,  no beautiful skin no nth its just tough and i cant help but feel the negativity towards myself in almost every glimpse of someone elses positivity. i dont always air it which would be horrible of me to do, but its still there. making their happiness about my misery. maxx loves their boyfriend?> i hate them bc i dont like him and its rining it> i hate them havingsuch a dreamy but fake seeming ‘soulmate’ relationship bc its not true and i think itll end up terribly> im neveer gonna have that and im jealous of them i guess having someone theyd dedicate so much to and who loves them so much theyre all over the place making sappy things> well theyre an oveer romantic whod do it over the smallest things this wasnt a great example. 

anyway yeah extra note, even if i felt comfortable enough for sex im not comfortable enough in my body for that and idk how thats relevant to anything but i guess thats smth id also talk w a therapist abt whod probably tell me, then dont have sex! like yeah thats my plan.but im talking never gonna be able to form a relationship bc even having a friend for a sleepover makes me uncomfortable having them see me in an uncontrolled clothed position. u feel. 

anyway i have a lot of little problems that amount and i guess when i start addressing one the rest pop up their ugly heads and this is why i never getanywhere. this all comes from  how shitty i feel from how i have literally not even 3 full days to complete those tasks and pass, and i know i need to, though nothing in me actually feels like itll actually do the work u know, that spiraled through that chat into privilige of being at school and how i should tryy a bit that turned to im priviliged to be smart to pass and in my talent in art despite not being an artist that spiraled to another way i disliked myself and thats my fucked relations to myself my body and relationships (esp including me that dont exist)  

side note, though no surprise if for some ungodly reason youve read this shit i wrote at 8.30 am when i have a docs appointment abt my very ugly skin at 12.45 i over share. easily. if somseone asks id give them all. look at this. even in that chat i spiraled from, hah fun fucked up thing im almost failing my course bc im a shit, to my  heads filled with fuzz and i hate that i cant live up to my potentia. and im surprised how much i like this one guy, though who with his character ripped into my athena and make me question all my smartness, really makes me feel better ooc??? like theyre genuinely nice and just too informed and funny and playing the dick for a very well thought out reason (drunk doesnt mean it etc) and while the sociopath gal is giving me the side eye after they tried to help but figured out im a prviliged kid whos in school for free and not making the most of it and how easy school has been forme when for them despite their hard efforts they failed high school.u know not reallly helping kinda making me fele worse bc i know i should be doing better and could be and not only bc i have a priviliged opportuntity to and ability, i would benefit so much more if i did it for myself. but here comes by weird guy who slips on a freudian approach and claims they love helping ppl through their problems so i drop another overshare paragraph if he rly wanted to help but lighten it by taking thetopic off, he doesnt return and never address my post bc now its onto talking abt the big rp thing. im not mad. i just, idk i kinda wanted their support, another poor stranger to inflict w my extremely troubled wordy lengthy and i guess complex thoughts and feelings and lack there of sometimes and other shit. 

anyway im not doing great but im gonna grab 3 hrs of sleep before the doc, come back, nap, go to ballet again, come back, ad.... do smth.. work. maybe. one can hope. i hate it will it actually work only time can tell and i hate myself already.ugh. i hate i hate im not okya with this why cant someone else deal w me for me. deal with all these feelings and botherings and make me do my work and be satisfied doing it and do it all in time and feel a little success and reward myself like i should for work done and not just when i want. idk. someone,t ake over my life, you might be better at it. help me dela with school that i currently hate the most even if im meant to end up a scholar or smth