#tumblr gets the full video including me stumbling over how to open it

[the-nation-of-today]

BLOOD MAKEUP IN MY THE HANDS ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[norcumii]

Well that was a bout of PTSD I wasn’t expecting.

Ramblings under the cut so I can find it again later, warnings for: abuse, abusive relationship, probable incoherence, likely oversharing, (urge to) self-harm.

I’ve been dipping my toes back into RvB this week – I’ve seen seasons 1-3 countless times, 4 slightly less but still a lot, and everything else once.

The Ex’s issues included not wanting to venture too far into various media, but he sure did love rewatching what he had seen. That’s part of why once I got free, I made myself sit down and watch the rest – I basically spite-binged seasons 5-13, dissociating through at least the second half because I had so many mental warning bells clanging about how I was misbehaving, cheating by watching ahead without him, how dare I.

Had a shit time sleeping that week, too, but at least the sleep dep was familiar and helped me power through the emotional upset.

Loved the show, too – that doesn’t surprise me in the least, given how I already appreciated the writing and I’ve had several folks singing high praises of the further writing. I had quite a few “holy SHIT” moments, those ‘gotta pause and marvel and breathe “what the FUCK you magnificent ASSHOLES” timeouts,’ y’know, where you gotta stop to walk off some feels and just be awed at writing and performing SKILLS? And that was with the dissociation.

I honestly don’t know how yesterday I stumbled over a set of videos of a gentleman reacting to his first watch of RvB. Of course I immediately went to the super significant episodes, because I was curious as how The Big Moments hit someone else – I watched in a vacuum, squeaking at Tumblr and powering forward before my brain caught up and devoured me.

Anyway, yeah, I’ve been enjoying watching delightfully screechy man react to familiar storylines and jokes, then I realized I desperately wanted to see how he reacted to the end of Season 10, because that was when I had the biggest reaction, personally, and I spent quite awhile chewing over my thoughts and the themes and whatnot. I mean, it’s the end of the major/first storyline, it wraps up YEARS of plot and character arcs, and it’s just fucking balls-to-the-walls AMAZING.

I cackled so much watching this man lose his absolute shit. I was grinning a mile wide when he screeched like an actual banshee and had to take a lap around the room.

I was starting to feel funny as he waxed rhapsodic through the credits. I mean, don’t get me wrong, a lot of what he was saying matched much of my own thoughts at the time when first seeing it, but then he segued into how he’d gotten into RvB via RWBY, and that wasn’t my experience.

(I couldn’t understand why I was feeling so unsettled – I have absolutely no reason to feel wonky about how one gets into a fandom.)

He was still gushing as the post-credit scenes rolled, and I was shook because I don’t think I watched them.

(I’m not surprised – I know I had to stop watching rather abruptly. It was probably super late and I do recall Himself’s shadow looming hard to gnaw at my brain.)

The lovely YouTube gentleman was right back to unending adoration after them, just crying for joy about his love for RWBY and RvB, and I just...started crying.

It wasn’t good crying. It was ugly crying that wouldn’t stop, kept building with that wheezing, rusty-hinge keen that would be a scream if you push from breathing to speaking; crumpling up and finding the old urge to claw spiraling up along with it.

I’m fine. I didn’t, honest.

The emotion is still lurking, even now, after much bawling and a walk to try to redirect whatever the fuck that was. I think the base is a bit of despair, shored up with oceans of grief. Helplessness neutering much of the fury, all wrapped up with threads of sneering incredulity.

I couldn’t understand at first, why I was choking out “We could’ve had this.” I had to puzzle through that bawling which hard experience kept as silent as possible.

We could’ve had this.

This man has so much enthusiastic love for this show. He’s just...JOYOUS about it, open and awed and gleeful.

We never had that. We never could screech in delight about things at each other – any attempts ended in an ugly argument, usually about spoilers (fuck you, dude, if you didn’t want me speculating which you specifically wanted me to be good at in other contexts then don’t start speculating yourself!). Often about words – he had so many words, so many concepts that were taboo, and gods help the poor bastard what stumbled into a synonym Himself thought should be obvious and therefore also taboo instead of a necessary dodge because communication is a thing.

(Was this a concept that was enough degrees separate to satisfy him, or would it lead to a scolding about trying to sabotage his joy? Again. Like always.)

(Not just the scolding, but the demands – how could I be so cruel, WHY had this happened, no – no he wouldn’t accept that I’m too smart to think like that, or I had promised not to do the next door neighbor to it which is as good as promising not to do it either, what was the real reason we’re going to be here until he got his truth. No matter HOW many hours it took.)

We could’ve had this. We could’ve shared things, not Himself serving out appropriate sized dollops of what he liked while I limited myself to whatever I could speculate would be appropriately sized reactions.

I couldn’t enjoy something we shared too much. I couldn’t laugh too loud because it would distract from the moment. His joy always had to come first and how fucking DARE I impinge upon it even one iota?

No, really, I had to confess, and if he didn’t believe the answer it would not be accepted.

I got so tired of lying. I got so tired of being accused of lying when it was truth, and only believed when it was fake.

That’s one of the reasons why arguments went on for hours. I could only grit my teeth and ‘yes sir no sir three bags full sir, obviously I did it to fuck you over sir’ for so long.

My reasons were never good enough.

My joy always ended up being too much.

We could’ve had this – but his world, his joy, was never big enough for anyone but him.

[bobohunn]

— summary : It was tough for you to trust and open up to people, after all you've been through. When you finally let your walls down, Chanyeol left you hanging. (part 1 of 2)

— pairings : chanyeol x reader

— genre : angst, fluff

— warnings : mentions of anxiety, alcohol, bullying, & gaslighting, hints of sexual assault & harassment, description of anxiety & panic attacks.

— word count : 3.9k words (part 1)

— author's words : hi!!! I'm not really good with titles so this goes untitled for now 😅 I'll add the title when I post the 2nd part 💛 this is not proofread and edited yet pls forgive me. I'd really appreciate it if you tell me your thoughts on this! ☺️

It was a year ago today. The day when you were supposed to wake up with a smile, hearing your family’s thumping steps on the wooden floor on the way to your room. The day when your younger sister was supposed to be running towards you to attack you with kisses, your mom holding out a cake that says ‘happy birthday’, and your father following closely behind them, singing the happy birthday song with his awfully hoarse morning voice, just like the annual tradition. Rather, you woke up to the loud and thunderous knocks on your bedroom door, along with what you recognized as your father’s voice. And the second you turned the lock on the knob, the door flew and a hand met your right cheek.

You were scared, but you weren’t sure what you were scared for. Sure your dad looked scary, his face was blood red, his breathing uneven, and his hands clenched into fists, but you didn’t know what he was acting scary for. You held your cheek, trying to ease up the stinging sensation that lingered. 

“D-dad?”, you managed to stutter out. Your father shut his eyes close and sighed. 

You looked away and noticed your mom and your sister on the wooden staircase behind your dad. Your mom was holding her face in her hands, and your sister was rubbing her back. Only then did you realize that they were both crying.

“M-mom? S-stacy? W-what’s going o-on?”, you choked out, feeling the hot tears that were running down your face.

It was silent again, and you hated it. The silence was deafening and you swore you almost heard the cells in your brain die. You always hated situations like this, it made you feel so anxious and you were about to throw up.

“D-dad, M-mom what’s happening w-why are y–”

“You don’t have to call me dad anymore,” your dad cut you off, and you heard your mom cry louder.

“D-dad w-will you please at least t-tell me what’s going on?”, you said in between sobs, “please?”

Your dad let out another loud sigh, and you noticed his eyes getting misty. “Stacy, give me your phone. Your sister wants to know why, so I’ll show her why”, he said in a firm tone.

Stacy stood up from the stairs and took out the phone from her pocket. She handed it over to your dad, avoiding his gaze including yours. You were practically begging for her to look at you with your eyes while your dad was fumbling with the gadget, but she stood behind him, staring at the floor with her hair covering her face.

Your father handed to you the phone, showing a paused video on the screen. You pressed play, and turned the volume up. You were puzzled to say the least. The video had poor lighting but when the light source hit the surface of a very familiar face in the frame, you dropped the phone, leaving a small crack on the lower left part of the screen.

Your brain tried to put the pieces of information it recently gathered together, but you were about to pass out. Unconsciously shaking, you stumbled on your feet, and dropped to the floor. That was the last thing you remembered before your sight blacked out.

Your life today is a little bit different to how it was a year ago, yet it was still sort of the same. You moved to a different town, a different school, a different environment. It isn’t much worse now, but some people would still look at you and gossip as you pass by the same. Others don’t even stab you in the back, they hit you in the front now.

You moved with your family in the hopes of forgetting everything and starting anew, but unfortunately the news reached your new home too. Your parents insisted that you move places again when people in your school started talking, but you hated the feeling of being an inconvenience. So you did your best to heal and learn how to not a give a fuck to what others say, even if it burnt you out on most days.

“It’s okay, Mom. I’ll be alright, they’re not hurting me anyway,” you said in the softest voice.

“Are you sure? We can just move out of the country, baby. It’s best that we just go, hmm?” she held your hands in one, and caressed your face in the other.

“Yeah. We should just move if you’re uncomfortable here, my love,” your dad added as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“Then we’d have to spend money again. I know you guys had a hard time adjusting as well, especially Stacy,” you fumbled with the fabric of your shorts, “I’m okay, really.”

But even though you’ve learnt to not give a shit and shrug off what bullshit other people— who don’t even know you, by the way— say anymore over the past months, there are still times when you have to endure how painful the words you overhear from conversations of people in your school are. And when you couldn’t, you’d have to run back to your only safe place in school, the comfort room at the back of the school library to turn into a ball and cry. On some days when you think you’re all better and don’t give a fuck anymore, you hear words you tried so hard to delete from your system, and it makes you want to throw up again.

You hate whoever did this to you. However, over the process of healing, you realized that you hate those people who try to act nice in front of you, act like they care for you, act like they support you, but actually talk rotten behind you more. And you hate people who try to control you into thinking that you are the one to blame, the most, because there are times that their words sting too much you begin to doubt yourself again after trying so hard to convince yourself that you were never at fault.

xx

It’s the first day of the semestral break, and you couldn’t be more happy and relieved to be far from society. You don’t have to do anything but lie down in your comfy bed, and binge watch your favorite shows all day. You can read books you hoarded in the past but never really touched after, as well!

“Y/N! Stacy! Come here, give these apples to our new neighbors!” your mom shouted from the kitchen.

You and your sister, Stacy peeked out of your bedrooms at the same time, and when your eyes met you both sighed. 

“I was watching Stranger Things, I was in the good part!”, you whined.

“I was reading a good fic on Tumblr as well! I was in the climax of the story!”, Stacy stomped her feet playfully and you both giggled.

“Y/N! Stacy! Did you hear me?” your Mom shouted again, which made you and Stacy instinctively run down the stairs.

xx

“Good afternoon Mister– uhmm?”, Stacy said to the man sitting on the balcony outside the house your mom sent you to for a quick mission.

“Park. Mr. Park,” the grown man smiled.

“Oh, nice to meet you Mr. Park! We’re from the house next to yours. We heard you just moved in, so my mom wanted you to have this!” Stacy beamed at him, while you stood behind her quietly.

“Oh I see! What are your names? You should come in! We had a feast for lunch, you should help us finish the food!” Mr. Park said while turning the knob of the front door.

“I’m Stacy, this is my older sister Y/n. My mom’s name is Rachel, and my dad’s is Samuel”, she said as she took off her sneakers.

“How old are you guys? I have a son who’s in the 11th grade, and a daughter who’s gonna be in her 2nd year in university.”

“I’m in 11th grade as well, Stacy is in 9th. We’re in Jungwon Highschool”, you said as you took off your jacket

“You should meet my son then! He’s transferring to Jungwon! But he’s not here now, he took the dog out on a walk in the park”, he said while grabbing plates from the kitchen.

After eating a few sweet fruits, you and your sister headed back home with two full plates of side dishes Mr. Park’s family offered. You passed by a tall unfamiliar guy carrying a black dog on the way back, and you figured maybe he was Mr. Park’s son.

xx

It’s the first day of the spring semester, the weather's been really better the past few days and you couldn’t be any happier because it means you don’t have to wear a heavy coat to school anymore.

While walking to the bus stop, you saw a familiar guy crouching down to pet a kitten.

Cute

He picked the cat up and moved it to a spot away from the pavement onto the bushes, probably for its safety. The moment he turned to your direction, you realized he was the same guy who you passed by once, on the way home from your new neighbor’s house. He was wearing the same uniform as you, and there you confirmed he really was the Parks’ son.

The bell rang and your class adviser went into the classroom. He was with the same guy you encountered earlier, announcing that your class has a new student to welcome.

“My name is Park Chanyeol. Please take care of me”, the guy said as he smiled and bowed down. He took the empty seat in front of you and settled down.

xx

“Pass your quizlets to the president after lunch. Late submissions will have deductions. Is that clear, class?” the 4th period teacher announced as she walked out the room.

The chime rang on the school speakers, and the lunch break started. All your classmates darted out the room, while you stayed in your seat, resting your head on the desk to take a nap like usual. Except, this time you aren’t left alone in the room. Chanyeol stayed, seemingly finishing the quizlet the teacher gave.

“Excuse me, can I borrow your eraser?” He asked, knocking on your desk to get your attention.

“Ah, sure. Here,” you pass him the black piece of soft rubber from your pencil case.

“Didn’t know they sell black ones. I should get myself one like this too. I actually hate when the white ones get dirty,” he rambled on while erasing whatever he had to erase and gave it back to you. You nod sheepishly as a response.

“I’m Chanyeol. What’s your name?” he pursed his lips while waiting for you to answer.

“I’m y/n. I actually live next to you,” you smile, scratching your nape.

Chanyeol was saying something but you weren’t really listening. Not when you heard some girls at the back door say, “what is she doing? Is she flirting with him?” “I seriously can’t believe her, after all that happened to her she has the guts to flirt with boys again?” “Maybe she thinks she can bait the new guy because he’s clueless” “and attractive, too”

You just smiled at him, and rested your head back down again, wearing earphones this time to block out whatever conversations you didn’t have to hear.

xx

You were sitting on the bench outside your go-to place, the comfort room at the back of the school library, watching whatever random videos youtube recommended in the home section. A video of a band doing a cover of some other band’s song came up, and you suddenly heard someone clear their throat from behind you which made you jump a little bit from your seat.

“So, are you into bands?” Chanyeol asked as he sat beside you on the bench.

If you were to be really honest, you grew scared of meeting people through the past year. You really hate it when people bring up things which they are not in the place to talk about. You’d tell them if you wanted them to know, and if you wouldn’t then they just have to accept and respect it, not be a total nosy ass. And unfortunately, everyone who tried to talk to you in this school brought up things you wished they didn’t. It made you feel like they’re only talking to you to know the tea. So you shut them out immediately, afraid to be hurt by them again if you get attached to them.

Which is why you struggled to let out a response to Chanyeol’s curiosity.

Why does he want to know about that? What will he do with that information? What if he uses it against me in the future? I should be careful with what I say, I might give out too much information.

All sorts of thoughts, running in your mind right now.

“Are you okay?” he asked when he realized you were only staring with a surprised expression at him, “is something wrong?”

“U-uhm, yeah. And, n-no. I’m s-sorry,” you looked away, keeping your phone in your pocket.

Chanyeol chuckled, “why are you getting flustered? I don’t bite!”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” you purse your lips.

“You’re a shy one, aren’t you? Don’t worry! I’m good at making people open up to me” he said as he placed an arm around your shoulder, to which you flinched at.

And Chanyeol was right, he was good at making people open up to him indeed. He made you feel at ease with his jokes, but more than that, you felt safe at how he doesn’t pressure you to talk about yourself, he just waits for you to willingly share things with him. He just keeps on going on and on about what he wants to say, but he listens attentively the second you open your lips to talk.

"Oh how I love animals so much! I have a dog, his name is Toben but he doesn't listen to me. So i kinda hate him" he said enthusiastically.

"I think I've seen you once with him, the black one?" you recalled.

"Yes that's him! I used to have a cat too but he ran away from home. His name was Bach"

"I actually have a hamster. Her name is Lilie. You should meet her she's a total fluff ball" you said as you took your phone out and show him a picture of your syrian hamster.

"Oh my god she's so cute!" his eyes grew wider than it originally is.

You chuckled, "You must really like pets that much."

"Oh trust me, I even brought a rat home. My mom scolded me so much," and it's you who has wide eyes now.

You grew close to Chanyeol in a span of a few days. You would walk to school and walk home together with him almost everyday. You learned a lot of things about him, while he was also able to slowly make you open up to him. The both of you would ramble about random things while doing homework or eating dinner at each other’s house, but he never crossed the borderline and asked you about your past. You couldn’t be more grateful that you found a friend like him. It’s the bare minimum, but it’s important to you and no one really does it like that anymore, not for you at least.

“What’s the square root of 441?” He asked, biting the tip of the pen he was holding.

“21, I think? Let me check,” you said as you took out the calculator in your backpack.

“It’s okay I got it aaaand— Wow! You’re right!” He jumped out of his seat and ruffled his fluffy brown hair in amusement. You chuckled and took a sip from the tea his mom made for you.

“You’re amazing, how do you know that? Did you just mentally solve that?” He sat back down again.

“Of course not. I liked maths so much as a kid, I memorized the perfect squares at some point.” you mumbled, redirecting your focus back to the homework in front of you.

“In many years of living, I never once met someone who memorized perfect squares” Chanyeol said as he held his face in his big hands.

“Now you did”

He chuckled, “Yeah, memorable. Anyway, are you free this friday?”

You bit your lip in sudden anxiety, “I-i don’t know. N-not sure. Why?”

“Some of our classmates are going to a party, and they invited me,” he hesitated a little before he continued, “I just wondered if you wanted to come? With me?”

You feel your heart beat faster, “No, sorry. I think I’ll be helping my dad on Friday.”

“Oh it’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” whispered Chanyeol, looking back down to his homework.

Friday came, and you thought it was weird to walk home alone for the first time. You got used to chatting with Chanyeol while on the way home, and now it was completely silent. When you got home, you threw yourself to your bed. You decided to get your laptop and binge watch another series on netflix.

It was around 7:30 pm when your phone rang. You looked at the caller ID and picked up hesitantly when you realized it was Chanyeol’s. “Why would he call so suddenly though?” you whispered to yourself.

“Chanyeol?” You said as you bring the phone up to your ear.

“hey Y/N! What’s up?” he chirped weirdly, probably drunk.

“Nothing much. Are you drunk?”

“I’m wasted. They tricked me, they said it was juice. They tricked me, y/n!” you cringed at how much he was slurring his words. It was obvious that alcohol was already in control of his system.

“How are you gonna get home?”

“I don’t know. Everyone is drunk here and–” he hiccuped, “they’re all nasty. I wanna go home”

You paused for a bit, checking the time on your laptop. “Turn on your location and stay there. I’ll pick you up”

Chanyeol nodded and hummed from the other line. You quickly ended the call to run to your closet to grab a jacket, and leave the house.

You didn’t know if you were dumb or stupid, but you were sure you were either. 

Why would you suggest picking him up? From a house party? Which you avoided so much with all your might?

When you reached the house that showed up on Chanyeol’s location— which took you 30 minutes to find, you had to pat yourself on your shoulders and remind yourself that you were doing it for a friend, and if you were just gonna walk away, this friend might get in trouble. You inhaled deeply before entering, a pool of evidently alcohol intoxicated bodies welcoming you.

It took you only a few seconds to spot Chanyeol, the only giant in the room. But it took you a few minutes to get to him because as he said, the crowd was pretty nasty.

“Alright time to go home now big buddy, let’s go” you tapped Chanyeol on his forearms, bracing yourself in case he’d stumble and fall.

“Goodbye my friends!” Chanyeol screamed over the booming music from the speakers. “You’re leaving already?” a familiar voice replied, and you realized it was one of your classmates, Max.

You only nodded at him after flashing a small smile. “Are you seriously going Chan? It’s too early! We haven’t been to the fun part yet!” Max said before taking a sip of whatever alcohol from his red cup.

“What fun part? I think I’m just gonna go home, Max” Chanyeol replied, seemingly sobering up a little.

“Oh you know, the fun part! When all the chics get wasted!” your mind was getting hazy at what you heard, and you nearly lost your balance. Your grip on Chanyeol’s sweater got tighter, which made him look at you.

But he didn’t answer Max, instead he turned away. You took that as a signal to go. “Yeol, the door is this way” you told him as you tug on the sleeve of his sweater.

The walk back home was messy. Chanyeol was silent but he was walking in zig zags and you had to hold him up a couple of times because he would fall asleep while walking.

“Y/n?” you hummed in response.

“Nevermind” he replied. Honestly you were nervous, what did he want to say? Is something wrong? But you only let it go.

“Y/n.”

“Yes Yeol?”

He stopped walking, “Why don’t you ever tell me anything about you?”

“What do you m-mean? I tell you about myself too,” you managed to mumble out.

“No, you don't,” he said in a tone an octave lower.

You held onto his arm again and dragged him with you, “Yeol, you’re drunk let’s go now.” He allowed you to pull him and just walked along, still in zig zags.

When you were in front of his house you took your phone out to call his sister, to help you get him in. You helped him sit down on the chair outside while waiting for her to pick up.

“Y/n, you know I’m not one to pry, right?”

You looked at him in confusion, you slowly nodded. You waited for him to continue.

“But I really have to ask this,” he said as he played with the zipper of his backpack in his hands, not looking at you.

“What is it?” you shivered.

“By any chance, were you from Hyundai Highschool?” he finally looked at you, straight in your eyes.

You didn’t know what to do or what to feel. He was sober now, and you could tell he knew what he was talking about. Many questions were popping in your mind, yet your brain felt empty.  You weren’t able to form anything to say. You only backed away from him, and then ran away.

You went straight to your room, ignoring your father’s attempt to hug you. You fell to the floor the moment you closed the door.

Why did he ask you that?

How did he find out?

Were people talking about you at the party?

Did someone gaslight you at the party, again?

Will he judge you too?

You spent the whole weekend locking yourself up in your room, overthinking about the same things over and over again. You were almost sure someone told him from the party, and he will probably think differently about you now. But you are honestly hoping that he wouldn’t. He’s a good guy, isn’t he? 

Monday came, and you were mentally preparing yourself to talk to Chanyeol while preparing your lunch box. You made sure to go out earlier than usual to wait for him so you could walk to school together, but to no avail. There was no sign of your giant friend going out of the house next to yours. You had to run to school or you would be late for the first period.

When you reached the classroom you looked around but Chanyeol wasn’t there. You caught your breath and sat down quietly on your seat. There was barely 2 minutes left before the first period, and you were worried for Chanyeol.

“Hey Y/n, where’s Chanyeol? You didn’t come together?” one of your classmates asked. You shook your head no, but suddenly the back door opened.

There he is

He took his seat in front of you but he didn’t spare you a smile, not even a glance.

The whole day went by with Chanyeol avoiding you and ignoring your attempts to talk to him. He looked at you at some point, but with sad eyes and a small smile. After that, you decided to give up and let him be.

You know—you think you do, why he was acting that way, and you don’t blame him for it. But you at least need to hear it from him, rather than assume things which could be entirely wrong. 

You didn��t expect him to pull you to the school garden at dismissal, though.

“Y/n. I know I’ve been such a horrible friend today,” he paused. He looked down, avoiding your eyes.

“but I don’t think we should be friends.”

[callmeunstable]

Angels & Demons - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Characters: Reader, Godling, Savilla

Summary: Alva tries her best to adapt to her current lifestyle. Savilla helps her by teaching her the ways around this world. But some dangerous forces are on their way. And a familiar face shows up.

Warnings: Monsters, Cursing, Blood

Words: 2.000+

A/N: Hey! This is the third part of my fic. I accidentally deleted this part as well as the second part so I had to reupload. I hate myself and I cried .

Disclaimer: GIF’s and PNG’s are taken from Tumblr and are not mine! Credits to the creators!

Tags: @marvelbrat @charliestuff

Song: I thought this fitted the scenery

Alva adapted slowly. It was important that if she wanted to pass as a villager she had to develop. Where she came from, who her parents were and why she came.

And they came up with an easy background story. Alva was the daughter of two Medics, Drarnoz and Isada of Verden. Verden is one of the minor kingdoms in the North, located at the very mouth of the river Yaruga, with Kerack and Brokilon on its northern borders and Cintra in the south, just on the other side of the river. After her parents died in a brutal raid of their village Alva sought a sanctuary by a family friend Savilla living in Riverdell. She took the orphan in.

James brought Alva the Ducates he had collected over the years which made up a small fortune. He promised to bring her every coin he’ll find in the future.

That’s how Alva started her life in a small village. Savilla had an extra bed for her and she didn’t mind sharing her food and clothes.

“You are pretty bad at healing you know that? You’ve been here for almost a month.” Savilla always made fun of the way the girl was bandaging or trying to figure out which plant was good for the specific treatment.

“I just don’t understand how you can separate all of these. They look all the same.” Alva sighed and took a seat. Trying to figure out which herbs were able to calm a burn.

“This isn’t your desire and I get it. It’s not your fault. And I maybe have something set up for you.” The mage smirked while she picked big orange blossoms from her garden. “Merigold, Alva. One of the herbs that can potentially save lives.”

“Don’t change the subject. What did you do?” The girl gave her a doubtful look while watching her picking even more blossoms.

“The tavern in the village. They need a servant. The old one got scared off because the olds kept trying to seduce her and she felt uncomfortable. But I figured you’d be perfect for the job.” She walked inside with a full basket in her hands.

“Are you insulting me or what are you trying to say?” Alva hurried after her, stumbling while getting up.

“You need to get better at walking when you want to serve the folks.” The maid laughed and started to cut the flowers into small pieces.

“But to get back to your question, no. But you are tough and have a huge temperament. Exactly what a good servant needs. The old douches won't have it easy with you.”

Alva let out a loud sigh.

“And I should warn you. They acquire you to look … a certain way.”

“I’m not going to dress like slut and shake my booty.”

“Yes…alright. Anyway, that was not what I was trying to say. They want you to wear your hair down and a dress that will make you look pretty but still can get stained.”

“That’s fine by me but why exactly do they want me to keep my hair down?”

“Maybe they liked it. You know the time we got some bread? That’s when the tavern owner offered me this position.”

The girl hummed in agreement.

“They’ll pay you well. You need that money if you want to find a way back. Mages aren’t cheap. They usually work for kings and queens.” Sevilla stopped with the chopping and went still for a couple of seconds. Her gaze went up and she looked Alva straight into the eyes. She hated that look. It never meant something good.

“You want me to find a different mage?” The girl was confused. How was she supposed to find one? She has no contacts whatsoever and it’s not like she could call the information desk to give her a number.

“I’m not sure who I want you to find for now. It's dangerous out there. I need to find out who I can trust with you. I don’t want you to get captured.” The mage was serious. She liked the girl and felt the urge to protect her. She was sure it was her duty in this life. To help this girl around her world and keeping her safe until she found a way to get back.

“Why would they? I mean I’m not that special and I pretty got at acting old like you.”

“I know. But if they see anything strange in you, just some glance. They don’t need a good reason anymore to imprison the people. It’s getting rough out here. Cintra will lose the next battle. Nobody in this kingdom wants to hear it but you can feel the tension in the air. The Niflgaards are coming and we need to be prepared when they do.”

“Are they like Germany in the Second World War?”

“You do know that I have no information about that.”

“Let me explain. World War II was a global war involving fighting in most of the world and most countries. Like shit went down. Most of the world's countries, including all the great powers in our world, fought as part of two military alliances. They fucking hated each other. World War II was the largest and deadliest conflict in all of our history. It involved more countries, cost more money, involved more people, and killed more people than any other war in our history. About 80 million people died. It included massacres, the Holocaust, strategic bombing, starvation, disease, and the only use of nuclear weapons against civilians in history. Like they could fly bombs from one country to the other through the air and just let them explode wherever they wanted to. It was horrible but I wasn’t alive when that happened.”

The mage had listened carefully only to realize that their worlds aren't that different. “You have to understand that the Nilfgaardian Empire is the most powerful in the history of the known world. It is located in the southern part of the Continent and boasts both a thriving economy and a strong, well-trained army with talented commanders.

It has expanded mostly through the conquest of foreign countries, which were then turned into provinces of the Empire. The Empire's inhabitants believe that "real" Nilfgaardians are only those born in the heart of the Empire and not those born in the conquered provinces. All of them are ruthless. Killing anyone and anything that’ll come in their way. We need to be careful and prepared.”

“So you think they’ll just walk in here like they own this place.” The girl felt she was pulled into something like Lord of the Rings style. Everyone wants to kill the other race. What was happening in this world?

“They won’t pretend that they own these lands, they will fight until they own the whole continent. Saying they want to protect the citizens but slaughter the like an animal for fun. I want you to be prepared that not everyone in our world will respect you, especially because you’re a woman. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Sevilla meant every word she said.

“That’s why I want you to be protected. Here.” She opened the wooden closet and pulled out a silky cloth. “Take it, I have my own. And I won’t need it, I still have the chaos inside of me that’ll help me if needed. I hope you never need it.”

Alva received the loth and lifted the cloth. Underneath there was bedded a silver dagger. It was heavy, but still manageable with one hand.

“Come on, I’m not going to stab anybody. This is not Assasin’s Creed.” She held up the dagger and inspected the weapon. It was beautiful, looking exactly like something a video game character would keep under their robe.

“I’m not joking around Alva! I want you to work so we have enough Ducates in the case of an emergency. If you’re not willing to protect your one life no one else will. I can protect you as far as my power goes but everything is limited. At this point, you don’t have a choice. If you want to get back to your world you need to adapt completely! Do you understand?” Sevilla handed her a scabbard possibly fitting for the dagger.

“No need to be rude.” Alva took and let the weapon slide smoothly into it.

“Attach it to your belt. It's best if you keep it on you at all times. Even while you sleep.”

The girl nodded and pulled her dress up to gain access to the pants she was always wearing underneath. She tied it around her waist and let loose of her dress.

“I understand but I hope I’ll never have to use it.”

“Me neither.”

-

The next weeks went on smoothly. Alva tried her best to lie to herself. If she realized that she left her entire family and friends behind, everything she loved. She didn’t know if she could handle the pain and panic that would appear again. She remembered her first week here. It was exhausting. She didn’t want to stand up and live in a world she didn’t belong. The only thing keeping her from ending it all was the promise Sevilla gave her.

She will bring her back. No matter what is going to happen. She’ll find a way out. And if she could get back, she can’t give up. That wasn’t an option. But she couldn’t think about it anymore. The pain that would crawl up into her chest even if she only thought about it for a second. It was unbearable.

Alva tried to act like new her role this life. At least for now. Her dad was Drarnoz of Verden and her mother was Isada of Verden. She was an orphan. Currently serving at the tavern where she was allowed to live with a family friend. Sevilla. That’s all she needed to remember.

Usually, no one asked about her past. That wasn’t a thing in this village. As soon as Alva said the word ‘orphan’ no more questions were asked.

She liked her job at the tavern. It was an easy way to meet new people and experience the world fully. Adapting day by day. But still being herself. Everyone loved the way she talked. Foolish but skeptical. No man was able to win her or flirt with her. She shut them down real quick.

Today was such a day

It was an afternoon and everyone was ending their work for the day coming to the tavern to get a well-deserving drink and sometimes a meal, but Alva knew by experience you shouldn’t eat the food of this tavern. Dossar, the owner, didn’t know how to cook but he surely wasn’t giving up on an opportunity of getting more money.

The folks around the area knew never to ask for a meal but it was always a pleasure to see the look on a travelers' face.

Alva was serving everyone with a kind smile but some men interpret this as a sign to flirt with her. Woldor, a farmer, decided to try his luck today. He was trying to gain her attention by whistling at her and holding up his cup of beer. Only for her to come and check if he needed a refill. But at his point, she was ignoring his calls and gestures.

But the man didn’t stop. So Alva thought it was her time to shine.

“I’m not an animal! You can’t win my attention by whistling at me and calling me with sloppy pick-up lines! Cut it before I start acting like one.”

“I’ve never been threatened so adorably before.” Woldor and the men sitting beside him star to burst out into laughter and continued drinking.

“Yes well, I’m about to adorably kick your fucking arse.” The laughter silenced and the men stared at the girl.

“This isn’t going to end well is it?” Her coworker Cozlo walked up to her and tried to calm her down, by laying his arm around her shoulder. Alva liked him. He was a good friend and was amazing at keeping her out of trouble when she had a tantrum. This was one of them.

“Fuck no.” The girl wanted to jump at the man and rip his eyes out. He was the one that couldn’t take no for an answer. He was harassing her since the day she started to work as a servant.

Getting ready to throw some punches Cozlo grabbed her by her waist and picked her up.

“Let me down! Let me show this bitch what my adorable hand can do around his throat! I want to see if he still thinks their pretty when I choke him!”

“I think I’m in love with you my dear!” Woldor called out for her while sipping on his beer.

“That’s fucking unfortunate!” Alva was yelling across the tavern while trying to fight her way out of Cozlo's grip.

“You are significantly more destructive than I was anticipating.” That was Cozlo's response after Alva successfully freed herself and was ready to throw fists.

“Enough!” The dark voice of Dossar echoed between the walls. “Woldor get your arse out of here before I tell your wife that you're harassing my servant again!” The tall and bear-like built man stepped in front of the counter and was ready to throw him out with his own hands.

“Can’t take a goddamn joke, can ya?” The farmer grumbled some swearings under his breath and tossed his payment on the table before leaving the bar with his men.

“Next time leave a fucking tip, bastard.”, Alva shouted out through one of the windows and held up her middle finger. “Fuck that dude.”

“You did well Alva, let me admit that.” Dossar gave her a thumbs up and headed back to the kitchen area.

The conflict calmed down and the girl started to clean the table the men had left as a mess. Scrubbing the sticky beer of the top.

“May I compliment you on your skill of handling this rude of a man, my beautiful Lady.”

Alva turned around and in front of her stood unmistakably a bard. The usual costume they were wearing gave it away in an instant. But the lute that was strapped on his back made it even clearer. The man wasn’t older than probably 30 years old. His clothing had seen better days and his brown hair was all messed up.

“Thanks, I guess.” The girl wasn’t in the mood for a conversation so she continued scrubbing the table.

“My name is Jaskier if I may introduce myself. I’m the new bard in town.”

“What brings a bard like you in a village like this?”

“I expected a job, which was me kindly offered by the master of this tavern. A nice man. Allowed me to show off my talent every evening.”

“Good for you Jaskier.” She wasn’t trying to be mean but the bard was definitely flirting and she just wasn’t in the mood for another thirsty mean.

“That makes us workmates if I’m not mistaken? I look forward to seeing more of you…?” It was obvious that he waited for her name and the girl let out her sigh while turning toward him.

“Jaskier, I don’t mean to be rude but I had men trying to marry me at least 4 times today. And a dozen of them were just trying to bring me to bed. So please, if you stop that flirty behavior I will see you as my workmate and friend. But that’s all I can offer.

“Of course, Alva. I didn’t mean to upset you in any way. I’m glad I found a friend already. My last company wasn’t that welcoming.” A half-hearted smile was on his face and he scratched the back of his head.

“Why? Were you trying to flirt with them too?” Alva smirked and put her hand friendly on the shoulder of Jaskier.

“Oh no. Trust me. That would have been very … disturbing, may I say so. I see around Alva.”

“Yes, Jaskier. I’ll see you around.”

[brideofedoras]

Soulbound: Chapter Nine

I am sooooooo sorry for not updating this sooner.  Apparently this chapter has been ready to post for months, but I didn’t like how short it was (despite the natural break at the end).  It took a sign-- a post right here on Tumblr-- to show me that it was okay to go ahead and post Chapter Nine.

I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: the usual

Word count: 1800+

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Just a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, and Emily being on the receiving end of John’s full-blown smile.

Chapter 8

“John, let her go,” Sandra’s voice stopped him when he reached the door. 

“Sandra, she needs--” Kennex turned to give her an exasperated look.

“She needs breathing room right now,” the captain walked over to join him.  “I was afraid it would be too much for her to handle.”

“Yeah,” he closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest.  “We tried to warn her, but she insisted.”

“She’s stubborn like Sam,” Sandra shook her head with a sad smile.  “She just needs time to process everything.”

“I think I understand that more than anyone in this room, Sandra,” he spouted off as he lifted his head.  “She needs to know…” he trailed off when he remembered Rudy and Dorian were in the conference room.  He turned to the door and continued in a lower tone, “She’s not alone.”

 Emily’s eyes slid shut when she heard the door to the conference room open.  She made no effort to move, to shut the door to the room she was in.  There was no sense in hiding from Sandy, the captain could easily pull up surveillance to find her.  She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms, not ready to face anyone.  Not yet.

She ignored the footsteps passing the room until the person immediately backtracked and stepped into the room with her.  She held her breath as the door clicked shut and the person sank down beside her with a low groan.

“You’re not alone.”

Her head snapped up at the low, deep voice.  Emily quickly reached up to swipe away the tears slipping down her cheeks.  “Sure as hell feels like it,” she stuttered out, stunned that John was the one who came after her.

“I know,” John reached over to place his hand on her knee.  “I think I know that better than anyone else in the conference room.”  He fell silent for a moment, his thumb rubbing small circles on her knee.  “I was having a hard time watching that video, too.  Seeing Sam and Marty…  I lost them, too, Emily.  I know you’re hurting, I know you feel alone, but I have to carry that guilt with me for the rest of my life, the guilt of getting my best friend, my mentor, my entire team killed.”

“That ambush wasn’t your fault!”  Emily turned to face him.  She dashed another tear away.  “You didn’t know!”

“No, I didn’t know.  But I’m still responsible for their deaths,” the pain in his eyes tore at her heart.  “They found out about the raid, they were ready for us.”

Emily’s brows furrowed.  “Is there a mole in the department?”

“No.  But someone was spying on us.”  Guilt flashed in his eyes before he looked away.  “Someone was spying on me and I was too blind to see it.”

“Do you know who?”

His jaw tightened.  “Yeah,” his reply was gruff.  

Emily felt her lungs tighten.  “Do… do you think that person was behind the surveillance?”

That jaw muscle ticked some more.  John sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled.  “I don’t know,” he admitted.  “Maybe.  Without any evidence to prove it, we can only guess who was behind the stalking and why they were stalking us.”

“All of you were a threat to inSyndicate,” Emily flinched when her chest rattled.  “Even Rudy behind the scenes.  But where do I fit in?  I’m nobody important to them.”

“Where’s your inhaler?” 

“I… got it…”  She wheezed, straightening her legs so she could fish it out of her pocket.  “Sorry…”

John shook his head.  “Not your fault, Sweetheart.”

She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain gripping her chest.  

The detective reached out to steady her hand when she trembled.  “You okay?”

“I will be,” she rasped before administering the medication.  She let her head fall back against the wall.  “Answer… answer my question?”

John couldn’t help the small smile at her stubborn determination to get a straight answer.  “You really are as stubborn as Sam.”

“H-have to be.”

“Stop talking and let the meds do their thing,” he gave her a mock glare.  “I’ll answer your question.”

“Truthfully?”  She turned her head to look at him.

He nodded.  “To the best of my knowledge.  It’s just speculation at the moment, Sandra suggested it  earlier.”  He bent his right leg and propped his forearm on his knee.  “Anna.”

Emily’s brow furrowed.  “Anna… your…?”  Pain flared through her chest.  The woman he’d loved.  

“Yeah.”  He sighed heavily.  “I don’t believe it.  I don’t want to believe it.  It’s bad enough that entire relationship was a lie.  She used me for intel.  She spied on me, she had bugs planted in my apartment.  She cost me my leg, my memory, seventeen months of my life...  I remember she had a weird fascination with my soulmark, bordering on obsessive.  I caught her trying to copy your handwriting once.”  He scrubbed his hands over his face.  “That was a red flag but I was too damned blind to realize it.”  He dropped his hands, “Sandra told me that Anna likely put it all together and figured out who you were.”

“That doesn’t answer why inSyndicate would follow me… unless they think I could be used as leverage against you.”  And that would not work in their favor.

She jumped when John’s hand curled around hers.

“They won’t get to you, Emily,” he promised.  “I won’t let that happen.”

“If you’re doing this as some sort of obliga--”

“I am not making this promise out of obligation or guilt or even because it’s my job as a damned cop, Emily.  I won’t let anything happen to you,” he caught her eye.  “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna sit with you until you’re ready to go back.”

She managed a shy smile.  “I… I’d like that.”

“Fair warning, I’m terrible company, but I’m sure you already know that.”

She giggled.  

John smiled.  “You’re supposed to disagree.”

Her breath caught at that beautiful smile.  The way his dimples flashed and his eyes crinkled… and it was aimed at her.

Reluctantly she looked away.  “Think we should head back?”  She managed to ask once she could think clearly.  His smile really was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“Yeah,” any trace of humor was gone from his voice.  “If you’re up to it.”

“We don’t have to watch the… the rest of the surveillance footage, do we?”  She met his steady gaze once more.

John shook his head.  “No, you don’t have to.  I’ll table it for another time.  If there’s anything I think you should see I’ll let you know.”  He pushed to his feet with a groan.  “Ready?”  He held a hand out to her.

Emily smiled a shy thanks as she slipped her hand into his.  She nearly stumbled into him when he pulled her up.

The detective steadied her with his free hand.  “You good?”

She nodded.  “I am,” she ducked her head.  “I sometimes get a little light-headed if I’ve had an asthma attack.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

She shrugged.  “It’s not pleasant, but I’ll take the dizziness to blacking out.  I’m okay, I promise,” she mustered a smile for him.

John’s worried frown softened slightly.  “All right,” he dropped his hands and gestured toward the door.

He fell into step beside her as they headed back to the conference room.  “You heading back to the lab after we’re done here?”

She shook her head.  “No, I’m going to head home.  I need to grab those notebooks for you, if you still need them.”

“Yeah,” John reached for the door.  “After you.”

 The muffled conversation inside the conference room abruptly stopped when John opened the door.  “Don’t stop on our account.”

“I took the opportunity to scan and distribute Emily’s notes and lists,” Dorian spoke up as John held Emily’s chair for her.  “Detective Stahl has already reached out to thank you and to let us know that we might need more assistance with visiting these establishments.”

“If I could be of any additional help with this, I can go to a few of the shops,” Emily ducked her head as she sat down to hide the hot blush staining her cheeks.  “I mean…  I do know what the material looks and feels like,” she added with a shudder.

“Emily, I’m not sure that’s a--”

“If you go, you’re going with one of us,” John interrupted Sandra.  “Either me or Valerie.  You sure as hell ain’t goin’ with Richard.”  He twisted his chair to face the captain.  “Emily has a point, Sandra.  We could use all the extra help we can get, especially from these two.”

Rudy’s eyes widened slightly.  “You do mean me, correct?”

Kennex suppressed a groan.  “Yeah, Rudy.  This is not going to be an undercover op, just a straight-forward investigation,” he pinned the technician with a warning look.  “No getting side-tracked.  We’ll hit the streets tomorrow after roll call, after a quick debrief with the rest of the team to get them up to speed.”

“Roll call is at eight, runs about thirty minutes,” Sandra added.  “You two are vital to this investigation and we could use your input at debrief.”  

Emily paled.  “Do I have to get up in front of everybody and speak?”

“No,” John gave her a sympathetic smile.  “Just throw in your two cents as needed, and if Richard is an ass knock him down a peg or two.  It won’t take much.”

She couldn’t stop the giggle fast enough.  

“Kennex,” the captain’s voice was a mixture of amusement and warning.  “We will need a little bit of the video footage to show during debrief,” she sobered as she looked around the room.  “Just enough to give the team an idea of how serious this is.”

“I’d rather not see any more footage, but I’ll be better prepared for it tomorrow,” Emily frowned.  

“I’ll put together some of the footage we’ve already watched,” Dorian assured her.  “I can leave out any footage with you and your father--”

“No,” she cut him off.  “It’ll have a bigger impact showing just how serious this is if you include footage of us.  Someone invaded my privacy, Dorian.  They followed us to the cemetery.  They followed me on campus.  To my doctor’s appointments.  It hurt to relive those memories of my dad, but it pisses me off that someone spied on me, on us, and for what?”  She slumped back in her chair.  “I’ll know what to expect tomorrow, I’ll be prepared.” 

John looked over at her.  “You sure?”

“I don’t really have a choice here,” she shook her head as she met his concerned hazel eyes before turning her attention back to Dorian.  “Give me a heads up on what you’ll show?”

The DRN nodded, “I will show you before John picks me up in the morning.” 

“Okay,” she agreed.

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 19

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 9,165

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

Neverland, as I was currently discovering, was a huge indoor playground at the Dusk Town Center mall. A place where children never had to grow up, or so its big overhead sign boasted. Its vast range of diversions for the little ones included such attractions as a jungle gym in the shape of a large comical skull, a huge green plastic alligator that had a slide built into its long back, and monkey bars supported at either end by large, spooky prop trees. Off in one corner, there were even synthetic, cute yet culturally problematic teepees for the tiny tots to crawl around and hide in. But its crowning jewel seemed to be the kiddie train that ran along the tracks circling the entire play area. Each of its carts were actually little pirate ships that could fit one child in it, maybe two if they were really little.

Since the playground was in the middle of a wide open mall walkway, many stores surrounded it, such as an antique shop by the name of Cave of Wonders. Beyond the rusty brass lamps in its window and past an old, tacky purple carpet draping off a shelf, a friendly young woman with long black hair tied back into a two-sectioned ponytail and wearing a turquoise crop top could be seen running the counter.

Next door to that was Game-A-Saurus Rex, a video game store sporting a green t-rex mascot as part of its logo. An absolute giant of an employee with messy brown hair was currently setting up a display pyramid but his meaty, clumsy hands accidentally knocked it over, wrecking it. I got the feeling this wasn't the first time from the look of being one hundred percent done he was receiving from his silver haired coworker with mismatched eyes.

Neighboring them, I was a bit surprised to discover there was even an Esmerelda's Secrets here as well, a… ahem, lingerie store, to use a more PG term. I found its location so near to the play area to be a bit of a questionable mall layout choice.

I sighed, paper bag lunch crinkling in my grip as I glanced around.

Where was he?

"Are you sure this is where he told you he wanted to meet up?" Kristoff asked beside me, his eyes scanning about as well. Thankfully, he'd forgiven me by now for the minor phone-hurling fiasco and we were back on speaking terms again.

"Positive," I fished my mobile out of my pocket with my free hand, rereading Lea's text asking me to head to Neverland once my lunch break had started.

Since I'd never heard of it before, I'd asked Kristoff (him being the closest person at hand since he'd been working the Ice Palace registers with me) if he'd known what it was. I figured he could at least point me in the right direction, which would be faster than looking at a mall directory. Instead, since he was getting off shift the same time I was going on lunch, he'd offered to walk me there, saying it was on his way anyway.

But now here we were and a certain redhead was nowhere to be seen.

"Bah, I'm sure he'll turn up any second now," Kristoff shrugged off with a laugh. I said nothing, just continued to frown down at my phone before raising my eyes to take another look around. Shoving one of his hands into his pocket while he used the other to ruffle the hair at the back of his head, Kristoff said, "So… your sister…"

"Anna? What about her?" I muttered distractedly, gaze still jumping from face to unfamiliar face. Come on, Lea was a friggin' mountain with hair like a beacon that could light a path home for even the most wayward of lost ships. The guy should have been sticking out like a sore thumb.

He pursed his lips to one side, slightly widened eyes darting about now. "She's… well, she's really… neat." I blinked, slowly looking over at him now. He stiffened, then gave a weak chuckle, "Did I say neat? Not neat, I meant, ah… pretty!" His face blanched. "Pretty… pretty, pretty swell, that is! Yeah, a real bangarang," insert his wince here, "gal that, uh... that's really, er…"

Annnnnd now he was blushing. What was with him, anyway? It was so unlike him to be getting all tongue-tied and-

Oh.

Oh dear. I knew what this was.

Someone had a crush.

Ugh, why did I have to be the one to break his heart by telling him my sister was already in a relationship?

"...anyway," his voice cracked and he coughed, beating a fist to his chest before trying again. "Anyway, what I'm trying to say, or… rather ask is... would you know if, ah… is... is she seeing any-" his idly wandering gaze landed on something past me and he froze, words dying on his tongue. Then his eyelids drooped. "...I think I found your boyfriend."

My brow furrowed at the face he was making before I turned on my heel, following his gaze.

I heard them before I saw them. Cheerful whoops and hollers echoing from the plastic tunnel over the railroad tracks, heralding the emerging train of pirate ships. Then there they were: Lea and Roxas, taking up a full boat each as the locomotive chugged along, their hands thrown up high over their heads as they cackled in almost maniac glee. The two kids in the cart behind them - a carrot top boy in a green cap embroidered with a red feather logo and a little blonde girl wearing toy fairy wings - were giving them funny looks.

I spluttered, my fingers shooting up to smother and hide the grin I was fighting. This was behavior I did not want to encourage.

There he was, ladies and gentlemen. My bad-boy boyfriend in all his glory.

I hope the Duke's spy wasn't here to witness this.

Scratch that, I'd rather no one were here to witness this.

"Those goddamn morons have been at this for over ten minutes now," I heard a grumble from a familiar voice close by. I looked to my right to discover Xion standing there, watching them with a scowl and one eye twitching. As the train drew near, she called out flatly, "Oh yeah, looking real classy there, guys!"

"We're posh as fuck!" Lea replied smugly with a pinky raised, heedless of what nearby young and impressionable ears might overhear. Then his eyes drifted past her to notice me for the first time. His already beaming face did the impossible and brightened even further. As his little pirate ship choo-chooed its way past us, he cried out, "There you are, El! 'Bout time! We're celebrating!"

"El? Who's El? No, you must have me mistaken for someone else. I don't know you," I shook my head, taking a step back. "Quick, let's get out of here," I hissed to Kristoff, snatching his arm with one hand and using the other to hide my face as I tried to make a hasty retreat.

"Oh-ho, no ya don't! You're not getting away that easily!" I heard Lea laugh behind me. I hazarded a quick glance over my shoulder to see him struggling to get out of the cart - he was wedged in there pretty good, seeing as how those boats were never meant to withstand a man of his considerable stature. However, he finally managed to wiggle himself free and jump off the moving kiddie train, stumbling over the railing surrounding it and leaving poor Roxas behind looking quite distraught at having been abandoned.

Then he was charging towards me and I spun around to face him, defensively throwing my hands up in front of me. "Got ya!" he declared triumphantly, snagging me by the waist, my arms instinctively going to hug his neck as he lifted me up and spun me around a couple times.

What was even happening?

"Right," Kristoff said. Don't ask me how, but I could distinctly hear the eyeroll in his voice. "I think I'm gonna go now."

He walked off and I frowned after him as Lea put me back down, though his arms still kept me trapped against him. Then I shrugged. Kristoff's wee crush would have to be a problem for another day. Looking up at Lea, I shook my head with a barely suppressed smile, "What has you so giddy?"

"I got my test grade back today," he chirped, nuzzling his nose to mine for all the crowded mall to see.

"Your test?" I cocked my head at him. Then it clicked. "Oh, the one I helped you study for? You passed?"

"Passed nothing, I aced that sucker! Made it my bitch and it was all thanks to you!" And with that, he was hoisting me up for another twirl.

"Dude, what the hell?!" a shout suddenly rang out across the mall before Roxas came bursting out of the press of shoppers, sneakers screeching to a halt in front of us as he glared at Lea. "Can't believe you just ditched me like that! I looked like a total dumbass riding that thing all by myself!"

"Oh sure," Xion deadpanned at his side, "cuz you looked like a regular Einstein before as a grown-ass man riding around in the widdle choo-choo train with another grown-ass man."

Roxas crossed his arms and stuck his nose up in the air with a harrumph. "You're just jelly cuz we didn't invite you."

She scoffed, "You didn't invite me cuz I turned you guys down the last ten times you tried to drag me onto that dumb thing because I didn't want to look stupid."

"Your face looks stupid!"

Xion lunged at him, but Lea had already put me down and was snagging them both by the scruff of their shirt collars, dragging them apart from each other. He sighed, "Kiddos, please, would you start acting like the grown-ups that you are?"

Said the adult man who'd just been joyriding in the kiddie train.

Seriously, how were these three even college students? They all acted like a bunch of preschoolers.

"Ha, fat chance with this dope," Xion snerked, reaching across to flick Roxas in the forehead.

"Why you-" he broke free of Lea's grasp. Xion gasped and managed to squirm loose herself, bolting and squealing with laughter as she disappeared into the crowd, Roxas hot on her heels.

"Oi, kids these days. I give up," Lea grumbled, shaking his head and tossing his hands up in defeat. "Now where were we?" Looking back at me, his eyes lit up. "Ah yes," he bent forward, bringing us nose to nose with a tiny smirk, "my reward."

Both eyebrows shot up my forehead and I staggered back a bit. "Your… reward?"

"Mm-hm!" he nodded, grin twitching wider. "For kicking that test's ass, I get a reward! It's standard girlfriend protocol."

I blinked, "...it is?"

"Didn't ya read your dating handbook?"

...there's a handbook?!

Wait. No. That was just a joke.

And wishful thinking on my part.

Because I mean, seriously, how much easier would my life be right now if I could consult a handbook?

That aside, I had to get back to the matter at hand: some kind of reward for Lea. Which was my duty as the girlfriend. Apparently. What did that even entail? What was it supposed to be? What was I supposed to do? My face paled and my hands clenched. This was too much responsibility to be thrust onto me all of a sudden! What, was I supposed to buy him something? Or… maybe this was this another PDA situation? I mean, I hadn't made a move in that department since the roller rink a couple days ago. If tripping and crashing into him even counted. Which, personally, I was still chalking up as one for the win column. Had to take my small victories wherever I could! That said… perhaps it was high time I gave it another go?

Yes. Okay. I was going to do this. This… I was going to do.

My gaze hardened and my nostrils flared slightly as I started taking deep, sharp breaths, psyching myself up.

I got this. No more putting it off. Be strong! Be brave! Carpe diem! Seize the day! Grab the bull by the horns! Strike while the iron's hot!

Lea snerked, straightening up, "Woah, El, your face! Relax! I'm kidding! Just teasing ya like I always-"

YOLO!

I dropped my lunch bag, grabbed his head in both hands, yanked him down and kissed him.

...on the nose.

Way to bury the lead there, I know.

But hey, it still counted! Let me have this!

I held it for the space of a few thundering heartbeats before I pulled back, releasing his face and doing my best to ignore the slight jitters I felt from the adrenaline surge.

Lea was stock-still and just giving me a blank, wide-eyed stare.

Huh… not the reaction I was expecting.

A few long seconds ticked by where nothing happened. My eyes darted about nervously. Then I slowly, awkwardly picked my lunch sack back up off the floor. And still nothing from him. Nada. Not one peep.

Should… should I say something?

That's when he jolted upright (startling me half to death, I might add) and brought both his hands up to cup his nose, spinning around so his back was to me now.

Okay, really, really not the reaction I was expecting. At all. Just what-

Then it hit me.

I hadn't asked his permission first! And after he'd been so careful with me all this time too! Apparently I couldn't even return the favor! Fudge, this was like the Kissident all over again. Except worse! At least then, it'd been an accident. This time I'd done it on purpose! This was premeditated! Not to mention this now made me a repeat offender! A… a serial kisser! Would my reign of smooching terror never cease?

Anxiety eating up at me now like a swarm of angry ants in the pit of my stomach, I bit down on my bottom lip and took a hesitant step forward. "Lea?" I asked, my voice small. "Did I do something wrong or-"

"Nope! No, it was good. Really, really good," he said quickly, voice tight and muffled still by his hands. Then I heard him puff out a slow breath, watched his arms fall to his sides and he whipped around towards me once more, huge smile splitting his face in two. "So good, in fact, it's high-five worthy. Whaddya say, wanna high-five? Let's high-five." He held his palm up in front of me. I wordlessly stared back at him, arching an eyebrow. He was being weird, even for him. And why was he talking so fast? He hastily dropped his hand, "Not high-five. Forget that. That's stupid. We should, uh… we should go. Wanna go? Let's go."

As he snagged my free hand in his and tugged me into a walk beside him, I tipped my head to the left and uncertainly gave him some side-eye. "...where are we going?"

Seemingly already recovered, his grip shifted to instead hook our pinkies together as he shot me a wink. "Where all couples sneak off to whenever they have a lil free time. Somewhere dark, secret and secluded so," here he raised his voice for all to hear over the mall hub-bub, "we can make out!"

My feet faltered and I stumbled, barely catching myself as my face spontaneously broke out into its best impersonation of a tomato. "M-make out?!"

He snorted, bending close to my ear and whispering, "Calm down, only said it for show. We'll just find some place to lay low until your lunch is over and let the gossip mill churn." Straightening back up to his full height, he beamed, "Sound good, my knuddelbärchen?" A crease formed between my eyebrows and he chuckled. "Go on, ask. Ya know ya want to."

I sighed, "And knuddelbärchen is…?"

"German for cuddle bear," he pinched my cheek.

"No."

"You can sleep on it, then get back to me."

I rolled my eyes but held my tongue as I continued to let him lead the way to wherever it was we were going. It wasn't long before we entered a part of the mall I was more familiar with and he turned us down the deserted wing that was under construction. Ah, back to the clocktower then, was it? So be it.

Once the locked door was picked and we were inside, I started to head for the stairs but he stopped me with a hand on my elbow. At my questioning look, he said, "Dunno where the kiddos disappeared off to. They may have beat us to the punch and could be up there already, which'll totally bust our whole fake make-out sesh. Better to just hide out down here instead."

"Alright," I nodded as he released my arm.

And there it was again. That strangeness that seemed to hang in the air whenever we were alone together now. Whenever we didn't have to put on the act of being in a relationship. I was now so used to him lacing our fingers together every chance he got that when he didn't this time, instead opting to stuff his hands into his pockets with a grin and a soft "heh," my own hand almost felt… slighted? Bereft? Sad? Could hands even feel sad? Well, whatever the hand equivalent of sadness was, it felt that.

There were a couple large, dusty crates stored in here with us at the bottom of the clocktower. I stepped over to one, gingerly dusting off the surface before setting my paper bag down on top of it. Then I cleared my throat and looked to him with a small, timid smile. "This whole rent-a-boyfriend thing is really becoming a full time job now, isn't it? Sorry… to be wasting your time like this. I'm sure there are better ways you'd be preferring to spend it rather than stuck here with me."

Lea blinked at me, then huffed out a breath of a laugh. "Hey, you already forgetting whose idea it was for us to steal away on our own like this? Ya got nothing to be sorry for. I like this, it's fun! 'Sides," he moved to stand in front of me, leaning one shoulder against the wooden support beam there that was holding up the decrepit old staircase above us, "it's not a waste. I'm a big fan of my El time. Love having any excuse to hang out with ya and have you all to myself."

Cue heart spasm.

Dropping my gaze and tugging my Ice Palace cap down to hide my warming cheeks, I zeroed in on opening my lunch bag with far more acute focus than was absolutely necessary. Let's see what Mama Rayne had packed for me today, inquiring minds were simply dying to know. To him, I just mumbled, "To each their own, I guess."

"So…" he reached a hand out, index finger flicking the bill of my hat back up so he could meet my eyes when he smirked, "...you kissed me."

All color drained from my face.

Crud. Was hoping this wouldn't come up.

"I'm sorry!" came bursting out of me.

His head rocked back before he snorted and sighed, "You apologize too much, ya know that? Fine, I'll bite. What're you sorry for now?"

"I should've asked if that was okay before I did it!" I took off my cap, wringing it between my hands. "I overstepped, I shouldn't have just assumed! I hope I didn't freak you out or make things awkward or uncomfortable or, or weird or-"

"Woah, woah, slow down," he chuckled, holding up his hands. "Ya got nothing to worry about. I was totally, one hundred and ten percent cool with it!"

My eyebrows knit together. "Really?" I frowned, absently setting the hat down on the box. "But you seemed so… I thought I might've upset you or-"

"Upset? Nah, not even a lil bit! Surprised, maybe, cuz I never in a million years expected you to, ah… heh…" he paused, pursing his lips to the right as he dragged his hand along the nape of his neck. Then he closed his eyes in a grin, "How 'bout this? This, right here, right now, is me giving you the okay to do whatever you want to me from now on in order to maintain your girlfriend cover. Anything goes, got it?"

Eyes growing round, I stammered, "A-anything?"

He couldn't be serious! Anything was a lot. Anything was… well, anything.

"Yup, anything! Don't hold back. Just feel free to go to town on me."

This was too much power. Do not want. Take it back.

"I, uh…" What does one even say to that? "O-okay… thanks?" Was this something I should be thanking him for? Seemed like a weird thing to thank him for. This whole discussion just seemed weird, period. Concentrating on my packed lunch once more, I pulled out a ziplock of baby carrots. "...I don't think I'll be, er… going to town on you any time soon though, but the offer is, ah…" Is what? "...appreciated?" Sure, let's go with that.

"Shame," Lea tsked under his breath, then snerked as his hand shot up to block the carrot I threw at him. "Kidding, kidding! Still, just know that door's always open, in case ya ever wanna put on a bit of a show for any audience we might have. I won't be bothered. Promise."

"I'll keep that in mind," I muttered, taking out a second carrot to nibble on as I averted my gaze. Was ready to talk about something else now.

"Still, fact of the matter remains," one corner of his lips curled up, "you kissed me."

Gah! Would he stop saying that already!

A soft harrumph. "Only on the nose."

"One lucky nose!" He hunched forward slightly, pointing at it, "I'll have you know I'm never gonna wash this puppy ever again."

I snorted, setting the ziplock down on the box and reaching back into the paper sack to see what other goodies it contained. "Be serious."

"I am! Wouldn't wanna lose the divine blessing you've bestowed upon it on this fine day!"

Biting back a smile now as I continued to root around in the bag, I shook my head. "Does this mean that you also haven't washed your lips since the-" I abruptly froze, eyes widening and mouth clamping shut.

There was a pause, then I could see out of my peripheral the slow cheshire grin spreading across Lea's face. "Go on, since the…?"

Since the Kissident, was what I'd been about to say.

I knew it.

He knew it.

But did I have the guts to actually power through and finish that sentence?

Frantic fingers grabbing the first thing they could out of the lunch sack, I shoved it into his face with a weak laugh, "Chocolate pudding cup?"

Nope. I sure as heck most certainly did not.

Elsa, Queen of the Skillful and Seamless Subject Change.

"Oo!" he chirped in delight, taking it. Well, he was easily distracted. That, or he was just being nice and letting me off the hook. Probably the latter. "A nose kiss and pudding? Big day!"

With a soft, relieved sigh through my nostrils, I fished out a plastic spoon to hand him as well. "Don't forget about the train ride too. Big day indeed… do you and Roxas do that often?"

Having already torn into it and taken a spoonful into his mouth, he swallowed. "Not really. Only for special occasions. Wouldn't wanna cheapen the experience."

My eyes crinkled. "Because it's already so sophisticated and highbrow to begin with," I said, forgoing the PB and J sandwich at the bottom of the bag for now and instead opting to pull out some string cheese. Removing the wrapper, I asked, "Passing an exam counts as a special occasion?"

"Only the hard as balls ones that can make or break my overall grade for the course," he shrugged, scooping out some more pudding and offering it to me, to which I just shook my head.

"Ah," I rested one hip against the crate, peeling off a thin strip of mozzarella and slipping it into my mouth. "How many years do you have left on your degree anyway?"

"Couple more. Though I hear if I'm a model student, they'll let me graduate early for good behavior."

"Don't think that's how it works," I hummed a low laugh. "Then after that… what was it again? ...a nice little ice cream shanty by the seashore, I believe?"

Lea grinned around his spoon, "Something like that."

Pulling off another strand, I hesitated with a slight frown. "...but why ice cream?" At his cocked head and raised eyebrows, I worried my lower lip between my teeth. How to phrase this? "...it's just been something I've been wondering about actually. What with your mother dropping you off at an ice cream shop before she, ah... split when you were so little, I would have thought it would just be a… a source of bad memories, is all."

He snorted, looking down at his spoon as he swirled it around in the chocolate goop. "S'not the ice cream's fault my deadbeat mom abandoned Saïx and me when we were kids. She's taken a lot from me, I won't let her take that too. 'Sides, also got a lotta good memories tied to ice cream. Fun times with friends and whatnot. It's nice that something so simple can bring a smile to people's faces and I just like the idea of being a part of that. Sounds silly, I know, but what can I say?" He thrust the now heavily pudding-laden utensil up high in the air, "I have a calling! And answer it I must!"

I brought a curled finger to my lips, hiding the tiny smile. "Some calling. You still haven't even guessed which one's my favorite yet."

"Told ya, it's a process," he stuck the spoon into his mouth, holding it there as he squinted thoughtfully. "Speaking of… lessee, what other flavors haven't come up yet… ah! Three Wishes?" he asked, pointing the plastic implement at me. Then he scoffed, "Yeah right. Way too gimmicky with all that blue cotton candy. It's trying too hard. Classy and effortless is more your speed."

My smile ticked wider as my fingers plucked further at the string cheese. "Are we still even talking about ice cream anymore?"

"Course! Trust me, I've got this down to a science. I know my shit."

"If you say so," I gave a soft snort. "You really have me at the edge of my seat here. I can't wait to see which one you finally land on."

"Me neither. I'm just as much on this journey as you are," he chuckled, tossing the now empty cup onto the crate alongside the paper bag. Propping one shoulder against the post again, he looked down and scratched his cheek. "...hey, so, ya free in a couple nights? Saïx's been wanting to meet my new lady friend and suggested we have you over for dinner."

Finishing the last of my own snack, I quirked an eyebrow at him. "He knows you have a lady friend?"

"Wasn't hard for him to guess since I've been out all night a lot recently, what with your couch being my new home away from home."

"Oh." My fingers reached for a tendril of my ponytail to twist as I mulled for a second. "Yeah, I suppose… I don't have any closing shifts coming up for a while, so I'm free for the next few nights. Just let me know when."

"Sweet! We can see this as a test run of sorts. Practice for the big weekend with your folks and-" he suddenly fell silent, head jerking to his right. I blinked, confused. Then I heard it too. This soft rattling coming from the doorknob - the telltale sounds of a lock being picked. "Crap! The kiddos! Hide," Lea hissed, grabbing my shoulders and shoving us both beneath the staircase, my back hitting the wall behind me.

The door burst open. I didn't so much see it since the stairs were now between me and it, blocking my line of sight, but I heard it along with the echoing laughter of two very familiar voices. As it slammed shut again and the staircase began to quake from feet running up it hard, I heard Xion ask, "Think we'll find them up there?"

"Probably." That was Roxas. I turned my head to the left, watching through the slats between the steps as his sneakers blurred past. "Giving each other tonsillectomies, no doubt."

My face heated as I realized they were talking about Lea and me.

But good news! Lea's plan was working. People thought we were off somewhere, er... shall we say, necking.

Or at the very least, those two thought so anyway.

I heard a snigger from Xion as her boots rushed past the gap not too far behind him. "Perfect. Let's scare them shitless."

They both cackled and tried to shush each other at the same time as I heard their thudding footsteps fade further and further away above us. Once I was certain they were gone, I puffed out the breath I'd been holding.

That's when I became aware of several things. Very, very aware.

Aware of the familiar feeling of Lea's eyes on me. Aware of how close we were. Of his grip still on my shoulders. Of my hands on his chest. Of the gentle thud of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. Of his warm, spicy boy scent. Of his body pressed to mine, pinning me to the wall still from his rush just seconds ago to get us both out of sight. Of the fact that I could still sense his gaze on me.

Oh gosh, was there something on my face?

I slowly turned my head to look up at him and meet his eyes. He had that look in them again that I'd seen once or twice before. The one that made my insides twist and flip-flop.

Emergency! This is not a drill, people! Fetch the conceal-don't-feel armor and suit up, stat! I repeat, this is not a drill!

The slightest hint of a grin tugged at the corner of his lips and when he spoke, his voice was low. Barely above a whisper. "You know what would… really sell this make-out sesh? ...if right along here..." he ran the tip of his index finger along the side of my neck down to where it met my shoulder, so lightly I hardly felt it, his eyes following its trail the whole time, "...there was a hickey. Maybe two or three. Ya know… just for appearances, of course..."

I just stared at him for a second. Then two. Then I smiled, "That's a great idea!"

He looked taken aback, his gaze widening. "Wait, really?!"

"Of course! Did you bring any makeup with you?" I asked. He just gave me a blank look. "You know, like your guyliner. Do you have anything else? Something that could make the fake marks look convincing?"

He blinked a couple times. "Makeup… right… that's what I meant… heh..." his eyes darted to the left. "But shoot, you know what? Didn't bring any with me." A slow smirk stretching across his face now, he bent down to press his forehead to mine as his eyes hooded, "But hey... we could also always make 'em the old fashioned way."

Once more I stared, expression neutral.

Processing… processing…

Then my eyelids drooped. "...you're messing with me again, aren't you?"

Lea stiffened. Then he relaxed, straightening back up and bracing an elbow against the wall above my head, resting his brow to his forearm as his whole body shook with a soft chuckle. "Yup! Yup, you uh… you caught me alright! Totes was."

Conceal-don't-feel armor saves the day once again! If it hadn't been for that, my heart might have exploded in that situation.

Man, was I getting good at deflecting these little jokes of his now or what?

He shifted over and away from me, giving us both some breathing room now. "Do you think maybe we should go somewhere else?" I asked, my gaze drifting up the clocktower as I returned to the crate, repacking my lunch back into its bag and picking up my hat. Thank goodness the "kiddos" hadn't noticed this stuff before dashing upstairs. "Just so Xion and Roxas don't catch us down here?"

"Sure, good call. I gotta few other secret spots 'round this place we can hole up in until your lunch is over." He went to the door, pushing it open a crack so he could peek out.

"Okay," I nodded while waiting for him to make sure the coast was clear. Then I grinned. "You know, you almost had me going back there with the hickies."

"If only," he muttered so softly, I wasn't sure I'd heard correctly.

"Hm?"

His shoulders tensed, then he breathed a feeble laugh as he glanced back at me, "If only… I'd, er... remembered to bring some makeup! Ah well, maybe next time, huh? C'mon, let's go." His hand reached for mine.

I took it and suddenly my hand didn't feel so sad anymore as I let him lead me back out into the mall.

I couldn't sleep.

I rolled over onto my left side, pulling the sheets up to my chin and curling in on myself a bit. Then over to my right. A few seconds ticked by. Then I rested my back to the mattress and frowned up at my bedroom ceiling, at the long thin patch of frail moonlight slashing across it from between the curtains of my window. Sighing, I tossed over onto my side again and tried putting my head beneath the pillow this time, hoping the added darkness and some light hypoxia would do the trick to knock me out.

No such luck.

With another heavy sigh, I sat up, letting the pillow fall back down behind me. I brought a hand up towards one of my earplugs, stopping just short of reaching it as I frowned over at the wall I shared with my roommates. Then I tentatively pulled it out, already preemptively grimacing as the noises I might hear.

Instead my ears were greeted with a very different sound and from a different direction no less. Coming through my closed door from the living room was a faint, hollow murmur of voices. I squinted towards it, tipping my head to one side. Was that… the TV? Tugging the other earplug out, I set both down onto my nightstand as I listened for another minute, my fingers fiddling with my braid. Then folding my sheets away from me, I got out of bed, smoothed my nightgown and crept over to the door to open it.

Lea was sitting on his couch out here, the glow of the television screen the only thing illuminating him in the otherwise dark living room. Since him couch-surfing here was becoming a bit of a habit now, he'd started bringing an overnight bag with him for things like toiletries and the pyjamas he was currently wearing - a black tank top and PJ pants patterned with tiny fireballs sporting evil smiley faces. In fact I think it may have been the same design on the frisbees I'd seen back at his apartment. Some kind of brand logo, perhaps?

His elbows were braced up on the backrest behind him, temple propped against one fist as he watched the screen. He glanced over at me as I stepped out, quirking an eyebrow and lifting his head off his knuckles. "El?"

I gave my braid a tiny tug before dropping my hands and clasping them together, forcing them to be still as I gave him a small smile. "You're up late."

He grinned back. "Yeah. Never really could pass out to total silence," he nodded towards where his own earplugs laid discarded on the coffee table. Then he wrinkled his nose, shooting a sideways glance towards Rayne's and Riku's room. "But shit, you weren't kidding 'bout those two going at it like jackrabbits in there. Had to do something to tune 'em out, so turned on the ol' tube and guess what I found?"

I moved to stand beside him for a better view of the TV. The scene was currently zoomed in on a couple riding in the back row seat of a trolley. The girl was distracted, lost in whatever she was talking about while the guy was reaching his hand over to tuck her hair back, only to awkwardly snatch it away when she suddenly turned to look at him, completely oblivious to the gesture as she continued to enthusiastically ramble on. My smile grew as I took a seat next to Lea. "It's Before Dawn. Imagine that."

"I know. What timing, right?" he hummed a small laugh. We were both quiet for a few seconds, simply watching the movie. Then he nudged my knee with his, "And what brings ya out here in the middle of the night? Other than the pleasure of my charming company, of course."

That earned him a soft snort as I slouched more comfortably into the sofa and picked up one of the small throw pillows, hugging it in my arms. "Trouble sleeping."

"Oh?" he looked over at me, relaxing his hand along the top of the cushions behind my head. "Something on your mind?"

I gnawed on my bottom lip, not taking my eyes off the television even though I wasn't really paying attention to it anymore. "...it's just coming up so fast."

Brow furrowing, he squinted up at the ceiling in thought for a second. "You mean our visit to the parental units?"

My insides churned as I gave a small nod. "It's only a week away now. It doesn't feel like enough time. I don't know if I'll be able to go through with this… if we… if I will be prepared in time… if I'll be able to face them."

"Hey, don't worry 'bout it," he flashed a warm grin. "You and me? We got this. I like to think we've become quite the awesome dynamic duo. Gotten pretty good at this whole girlfriend-boyfriend thing. Got the entire mall buying into our story and if we can fool them, we can fool anyone."

"But it's not anyone," I muttered, squeezing the pillow more tightly to me. "It's Father. And Mother. And..." my face scrunched up, "...the Duke too? ...for some reason? Anyway, tricking Father for a grand total of five minutes was one thing, but now? Now it's my whole family. For a whole weekend. What if they find out?" Oh dear, I could already feel a panic attack coming on just thinking about it. I turned my head, frowning at him. "...what if I can't do this?"

The hand behind me lifted, hesitantly hovering and shifting about for a second before settling on a quick, reassuring pat to my head. "Just say the word and you can pull the plug on this whole op anytime ya want. Don't force yourself to do anything you don't wanna do. But just know you're a lot stronger than you think. And chances are? It won't be as bad as you fear." He poked himself in the side of the head, just above his left ear, "Our brains like to mess with us, tell us things will be a lot worse than they actually turn out to be. And 'sides, you won't be doing this alone. I'll be right there with you the whole weekend. Your sister too. We got your back. You got a support system. Consider us your safety net. We'll be there to pick up the slack and catch you if you fall."

I bowed my head, nose perched on top of the edge of the pillow now. "...thank you. That helps," I muffled into it, my tiny smile hidden. And I meant it. I could already feel some of my unease starting to slip away. Straightening back up and tossing my head back onto the couch, I inhaled deeply before loudly exhaling. "I should just stop thinking about it. Stressing out over it now does me no good. I need to be talking about something else."

"Something else, huh?" he mumbled, eyes returning to the movie as he scratched the tip of his nose. "...so I had a thought. Remember the other day when you said you'd be looking for a new place in a few months when lil Baby Hewley arrived?" His knee started jiggling up and down while out of the corner of my eye, I could see his fingers fidgeting with the seam of the backrest cushions. "Well, what if… and ya know, this would only be if you weren't able to find somewhere on your own and if, like… you had no place else to go and were up shit's creek and whatnot, but… what if you moved in with…" he glanced back my way, "...me?"

I blinked at him. "...you?"

His face brightened. "Yeah, whaddya think? We got plenty of space for ya! It'll be a total blast! And hey, we could even get ya a puppy."

Fighting a grin, I quirked an eyebrow. "A puppy? But what about Saïx?"

"Psh," he brushed off, one hand batting the air. "Saïx can fight me. You want a dog? You're getting a dog, end of story."

I snerked and looked down. Lips pursing to one side, I did a mental replay of what I could remember of when Lea had given me the grand tour of his apartment. "...am I forgetting a third bedroom you guys have?"

"Nah," he shook his head, "just the two. But you can have mine and I'll just… I dunno, sleep on the couch."

"You can't sleep on the couch in your own home," I scoffed.

"Sure I can! I'm actually growing quite accustomed to catching some Z's on 'em. These bad boys are surprisingly comfy," he pat the armrest next to him and beamed. "In fact, dunno if I can ever go back to a lame ol' bed again!"

Rolling my eyes, I said, "I meant because Saïx will see you. Won't he have questions about you sleeping on the sofa every night?"

"Oh. Right," he laughed, fingers ruffling his hair. "Well then I can just… sleep in the room with you. On the floor," he hastily amended. "Yeah, it'll be fun! Like a slumber party every night!"

One side of my lips twitched up as I toyed with the corner of the throw pillow I was still holding snug. "You're sweet, but… no, that'd just be crazy."

"...yeah. Crazy," he averted his gaze with a tiny chuckle. Then he frowned, plucking the short hairs at the nape of his neck. "...is it though? I mean, think about it. It'd be like the next stage of our dating evolution. That's what all couples do sooner or later, right? Move in together?"

"But the baby will be here in, what…" both my eyebrows rose as I stared off into space, "...four more months? Five? I figure we'll have probably staged a breakup by then."

"Breakup?!" he jerked forward in his seat, eyes widening slightly.

I knit my eyebrows together. "Well yeah. You… didn't think we were going to be fake dating forever, right?"

"Well, I…" he hunched forward, propping his elbows on his knees and folding his hands together beneath his nose as he narrowed his gaze on the floor. "...no, I guess not."

I tilted my head at him. Then opened my mouth. Then closed it. I focused on the TV instead. "...I figured… it'd be some time after we visited my parents. Depending on how it goes, of course. Once I was…" I shrugged, gripping the pillow more tightly, "...sure they weren't going to try to interfere with my life anymore. After that… maybe a few more weeks? A month, perhaps? Just so it wouldn't look too quick, too… suspicious or raise questions…"

Why was this so hard? Why did it make my heart squeeze, just a bit? Come on, it's not like it was a real breakup! Besides, this could maybe, possibly, eventually open up the door to actually start something more real with him in the future. If I ever got the guts up to even pursue something like that… whenever he started dating again… which would be when he no longer had to focus on his schoolwork… aka when he graduated...

...in two years…

Why did that suddenly seem like an eternity?

"...yeah," he sighed and slumped back again, his arm returning to its position behind me as he stretched them both out along the backrest once more, "that all makes sense, I guess." His lips were a flat line for a few seconds, but then he grinned over at me. "Tell ya one thing, though. Fake getting over you ain't gonna be easy. Might have to try and fake win you back."

"Oh no," I stifled a soft laugh into my fingers. "Hang on, let me guess… You. In a trenchcoat. Standing in the middle of the bustling food court. Boombox held high over your head and blasting out some old, cheesy love song. That about sum it up?"

He smirked, "Ah, fan of the classics like me, I see. Good guess, but I was actually thinking less John Cusack in Say Anything and more Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You. Me. With a mic hacked into the food court's overhead speakers. Singing and dancing around on table tops while mall security chases me all over the place."

This big dork really was a sap. That is, if his taste in movies had anything to say about it.

Shaking my head in amusement, I said, "Who's to say you'd even fake want me back? Maybe it's you who ends up fake dumping me."

He huffed out a derisive snort, "Not a chance. I'd never be dumb enough to let someone like you go." I looked away, grateful the light from the TV wasn't bright enough to reveal the gentle warmth spreading into my cheeks. Lea shrugged as he went on, "Now, dumb enough to do something stupid and royally fuck it up so you'd kick my ass to the curb however? Yeah, now that sounds like it'd be pretty on brand for me."

"No, I don't think so," I smiled, resting my chin atop the seam of the throw pillow. "...thanks, Lea. I feel a lot better now. You're a… a really good friend."

Lea was quick to return the smile, "It's what I'm here for!" His gaze went back to the screen and there was a brief pause where the only sound was the low drone from the movie. "So… was that your roundabout way of wishing me a good night?"

"Hmm..." A beat before I shook my head, "Not yet. I think I'd like to stay and watch for a little while longer, if that's alright."

"It's more than alright," the corners of his eyes crinkled as he settled into his seat more comfortably. "It's alright times two."

I'm not sure exactly when it was I nodded off. Last scene I clearly remembered was our leading couple sitting at a restaurant together, their hands miming phones to their ears as they made imaginary calls to one another, so it must have been not too long after that. Next thing I knew I was blinking blearily at the television as it showed the girl now sitting on a bed in a small apartment, serenading the guy with her guitar. They both looked maybe a few years older. Must have been one of the sequels to the first movie. I was less familiar with those. It seemed Lea had stumbled upon some sort of late night marathon.

As consciousness returned to me piece by tiny piece, it slowly came to my attention that there was something... off about the pillow my cheek was resting against. Like the fact that it was oddly firm. And warm. And…

...breathing?

Eyes fully snapping open now, they darted about to realize I'd fallen asleep on Lea. Against his chest, to be exact. Embarrassed and panicking maybe just a smidge, I immediately tried to straighten up and away from him, only to be held firmly in place by the arm - his arm - that was draped heavily around my shoulders. I furrowed my brow over at it. Wha-?

Then he made a noise and I tensed.

Took me several heart-pounding seconds to register that noise for what it was.

A snore.

Puffing out a hushed breath and forcing my muscles to relax, I tentatively, cautiously turned my head to try and look up at him. Didn't work, and it only took me another second to realize why. There was a weight pressing down on the top of my hair that I hadn't really noticed until just now.

He was using my head as a pillow.

Welp. This was quite the predicament I found myself in.

Oh gosh, I just hope we'd fallen asleep roughly around the same time and had just, I don't know... naturally gravitated toward one another in our slumber? If I'd been snuggling up to him like this while he was awake the whole time, I'd never live it down.

Next thing my brain decided to alert me to was the fact that I'd misplaced my throw pillow. I must have dropped it when I'd dozed off for I was pretty sure I could feel it on the floor brushing against my bare feet. But that wasn't the important part. No, the important part was what my hands had decided to do in the wake of its disappearance. Left hand? It was good. Just laying there in my lap, all well behaved and polite-like. The right one, however? Had found its way over to rest atop Lea's knee. The little trollop. Especially considering that one of his hands was currently covering it. Had it no decency? No shame?

I considered my situation for another minute. Then taking a deep breath, I decided to commence with the extraction. Should be easier now that I was fully awake and aware of my circumstances so I could approach it all with a cooler, more level head.

First I used my free hand to gently lift his arm from my shoulder and gingerly set it back down on the couch backrest. Another snore from him and I froze. After a few seconds where nothing else happened however and I was sure I hadn't disturbed him, I then proceeded to bring my hand back up, this time to delicately press my fingertips to his chin.

Careful now, careful… wouldn't want to wake him…

I slowly pushed his head off mine and kept going until it lolled back onto the cushions behind him instead. With nothing left weighing me down now, I crept up onto my feet and peeked back at him to make sure he still snoozed. I was rewarded with yet another soft snore. That was all the confirmation I needed. I turned to make a break for my room.

Victory! Success! Elsa, Queen of The Daring Escape and-

Ack!

...okay, so something had just happened. More precisely, two somethings, both occurring at the exact same time. The first? Was my arm being pulled taut and bouncing me back like a rubber band stretched too tight. I stumbled but caught myself, the carpet muffling any sound I might have made. The second? Now that was just a word. One single, solitary word:

"Stay."

That one word sent my heart catapulting up into my throat as I whipped around to discover Lea had pulled his head up and was now looking straight at me.

Fudge, fudge, fudge, fudge!

...but actually… wait… his eyelids were sagging heavily. Half closed and groggy. His expression slack. And now that I thought about, when he'd spoken, it had come out sounding a little… sluggish? One might even say… drowsy?

...was he still half asleep?

I haltingly raised a hand to wave in front of his face. No reaction. As my shallow breaths began to slow and my heart rate calmed, I next looked down at my other hand to see what the snag had been there. This was the one that had been on his knee with his hand on top of it. Was still on top of it and, in fact, had tightened his grip around my fingers. This was what had snared me and brought my getaway to a screeching halt.

Yeesh, what a clingy sleeper he must be.

I brought my gaze back up to his face. He was still giving me that droopy, zombie-eyed stare. I tucked in my lower lip, studying him for a moment. Then I took a tiny step closer and bent over him slightly. My free hand came up, reaching for him. I froze midway, fingers curling towards my palm, hesitating. But only for a heartbeat before I was pushing forward again.

"Shh… go back to sleep," I whispered, gently stroking his hair just above his ear.

His really, really soft, silky smooth hair.

Which I'd not been expecting. Not at all.

Crud, I shouldn't be blushing this much.

However, it seemed to have the desired effect. His eyelids drifted all the way closed now as his head sank back down into the couch cushion. His hold on my hand relaxed enough for me to slip it free. I straightened back up, rubbing my rescued hand with the other as I watched him sleep for a few more seconds, my head tipping to one side. Then I retrieved the throw pillow from the floor and put it back on the sofa next to him before picking up the comforter to drape over him. It was only now I realized that it was too small for him for if I brought it up to cover his shoulders, it left his feet exposed.

The friggin' behemoth. Why hadn't he said anything? I'd have to see about finding a bigger one for him tomorrow.

I briefly considered turning off the TV but decided against it on the off chance the sudden lack of noise would wake him. Turning, I tiptoed back towards my bedroom, stopping in the doorway for one last backwards glance at him. Still out like a light. A grin pulled at one side of my mouth as I murmured, "Sweet dreams, sleeping beauty."

The only answer I got was a snore.

Author's Note: Our awkward penguin did it! She intentionally "made a move" for the first time, I'm so proud T_T Looks like our fire boi tried to make a bit of a move himself under the clocktower staircase there… with far less successful results xD One step forward, two steps back, huh? *Siiiiigh* ah well, these two will get there eventually :P And this is yet another chapter I lament not writing anything from Lea's POV… so many scenes in my head going on for him off camera that will never see the light of day xD Fun fact: The ice cream this chapter, Three Wishes, is named after (you guessed it) Agrabah's keyblade and I imagine its description on the menu would look something like: "This blueberry flavored soft serve will have you wishing for more! Comes in a blue cone wrapped in a ring of matching blue cotton candy, with lamp-shaped sugar cubes and a sprinkling of extra sugar to top it all off."

Next chapter, with that "make a move" hurdle finally overcome, what's next in our couple's fake dating adventures? Looks like there's a certain dinner with a certain Moon Boy on the horizon, how will this lil "test run" go? Will it be a resounding success or could it spell utter defeat for our pair? Not to mention the weekend with the folks is fast approaching, will our couple be ready in time? And just how DOES Lea fit his behemoth self into those itty-bitty pirate ship train carts? Some things will forever remain a mystery, but for the rest, stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

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Hi bee, i hope you're doing wellI just wanna ask for some tips bc I can't seem to do the "show don't tell" thing when writing. I have no idea why, it's weirdly difficult. Any websites or good examples about it? I'm kinda disappointed in myself. Thank u for being so kind! Much love to you

Ah yes, the classic advice that everyone says but is very hard to actually define. As a beginning writer, I always found this especially confusing because all writing is “telling” in the sense that you are telling a story. You only have words. It’s also a very hard thing to find clear examples of because “telling” might only be a sentence or two but good “showing” might take a whole scene, a whole chapter or a whole novel to do right. It’s something that takes practice and, unlike rules of grammar, can’t be fixed overnight. 

I don’t always get it right (and “right” gets pretty subjective with this topic), but as an exercise, let’s compare the first scene I ever wrote to the opening scene of Void. 

Excerpt One: Opening Scene of If You’re Struggling

(Disclaimer: I am so embarrassed by this cringey-ness. There is a reason I deleted it from Tumblr. Please don’t judge me too harshly. Writing is a learning process)

To illustrate the point (and because Tumblr’s formatting options suck) I’ve put a strikethrough on all the parts I would consider “telling” instead of “showing”.

“Have a great first day, honey!” Your boyfriend gives you a quick kiss as you grab your coffee and head out the door for your first day at your new job. You’ve been eagerly awaiting this day for several weeks now, since your successful interview with BigHit Entertainment. Up until now, you’ve been working as a makeup artist on a spec basis here in Seoul, but this is going to be your first full-time job as a makeup artist and stylist.

At the BigHit offices, you are welcomed in by the head stylist whom you met at your interview and she shows you around the offices.

“Ok, we need to get to the dressing room” she says, clapping her hands. “The boys are recording their dance practice today, and we need to do their makeup beforehand.”

Your heart beats a little faster when you realize you’re about to meet BTS. A month ago you had never heard of them, but since getting this job two weeks ago, you’ve been a bit obsessed - listening to their music non-stop as you do housework, watching all of their music videos over and over, seeking out all of their Bangtan bombs and television appearances. When your boyfriend caught you watching the “Boy in Luv” video for about the 30th time on your laptop, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed your cheek.

“Do I need to be worried about you spending so much time with these boys?” He teased.

You turned your head and kissed him reassuringly on the lips. “No!” you giggled in mock offense “look at them, they’re just kids!”

You enter the dressing room and are pointed to a makeup chair in front of a mirror. You set about cleaning up your station and setting up your kit before the boys arrive. You hear the boys coming before you see them -  shouting and laughing down the hallway before they get to the door. You are still setting up your station when the door clangs open and they burst into the room.

You turn around to find a tall, older blond boy already sitting in your chair. He gives you a smile and shakes your hand. “Hi. I’m Namjoon. You must be the new stylist.” He introduces himself as the leader and offers to help you get to know the other members. “Watch out for the younger ones, they like to play jokes on each other and everyone else.”

After Namjoon, you meet Jin. He is polite and spends most of his time in the chair filling you in on his recommendations for the other members “Be sure you get underneath Yoongi’s eyes, he was up late last night”, “Don’t go too dark on Jungkook’s lip color”, and so on. When you’re finished, he smiles gratefully at you and stands up to go.

Hoseok comes running over and throws his arm around Jin’s shoulders. “Jin’s make-up is easy since he’s so handsome already, right noona?”  he teases Jin.

“Yes, precisely.” Jin replies, not embarrassed at all, but gives you a smile before heading off to hair.

Hoseok is the easiest to talk to out of all of the boys. He peppers you with questions as you do his makeup, all about where you’re from and where you’ve worked before. Before you know it, you’ve told him all about your life, including how you moved from South Korea to the US when you were six for your dad’s work and moved back when you were sixteen. “Oh wow!” He says excitedly. “We can all practice our English with you!”

While you are talking, a loud commotion comes from the back of the room as Jimin and Taehyung are playing Rock, Paper, Scissors and shouting about something.

“What’s going on?” You ask Hoseok and he smiles, a little embarrassed.

“They’re having a disagreement about who gets to sit in your chair next…” He replies. You just blush and look away.

While the younger boys are distracted with their battle, Yoongi plops down into your chair. He introduces himself with a nod and puts in headphones.  About halfway through applying his makeup, you realize that he has fallen asleep. You look over at Namjoon, “What do I do now? Should I wake him up?” You ask.

Namjoon just chuckles, “You can keep going, he’ll just sleep through it.” When you’re finished, you gently wake him back up and point him in the direction of the hairstylist. He grumbles appreciatively and stumbles off.

Jimin has apparently won the game and comes rushing over to fill the vacant chair. “Hi. I’m Jimin.” He flashes you a devilish grin, then adds “You know… you are a lot younger and cuter than our last stylist…”

You’re a bit flustered, but Namjoon saves you. “Jimin, you can’t talk to our stylist like that!” He smacks Jimin gently upside the head and suddenly Jimin is just an adorable kid again.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry” he says and you get to work on his makeup.

Taehyung watches you doing Jimin’s makeup, making goofy faces in the mirror when your back is turned, trying to get Jimin to laugh and mess up all your hard work. He slides in when Jimin is done. He spends most of his time in the chair shouting across the room to Jimin, who is now having his hair done. You keep having to gently remind him to sit still.

The maknae is last. “Hi, I’m Jungkook.” He quietly introduces himself. He is really shy and barely says anything else to you as you do his makeup, but you can tell he is trying really hard to stay perfectly still, despite several attempts from the older members to distract him.

Once all of the boys are ready, their manager comes and rounds them up and you hear them running back down the hall to the dance studio laughing and joking. You breathe a sigh of relief and can’t fight back the smile that spreads across your face.

The first few weeks of working at BigHit are fantastic. The boys continue to warm up to you as you get to know them better. Namjoon loves talking with you in English, especially really quickly so his bandmates can’t follow what he’s saying. Of course, you can’t always follow what he’s saying either, but he is so thoughtful and full of ideas. Yoongi still often falls asleep, but he also now comes in with music recommendations for you and hands you the other ear of his headphones while you do his makeup. Hoseok continues to be your favorite, telling you all about his childhood, the audition and debut process, and filling you in on the latest gossip. Jimin and V continue to cause trouble, but are so adorable when they do that you can never stay mad at them. And Jungkook continues to be quiet and sit perfectly still in the makeup chair. He is so chatty with his bandmates that you are a little sad he isn’t more comfortable with you, but it does make his makeup easier to do than Taehyung’s.

Thoughts:

So there a lot of things here like it being her first day of work, her being nervous, and the mannerisms of the boys that would have been much better if I had showed them through dialogue, description, and physical mannerisms rather than telling them outright. It would have done a lot better job of placing the reader in the scene and would read as a bit less cringey. The last paragraph in this scene is particular egregious because instead of allowing the reader to see those relationships build over time and really invest us in those characters, I just summarize in one paragraph. 

As a result, we get to the end of this scene and we know a lot of facts, but we don’t really have any good sense of who this character is or why we should care about her or empathize with her. 

Excerpt Two: Opening Scene of Void

(Disclaimer: This is also not perfect, but it is much improved from the previous)

“Can you see them?”

You blink your eyes as you stare into the microscope, squinting against the bright light. You’ve been staring into this scope for two hours, searching for tiny signs of life.

“Maybe?” you reply. Your colleague leans in closer, close enough to smell his shampoo. Your eyes begin to water as you scour the field of view, checking each fleck of dirt for your prize. But again, you came up empty. “No, I don’t think so.”

You lean back in your chair, closing your eyes and rubbing them to relieve the strain. You didn't get much sleep last night. But you can’t bring yourself to complain to Hoseok.

He groans, standing up and twisting side to side. Your back aches in sympathy from bending over these finicky slides all morning. “We’re going to run out of samples.” The corners of his mouth pull down into a frown.

“We’ll run out of kerosene first,” you mutter. You look back through the lens one last time, hoping you missed something.  

“They should have sent us with more.” Your fellow science officer stands up and walks over to chemical storage.

“Yeah, because large amounts of volatile organic liquids are a great thing to have on spacecraft." No one else on this ship would appreciate your joke. It’s not a good joke. But Hoseok humors you and gives you a small chuckle.

“Should we try an acid?” he suggests, as he examines the inside of the storage cabinet.

“Acetic?” He nods and scratches his chest as he fishes out the necessary bottle. He walks the acid back to your lab station and sets it down on the counter next to you.

He sighs and puts his hands on his hips, resuming his twisting back and forth. He clasps his hands together and does a long slow stretch upwards. Your eye catches on the sliver of exposed skin popping into view as his shirt rides up.

His smooth skin stretches across well-defined muscles, distracting your serious scientific mind. You lick your lips as you imagine how warm he would feel under your palm. You stare at the gap between his navel and the top of his pants. Not for the first time, you find yourself wondering what his skin tastes like.

“We should dilute it.” His shirt falls back down, breaking the spell. You look away, shaking your head, embarassed by your own lacivious thoughts. You’re a professional. A highly educated astronaut and scientist. You have a PhD, for god’s sake. Focus on the mission at hand.

“Yeah, we should.” You nod in confimation before standing up to get some glassware. “What concentration?”

As you turn around to reach the water tap, Hoseok moves to reach the tablet behind you. Your small lab is so narrow that you end up colliding with him. You bounce backwards off his body, cradling your beaker of water, headed straight back toward all of your ship’s glassware. You panic. Visions of shattering thousands of dollars of lab supplies fly through your head. But Hoseok catches you before you stumble into the cabinetry. You breathe a sigh of relief when you realize he’s got you in his arms.

“Fuck.” You smile. “Sorry, Hoseok.”

“It’s okay.” He laughs, shaking his head. “My fault.” His hands linger on you as you both chuckle. You feel the heat of his touch seeping through your jumpsuit.

Despite living in such tight quarters, it’s rare that you’re ever this close to him. You try to avoid physical contact with the crew out of self-preservation.

He smells good. Hoseok always smells good. While your ship smells mechanical and sterile, the man holding you smells warm and human. It’s comforting, but in a way that makes you ache with how you long to bury yourself in him.

Your colleague lets go of you and steps backwards, coughing into his shirt sleeve. He picks up the tablet and scrolls through your research materials. The warmth of his hands begins to fade from your shoulders. He finds the correct dilution factor and reads it out to you.

You measure out the appropriate amounts of acid mixing it with water. Hoseok retrieves another fragment of the meteoroid that you’re scouring for microorganisms. When he returns, you cover the sample with the acid, stopper the flask and set it to oscillate for a hour.

“Nothing to do now but wait.” You sit down on your stool and drum on your thighs. The idea of being alone with Hoseok for another hour fills you with nervous energy. It's a relief when he excuses himself to the bathroom.

It didn’t used to be this hard. When you started this mission two years ago, you had no problem being alone with any of your crew members. You were professionals doing a job together, and there wasn’t time or energy for idle sexual tension. But as the mission drags on, you have begun to feel more and more on edge. And it’s not only Hoseok. You are finding it harder and harder to be alone with any of the crew. When you spend all night fantasizing about someone, normal conversation becomes difficult.  

You stare at the flask rocking back and forth on the counter and let your mind wander. You replay your previous clumsy moment.  You imagine Hoseok catching you in his arms again, but this time you grab him and kiss him. You smell him and taste him and surround yourself in him. You close your eyes and follow the fantasy further. You imagine dropping to your knees and sucking him off up against the glassware cabinet. You imagine the way the lab equipment would clink as he bent you over the lab counter.

Hoseok returns, brandishing his tablet. “I got the new article from Geology on microfossils, if you want to take a look.” You sigh and nod.

Thoughts: So there is definitely some telling happening in this scene too. Telling is not always the worst thing in the world, although I wrote this scene nearly two years ago, so if I could go back and edit some of this out now I would. But what I want to point out here is how much information I convey without ever having to explicitly spell it out: we’re on a spaceship, the OC is a scientist with a crush on her colleague, she is touch-starved, they are searching for fossils, etc. And I think it does a much better job than the previous example at drawing the reader into the scene. 

___

In general, here some good pointers for moving more in the showing direction:

1. Focus as much as you can on the present moment. What is your character thinking right now? What are they feeling? What information are they getting from their senses?

2. Use dialogue. Dialogue is a great way to show relationships between characters and fill in backstory without long paragraphs of just “telling” your readers stuff. Just be careful that it sounds like real dialogue and not exposition masquerading as dialogue. No one tells anyone their whole life story the first time they meet them or repeats information that the other person would obviously know. 

3. Trust your readers to fill in the gaps. Readers are very good at picking up context clues. You don’t need to spell everything out for them. If you put them in the scene and describe the world around them well, they will figure out lots of things just from context.

Hope that helps! The only real solution is to play around with it and practice and see what you like. Good luck!

[megaderping]

Dealing with some anxiety over the past few weeks about some stuff I dealt with growing up that didn’t fully sink in until just now. It is very personal. It is also very heavy. If you decide to read, please keep in mind that this deals with some pretty heavy baggage, including... Trigger Warnings: CSA, Incest, Abuse, Bullying, Ableism, Trauma, Aphobia, Homophobia Because this is a personal rant, I’d rather avoid reblogs. Thank you for understanding.

So. When I was younger, I spent a lot of time with one of my cousins. She was a good 6 - 8 years older than me. At the time, I looked up to her. I thought she was cool and smart. I trusted her. Because I was so young, I didn’t think it weird that she described french kissing to me in great detail. I never told an adult. I was too young to know that this was not okay. This wasn’t even the last time, though. When I was in first grade, she was so eager to show and describe matters related to being a teenage girl and the changes therein. I won’t go into great detail- but the way she demonstrated this... It was definitely hands on. What bothers me is that at the time, it didn’t hit me that THIS wasn’t okay either. I didn’t tell an adult because I didn’t know I was supposed to. That this was sexual abuse. She did some things with me that- it only happened once, but it REALLY, fundamentally bothers me that my longterm reaction to this was... desensitization. Maybe that’s a form of trauma in itself? I dunno. But I was able to move on eventually when she wasn’t in my life anymore. Sometimes I tell myself I shouldn’t hold it against her because she was a teenager at the time with her own issues, but... I dunno. I didn’t talk about this with anyone. I didn’t really think about it, save for once in a blue moon when I was in high school and I was like, “...maybe that was messed up.” But if you asked me at the time, I would’ve said I was okay. But I’m honestly not sure if I was. I was bullied throughout my entire public schooling. People would punch me. They’d call me names. They’d make fun of me for liking cartoons and video games and come up to me with the most ableistic voices demanding I “draw them pokaymanz”. I was the one who had to go to the school councilor for being a problem. They didn’t get in trouble. In high school, I would go out into the pod to try and study and work on assignments because the very same people who had bullied me in grade school would not SHUT UP when we were supposed to be doing assigned reading. They were not punished. Nobody stepped in when I raised concerns- the best I got was permission to distance myself. I remember sitting on the bus one day in high school, minding my own business when these girls in the seat in front of me started making fun of my name. They started making fun of my appearance. The bus driver never stepped in. I got off the bus in tears. And this was hardly the first time. This was a problem from grade school ‘til graduation. 12 - 13 years of this. Sometimes when I’m at work, trying to do my JOB, my mind will go back to something a classmate said, something a classmate DID, and I’ll lose my focus. It’ll bring me to tears even though I SHOULD be over it by now. And this has always happened to me. People talking behind my back. Spreading rumors. Going to OTHERS to deal with their problems with me instead of talking to me because apparently human decency is too much to ask. People would spread rumors that I “pooped on the playground”. They’d say I liked to sneak into the boys’ bathroom. When I was in first grade, someone shoved a leaf up my nose. I still remember that, too. I remember being told by people I considered friends that we couldn’t be friends anymore because they had new friends who didn’t like me. I remember people being cruel. A lack of understanding. It turned me into a wallflower over time because I was scared to make connections and for a time I dealt with it by being cold and abrasive because I didn’t want to hurt anymore. I remember being asked on a school trip, “Were you ever diagnosed with anything?” OUT OF NOWHERE. To this day, I wonder about that... And I don’t know if I should seek diagnosis. I probably should? I definitely need a therapist, that way I can talk this stuff out with a professional instead of rambling on a blog post just to try and calm down from a random anxiety attack. I remember classmates and chaperones resenting the fact that I got left behind on that trip because I didn’t want to jaywalk. So I had to get help from some local cops who set me up with a cab back to the hotel because I was lost and nobody thought to look if I was left behind. People would talk down to me all the time, too. Treat me like a child. And why? Because I liked cartoons? Because I’m asexual and aromantic? GOD. I remember classmates in middle school were SO OFFENDED by my asexuality, too. I recall this one girl being like, “you better get a boyfriend or people might think you’re a ~lesbian~”. ...okay, first of all. What if I was? I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m not- I don’t really feel that kinda attraction to anyone. But. There is NOTHING wrong with being gay, lesbian, bi, pan, trans, NB, etc, etc. THESE PEOPLE EXIST. People who are not straight and/or cis exist. And also, thirteen year olds acting like they NEED to rush into relationships... That’s. Extremely concerning to me. It always was. But I guess I was just... desensitized over time because of how sexualized the climate was during those days. And it wasn’t just at school.

I have a long history of RPing. When I was in middle school, I was basically pressured into RPing a nsfw situation by some castmates. I should have said no, but I was scared to. And I think, ultimately, that also led to me being desensitized. Because that stuff was everywhere. These were RPs with young teenagers AND adults as players and nobody put their foot down and said, “hey, maybe DON’T RP nsfw in a space with minors”. Nobody said LOCK those posts. Tag them nsfw. It was just there. Out in the open. I was fourteen. And I’m not here to say that all NSFW content is inherently bad or that every adult should constantly be monitoring every space. Internet strangers are not babysitters. I get that. But I do think it’s a problem when communities full of young teens AND adults are too lax on the former’s access to 18+ content. Because there’s a difference between someone ignoring age restrictions and warnings and accidentally coming across content or being pressured to participate in such content. Now. Over time, people wised up. Many of these communities DID eventually lock that stuff to 18+. But a lot of open meme and sandbox communities did not. There were posts that’d devolve into smut on a regular basis that weren’t tagged or properly warned. But because I’d been exposed to this kinda stuff for so many years- it didn’t hit me that there was a lack of moderation. I was taught that it just comes with the territory because “this is the internet.” So for a long time, I just... accepted that. “It’s the internet.” Even within the past few years, I held onto that mindset because... it was just. What I was used to. I didn’t like it, but I assumed that was just... how things go and to express otherwise was pointless. I still don’t condone online harassment and I do think people will take properly tagged fandom content way too far (even if I disagree WITH said content)- but this isn’t ABOUT that. Because properly tagged content establishes the boundaries that were so wholly lacking in these spaces. And the fact is, I don’t LIKE that I am/was desensitized. Because the truth is, I didn’t LIKE any of it. I didn’t like the scenario I was coerced into as a young teen through RP. I didn’t like how easy it was to just... stumble upon NSFW content on accident. It’s just... I dunno. I just don’t know, and I hate that I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t let it get to me. It’s just online stuff that happened ten to twelve years ago, right? It’s nowhere near as serious as the actual sexual abuse and the actual bullying... but I think it still affected me. And just like with my cousin before, I didn’t really... talk to anyone about it? It was a very different fandom climate. The early to late 2000′s were very different. And I think just... it bothers me. That it took this long for me to realize that maybe this stuff affected me after all. Like. I’m a CSA survivor and it only JUST now clicked that I am? What’s up with that? Like. I don’t know. I need a therapist. I think I’ve needed one for years given how often I fall victim to invasive thoughts, how often I get too scared to speak my mind, how eager I am to please EVERYONE and thus it is SO hard for me to confront people when I am upset or draw the line. I’m constantly worrying about hurting or upsetting people so sometimes I guess I’m cowardly. Because I guess it’s a coping mechanism I’ve developed? Just... avoiding. Turning a blind eye. That’s probably not okay either. But I think the root of it all really is just from my childhood. How going to adults when I was bullied or abused never seemed to DO anything. So maybe I just developed a worst case scenario mindset. I just don’t know, so that’s why I need some help. So I can just... work this all out. I guess a part of me is just a little scared. And that’s stupid. Why should I be scared of something that can only HELP me? Ranting on tumblr can only do so much. But for now, just getting it off my chest is the best I can do. It’s a start, anyway.

[grr-lee]

SKZ Bang Chan (T-word fic)

Warning: This includes non-sexualized ti*kling kink/fetish. If you are uncomfortable with that, please do not read and do not send any hate to the community. I do not condone kink shaming on my page. Thank you and enjoy all you little lee’s ;)

 It wasn’t until a couple weeks ago that Chan had caught onto your increasingly odd behavior. You guys were atleast two years into your relationship by now, and you had always been lovey-dovey don’t get him wrong. But it had become a different kind of skinship lately. While used to, you would sit on, or lay your head upon his lap and talk, you recently had been preferring to lay with your torso spread out across his knees, mindlessly talking or playing on your phone. And you hadn’t been bothering with tugging your shirt down like you usually do when it rides up, opting to just let the cool air, and sometimes Chris’ fingers brush against the sliver of exposed skin there. 

 And you would also, more often than usual, rest your feet upon Chris’ lap, completely bare, only shifting them a bit when he would run his finger across your sole teasingly, but never actually removing them. He paid more and more attention, asking himself how he never noticed the way your cheeks would redden and your body would tense up when a scene of a movie you two watched showcased a tickling scene. Or the way your body would visibly tense up when the word ‘tickle’ was even mentioned. Or the way you would immediately avoid the subject when it was brought up. 

 He took it upon himself to do some research after stumbling upon a small bit of your tumblr blog when you asked him to search for something on your phone. With a bit of secret scrolling through your feed and your own blog, he caught a few glimpses of your posts, tucking them away in his mind to bring back up later, when he was alone. And when he finally did do his research, both further exploring your tumblr page, as well as doing some google searches, everything slowly came into place for Chris. All of your behavior made sense to him now. And he couldn't wait to see your reaction when he tells you he knows all about your adorable little secret.

You were sitting on the couch Thursday afternoon, scrolling aimlessly through your phone when Chris walked in. Upon seeing him with his messy hair and bare face, body clad in a tank top and plaid pajama pants, you smiled at him, shutting off your phone and holding your arms out for a cuddle. He happily obliged, crawling into your arms and pulling you close to him, face nuzzled in your hair.

"What were you up to, little one?" He asked, deciding to try out one of the many nicknames he studied when going through other people's tickle blogs. He felt the smallest tense beneath him, but nothing too noticeable. He tried not to overthink it.

"Nothing much, just scrolling through the same old social media." You said, rolling your eyes like there was nothing interesting. He hummed, thinking of his next move. He wanted to approach this subtly.

"Well don't let me stop you. Carry on." He said, resting his head on your shoulder and watching you pick up your phone again, noting the slight nerves in your movements. A breathy chuckle flaring his nostrils when you hurriedly exited out of the tumblr app in hopes that he wouldn't notice the video that you were watching. The video was of a girl tied up, her face hidden from the camera as manly hands were squeezing her hips and sides, throwing the lee into visible hysterics. You were so into it that you had forgotten you were out in the open until you heard Chris' shuffling footsteps coming down the hall.

Your cheeks immediately flared up, color pouring into them like paint. You thought maybe he didn't see, maybe you were fast enough. Your mind buzzed and your senses were amplified greatly in order to detect any kind of sign confirming that Chris had noticed. But all hopes slowly emptied down the drain when you felt his grip tighten on your waist and his voice change an octave.

"Hmmm.." It was more of a deep rumble than a hum, his chest vibrating against your back. Panic arose in your chest.

"Chris I can explain." You said hurriedly, but he shushed you before you could say anything else. A pout formed on your lips, the new silence around you both becoming a little overwhelming. He refused to say anything for a few minutes, seemingly contemplating something deep within his head, eyes closed. You couldn't even read his facial expression, which made nothing better whatsoever. You were about to start profusely apologizing to him for being this way, but as you parted your lips, he finally spoke.

"I already knew." He mumbled, voice sounding content, and a little proud. It confused you. How did he know? And why hadn't he confronted you about it already? Shit. Did it make him uncomfortable? Was he gonna break up with you? Questions scattered endlessly throughout your mind, your heart mimicking a hammer against your ribcage. You struggled to find leverage in the situation.

"I think it's adorable." He chuckled lowly, cold fingers caressing your hips and sneaking under your shirt.

"It fits you, considering you were already sooo cute before." He whispers, smiling as he feels your body tense but not you pulling away. You knew what was coming, and you weren't fighting it at all. You wanted it.

"You want me to...tickle you?" He put emphasis on the word 'tickle', a puff of breath already making your ear tingle. An embarrassed whine ripped through your throat, giggles bubbling up as you hid your face in your boyfriends shoulder.

"Aww~ My baby is shy~" He grins, gently maneuvering your body until he was cradling you. You had no choice but to comply, head resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder as you refuse to make eye contact with him. He looks down at you lovingly, booping your nose with his finger as he brushes the hair away from your face.

"Now where shall I start, hmm~? Where is my baby the most ticklish?" He asks, guiding his hovering hand over the expanse of your scrunched body. You were slowly becoming a giggling mess just from his talking and the anticipation of the impact. Still, you decided to tease him.

"I'm not telling you that." You giggled, reaching out to grab his lurking hand before it could do anything. He quickly responded by taking hold of your own and giving you a look.

"Now now, baby. Don't go trying to fight this now, we both know you want it." He flashed his dimple in a knowing smile, bringing your hands back down before lifting both of his legs off the couch under you. He brought your hands to the space his legs were before and settled his thighs back down on top of them. You tried to pull your arms but found it was no use. He had them locked tight.

Which meant your entire upper body was now at his mercy. And by the look on his face, it didn't look like he was going to be too kind.

"Well if you won't tell me..." He mused, slowly lifting the hem of your shirt up, up, up, until it sat at the top of your ribs, the warm air of the room ghosting over your newly exposed skin

"I'll just have to find out~" And with that, he used the back of his fingernails to trace four quick lines up the surface of your belly. You squeaked involuntarily, your stomach sucking in as much as it could, quivering as a few giggles slipped through your lips.

"Oh? What was that? Was that a giggle? Did my little Y/N giggle?" He coo'd, voice endearing, wiggling his fingers in quick movements over your skin for a second and taking them off just as fast, relishing in your little squeals. After a long second, he used his hands to full on tickle you now, squeezing your hips and and belly, alternating every few seconds between the two. You couldn't help but laugh aloud, throwing your head back as your legs kicked uselessly.

"Awww, does that tickle~? Hm~? Is that tickling you~?" He chuckles, truly enjoying the scene in front of him as he spiders his fingers along your waistline. You couldn't even calm down enough to answer him, or to shoot back a bratty remark, endless giggles flowing from your lips and your eyes squeezed shut. His teases provoked your cheeks to turn a deeper shade of red, your head shaking back and fourth frantically as if that would release you from the hellish sensations consuming your torso.

But thats the thing. The feelings that your boyfriends fingers were inflicting onto your skin were absolutely unbearable...but you somehow still desired more. It was driving you mad, but some small part of your brain was telling you that you enjoyed this. That you didn't want it to stop. You've wanted this for so long and you were finally getting it. You didn't even think about asking him to stop. Instead, you tried your hardest to sit still in his grasp, even trying to subtly arch into the touch without him noticing. But of course..you failed.

"Oooh~?" He purred, slowing down to just a soft gliding of his fingertips across your skin, lowkey disappointing you..but you weren't going to let Chris know that.

"Are you enjoying this? I think you are, seeing how much you're leaanning into it~" He chimes, circling his finger tauntingly around your bellybutton, laughing at the yelp that sounds from you when he dips it in unexpectedly. You leaned your head back, panting softly in between giggle fits.

"You haven't asked me to stop yet. You must really like this, don't you, my little lee~"

At the nickname, your heart skipped a beat and you giggled once again abashedly. Slowly, you nodded, a cute pout on your lips.

"Aww~ So cute~" He mumbled, lifting his arm and wiggling his fingers up the side of your neck. You scrunched your chin to your chest quickly, smiling and weakly pulling at your arms. Not that you were trying to escape, however. Chris stared down at you in thought for a second, stirring your mind as you tried to figure out what he was thinking. He suddenly glanced up at the hallway across from you both, that lead down the the other half of the house. Bathroom, bedroom, spare room/studio and storage closet all lined down that hallway.

"What's wrong, baby?" You asked your boyfriend, looking up at him concerned. He quickly snapped his attention back towards you, a cute smile making it's way back onto his face. His fingers went back to gently gliding across your skin, making you squirm as he talked.

"How about we take this to the bedroom? The bed is alot bigger than the couch, so I'll be able to have more access to your body there." He pinches your side just to get a reaction from you, to which he earned, of course.

"Plus..we have those pretty ties we bought on the internet~" He refers to the red, satin ties that came in the mail a few months ago. He had been on tour at the time, and you were confused until you facetimed him that night and asked him about it. You had wanted to wipe that cheeky smile off his face so bad.

"I.." You trailed off, already knowing your answer but pretending to ponder it anyway. Excitement was bubbling in your gut, right under Chris' fiddling fingertips.

"Sure." You finally answered, avoiding eye contact. You let out a sound of surprise when you were suddenly picked up and thrown over your boyfriends shoulder. You laughed, mentally preparing yourself for what you had in store. God only knows how long it'll last.

[jlf23tumble]

Ud be top teir fic hustler bet lolol. As far as the rec maybe I'm asking for more than 1 thing? So on the one hand for hl canon or au doesn't matter just some fics where they're exploring kink; being inexperienced and working through that? Then fics that give that vibe/air, like wankerville (Hush is in my top ten so good) but yes def fics like that too. To be fair any pairing is fine I can always nope out but as this point I trust ur opinion so if you like it, I prolly will too xo

Holy smokes, this is a lot to pack into one ask, but I can definitely answer it/provide some stuff! I feel like a lot of these are going to cross over, so look for some detailed notes below!

Okay, let’s start with authors who have a specific tone to their writing that’s absolutely dreamy and swoony, who elevate text to literal works of art, and funnily enough, who are ALSO some of my faves because they tend to do the best with kink exploration and negotiation, my GOD, I could wax on about this topic all the livelong day. Ahem. Anyway, here are ten authors to absorb because they’re a hashtag mood (in no particular order):

wankerville

objectlesson

blake

eleadore 

mediaville

HappyPrincess

glasscushion

14hrflight

TheCellarDoor

vondrostes and tomlinzn (this last one is a cheat of a double up because most of their individual works are not on ao3; Terran = patreon, Hima = tumblr)

Now let’s look at some kink exploration fics. NOTE: I would literally rec everything Phoenix/objectlesson has ever written because she’s so brilliant at this particular theme, ditto everyone else on that list, too, so just assume the list below includes everything from the people up above as well. I literally think I could rec thousands, or that I have??? But I’ll pull it in, lmao:

Lay So Still, by yougotmetieddown, 3k words, E. Harry’s almost there but he needs Louis to push it further, just a bit further. Because it’s good, it’s damn near perfect but there’s still something missing, and Harry’s not above begging, never has been when it comes to Louis. (Harry likes being used; this is the first time)

like poison coursing through me, by orphan_account, 4k words, E. Louis loves it when Harry’s desperate. Or, the one with copious dirty talk, Daddy Louis, and Harry wetting himself in the shower. (yeahhhhh for multiple kinks!! but mostly desperation, and it’s lovely how Louis gets Harry on board with this one)

it’s warmer from worlds away, by sarcasticfluentry, 4k words, E (needs ao3). It turns out that searching the word ‘pump’ mostly returns videos like “tight ass pumped hard by black cock,” which is not what Harry’s looking for, at least not today….or, Harry discovers a new kink while Louis isn’t home. (one of my fave authors, and the way Louis’s involved over the phone is a chef’s kiss moment)

Your Serve, by larrymylove, 4k, M.  The one where the boys take up playing ping-pong back stage, and the image of Louis with a paddle is making Harry’s life difficult; even more so when he comes home to find Louis’ bought a ping-pong table of their own. (here for Louis being oblivious for a good long while)

Only Thing That Can Quench My Thirst, by eyesofshinigami, 6.5k words, E.  Louis wouldn’t exactly call it a thing, his newfound fascination with the curly trail that starts below Harry’s bellybutton and disapears into his skinny jeans. It’s definitely not a thing. It’s just… Alright, maybe it’s a thing. And that’s okay. (internal screaming, this is the fic that launched the pubefest…and I actually got to chat with the author the other day about it, dreams can come true!!!!)

I May Be Crazy, Don’t Mind Me, by ShapeOfLou, 8.3k words, E.  The one where Harry keeps seeing things that make him want to try something new in bed, but he worries about how to tell Louis or how Louis will feel about it. (mpreg kink? yes PLEASE)

horizontal like a quarter to three, by orphan_account, 8.7k words, E.  The worst part is that Louis just wants to get really rough with him. He’s wanted it right from the start, and it doesn’t make sense, because Harry’s always been so gentle and understanding and sweet, and yet all Louis wants to do is fuck him up. (stumbling together into some bdsm dynamics)

into another (another) serotonin overflow, by mercutionotromeo, 11k words, E. Harry wants this year to be different - wants it to be the year that he finally gets over this stupid crush. He’s going to uni, he needs to decide what he wants to do with his life. Instead, he’s deciding what he wants to do to Louis Tomlinson (this is so hot and sweet all at once, lots of kinks explored)

sweet harmony series, by colourexplosion, 12k words, E (needs ao3 account).  louis leaves his laptop open on his bunk. harry finds it. and his porn. (more desperation and exploration of pee kink, yer welcome!)

Make a Dime Go One Hundred, by screwstyles, 17.8k words, E. “Hey, Haz,” he says, encouraged in equal parts by the weed and the cocoon they seem to have created around themselves. “Do you think you could trust anyone enough to have full control over you?” he asks into the night, hoping his sentence won’t break their bubble. It doesn’t, if the way Harry’s eyes meet his is any indication. (Harry volunteers to help Louis experiment with bondage. Things don’t go exactly to plan)

Make Tea, Not War, by adventuring and howdoyouwhisk, 20k words, M. “Hopeless, hopeless flatmate. Would you rather be with one of these guys?”“ Nope!” (Louis attempts to become a better flatmate, much to Harry’s dismay)

precious little thing, by mercutionotromeo, 21k words, E. There’s a slow, steady inhale, and a low voice purrs, “Hi, sexy.” Jesus - this guy has barely said two words, and both of them have made Harry’s cock twitch in his jeans. (god, I am such a sucker for the phone sex operator trope, you don’t even know, and this is one of the best…multiple kinks explored, too)

Come Out and Play, by dinosaursmate, 29k words, E.  Harry smiled softly. “Say it, Lou.” “I have this fantasy,” he repeated. “Of… all five of us.” “All five of us,” Harry exclaimed. “Gosh.” Or Harry and Louis discover a new kink in their relationship, and it brings all the boys closer than they could have ever imagined. (I hope people read the poly fest…some great works in there!!)

we’re still going, eight in the morning, by noelgallagher and yoursongonmyheart, 31k words, E.  It takes Harry about two weeks to notice. It takes that long because he’s busy in the mornings. While he’s aware of his surroundings, most of his focus is on the flat boxes carefully piled in the boot of his Range Rover. (where Harry’s a baker and Louis’s a DJ, and kinks are explored remotely)

Small Doses series, by QuickedWeen, 45k words, E.  Louis and Harry continue to clash all while Harry is trying to move his way up the ranks in Manchester’s amateur boxing circuit, but they can’t seem to stay away from each other. (lots of kinks explored here)

[welllpthisishappening]

Where You Can Still Remember Dreaming (4/35)

Killian Jones, former crime reporter, was not happy to be home. It hadn’t been home in a very long time, after all. Home was an abstract construct that existed for people who didn’t know as many adjectives for blood as he did. Home wasn’t New York City, but it certainly wasn’t Boston or New Orleans either and he’d always gone where the story was. And he was positive Emma Swan was one hell of a story.

Emma Swan, pro video game player, desperately wanted to find home. She thought she had, a million years ago in the back corner of a barn and a town and faces she trusted. But that had all blown up in her face and it didn’t take long for her to decide she was going to control the pyrotechnics from here on out. So now she was in New York City and a different corner and she kind of wanted to trust Killian Jones.

Neither one of them expected a year of of video games and feature stories to dredge up old enemies and even older feelings, but, together, they made a pretty good team.

Rating: Mature. Word Count: 9.4 K of Emma Swan background and flirty text messages. AN: Hey, uh, let’s play some video games, huh? And learn why Emma didn’t really want a year-long feature story about her video game team. It’s time to try and qualify for the League (which is really a tournament, honestly) and I cannot thank you guys enough for the serious kindness you’ve shown in regards to this fic. It’s been incredibly nice. We’re just getting started.  || Also on Ao3, FF.net and tagged up on Tumblr ||  Tag List: @jamif ; @alicerubyfloyd ; @courtneyshortney82 ; @jennjenn615 ; @artistic-writer ; @onceuponaprincessworld ; @kmomof4 ; @nikkiemms ; @resident-of-storybrooke ; @whumped-natascha-remi-ronin ; @coliferoncer ; @strangestarlighttree ; @tiganasummertree ; @game-of-once-upon-an-outlander (Let me know if you want to be tagged or don’t or, like, how your day is going.)

She wasn’t sure what was more annoying.

The very loud alarm she could hear a few inches away from her head, whatever David was shouting on the other side of the door or the horn honking just outside the window of her room. It wasn’t her room.

It wasn’t even really a room, per se.

It was a...corner.

And David wasn’t really on the other side of the door, he was on the other side of a partition that Mary Margaret ordered off Amazon for nineteen bucks a week before Emma had descended on their apartment with one suitcase in her hand and the hope that, maybe, this could work.

This had to work.

They’d find out in a few hours if it could.

A few hours from now, Emma would walk back into the apartment with one of two options in front of her – either she was as much of a complete failure as that tiny, nagging voice in the back corner of her brain promised her she was and even the idea of playing video games professionally was absolutely insane or, and this is where the hope came into play, she was the quasi-captain of the only all-female pro Overwatch team in the league and they were well on their way to splitting a four-million-dollar championship check with their names plastered across the internet and a string of feature stories written about them on The Daily Caller and and a national spotlight that would, maybe, lead to more money.

God, those feature stories.

God.

Killian Jones.

She was going to see Killian Jones that afternoon. And that didn’t terrify her. Absolutely not. She was worried about the game. And four million dollars. She couldn’t even imagine four-million-dollars, let alone imagine winning an inaugural tournament that promised just historic. Probably with a comically large check.

It had nothing to do with Killian Jones or how blue his eyes were or how she kept replaying that slightly awkward, slightly strained, undeniably sweet conversation they’d had the week before.

“Shit,” Emma mumbled, slamming her hand on her phone and promptly knocking it onto the floor. She could barely make out David’s laughter a few feet away and what sounded like cabinets slamming shut and she hadn’t actually turned her alarm off.

“You know,” David shouted, throwing what sounded like a pillow full of bricks at the partition. The whole thing shook, nearly falling on Emma and her air mattress and it would almost figure that she’d get taken down by nineteen dollars worth of plastic before she even stood up.

She needed to be more positive.

She needed to find her super cheesy team-branded t-shirt. That cost more than the plastic partition.

“Were you ever going to finish that sentence?” Emma called back, finally pushing herself off the air mattress and half of it had deflated during the night. That wasn’t a sign. God, her phone was still making noise.

David chuckled again, kicking at another cabinet and drawing the mumbled reprimand of Mary Margaret – who was absolutely going to be late for work so she could see Emma off or something equally maternal. “Yeah,” he said, padding across the apartment and leaning around the still-wobbling partition. “You need to learn how to control your electronics. And work on your hand-eye coordination. It sounded like you nearly knocked off your whole little compound over here.”

Emma scowled, but that was as good a word for it as any. She didn’t bring much with her to New York – didn’t have much to bring to New York – but David and Mary Margaret had offered up, at least, three quarters of their living room without question, pulling an ancient air mattress out of the closet and buying an entirely new bed-set, with a questionable amount of flowers on the sheets, and pushing the coffee table against the wall so Emma had somewhere to keep her phone and her laptop.

It was, exactly, what they’d always done.

And Emma would never get used to it.

“Compound Godzilla,” David continued, eyes bright and wide and far too confident. In her. He was confident in her. Even when he was insulting her and comparing her to lizard monsters.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who’s going to have to deal with the damages,” Emma reasoned. “So you know, in the grand scheme….” “Of? “Of whatever joke you’re trying to make. Very badly I might add.”

“That’s rude, Em,” David said, but there was a laugh just on the edge of his voice and Mary Margaret was already humming under her breath. It was so goddamn domestic Emma couldn’t quite believe it was real.

She shrugged. “You need to work on your jokes. These are getting stale. And you’re the only who nearly knocked over the partition. I just almost cracked my phone.” “Whatever,” he grumbled and Mary Margaret’s humming had turned into open laughter, far too well-acquainted with whatever early-morning war of words Emma and David were staging in the corner. “I’m not going to provide you with any caffeine or the vast array of breakfast pastries I’ve procured from the place down the block.” “Did you just swallow a dictionary?” “Thesaurus,” Mary Margaret corrected, flashing a smile over her shoulder and she’d already taken a shower. Emma hadn’t even heard her wake up.

There was probably a reason for that. That stupid voice in the back corner of her mind did jumping jacks, bouncing off the sides of her brain as it tried to grab Emma’s attention and provide an explanation she didn’t really want to her – because the kids in the foster homes always cried, quiet sniffles and even louder wails, wondering what they’d done wrong and when someone would decide they were enough and they could leave and, maybe, get just a bit warmer.

It always seemed to be freezing in those houses.

And, somewhere in between Hartford and Minnesota and a few weeks on the street in Boston, Emma had developed the ability to sleep through anything – crying or wailing or chattering teeth or, apparently, Mary Margaret taking a shower a few feet away.

“Em,” David said, tugging on the edge of her sleeve and jerking her out of the past. “You went all glossy for a second there. Was it because I totally impressed you with my vast and detailed vocabulary?” She rolled her eyes, taking a step towards the kitchen and accepting the mug Mary Margaret offered her. “I promise,” she said. “It had absolutely nothing to do with that.”

David’s smile wavered for half a moment and he shot Mary Margaret a nervous look, meaning flitting between them and nearly becoming another sentient being right there in their kitchen. Emma sighed. “Ok,” she mumbled, taking a sip of hot chocolate-coffee hybrid and they’d bought her cinnamon. She shouldn’t have been surprised. “That’s not what I meant it like.” “Are you nervous?” Mary Margaret asked softly, a picture of support and belief and something that felt like certainty. Emma clearly hadn’t gotten enough sleep.

“About the game?” Mary Margaret nodded. “No, no, I am absolutely not nervous about the game. We’re good and we’ve practiced a shit ton, enough to drive Granny absolutely insane and we don’t even have to win. Technically.” “You’re totally going to win.” Emma bit back her immediate response – a string of practicality and low expectations that absolutely did not belong in the same room as Mary Margaret Nolan.

She’d been part of the package deal that came with arriving in Storybrooke and life with the Nolans and enough love to almost make up for everything else.

Actually, arrived was generous. Emma had kind of stumbled into Storybrooke, nothing more than a few dollar bills stuffed into the back pocket of her ripped jeans and a blanket clutched tightly in her hands and she just needed somewhere to sleep. She didn’t expect to find a barn and a corner that was almost, nearly, sort of warm.

David found her the next morning, legs tucked up underneath her with her blanket under her head and hay stuck in her hair. Honest to God hay.

She’d run away. The house had closed a week before and there just wasn’t enough money to support a run-down building and a dozen orphans that no one wanted. Including the national government. Or maybe just Maine. Emma never could remember who was in charge of that.

It didn’t matter.

The only thing she’d known was they were going to move her again and she was just supposed to agree to Florida and another fresh start and she’d started running before she’d even really considered any other option.

She was going to run again as soon as David found her, hand balled up into a fist and halfway through the air when he held up his hands in surrender and asked what she was doing here and promised a hot meal and maybe a shower if she’d just follow him inside.

Mary Margaret was sitting at the kitchen table with Ruth when the door slammed shut behind Emma. She gave her a new set of clothes and, it seemed, Emma had found a family.

Even when she didn’t want it.

Especially when she didn’t want it.

“I know, I know,” Mary Margaret said, nudging her elbow into Emma’s side with a familiarity that made her stomach clench. “You only have to be in the top eight. Doesn’t mean I totally don’t think you’re going to absolutely wreck.” David nearly dropped his coffee. “Absolutely wreck,” Emma repeated slowly, eyes flashing up towards a determined Mary Margaret.

“Yes. Absolutely. And completely. C’mon. That’s a gaming term!” “You’re just digging yourself into an even deeper hole here, M’s. You are painfully uncool.” Mary Margaret stuck her tongue out, rolling her eyes dramatically and jumping onto the edge of the counter next to Emma. She rested her arm on Emma’s shoulder, elbow pushing into the side of her neck and it probably would have been uncomfortable it weren’t so normal and, not for the first time, Emma was glad she’d stumbled back into this life.

“She looked it up,” David whispered conspiratorially before taking a far-too-large bite of bagel and, somehow, smiling at Emma. Mary Margaret clicked her tongue in disapproval, but it wasn’t a disagreement either and Emma wondered when she’d had the time.

Probably in between attacking major website editors with plans and making sure Killian Jones wasn’t actually trying to kidnap two kids from a summer program with the promise of ice cream on his lips.

Shit.

Killian Jones.

Emma needed to drink more coffee and get some food in her and a slightly more professional mindset. There were rules about that, right? Ethics or something. A reporter wasn’t supposed to date whoever he was writing about.

No, probably not. Definitely not. And she wasn’t thinking about dating Killian Jones or or a sentence that included both Killian Jones and lips or even really talking to Killian Jones – far too focused on the game and winning and keeping her personal life, decidedly, personal.

She could be a good story without the depressing history and vaguely troubled past.

Definitely not.

Primary fire, secondary fire, obliterate every enemy – and that stupid, annoying, asshole voice in the back of her brain. It would be fine. She probably wouldn’t really even notice him. For the entire goddamn day.

“I think she’s playing the game,” David muttered, pouring another cup of coffee and, God, he’d showered too. How had she slept through all of that?

“I’m thinking what the best way would be to take you out,” Emma lied and David didn’t look like he believed a single letter of it.

“I bought you baked goods. A plethora of baked goods.” “That was actually kind of nice,” she conceded. Her drink had gone cold. “God damn. Although there are a questionable number of cinnamon-raisin in there. What time did you have to get up to make that happen?”

David shrugged. Painfully early, then. “It’s an important day, Em,” he reasoned. “And maybe I just wanted cinnamon-raisin for the week.” “Yuh huh.” “How come you don’t have to actually win to win?” “We’ve been over this twenty times already,” she sighed, but she kind of appreciated too. If Emma kept running the plan, the one that decidedly ignored Killian Jones and his far-too-blue eyes and nicknames and on-the-record questions, then she could stay focused on the goal. She could absolutely wreck – as Mary Margaret would say.

“Humor me.” She took a deep breath and Mary Margaret reached over her shoulder, tugging the mug out of her hand to fill it with scalding hot liquid. God, it was like being fifteen again. Emma was a better video game player now.

“It’s a qualifying tournament,” Emma started. “So there are sixteen teams today, from all over the world, who didn’t get the automatic bid. It’s because none of us have fancy, corporate sponsors and we’re some kind of Overwatch plebs in the eyes of the league, so, they put us in a different bracket and make us play each other.

The seeds coming into this were a total joke though. They, literally, just put our team names into a hat and that Zelena lady who’s in charge of everything picked out pieces of paper and that’s where we ended up.”

David snorted over the top of his mug and he’d mixed peanut butter and cream cheese on his cinnamon raisin bagel. Emma tried not to actually gag. “Ruby’s very mad about that,” he said. “She’s brought it up every single time I’ve talked to her in the last forty-eight hours.” “How many times are you talking to her in the last forty-eight hours?” “A couple,” he mumbled and it sounded a bit like an admission. Emma’s pulse accelerated and she was positive she was missing something. David’s nervous glance towards Mary Margaret all but confirmed it and they were talking about her. God.

“Yuh huh,” Emma repeated, eyebrows pulled low and frustration brewing in the pit of her stomach and she was fairly positive they were talking about that phone call she’d made on the other side of the plastic partition on Friday night.

She was going to kill her whole goddamn team.

“And what seed are you guys?” Mary Margaret asked quickly, trying to refocus the conversation and keep Emma from throwing things in the middle of her kitchen.

“We are fifth,” Emma answered and maybe she was as upset as Ruby was about this whole seeding debacle. Maybe Killian Jones, award-winning reporter with a history Emma was positive was also a story, should write about that.

That, however, would require her to talk to him long enough to suggest story ideas.

What a mess.

“And playing?” David prompted. Emma rolled her eyes. They’d really gone over this twenty times already, had discussed it in detail in the back corner of Granny’s on Saturday night, Ruby’s voice rising with every sip of alcohol until she and Anna seemed to be having some kind of joint screaming match over seeding.

“Vivi’s Adventure,” Emma responded, dropping her head against Mary Margaret’s side and sighing softly when she felt fingers working their way through her hair. “It’s the dumbest name in the history of dumb names and that’s coming from someone who might actually have a lawsuit on her hands if we actually make it out of qualifying rounds.” “You can’t change your name,” Mary Margaret said. She was braiding Emma’s hair. And Emma didn’t move her head.

“I’d rather not get sued for four million dollars before I even get the chance to try and win four million dollars. That’s impractical.”

“But you made shirts,” David pointed out.

“Ruby made shirts. Or ordered shirts. No one asked her to do that.” “Are you even remotely surprised that she did that?” “About as surprised as you getting up insanely early to go get me bear claws from a bagel place that makes the best bear claws in the city.” David grinned at her, ducking his head to press a kiss on Emma’s temple and maybe being fifteen again wasn’t the worst thing in the entire world. “It’s only because we live a few blocks away,” he promised. “Any more than five blocks and I totally wouldn’t have done it.”

“No, then he would have called an Uber and woken up even earlier,” Mary Margaret mumbled.

Emma’s pulse sped up again, heart hammering against her ribs with something that felt like emotion and maybe sentiment and she couldn’t just start crying on Mary Margaret’s actual shoulder. That would have been weird.

Probably.

Mary Margaret wouldn’t have blinked.

She was, after all, used to that sort of thing. And David would have woken up at dawn to get Emma bear claws if he had to, if only to prove that she had people behind her and support in her corner and a slew of other athletic-based clichés that made her vision swim just a bit.

David hadn’t just gotten her to come into the house all those years ago. He’d gotten his mom to agree to Emma and everything that she came with – a mess of legal battles and paperwork and enrolling her in Storybrooke High that fall.

And she’d had her own room, across the hall from David, and Mary Margaret had helped her fill out a closet, the very first she’d ever owned, and the three of them spent the entire year together, the memories of those days still hanging in frames on the walls in Ruth’s house.

It had been good. It had been perfect – some kind of storybook lifestyle for a town with an absurd name and Emma could never quite believe her luck.

So, naturally, she’d gone and ruined the whole thing.

She had a tendency to do that. And David graduated, got into the University of Maine and that was hours away and Mary Margaret was gone as well, that perpetual smile and positivity that Emma had allowed herself to depend on in just a few, short months, limited to phone calls and text messages.

They promised they’d come back. They’d drive back down for weekends and Emma could come up and sleep on Mary Margaret’s floor, but Emma was sure – it was all over. So she ran. Again.

She was an idiot.

Only David and Mary Margaret found her. Again. And again. Over and over, every single team she absolutely fucked it all up, there they were, encouraging smiles on their faces and certainty in their stare and, usually, baked goods in their hands.

Shit, she’d totally started crying on Mary Margaret’s shoulder.

“Em,” David said slowly, eyes wide and hand falling on her forearm. “Are you crying? God, you’re totally crying. What’s the matter?” Emma shook her head, some of the braid Mary Margaret had already finished falling apart in the process, but the evidence was on her cheeks and her slightly puffy eyes and she could hear her phone buzzing from her compound a few feet away.

“That’d be totally lame,” she mumbled, dragging her knuckles across her face.

“The lamest. Is it because I put peanut butter and cream cheese on my bagel?” “That’s totally it,” Emma agreed and her voice was still shaky and just a bit scratchy, but David didn’t push, just tugged her away from the edge of the counter and wrapped his arms around her tightly. His hand found the back of her head, cupping her hair as he mumbled something that might have been encouragements in her ear, but Emma couldn’t really think when he did that, the actual feel of self confidence enveloping her as soon as she pressed her forehead into the crook of his neck.

“Five seed’s a good underdog story,” David continued, leaving another kiss on the crown of her head. “Tell your reporter guy to lede with that.” “Not my guy,” Emma mumbled. There it was. She was, almost, surprised it had taken them that long to get there. David had absolutely been gossiping with Ruby. “And,” she added. “He’s the one who’s won awards, doesn’t seem like it’s my place to tell him how to write his story.” “Yeah, but it’s about you. He should take that into account.” “Are you trying to protect me from the big world of journalism, Detective?” David pulled back, face turning serious quicker than Emma expected and that shouldn’t have surprised her either. “Yes,” he said simply and Mary Margaret made some kind of noise of agreement in the back of her throat.

“M’s, this was your idea,” Emma said, glancing over her shoulder. Mary Margaret shrugged. “And I still think it’s a good idea. He really did seem excited about it when I saw him on Friday. Even if he was being kicked in the side.” “I’m sorry, what?” “He was holding Roland. Or trying to, at least. I’ll tell you something though, Roland Locksley has never been more excited to have someone pick him up from summer camp than he was when Killian Jones showed up. He’s not nearly that enthusiastic about the assistant.” “You’ve lost me. And how old is this kid?” “Regina Mills’ assistant,” Mary Margaret explained. “She’s usually the one who gets the kids. Although Robin comes sometimes too. He’s nice. Better with the kids than the assistant. She always looks kind of stressed out.” “And did anyone mention why Killian Jones was picking up these kids? Or how he knows them enough to offer them ice cream?” “I don’t think you need to be well acquainted with kids to offer them ice cream,” David reasoned, one arm still slung over Emma’s shoulders as she tried to twist around and stare at Mary Margaret.

“That’s true,” Mary Margaret agreed. “But I don’t think that’s what was happening. He knew those kids. Like in a part of the family kind of way. They had nicknames and everything. It was painfully adorable.” “Jeez, that’s just like a thing for him isn’t it?” Emma asked, the words flying out of her mouth before she could even really consider them. Mary Margaret’s eyebrows practically jumped off her face.

“What?” “Nothing.” “Emma Swan.” She growled or groaned or maybe wondered if she could get out of the conversation without having to talk about any of this. No such luck. “He’s just got this nickname thing,” Emma muttered. “When he talk.” “Right,” Mary Margaret said, smile tugging on the sides of her mouth. Emma’s phone was still buzzing. “And you know this because…” “I’ve had two conversations with him.” “No, of course. Two conversations. You talk to him since that second conversation?”

Emma narrowed her eyes, pressing her lips together and ducking out from underneath David’s arm. “I’ve got to shower,” she said, already halfway towards the bathroom. “Ruby’s going to murder me if we’re late.”

It didn’t matter – Emma walked out of the bathroom ten minutes later, damp hair still wrapped in a towel, to find Ruby sitting cross-legged on the couch with a controller in her hand and a disgruntled David a few feet away from her.

“Why are you so bad at this?” she laughed, not moving her eyes away from the screen and David made some kind of impossible noise, trying to elbow her in the thigh.

“Why are you so good at this? And how do you keep getting all these bananas? Oh, shit, shit, fuck, God, stop laughing, Lucas.” “I’m sorry, this is just hysterical. It’s like the game got better and suddenly you’re complete shit at MarioKart.” She dropped another banana behind her and David let out another string of curses as he skidded off the course again, throwing his head back towards the ceiling and damning Ruby to several different afterlives, including, what sounded like, the seventh circle of Hell.

“For betrayers and mutineers,” Emma intoned, not quite able to keep the laughter out of her voice when David actually chucked his controller at the ground. Mary Margaret didn’t even look surprised.

“Stop quoting things at me, Em,” he hissed. Ruby lapped him. “God, Lucas, seriously. Stop showing off. It’s just embarrassing.” “For you or me?” Ruby asked, swinging her legs back onto the floor and she’d already won. She took a step towards Emma, eyeing the shirt she’d begrudgingly put on, and grinning, confidence practically rolling off her in waves. “I told you the shirts were worth the money,” she said pointedly, tapping on the emblem they’d gotten Anna to draw nearly a month before. “And it’s absolutely embarrassing for you, Nolan. I know I’m good.” David sighed again, dropping down onto the floor and pulling one leg up until he looked like a Renaissance painting – of MarioKart 8 defeat. “We shouldn’t have bought the new one,” he mumbled. “I was better at the classic version.” “Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Hey, did you get Emma bear claws for good luck this morning? I’m starving.” “Stop stealing my baked goods,” Emma said, but Ruby was already in the kitchen and Mary Margaret was already pouring another cup of coffee and they were going to be, at least, twenty minutes late. It was going to take forever to get crosstown.

“Too late,” Ruby said, mumbling through a mouthful of bear claw. “Have we complained about the seeding for this qualifying thing yet this morning because I’d really like to complain about that again.” “Too late,” Emma repeated. Ruby sighed. “How come you’re here? I didn’t think you were coming here. Are the rest of them coming here?” Ruby shook her head, confusion flashing across her expression when she glanced towards Mary Margaret. Emma tried not to groan. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” “There’s a car outside.” “What?” “Automobile. Vehicle. Motor car. A sweet set of wheels.” Mary Margaret laughed loudly, the sound working its way across the entire apartment as Emma practically sprinted towards the window. Ruby was right. There was a car outside and a uniformed man leaning against the passenger’s side door, feet crossed at the ankles and a hat in his hand like he’d wandered straight off a movie set.

“What the hell is that?” Emma asked sharply, not sure why she was, suddenly, terrified by the answer.

“Did you not hear my sweet set of wheels explanation?” Ruby asked. “I can’t really come up with another synonym. You can ask your reporter when we get to the Theater. He’s probably got more. That’s his job, right?” Emma shook her head, mind muddled and thoughts moving slowly and she needed to dry her hair. And look at her phone. Oh fuck, her phone. She moved again, actually running across the several hundred square feet of apartment and nearly knocking over the partition while Ruby mumbled something her breath at Mary Margaret.

She had six text messages and she’d never actually programed his number in her phone, but she recognized the 718 area code and her heart might have actually been in her throat.

Good luck today, Swan.

Not that I think you’ll need it. You’re absolutely going to wreck the competition. God, that’s the lamest way to say that isn’t it?

Definitely lame.

True though. Even if that five-seed seems kind of absurd since your team actually has a pretty impressive win-loss record.

How did you end up a five seed? It doesn’t make any sense. This Vivi’s team hasn’t even won a competitive game yet. And they’re a four. This is just basic math. Even Singularity is garbage. And they’re the No. 1? You’ve got more wins than them. This is absurd.

Emma bit her lip, suddenly aware of the smile on her face and the way her breath had caught in her throat, knees not quite as straight as they’d been a few minutes before. He might be more upset about the five-seed debacle than Ruby and David combined.

And Emma could nearly imagine what his voice sounded like, the way he tried to rush over the words when he started talking about something he cared about and there was a sudden and distinct lack of oxygen in her compound at even the passing idea that he cared about her.

That was insane.

Impossible.

That was impossible. There were ethics involved. And one more text message.

The car’s for you, by the way. Courtesy of Mills Media. And how shitty the MTA is this summer. Just figured it’d be easier.

Was she still standing? She was. She might not have been breathing, but she was definitely still standing and somewhere in the realm of swooning until she suddenly and quickly got very, very frustrated.

She didn’t need a car. She didn’t need text messages from a phone number she, admittedly, probably should have saved on Friday night. She could walk crosstown quicker than the car could drive there.

Ethics.

And a deep-rooted stubborn streak that was probably her undoing. Or something less dramatic.

“Em,” Ruby said, approaching cautiously and that might have been the strangest thing that had happened all day. “M’s wants to know if you want her to braid your hair so we can get out of here. We probably shouldn’t keep that fancy driver guy waiting. Seems like a dick move.” Emma hummed noncommittally in the back of her throat, stuffing her phone in her pocket. “We’re not taking the car,” she said and Ruby’s eyes widened. “That’s...how did he even get Mary Margaret’s address?”

“I have no idea. But, like, that’s a thing, right? Investigative journalism or whatever?” “Are we the investigation?”

“Eh,” Ruby wavered, teeth bared as she tilted her head slightly. “Maybe not we.” Emma sighed, any sense of swooning as deflated as the air mattress at her feet. “That was almost kind of heavy-handed, don’t you think?”

“I almost don’t care. You should have heard David’s must protect Emma speech on Saturday night. You want to talk about heavy-handed, that was, like, the single most awkward conversation I’ve ever had and, once, Anna tried to tell me about how she nearly got engaged to a Tindr date the same night she met him.”

“What? God, I can’t imagine Elsa would be very into that idea.” “She wasn’t. There was, apparently, a fight if you can believe those two actually fought about anything in their lives and, just, trust me, it was weird and David is worried about you and these stories and he hasn’t told Mary Margaret about that and I’m not supposed to tell you either and Killian Jones blushed while holding a painfully adorable kid as soon as someone mentioned your name on Friday night.” “Were you not supposed to tell me that part either?” Emma asked archly, tugging her hair out of the towel.

“No, that’s painfully obvious. Everyone knows that.”

“Jeez. You are on a roll.” Ruby shrugged, but there was a tinge of disappointment in her gaze and Emma licked her lips. “We’re really not going to take the car?” “We’re really not going to take the car,” Emma said, the weight of her phone practically dragging her through the entire apartment building. “C’mon. Let’s go over strategy while M’s fixes my hair.” She did feel kind of bad about blowing off the driver – fancy hat clutched tightly in his right hand when Emma promised they were fine with walking and Ruby grumbled under her breath about it for the entire thirteen block walk to the Playstation Theater.

Emma ate another bear claw.

And tried not to drop the two cups of coffee gripped tightly in her hands.

She heard her name on the other side of the block, Anna’s hair obvious even in a sea of professional video game players and spectators and frantic-looking league reps who, clearly, had no idea what they’d gotten themselves into. Emma waved, hoping that would, somehow, stop the screeching from the other side of 44th Street, but it only seemed to drive Anna forward even more and, suddenly, she was nearly a foot taller, held up by a pair of hands that looked vaguely familiar.

She was clinging to Will Scarlet’s side, one of his arms wrapped tightly around her waist while she balanced herself on his shoulder and waved at Emma like she was trying direct several planes. And Killian Jones was very obviously staring at his feet a few inches away, a pen stuck behind his ear and something that might have been a credential around his neck and two cameras hanging off his left arm.

Emma bit her lip. And tried not to focus on the obscene amount of sugar she’d already ingested that morning.

“We should have taken the car,” Ruby muttered again, dragging Emma with her across the street as soon as the light changed.

“Emma, Emma, Emma,” Anna chanted, pulling herself away from Will and grabbing Emma by both her shoulders. Killian’s eyes darted up, one side of his mouth ticking up when he saw she was holding coffee. “You are missing everything. There has already been trash talking and people screaming into NY1 cameras and Tink totally dated the guy who’s Singularity’s captain and she said…”

Anna paused for half a moment to take a breath and Emma allowed herself one, quick glance towards Killian Jones. God, he was unfairly attractive. That was making this far more difficult than it should have been. Anna was still talking, detailing how Tink knew some guy named Greg and how shitty he was at playing Overwatch and how they were totally going to wreck and Emma barely heard any of it, lips dry again and both of her hands were burning from the somehow-still hot coffee.

Killian smiled at her, soft and maybe just a bit nervous and Emma tried to keep her expression neutral. It probably didn’t work if Anna’s continued exclamations were any indication. “Emma, are you ok?” she asked and Emma’s head darted up at the concern in her voice.

Elsa narrowed her eyes knowingly and Emma was struck with the rather sudden realization that they’d all talked about this. God, there was probably a group text. David had probably started it.

“I’m fine,” Emma promised. “NY1 is really here?” “It’s apparently an event,” Elsa said, a smile on her face as she waved a hand at the scene in front of her.

That was, definitely, one word for it. There were people everywhere, some of them already lined up in front of the doors to the Theatre and even more pushing their way down the block, cups of Starbucks clutched tightly in their hands and they weren’t the only team with matching t-shirts. That didn’t make Emma feel any better about the matching t-shirts.

Killian still hadn’t said anything, but Will was taking pictures and Emma tried not to be completely overwhelmed by everything around her. So, naturally, her eyes darted towards Killian again and that stupid, confident smile on his face. “You didn’t take the car,” he said slowly, muttering the words quietly enough that it was a conversational miracle Emma even heard him.

Emma rocked on her heels, not sure how to respond to a statement and Ruby elbowed her in the side – hard. “Ow,” Emma hissed, but Ruby just glared at her. “What the hell?” “Here,” Ruby said, ignoring Emma completely and pushing something into Killian’s chest. He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch, just glanced down and the smile turned just a bit more genuine.

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” he said. Ruby shrugged. Oh, God, it was a matching t-shirt.

“Please. Although seeing as we are an all-female team, this is absolutely not going to fit you and is now a gift for Henry wherever he is.” Emma nearly dropped the coffee again, stammering slightly and growling at Will when he pushed a camera lens in her face. “Wait, what? Henry like the one in Mary Margaret’s class?” Killian nodded. “What is going on right now?” As if on cue, a kid who couldn’t have possibly been more than twelve years old, skidded to a stop in front of them – both Will and Killian reaching out an arm to brace him. “Hook,” he shouted, head snapping up towards Killian. “You’ve got to come inside. There’s this whole table of merch and you can get a credit for download bundles to get new skins for characters and…”

His shoulders heaved when he ran out of oxygen, eyes wide when he realized there were two other people around now, but he smiled when he noticed Ruby. And Emma felt incredibly out of place. “Hey, Rubes,” Henry said brightly, ducking underneath Killian’s arm and only muttering slightly when she pulled him against her side.

“Hey, kid,” Ruby grinned. “You know you don’t need to get credits for that bundle. We’ll get you that in, like, a couple hours tops.” “Really?” Ruby nodded seriously, holding one hand out and Henry wrapped his pinky around her outstretched finger. “Let us wreck this qualifying tournament and then for sure.” “God, will everyone stop using the phrase wreck in regards to this tournament,” Emma groaned, feeling half a dozen curious eyes land on her. Killian grinned.

“Who else is using that?” Ruby asked and Emma tried to brush her off, nodding towards Henry instead. “Oh, right, right, Henry, this is Emma Swan. She’s our team captain and the best goddamn Overwatch player in the country. She could get you your codes in a couple minutes.” Henry’s eyes lit up and Emma bit her lip tightly, hoping the blush she could feel on her cheeks wasn’t too obvious. “It’s really nice to meet you,” Emma said honestly. “You were in Mary Margaret, uh, Mrs. Nolan’s class last year, right?”

“Yeah,” Henry nodded. “She used to ask me about the game all the time last year. She, uh, she knew I played and I told her about my mom.” It was some kind of miracle Emma hadn’t dropped the coffee. She glanced back at Killian – as struck as she was, with wide eyes and a half-open mouth and Will was still taking pictures. “Thanks,” Emma mumbled, not sure what else to say. Henry’s smile got even bigger.

“We should probably go inside,” Elsa said. The line outside the door was starting to move and they were definitely running late already, but there was some semblance of a schedule and Emma really just wanted this first match to be over.

She nodded, more than willing to let Elsa direct them into the main room and a check-in table and, of course, she’d just fallen into step with Killian. She could nearly feel him next to her, something that felt a bit like heat and almost like electricity radiating off him and he took a deep breath before she interrupted him completely.

“This is for you,” Emma said brusquely, holding her hand up expectantly and his lips twitched again. That was distracting. “I...I should have started with that. Buried the lede or whatever.” He laughed softly, taking short, measured steps so he didn’t move in front of her and his fingers were warm when they brushed over Emma’s. “Was that a journalism joke, Swan?” “A pretty good one, I think. Mostly because I don’t know any other journalism terms to make jokes with.” “Nothing?” Killian asked skeptically. He needed to stop looking at her. And talking to her. And asking questions. There was already an Overwatch game happening on the main screen. “Byline? Deadline? Something about quotes?” Emma rolled her eyes, taking a sip of coffee. “Congratulations on proving your ability to just shout out keywords regarding your job. Although I’m not accepting something about quotes.” “Too broad, huh?” “Exactly that.” “Noted,” he grinned and he hummed softly when he gulped his own coffee. “This is good.” “I’m not trying to poison you.” “Noted, again. And appreciated. If I ask you an actual question are you going to try and turn me to stone again?” Emma stopped walking, whoever was behind her nearly colliding with her back and she did drop the coffee. It was about time. “Oh, shit,” she mumbled, dropping down and one of her knees landed directly in a puddle of caffeine and two-percent milk.

Maybe this event wasn’t quite as much a disaster as Emma assumed – a person with a League Official t-shirt on appearing beside her quickly and there was a mop and promises that it was fine and Emma found herself being pulled back up before she even realized Killian had moved.

God, his hand was warm.

“Come here, love,” he said softly, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and tugging her away from the crowd. She followed him before she could come up with an argument, ducking behind the merch table Henry had been so excited about and it was, almost, quiet there.

“I’m fine,” Emma snapped, pulling her hand away quickly and wincing when it collided painfully with her side. He hadn’t even asked a question yet.

Killian nodded. “I’m not questioning that. Here,” he added, pushing his half-finished cup towards her. “You need the caffeine more than I do.” “Are you trying to tell me I look tired?” “No. I’m telling you that you’re the one who has to win an entire qualifying tournament today and that it only seems fair you to get at least some coffee out of the equation when, I’m assuming, you paid for it.”

Oh. She really was an asshole. And far too certain things were just going to go wrong by default. Mary Margaret would have some kind of hope speech perfectly prepared for this moment. Emma kind of wished she’d come with them.

“Not everything is some kind of calculated attack, Swan,” Killian added, ducking back into her eye line and smiling when she took the cup.

“What was your question?” she asked. His coffee didn’t have cinnamon in it. Damn.

“Why didn’t you take the car?” “Why did you send a car?” Killian shook his head, tongue pressed against the edge of his lip and Emma didn’t think she imagined the way he rocked towards her. “I asked first,” he said. “There are rules.” “I think you’re just making them up as you go along.”

“And I think you’re doing a very bad job of avoiding the question.”

She flashed her eyes up, but he didn’t back down, just lifted his eyebrows and stared straight at her, like he could read her mind or maybe like she was the open book he promised she was. Emma sighed. “I’m perfectly capable of walking a couple of blocks.” “I’m not questioning that.” “You really need to be more specific then.” Killian tilted his head – and Emma tried to keep her shoulders straight and her spine in line and she couldn’t remember having ever been looked at like that, like he was interested and intrigued and like he wanted to know everything, on the record, with absolutely no intention of putting it on the internet.

“I’m not one to just...accept things,” Emma said slowly. Killian didn’t respond, just moved his eyebrows again and kept staring at her. No, she thought, waited. He was waiting for her. “Especially from people I don’t really know. Who should have no idea where to send town cars.”

“Ah,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair and twisting slightly so his left arm was pulled behind his back. “Yeah, that was bordering somewhere on stalking wasn’t it?” “How did you do it?” “The receptionist at Mills is actually some kind of secret coding and internet expert. And she was very willing to do me a favor if I got Gina to get her and her boyfriend a reservation at TAO on Saturday night.” “The receptionist?” Emma repeated and Killian made a significant face. “You got a receptionist to...what, hack into some sort of record and find M’s address?” “She’s not trying to be the receptionist apparently. It’s a very involved story. But she saved the website on Friday and kept Robin from actually pulling his hair out or having some kind of episode in the middle of Broadway. So, you know, Gina owed her.” “You keep saying all these names and I have no idea who you’re talking about,” Emma admitted, appreciating his smile a lot more than she should have. “Gina is Regina Mills, right?” Killian nodded. “And Robin is…” “Her husband.” “Which makes Henry…” “Their kid. One of two. Roland is seven and obsessed with chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream and being Henry.” Emma nodded in understanding, pieces of the puzzle, almost, starting to fit together. “And you know both of these kids well enough to pick them up from school, offer them ice cream in a not-creepy kind of way and then bring one of them with you on an assignment?” “Yes, yes and yes,” Killian answered. “Although Gina wasn’t happy about that last one. It’s apparently not very education-focused.” “It’s summer.” “My argument exactly, Swan.” She’d finished her coffee. Or his coffee. Emma wasn’t sure of the specifics anymore, trying not to linger on the fact that they’d somehow managed to share one cup of coffee that morning.

It felt like something important.

Emma turned her head, staring straight at him and maybe that was a mistake. Shit, his eyes were blue. He still had his arm twisted around behind him. “And you wanted to send me a town car to go thirteen blocks because…”

“It was a gesture of goodwill,” he grinned. “So you could get here easier.” “There wouldn’t be anywhere to park on 44th Street. How did Ruby know about it?”

“I have no idea.” He wasn’t lying – eyebrows pulled low and gaze intent and he wanted her to believe him. She didn’t. Jeez.

“I feel like we’re both missing a pretty big part of this game,” Emma muttered, taking a step towards him and she was close enough that her toes nearly brushed up against his sneakers. She could have moved, could have pulled her hands up and rested them flat against his chest like she wanted to and pressed her lips against his and maybe she’d thought of that a questionable amount since she’d swallowed some of her pride on Friday night and called him.  

She didn’t do any of that.

Because Emma Swan never got in the car – metaphorically or otherwise. Not anymore.

“How did this happen, Swan?” Killian asked suddenly and she realized they’d been standing in silence, staring at each other like they were taking inventory for far too long.

Emma licked her lips quickly, tugging them back behind her teeth as she tried to regain her bearings. She could make out the sounds of the game behind her, catchphrases that had been playing on an endless loop in her brain since they’d decided to do this, and she tugged self consciously on her t-shirt.

“What?” she asked a bit breathlessly. Killian’s gaze shifted, dropping away from her eyes and, maybe, down towards her mouth, but then he blinked and it was gone as soon as it came, features stoic and professional and good, she could deal with that.

“On the record,” Killian said, a recorder held loosely in his right hand.

Oh. Well, yeah, no, that was ok. They had to do that, right? He had to ask questions and write stories and that was the deal. That was what Emma had begrudgingly agreed to when Mary Margaret announced the plan and Ruby promised it was good for business like that even made sense in context, but they’d taken a team vote and Emma had been overruled and now she needed to answer questions.

On the record.

“Ask me an actual question,” Emma hissed, frustration back in her voice and there went flirting. If flirting had ever been on the table. Jeez.

“How did Emma Swan become the team captain of the only all-female pro Overwatch team in the league?” Killian asked. “Or, rather, how did you start playing video games?” “That’s a long story.” “I’ve got some time. And so do you. Your shitty five-seed matchup isn’t for another hour.” “Why do you know that?” “I can read, Swan. There was a schedule on the league site and something about streaming. You’re still not answering my question.” He shook the recorder slightly and Emma’s stomach flipped. She swallowed back the bundle of nerves in her throat, chewing on her lip as she tried to figure out the best way to answer. Killian nodded once, like he was agreeing to an idea he hadn’t voiced, and leaned towards Emma, half an inch away from her face and what was personal space when she could barely think?

“I’ll tell you what, love,” Killian said, low and intent and Emma could feel it. “We’ll go one-for-one, huh? On the record back and forth. You answer my questions and I’ll answer yours. No matter what.” She hadn’t been expecting that. “Why?” Emma asked sharply. It was an accusation. And Killian knew it. “We both need this to work, Swan. You asked me about Boston and what led me back to New York, well, this is it. A story. A good one. So I need this to work and your team needs the publicity. It’s a win-win for both of us, we might as well be honest with each other.” “You have a very high opinion of this whole situation don’t you?” Killian shrugged. “I think we could make a very good team, Swan. It’s up to you whether or not that works.” Emma considered that for a few moments, scowling when she realized he was absolutely and infuriatingly right. Damn. On the record. “My brother,” she said. “He’s the reason I’m here.” “Give a guy a second to get his recorder out, Swan,” Killian grinned, hitting a button on the square of plastic in his hand. She rolled her eyes. “Ok, brother. I’m going to guess he’s the reason behind the NYPD shirt before?” “Why do you remember that?” “Perceptive. And a journalist. It’s the details, love. So you and your cop brother started playing video games when you were kids?”

“No,” Emma said and Killian did something absurd with his eyebrows. “Ruth bought him a knockoff XBox for Christmas one year and we spent the entire break playing. Turns out I’ve got pretty good hand-eye coordination.” “Did you wreck him, Swan?”

Her eyes were going to get stuck that way if she kept rolling them, but Emma was smiling again and they kept bouncing through moods in this conversation. It felt like playing the game. She’d clearly lost her mind.

“You were right before, you know, that’s totally lame,” Emma said. “But, yeah. Every single time. And even now. Between David and Mary Margaret I was fairly convinced I was the greatest player to ever walk the Earth, but they were just both painfully bad at Halo.”

“And that sparked the interest as a career?” Emma shook her head and that was what she’d been dreading. There wasn’t any way to explain a year in jail and no high school degree and what talent did she have except the innate ability to kill her virtual enemies? Killian seemed to pick up on her concern, hand falling back on her arm and she shuddered at the touch.

When she’d gotten out of jail, she didn’t know where to go – didn’t have much more than a blanket with her name on it and the memories of everything blowing up in her face and Emma was barely making ends meet in Providence when David showed up at her apartment and told her enough was enough.

He found her. Again. And Emma had gone with him. Again.

So he took her to that sleepy little college town and got her a job at the coffee shop on campus and Emma kept playing, nights on the couch with David and Mary Margaret and, eventually, she came up with a plan.

She started making money. She almost forgot about him and a time when she wasn’t certain and confident and ready and the League just seemed like the next logical step.

Only that step had landed her in front of Killian Jones and his recorder and blue eyes and Emma needed a plausible story. “I’ve always wanted to kind of control my own life, I guess,” Emma started, mumbling over the words while she tried to keep her lip in between her teeth. “And I’ve been lucky that my brother and M’s have been super supportive of that. So they helped and played against me so I could get better and there were competitions all over the country that had big prize pools, bigger every year as games got more and more popular and less and less weird and, well, you know the rest. I’m camping out in their living room while I try to find my own place and win this whole, stupid League.” Killian hummed, hitting another button on the recorder and starting at her. Still. He kept doing that. She wished he wouldn’t. “Was that ok?” Emma asked. “On the record?” “Of course, Swan. It’s a good start.” “A start?” “Ah, well, that’s my angle I guess,” he explained. “We’d background everyone on the team, maybe highlight how shitty this whole seeding thing was and talk a little bit about what comes next. Oh and maybe the thing in Philadelphia.” “You know about that too?” He quirked an eyebrow at her, smirk settling onto his face with practiced ease and they definitely had to play soon. It felt like they’d been standing in that corner for several lifetimes. “You’re very surprised by reading comprehension, love,” Killian laughed.

“Just impressed by your dedication to research.” “Maybe not such a bad journalist, after all. I almost understand the game.”

“Color me impressed,” Emma smiled, eyes wide and that smirk was stupid. She wanted to kiss it off. She wanted to absolutely wreck Vivi’s Adventure in the first round. “You know, maybe, we could try and build on that knowledge today? If you’ve got...questions or something.” “Are you offering to explain the video game to me, Swan? Henry’s been trying to do that for two weeks already.” “And how that’s going for you?” “Eh, he’s very frustrated. Far more preoccupied with getting that credit than anything I could offer him today.” “Ah, well, there’s no ice cream involved.” Killian smiled and Emma’s heart dropped into her stomach or maybe into her feet or possibly exploded out of her chest. “Always a disappointment, of course,” he muttered, stuffing his recorder back into his pocket and leaning towards her again.

He didn’t touch her arm.

He did, however, move his left hand and Emma’s eyes caught on a flash of color and a name and the question hung in the minimal amount of air between them as soon as she closed her mouth. “Who’s Milah?” she asked. “On the tattoo.” And just like that, it was over. The whole scene changed and Emma’d been absolutely wrecked by an assailant she didn’t see and wasn’t prepared for, thrown back to the start of some metaphorical level without a single weapon to her name.

The corner suddenly felt very small and Killian couldn't seem to back up quick enough, eyes dark and lips pressed together tightly and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Someone from a long time ago,” he bit out, venom in every single letter. “On the record.”

Emma nodded, quick jerks of her neck that sent a shockwave of pain and frustration down her spine. That’s what she got for asking questions.

“Hey, uh, guys,” Elsa said, appearing in the corner with a nervous look on her face. “We’ve got to go play the game. Ruby’s half a second away from shutting down the whole tournament to try and find you, Em.” “Of course she is,” Emma mumbled. She tried to plaster a smile on her face, certain it hadn’t worked as soon as she looked at Elsa. “Ok, we’re coming.”

She turned back to Killian – shoulders tight with the tension he was holding and his thumb pressed into his left forearm. “You, uh, want to watch a game in action?” Emma asked and he hummed softly, gaze still heavy on her face.

“Yeah, Swan,” he said. “Let’s go.”

[manecandyland-blog]

TaeKai - A scientific Research paper

(this is literally the 20th time i’ve written this out my computer keeps crashing - also to any haters out there - this whole “science” thing started as a joke, but I feel now, presented with all the information, that writing this in the format originally posed does more justice to the situation than just dumping 20 youtube links on a post. Also after a while this becomes NO JAM for anyone who isn’t invested in Taekai as a friendship/couple so if you aint, don’t be about it)

My first note - I have been a Kpop fan since 2012, but only got back into the swing of things in 2016 - when i first got into Kpop, i was pretty much exclusively into YG groups, bar 2 (GG and F*x* (stars used in order to keep out of the tag b/c yesh). So my informed knowledge of this matter when I first posed a scientific inquiry was limited. However, thanks to the community, I have gained a lot of knowledge. However, I have also realised that this will very quickly become a topic which many will have issue with, so in order to protect my community, i’ll leave all my sources anonymous -if you want to tell everyone which reciepts you found, or would like to add to this knowledge inquest, please do so, and I encourage this greatly. However - please keep all contrinutions factual and neutral, and please also maintain scientific standard, by sourcing if the source is not apparent or common knowledge. We deal in truth here, this is not a shipping expedition, nor a fanfic-boosting activity. This is not for aesthetic or fangirl reasons - this is true inquiry. There are some sources i couldn’t find so sorry in advance if i couldn’t include yours.

So in order to present my findings accurately, I must get out of the way some potentially data-obfuscating information that could colour proceedings;

1. After much discussion with the Taekai and Kpop community at large, we have concluded that a large majority of the evidence in terms of physical closeness can be attributed to a culture of Skinship, and this culture being heightened within idol activities. The idol degree of kinship would/could not extend to closeness outside of idol activities, but the overarching culture of skinship would. Further to this point, it’s also evident that skinship shown by idols to one another is actually not as fully accepted as international fans tend to think it is, as I have been told that within the culture, there is a far more traditionalist mindset than foreigners assume. For the former point - this is not likely to affect any public evidence of closeness i’ve found before 2014-ish (this year is important), but is likely to colour any activities during and post-ace era, as they would now be publically *outed* as bros (wierd choice of words but know what i mean). For the latter, this should highlight, at least in regard to “candid” proofs, that the level of skinship presented may not be as “normal” as foreign fans are likely to believe. 2. A very diligent and long-term Kpop fan also notified me that it’s likely during and after the Ace era, that there was a move to “bro”-ify Taekai, whether genuine or in order to obfuscate rumours. Therefore, at this time, evidence is now coloured by a factor of how management/etc would like fans/others to see them, in regards to responding to any “misunderstandings”. However, after much discussion with my colleagues, it has become evident that even if this were a move to cover some form of truth (which is the point that i will argue in this paper), then this was a genius move, as any skinship would now fall under this banner, even if it was evidence of a relationship. This, however, makes analysis on our end very difficult.

I should also mention there are very few outcomes that could become of this study, and it’s likely to be a mixture, but none of them can be 100% proven, as, surprise! I’m neither Taemin, nor Kai, and I don’t know for sure.

-Either we find this is all an act and they aren’t friends (which would be our control outcome) -or we find they’re just super close friends -or they’re full on boyfriending it up

I’m trying to clear my mind of any bias before we start, but I have a good idea going in of where we’re gonna end up.

SO. Here we go.

The earliest receipt I have that’s reliable as a source, is from the 2013 MMA’s, where SHINee won the daesang. (Note: SHINee, Taemin’s group, won, and yet Kai, member of EXO, is the one crying)

I mean….i’ll let the footage speak for itself, but it is good to note that this was before any true push towards bro-ifying them as far as i’m aware, and they’re signature patting each other on the butt is also present here. In my scientific opinion, this can be construed two ways - Kai tends to cry, so he would cry on behalf of his *friend*, whereas Taemin tends not to cry, so easily fixed that one. With the utmost neutrality, this would be the mark of a very close friendship, where Kai is acknowledging the hard work his friend put in to doing well. The hug is pretty close by anyone’s standards, but this can still be attributed to a very close brotherly friendship. (The butt pats tho? I need to get used to that)

Early 2014 bought us this Gem - it’s interesting to know the story, but also more important to note when public perception of them was beginning to be written. (still, taemin’s being a little shit, calling him out and everything I love it);

This next reciept is interesting. It’s Ace era, and very specifically the pretty boy-ification. But here’s the sitch - around 1:04 Taemin’s looking pretty self-conscious, being that he’s pretty much shirtless, but check out 1:19;

Cheesy, yes, but don’t pay attention to what Kai’s saying, but what he’s doing - he feels very comfortable touching Taemin while he feels self-conscious, and is rather exposed. One could read any kind of conclusion from that but i’m just saying - that’s a very close bond y’got there.

And lets address the elephant in the room everyone - the W Korea Shoot. Now, we all know what ended up happening *cough cough*, but that aside - just take a look at these pictures;

This photoshoot was obviously heavily instructed, but those who know about photoshoots know you can’t really control the subjects and how the interact with each other. a lot of the other pictures felt sterile, the ones with the third member of the shoot *cough cough* feeling the most sterile - but the super charged, highly ~aesthetic ~ ones seem to always include taekai, and specifically taekai in some way interacting.

Now - get ready, here’s where shit gets freaky, scientifically speaking;

Taemin just keeps fiddling with Kai’s top, in the end leaving it more open than it was before…..bros? also, 1:42 - WHO. DOES. THIS. - he’s not even awkward, he’s not even sorry, he just teases the hell out of the EXO-L’s because he can. and who’s Bro lets them rub their chest and just smiles? Also peep the hand holding/stroking, i’ll get to that in a second. 

.....and finally……

it’s very important to note that these photos came out around the time the bro-ification started, but no-one just strolls down next to han river, embracing, being total bros, all alone. right? of course one could reason they’re just “very good friends” but this is where that argument breaks down - firstly Han river is a known romantic spot, and it’s pretty public, so the idea that they could roam anywhere else also comes into play. Also, there was no reason for them to be so close to each other - they had no idea the cameras were there. I’d also like to direct my peers to this;

Taemin stumbles over saying that they’re best friends, and immediately gets awkward when explaining their relationship. However, he seems a bit peeved that people think they may be in a relationship, quick to say he should be more careful even though everyone is ok with it, and almost tired at the radio host saying he’s “too pretty”. It’s a quip i think he’s heard one too many times, and him and kai walking alone really isn’t helping that perception of him, so his reaction here is more in reaction to the perception of his masculinity than maybe their perhaps being in a relationship. Taemin’s description of their skinship though, puts to rest any questions of subjectivity or obfuscation when it comes to cultural barriers - even though the radio host makes it clear their relationship may be closer than comfort culturally, taekai don’t see it as anything out of the ordinary. That’s again, not confirmation of a relationship, but more a righting of a perception of them he’s probably tired of trying to explain. He knows it’s out of the ordinary, but when he explains it, it seems we get an idea of how Taemin percieves their relationship, which is helpful from an objective standpoint.

there are other reciepts I’ve received, but have not been able to verify, and many other videos im sure, that state the same points, but i wasn’t able to include as tumblr won’t let me? i mean that sounds fake but ok tumblr whatever.

My conclusion is slightly different from the one i thought i’d make - there are four options that seem evident after discussion; 1. They are dating, they’ve done been dating, they will continue to date (this seems less likely, as 8 years of a relationship, through all of the ups and downs, seems a stretch); 2. They were friends, they began dating, they got caught, they bro-ified, and now they can touch each other to their hearts content because everyone thinks they’re idol bros; 3. They’re EXTREMELY CLOSE bros, and maybe kind of more, but it’s noncommittal maybe? Or just informal; 4. They’re just very affectionate bros.

Everything up until the hand holding had me thinking it was either 4 or 1. But then, they hold hands in public, but they try and hide it? and then they fix each other’s clothes when they assume they’re hidden from view? they take strolls late at night through romantic locations?

The kicker is when Taemin rubbed Kai’s chest - that’s him knowing we know he can do that, and we can’t, and you’d only think like that if you knew you could actually physically touch your *friend’s* bare chest (which he was super self-conscious of by the way) and not have him react adversly, which is an incredibly close relationship even for skinship. That’s literal skin-ship.

In my personal professional opinion, I think it’s option 3 - after much talk, research, collaboration and decision making with the community, it only makes sense - Option 3 covers that they feel OK touching each other, even in public, but maybe don’t have a full on relationship. This would also explain the final video, where Taemin explains why they’re so close physically. I think also it explains why they get a bit secretive about the hand holding - if there’s more there, it’s because they know that even though much of their skinship can be explained away by bromance, that maybe they’ve developed a special brand of closeness that looks a bit too out there for the average viewer.

In all honesty, we won’t know, but i’m not ruling out that they’re kind of boyfriends, in the menial sense. Objectively, form what they’ve told us and done, they essentially fulfilled the “partner” role in each others lives, basically spending all their free time together doing stuff they both have an interest in.

My conclusion: Definitely Bestbros™ with a side of *maybe we get it on sometimes*

I am open to any and all discussion below on this topic. Thanks to all involved.

[nofomoartworld]

Art F City: ONLINE PREMIERE: “Ways of Something – Episode 3”

Participating Artists (minute by minute): 1. Carine Santi-Weil, 2. Nicolas Sassoon, 3. Tom Sherman, 4. Kim Asendorf and Ole Fach, 5. Rafaela Kino, 6. Alex McLeod, 7. Kate Wilson and Lynne Slater, 8. Aleksandra Domanović, 9. Systaime, 10. Erik Zepka, 11. Adam Ferriss, 12. Rodell Warner and Arnaldo James, 13. Debora Delmar Corp, 14. Brenna Murphy, 15. Nick Briz, 16. Carlos Sáez, 17. Jenn E Norton, 18. Juliette Bonneviot, 19. Luis Nava, 20. Vince McKelvie, 21. Claudia Maté, 22. Evan Roth, 23. Shana Moulton, 24. Sabrina Ratté, 25. Jordan Tannahill, 26. Vasily Zaitsev feat. MON3Y.us, 27. Ann Hirsch

With John Berger’s death this month, the online premiere of Lorna Mills’ “Ways of Something, 3” feels particularly poignant. While Mills’s “Ways of Something” wasn’t conceived strictly as an update, as 117 person re-interpretation it effectively functions as such. To complete this piece, Mills invited over 100 artists to remake all four parts of Berger’s 1972 BBC series “Ways of Seeing”, minute by minute. Each artist was given 60 seconds of of video—doled out on a first come first serve basis—with the sole condition that they would need to retain the text used in captioning. What they did to the captioning font, the visuals, the sound, was entirely up to them.

The result is almost certainly the largest video exquisite corpse in existence. Similar to the first Surrealist conceived exquisite corpse drawings, where each half is made blind of the other, each artist creates a minute without knowing what will come before or after it.

Visual themes naturally emerge. The first episode examines how the contemporary context changes the meaning of reproduced art, while images include reproduction, the sublime, search, photoshop and surveillance. The second episode, which explores sexism in art, takes a different path. Pop stars, 3D rendered figures, identity politics and gaming take on a greater presence. Unsurprisingly, the figure is everywhere. And by the third episode, the fact that the participating artists have seen the previous two iterations more clearly affects the piece—as Mills notes in our interview, participating artists begin referencing each other. Screens are a big theme this time around, as is any kind of reference to digital manipulation.

I sat down with Mills to discuss all this—the history of the project, how it has evolved and how she evaluates its success as an artist. We also talked about how all the participating artists were paid for their work—a rarity in the world of New Media (and in the art world as a whole)—and thus a blinking beacon of success if ever there was one.

You’ve said the title “Ways of Something” suggests something propositional—that you won’t know what you have until it’s complete. Now that the four videos are complete – and the third is being released with us for this online premiere, does the name still work for you? Has it taken on any additional meaning?

The name still works for me.  It’s still propositional but expansive as well. I was wrong about thinking that I’d know what I have once it was complete.  I’m still too close to the project.  

And the conceit itself? How did that come about?

I was initially invited by the One Minutes in Amsterdam to curate a selection of one minute videos.  Coming up with a theme and doing an open call for work didn’t excite me so I was wracking my brains for an interesting way to approach this.  I thought about one minute animated gif videos, but that wouldn’t work since they wouldn’t be gifs they’d be video, so dumb idea. Then I happened to stumble upon a Facebook post by Jaakko Pallasvuo with a link to episode one of “Ways of Seeing”.  The video in the youtube link was close captioned and it was that small distinction that made the whole idea crystalize since it is the abrupt change in text style and text handling that reinforces the idea of visual discontinuity that overlays John Berger’s beautiful “BBC voice of God” narration.  

After episode 2 I did part company with the One Minutes and continued the project with my own resources.

Other than Jaakko Pallasvuo, who had an obvious impact on the work, are there other artists or projects that influenced you? (I always think of the tumblr Cloaque, which is similarly collaborative and exquisite corpse like in nature, in the sense that the artists were essentially making their minute without knowing what the visuals before or after their piece would look like.)

I absolutely love Cloaque, but I wouldn’t say it was an influence. Organizing the artist GIFs for Rea McNamara’s “Sheroes” project every month for almost a year was the sort of experience that made me confident that I could wrangle a lot of artists as long as the parameters were clear. It was a much more direct influence.

Minute 26 of “Ways of Something” by Vasily Zaitsev feat. MON3Y.us

Did your approach to selecting participating artists change in any way since the first episode? Have you ever worried that you might run out of artists to work with? (117 artists is a huge number of artists.)

The first episode was full of artists I had worked with previously (with only a few exceptions). My thinking at the time was that since I had a tiny budget for fees, I wanted to invite people who had made work for my previous projects when there was no money.

Once the first episode was done I was able to expand the pool of artists to more people who I hadn’t worked with previously.  There’s also a long list of artists I begged who just didn’t have the time.  After episode 2 was shown, I was also approached by a lot of artists who wanted to be in it, but by then I was working on 3 and had already invited the artists for episode 4.  

As an artist-curator, I think of the minute-by-minute framework, the use of text, and the resulting tension between continuity and discontinuity, as my art. When I invited artists to participate, I was inviting them to participate in my art piece. I didn’t initially take that position, but as time went on I had to recognize that I had abdicated the responsibilities of a curator, and the term ‘collaborator’ was disingenuous as well. My choices of artists were personal and idiosyncratic—I didn’t hold any conceit that I was presenting a ‘community’ as is common with most curators —if that had been my intention, my choices might have been different.

Other than tech specs [the size of the video, dimensions, etc], I created a structure that they had to adhere to, but anything within that structure was their art, not mine. Since the project’s completion, I’m finding many more artists that I’d like to work with, but there will be other projects in the future.

Do tell! Are you planning anything now that can be discussed?

Nothing definite, I can only say that I won’t repeat this particular structure and turn it into a career formula.

Are there specific artistic approaches or working experiences you had while making the third episode of “Ways of Something” that distinguish it the other episodes?  

Not really. I’m not sure if that’s a strength or a weakness for the whole project.  After watching episodes 1 and 2, episode 3 seems to flow much easier and I wonder if it’s because the audience gets used to the abrupt rhythms that are built into it with every jump cut between artists.  

Speaking of strengths and weaknesses, how do you evaluate the success of the series? I think obviously, there’s the professional angle—its public reception—but what, for you, makes the work successful? What did you learn through the process of making the piece? Is there anything you’d do differently?

The public reception has been nice, I have no complaints, but I rarely focus on that when I evaluate the project.  For me success of any artwork means that nothing needs to be added and nothing needs to be taken away.

For “Ways of Something”, it’s only natural that some minutes would be stronger than others, but I still waste time trying to figure out what I could have done differently, even when some of the issues were out of my control. I was not directing my fellow artists on how their minutes should look. I only offered an opinion if I was asked. If they were confident of their work then I was too.

I did the project one episode at a time with tight deadlines because of screening opportunities. If I were to do it again I would work on all four episodes at once to give the invited artists more choices for their minutes.  I would have also given myself less punishing deadlines which may have freed up a few more invited artists that couldn’t deliver in time. Changing any circumstances around a project will change the artworks.

Minute 25 of “Ways of Something” by Jordan Tannahill.

How has the work evolved since the making of the first episode? Have artists been influenced by what they’ve seen done in earlier videos? Has that knowledge made for stronger episodes?

One thing I thought funny was that in episode 3 some artists started appropriating from other artists, which is fitting since the original episode is about colonialism, theft and the accumulation and display of private property.  Jordan Tannahill was using emojis like Carla Gannis does and he even used one of her Garden of Emoji Delights in his minute.  Vasily Zaitsev, the Russian WW2 sniper, used a selection of other artists’ works from his project money as error.

By the way, I’m not so sure that all the subsequent artists looked at previous episodes.

Ha! It never occurred to me that some artists might not look at the previous episodes. Do you consider this work an update on Berger’s original series or is that even possible? (Now, I’m wondering if some of the artists didn’t watch the full BBC series too?) Are there some Berger episodes in greater need of an “update” than others?

No. The intention was not to strictly update his work. Artists were invited to update, illustrate or contradict what he was saying. The choice was theirs.  

In my opinion, the original episode 2 is painful television, he made a lot of maddening assertions about how women see themselves and then the latter half of the show is a 70’s consciousness raising session.  Episode 2 of “Ways of Seeing” is definitely dated in many ways, but that doesn’t mean that it’s irrelevant today.  The hypocrisy of the male gaze and the judgements made of the women who they like to look at still enrage so many of us.

How does the piece change with each install and different logistics of site? It’s obviously a different experience to view online versus a screening at TRANSFER or an install at The Whitney.

As the episodes have been produced, they’ve been screened in small and large venues across the globe. The complete project is a good two hours of art video watching. (I used to be able to tell people that I was a nice video artist because my work was mercifully short.)  To me the optimum screening experience was at the Carnegie Museum in Pittsburgh. Lauren Goshinski of the VIA festival set it up so the space was full of bean bag chairs and other lounging furniture, way better then having to lie on a bed of nails.  The Gene Siskel Theatre in Chicago was pretty swank too, which I liked.

The Whitney show was the first time I saw it as an installation and I’m almost inclined to prefer that set up to a screening.  The audience got a sense of how broad the approaches were to the narration.

What is the future for “Ways of Something”? Are there venues you’d like to see it screened at? Collections you’d like to see it in? How will it exist online?  (I hear you’re making a website.)

We are putting the finishing touches to the web site, so that will be launched soon.  As for venues and collections, I think the National Gallery of Canada should acquire it and of course I want to see it in as many public and private collections as possible.

I should also mention when “Ways of Something” is acquired by a collection, it’s not just me, all the artists are credited in the acquisition.

When “Ways of Something” is purchased, do all of the artists get paid?

Of course. The money from sales of the editions, as well as all the screening fees that I have collected, have been divided up equally with the participating artists.  It should also be noted that my Gallerist, Kelani Nichole of Transfer, worked very hard negotiating all the sales and very generously took a much smaller than normal cut.  Basically, both of us are saints.

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