#these tags have completely different moods to them because I wrote them at different points in time btw | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vodoriga-art · 2 years

Text

And the sun rises in Barovia.

A few people were curious, so I wrote down the 6 hour fight and condensed it as much as I could. The ending was not what I expected at all and I don’t think I’ll ever have a campaign like this one or character like Kaspar again. Many thanks to everyone who during these two long years and 22 sessions entertained me with tags on all the art of my poor guy 🖤

✨🦇 !! EDIT: if you're reading this now , I made a page with super condensed OC info with no campaign spoilers and links to longer posts such as this one, in case you want to read about the whole situation. 🦇✨

Major CoS spoilers below!

(The way DMs did Strahd is they made him a two phase fight, first lvl 20 battlemaster fighter in full plate + greatsword and later lvl 20 wizard)

The party went into the crypts to find the tome and the Sunsword. They fight some zombies and two of the brides in Strahd’s crypt. They find the items in his coffin, Ireena reads everyone the whole tome (8 pages that the DM wrote) and gets a headache as her memories come flooding back, fighter picks up the Sunsword because Ireena can’t handle the emotions coming from it. They go over to Sergei's tomb where Ireena prays and they finally head to the chapel.

Meanwhile Kaspar has collected Rahadin's corpse from his office (sewn his head back on and put his guts back inside etc.) and brought him to the chapel. Strahd is there in gorgeous dazzling gothic full plate minus helmet. They have a funeral. During this Strahd is crying tears of blood and is so angry, furious, but mostly keeping it in. Facial muscles twitching. Short replies through gritted teeth. It's becoming clear to Kaspar that he has little chance of getting Strahd to care for him now that Rahadin is dead but he accepts that he deserves it. Just a few hours before his demeanor and talking to Kaspar was completely different and made him feel understood and comforted and safer than he felt anywhere in a while, and this was a total flip of mood.

Strahd wants the whole party, including Ireena, dead. Kaspar feels like shit because he did everything he could to please Strahd (murdered the party wizard earlier) but this wasn't enough (losing Rahadin tilted Strahd too much for him to be the sweet caring kind of manipulative that would 200% work on Kaspar), and Kaspar is terrified and also realizes he can't back out of this even if he wanted to, believing that Strahd is now the source of his cleric powers, and he needs Strahd in order to look for a vampirism cure.

The party, including Ireena and Ez, finally all arrive to the chapel through the main door and find Strahd and Kaspar standing over Rahadin's cold body on the altar. There's incense smoke everywhere and the two of them turn to the party at the same time.

The party tries one more time to try get Kaspar to ditch Strahd. The artificer gives him a syringe full of his blood that he prepared before for Kaspar to drink if he needs to feed. He makes a little slideshow projection of all the not completely horrible times they've had in Barovia together. Warlock and wizard are still convinced Strahd has done this to him and it’s not just Kaspar’s selfish choices that led him to this point.

But Kaspar doesn't trust them not to kill him and he's deluded enough to think Strahd actually values him a little, or at least more than the party does, and that he would let him look for a cure if he pleased him tonight. Ireena and Strahd are having a staring contest inches away from each other.

Every door slams shut, all of the stained glass windows shatter inwards, glass shards rain down around us, mist begins to seep inside replacing the incense smoke Kaspar was burning for the funeral, and we roll initiative.

During the first or second turn Kaspar when called a traitor and questioned why he did this says he "is doing this for love." And Ireena is furious "You think Strahd loves you??" and Kaspar says "I'm not talking about him!" and the whole party is like ????? then who??? (he meant Kelemvor ofc)

Ludmila shows up to try and redeem herself after she failed to protect the heart. Kaspar actually gets teleported outside because the artificer thought the windows overlooked an abyss and not a courtyard but it's actually convenient for Kaspar to be out of everyone’s melee reach.

The fighter crit fails on a swing and the Sunsword flickers out completely as Strahd parries the sunlight with his pure black blade. He can't get it to turn back on even on his next turn (DM treated the Sunsword's sunlight blade as a dragon’s breath recharge when it goes out).

Strahd then charms the warlock who spends two turns doing nothing, except unsuccessfully casting Banishment on Kaspar to temporarily put him somewhere safe. Kaspar, even though he still intends to kill everyone, feels some sorrow for the warlock because he has just minutes ago felt the the first inkling if pure cold dread of being in Strahd's clutches against one's will.

Kaspar commands the fighter to toss him the Sunsword hilt while standing on the edge of one of the shattered windows, instead of catchin it he moves his hand and thr sword lands way outside in the courtyard. Soon after this, Strahd isn't happy with what the artificer is casting and completely slaughters him in one turn. Ludmila scurries up to drink blood and it costs the guy a death save. Strahd finishes him off. Artificer is dead.

Ireena, in full plate, does a cool running jump and gets up to the window to demand from Kaspar the diamonds he was given by Ez before as the remains of the shattered stained glass cut into the one hand she’s using to hang from the window. He left them in Strahd's study and tells her as much. No one is casting any revivifies this time. Fighter also shows up to retrieve the Sunsword.

Now the fighter and Ireena are both armed and close to Kaspar basically deciding which one of them wants to obliterate the traitor.

(at this point a symphonic metal cover of Hopes and Dreams is playing)

Eventually Strahd runs out of superiority dice and rips all the armor off as Bucephalus appears and Strahd goes into caster mode. Across the room in the window, a flying Mordenkainen finally shows up and looks down at Kaspar all disappointed like "Really lad?" (Scottish accent, very important)

Ludmila is vaporized by Ez. Then Ez goes down. Artificer has been fully dead for over a minute.

Right now Kaspar is back inside the chapel and the wizard is actually trying to talk to him instead of swinging weapons and spells like everyone else because of the earlier exchange about love that left everyone puzzled. But especially her because she’s all about love 💗 He tells her he is selfish and not ready to die because he wants to keep loving Kelemvor even if he isn’t loved back. Tries to convince the wizard that she, being a clever wizard and great alchemist, could help him find a cure for everyone with this curse. If faith and magic aren't enough, then science and medicine might be the answer. But he has to survive this for that to be possible. With 9 CHA he is not very persuasive, mostly pathetic and pitiful.

Ireena is fully yelling at Kaspar now that “there IS NO CURE for vampirism except death and that it's the best they can do to free him from Strahd and from being this thing he’s become” and he's like "NO, I CAN DO IT OR I'LL DIE TRYING, just because van Richten couldn't find one doesn't mean it's impossible, get away from me, I have no choice anymore" etc.

And of course everyone in the vicinity is like BUT YOU DO HAVE A CHOICE!!!

And he's explaining to them he refuses to die before he can find a cure and die outside of Barovia where his soul can go to Kelemvor’s plane and he doesn't trust them not to kill him, because unlike Strahd none of them could understand what he is (deranged blood drinking human meat eating monster) and they've looked at him as a feral monster since the moment he got turned even though he never asked for it.

Ireena says "Do you think that he (Kelemvor) would love you now?"

And by now Kaspar is baring his fangs, eyes glinting red in despair, "No, but I still want to stand before him so he can tell me that himself," through gritted teeth.

Anyways Strahd almost Finger of Deaths Mordenkainen. Level 7, 8, 9 spells are flying.

Ireena, the wizard and the warlock are now surrounding Kaspar, Ireena's hand firm on his shoulder, weapon ready in her other hand, trying to convince him to help them and to snap out of it, that he can have Strahd's whole library and everything else he needs to look for a cure, but to please help them. Freaking Ghost Love Score starts playing as he stands there speechless for a while and they're all just exchanging desperate looks while the music plays. And he just disengages out of Ireena’s grip, and backs off against the nearest wall to spend his turn sobbing and nothing else.

The wizard and Ireena actually did really good irl persuasion here, I was SO conflicted as was Kaspar I thought I was about to start crying fr bc Kaspar was so scared and torn like I don't want to be in this prison but I don't want to leave either I don't know what to do I'm just an awful human being and a traitor either way. Had Strahd not been so cold and threatening earlier this would not have worked. But seeing as his anger made Kaspar feel nothing but rejected and useless despite his best, cruelest, unforgivable efforts, he considers the people he spent the last few weeks with, and all they did together. And what Kelemvor would want him to do even if he is undead now.

NEXT ROUND Kaspar, scared as shit that it might kill him instead, shuffles a few steps and feeling like throwing up casts flame strike on Strahd to get that radiant damage in. The pillar of holy fire descends on Strahd, scorching him along with the wizard’s wall of fire.

Ireena, now with the Sunsword, and Ez who got healed in the meantime, both run up to Strahd, and both whiff horribly. The sword completely flickers out AGAIN. Strahd is looking a little worse for wear but still disarms Ez.

Mordenkainen is nearly dead as a shadow keeps draining his strength (he was down to 3 STR). The fighter just can't make his CON save to end Strahd’s Power Word Pain 4 rounds in a row. Strahd gets caught by Bigby’s Hand, but breaks out soon after, casts Maddening Darkness which fills the whole chapel. Nobody can see anything and we're all taking tons of damage, and Strahd vanishes without a trace.

When Strahd finally appears again, only Mordenkainen can see him (with Truesight). He appears directly behind Kaspar. Leans in and whispers "You were always a traitor," grapples him and drags him back a few feet like a meat shield. Pretty much nothing happens until Strahd's next turn bc everyone is stumbling around the dark and chugging potions casting magic missile into the darkness because even the Sunsword is struggling to make more than a few feet of visibility. Strahd again leans down to Kaspar’s ear and whispers "Why am I letting you cast all those spells?" (insight check 21, why indeed??) and he casts silence around Kaspar’s head.

Kaspar's turn now. Crying. The deafening silence feels horrible. He's freaking out bc he knows Strahd could just rip him in half, and he can't cast anything. So he does the only thing he can do well, apparently. Twists around and bites into Strahd's neck, hard.

(Fear Not This Night playing as the following is happening)

The darkness and mad cackles filling the room begin to quiet and dissipate. Finally, everyone can see Strahd, Kaspar's fangs in his neck, as they’re both in a grapple, wisps of mist pouring in from the windows above them.

Strahd, with the hint of a grin in his voice whispers "Even without me, you won't ever be able to resist biting…", then slowly fades into mist and vanishes. Complete silence. Kaspar slides onto the floor w Strahd's blood dripping from his mouth. The fighter FINALLY snaps out of the pain. Everyone, except Strahd and the artificer, is alive even if just barely.

Ireena is actually the first person to go up to Kaspar and pick him up. She offers a formal handshake which he hesitantly accepts, and then just pulls him into a tight hug (both Kaspar and me irl trying to not start bawling).

We all hug and cry it out (also irl) and we march to Strahd's study to get the diamonds we need for Raise Dead. In Strahd's study we also find the holy symbol of Kelemvor that Strahd made Kaspar hand over earlier. Ashamed to look at it or hold it, Kaspar shoves it in a pocket, but not before reviving our sweet tortle artificer (muttering really quietly ”My Lord, Great Guide... I pray you guide this soul back to us, as it was not yet his time. I love you. I am so sorry.”).

We all go down, Kaspar hanging back, looking at the floor in shame, and find Rictavio / van Richten (???? bruh??) just about to stake Strahd. He and Ez hug it out. Everyone’s hand on the stake, we finish Strahd together.

Kaspar’s epilogue:

Kaspar doesn’t feel like he can go back. And he likes Barovia without the mist. He wants to help those who haven’t left the land and sets up in the abbey in Krezk, with Vasilka and Pidlwick II. He offers medicinal and healing services free of charge while also researching a cure and such with Ez and van Richten who also stay in Barovia. Van Richten takes a while to get used to the huge fangs on Kaspar especially when the guy can’t hold back and be a fanboy (he read all of Rudolph’s books of course). Occasionally he gets letters from the others who all left separate ways soon after Strahd's death.

He definitely does surgical experiments on himself since he has the benefit of regeneration. Convinces himself it's for research and not a horrible, elaborate form of self harm for his crippling guilt. Healing and all other cleric spells cause him discomfort and best and severe pain at worst, as does spending time at the abbey. Casts Commune often just to have some contact w Kelemvor (if it even is him responding...). Mental health in shambles but he's surviving. I wouldn’t call him redeemed, or a good person, but he’s trying to do some good because what other choice does he have?

He also travels to Ravenloft to cast Gentle Repose on Rahadin's remains, as he promised (to Strahd) he would. At some point he starts talking to the corpse and looking forward to these "meetings" just because he starts going bonkers from the isolation and fruitless cure research.

Secret Extra Saucy Actual Ending which the DMs last second decided to not tell everyone because our epilogues were so wholesome it might have soured the mood if we were all present, but I assume it to be canon because of course it is and my lord the sweet, sweet grimdarkness of it:

Barovia. About two decades later. It’s a cold, foggy night. The mist is thick. Familiar, you could say. Kaspar is at the abbey, maybe cleaning up in the surgery room, or praying, when he hears a door creak. Hears footsteps, approaching. And finally hears a familiar voice behind him.

"Did you really think you could kill your deity?"

Kaspar proceeds to have a miserable, painful remainder of his long, long unlife fit for someone who betrays Strahd after swearing loyalty. Maybe eventually a new group of adventurers finds their way into Ravenloft and finds him either an obedient, mindbroken servant, or a feral creature begging for death. But at least Ireena and the rest of the victorious party will never hear of the fate that eventually caught up with him.

extra: final battle playlist

extra extra: kaspar's corruption arc playlist

#curse of strahd #dnd #strahd von zarovich #ocs #kaspar #strahd squad #cos

133 notes · View notes

mumms-the-word · 8 days

Text

THINGS THAT I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW ABOUT MY FELLOW WRITERS

I can’t remember who tagged me with this or if I stole it 😭

Tagging: @elspethdekarios @sorceresssundries @fantasyfictionfables @lewdisescariot and anyone else??

No pressure friends as always and sorry for double tagging, this has sat in drafts for like days

Last book I read: For fun? I honestly can't remember. For my dissertation, Phantasmion by Sara Coleridge (and I haven't recovered, it was an acid trip of a fantasy novel)

Greatest literary inspirations: Bram Stoker (fave classic writer), Marissa Meyer (influenced my love of YA fairy tales), Ursula K. Le Guin (her style is SO GOOD)

Things in my current fandom I want to read but I don't want to write: I skim/read a lot of smut for someone who will never write it. I don't even read it that much, but occasionally something catches my eye (I appreciate you smutty, smutty people). What I'd want to read but not write is slice-of-life style shenanigans between characters, the kind that comic artists like @a2zillustration do really well. Send me recs if you know other BG3 comic artists!

Things in my current fandoms I want to write but I think nobody would be interested in them but me: my current masquerade fic I love writing stuff that is incredibly specific to my Tavs because I find it fascinating to explore different character perspectives and voices? But I know the fandom tends to enjoy generalized Tavs or "you" POVs more than specific OC characters, which is fair given the nature of the game, so I don't share as much of my Tav-specific stuff these days

You can recognise my writing by: the lack of smut...and probably an overuse of adverbs. and the fact that every chapter/oneshot is ridiculously long. I'm new to fanfic, okay, I wrote full books as a hobby before this lol

My most controversial take (current fandom): oh boy I have...many, probably...I've already gotten blocked for one hot take (I think it was a misunderstanding??) but it wasn't even my most controversial take. I think my most controversial take is that there is no One Correct Way to interpret a character, and anyone who tells you that "you're reading the game files wrong" or "that isn't what is canon" is ignoring the fact that a) that's not how interpretation works, and b) the branching nature of the game is going to necessarily mean that different people encounter different things in different orders and may not even get the dialogue that you hold so dear to your interpretation of the character, and that is okay. We shouldn't ask everyone to become an expert in every facet of their favorite character's identity because not everybody has the time or energy for that. We should just hope that people are having fun. Like I know this is a complex topic and I don't want to ramble about it here lol but that's the gist

Top three favourite tropes: in no particular order, 1) arranged/convenient marriage that leads to genuine love between characters, 2) super big tall buff scary guy (tortured past optional) is actually a total sweetheart who is a little afraid of his own strength (bonus points if he falls in love with a smol person he must protect and feels slightly unworthy of), and 3) FOUND FAMILY I love it every time

What’s your current writing mood (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut): fic writing I'm like....idk a 6? dissertation writing, which I am actually supposed to be writing, is a solid 1.

Share a random frustration: my students keep insisting on using AI to write their assignments and it is BEYOND frustrating how much time it takes up for me to read their assignment, mark where they've used AI, and then forward it to the next tier in our "Guess what you done fucked up" system for this class

#tag game #bg3

2 notes · View notes

marinerainbow · 1 year

Text

You know what? I'm gonna post something that I really want to post. OC x Canon. And today's ship?

Poppy O'Hare x Psycho Weasel. Or, as I like to call them,

~Pocho~

(This post is purely for serotonin purposes. If you don't like, please just move on)

Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta

(I'll probably edit this later. I wrote this while I was tired)

How they meet

Honestly, I'm still trying to figure that out. Poppy lives Downtown, as I imagine the weasels do as well. Or at least are most notorious in. So the chances of her really developing any relationship with the members is slim to none. Especially with their nature compared to hers; she most certainly wouldn't approve of the whole dipping toons thing.

I've got a few ideas of how Poppy and Psycho officially meet, but nothing is set in stone. Which is frustrating to me XD How it ends? Well.... We all saw the weasels die. That'd be the canon ending... But this ain't canon, this is the wonderful world of fanfiction.

Headcannons and tidbits

They'd kind of have a similar dynamic/energy that Jessica and Roger would have. Complete opposites in almost every way, the more level-headed one with the zany one, people would be questioning how genuine their relationship is, etc.

They're both horror toons, so even outside of my ship for them, I'd like to think that they would at least have a sort of understanding of the other's position. Though while Poppy was made to be the victim in horror cartoons, Psycho was made to be the villain; they'd be two sides of the same coin.

Don't get me wrong. He still does creep her out from time to time, and they may not have the same morals. But, she does try to be patient with him still.

Poppy would have actually fallen in love first, but would have been too scared about ruining their friendship to say anything, and didn't expect him to even be interested in romance (he wasn't before, but then she came along). But Psycho didn't have that fear, so he was the one who confessed first, after realizing he got feelings.

She would stick to the classic pet names, like Honey, Sweetheart, Dear, and would affectionationately call him Chocho if she was in a more playful mood. While Psycho usually sticks with nicknames related to her name, like Pop. He also calls her Snap Crackle Pop when she's mad.

Even with their vast differences, they still have interests that can unite them. They can be seen in the kitchen talking about the worst diseases throughout history, because Poppy likes history and of course Psycho would be interested in that stuff.

Even though she's fretful, Psycho can help her let go of her worries and have fun. Even if his wild shenanigans may give her a heart attack. He makes her laugh. And in turn, Poppy helps Psycho calm down more and just be slightly less of a menace.

Poppy gets cold easily, while Psycho heats up like a lizard under a heat lamp. She snuggles up to him for warmth in the winter or when it's cold at night.

I know all couples argue, but I legitimately can't imagine these two fighting. Poppy would rather steer clear of conflict, and Psycho doesn't see a point in yelling unless necessary, so the two kind of just... Talk through their issues. The worst argument I can see them having, is whether or not the towel is dirty when you use it after showering.

She's actually the one with more relationship experience, and Psycho has no idea what he's doing. She kind of helped him understand how romantic relationships worked, and figure out what you do in these sorts of things.

Sometimes, if Smartass needs Psycho distracted or kept busy, he just calls Poppy over. She may not be an official Toon Patrol member, but she has a role in the gang because of this.

They both have their fears and nightmares. It's most noticeable with Poppy, though Psycho has his own bad memories- fabricated and real- from his time as an actor. Of course, they help each other out as best as they can. And in a way, it's brought them closer together too.

And that's Pocho! Even if this is self indulgent, I hope you guys liked these ^^

#WFRR #Who Framed Roger Rabbit #Toon Patrol #Disney #Disney Villains #Psycho Weasel #my own OC's #my own characters #Poppy #ships #OC x Canon #(i sound confident but in reality im very nervous about posting these)#i know the headcannons arent too specific- i was trying to just keep it to general headcannons #Pocho

13 notes · View notes

mighty-poop · 2 years

Text

You know what, I AM gonna type out what happened.

This is in reaction to a post doing the rounds about how you can’t expect everyone in a discord server to be mindful of your incredibly niche triggers and yeah, that’s 100% fair. However comma….

So from my tags: I largely agree with this post BUT lemme tell you about this one time. (Tw for s*lf-h*rm and su*c*de btw)

I was on a discord server for a project, large scale, everyone +18. I generally hate group chats already, because they’re chaotic and the “point” of the conversation gets lost very quickly because people chime in randomly all the time, I just avoid it whenever I can, and this project happened to use discord to communicate. So I deal and I mute all the channels that can be muted. So channels NOT muted: my lil subcategory project group, and the updates and info channel. One that I need to talk with my teammates about the projects, the other i need to hear about news about the project from the project leader. People used that channel for questions even though there was a q&a channel but whatever, I’m not bitter. I know the leader can set up channels so only they can post messages, and they just didn’t, so-

One night, I’m woken up by notification noise after notification noise, something is happening on the info channel, the only channel i had notifications enabled on. Someone from the project wrote and posted their suicide note on the info channel. And people went HAM on that channel asking if they were okay, pleading them not to do it, for hours on hours, everyone had to chime in. Even the people who just woke up and were seeing what was happening HAD to add their 50 cents, even hours later. Until the project leader let us know that they had the person’s phone number, they called them, they’re okay. Meanwhile I had been doing breathing exercises in the corner of my room cus, big surprise, suicide notes and threatening with suicide is one of my goddamn triggers.

Let me pause the story with this for a sec: this sucks. Like, not just for me, but the person who threatened. Whether they were genuine or not, whether is was for a moment of attention or not, doesn’t matter. Having to go that far, fucking sucks and they must’ve felt like absolute shit and I feel sorry for them and I hope that they’re in a better place in their life now.

The next morning, that person came back online and apologised for their behaviour and that they’re fine now. And people just couldn’t wait to tell them it was okay, no harm done, this is a safe space after all. And I just wanted to throw a table. NO. The general info channel is NOT A GODDAMN SAFE SPACE. That whole night was super triggering - for ANYONE - and potentially dangerous for anyone else who might be suicidal! You do not go with that shit to the ONE channel no one should mute! Am I saying the super emotional suicidal person should’ve known better in their hour of distress and gone to a different channel? No, of course not, in those moments, you don’t think clearly or with others in mind, it happens. Should they apologise for that anyway? Absolutely, and they did! But don’t just dismiss it like nothing happened to protect the uwu baby boi’s feelings??? If it’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s people treating suicidal people like a light breeze could get them in a mood again. You can just as easily say “thank you for apologising, we’re glad you’re doing better. however this is not the place to talk about this so let’s move to a different channel (or how about a PRIVATE channel) and make sure you’re completely okay now.”

Anyway, learned from that experience and I have never touched a discord server ever since and absolutely refuse to work on projects that use discord to communicate between project members. I removed myself from going through that potential trigger again, but I also want to reiterate: fucking think twice, before you post something on a group chat or channel or whatever, that’s specifically for where people NEED to look at in order to know what they need to know. There are a lot of niche triggers out there; but suicide, self-harm and death aren’t niche.

#and also just as a general rule: unless you’re a great actor maybe don’t lie to suicidal people #they can smell your bullshit from miles away #trigger warnings #suicide #self harm #tw: suicide #tw: self harm

0 notes

mfpeace · 3 years

Text

@justbeingedgy @weird-colombian-gurl You asked me to elaborate on the "Ches already has a kid" theory in the notes of that one mf analysis post (which I really liked, go check it out!!), so that's why I'm making this one, cuz notes are a bit too restricting for what I want to talk about!

Though next time think twice before asking me to talk about something I'm interested in, because you never know when you're gonna wake up lovecraftian horrors!! :DDD you'll see what i mean when you press read more :))

So, I'll say it right now - this post is largely inspired by the second story highlight of this Instagram user (sorry, I don't know their name, only that their Instagram handle is dee_girl_metalfamilyfan), it's in Russian though, so keep that in mind

Alright, so I'll break this theory into two parts: the first one will be all about Ches, and the second will be about his potential child (spoiler: you might've seen her!)

Without any further ado, let's get to the Ches part:

1. The creators said that they're gonna explore Ches' character in the second season. Obviously, it doesn't mean anything on it's own, but just wait.

Dima: Let's talk about the second season a little. Of course, the seconds season will show development of the old characters, as well as new ones. That's in short. As you see, Ches looks a bit different here.

Alina: Yeah, we'll show a bit more about Ches at the ages of 18 to 20. His past. We'll reveal a bit more about his complex character, as much as it's possible.

(The source of the translation) Also I think they also said at one point that adult Ches will get some character development too? But that's probably a given, considering that we wouldn't see his youth if it wouldn't have affected him in the present, flashbacks without any relevance to the overall story don't sound so good

2. Not sure about this one (we don't know how much in character it was) but I can't not mention it.

Alina: Actually there was this one fanfic that I really liked. I don’t remember what it was called, but it was about Ches having a daughter, which is a cool topic. It was relatively in character and truly interesting. It’s great when people focus not just on sexual relationships of the characters, but also try to look at their development. That was a really interesting one. That’s it.

(UnityCon '19)

3. This one's a pretty big one, in my opinion. So, this is what they said on ArtWave '19:

Dima: Ches also has flaws.

Alina: [to Dima] Don’t spoil stuff.

Dima: His flaw is that he's very... irresponsible, let’s say.

So, maybe, just maybe, Ches does have a child but he, you know... left them? As the Instagram highlight from the beginning say: "he might be irresponsible enough to leave his child, and he's probably irresponsible enough not to use any contraception" (rephrased, not the exact quote)

4. Alright, so, the only mention of this one I can think of right now is the aforementioned Instagram highlight. The Metalfamilyfan says:

I contacted Korg/Корж, (admin of @ metal_yama [and I believe one of the organizers of the Metal Family Meetup in Moscow]) and she asked Alina on one of the meetups: "if Ches were to be a father, what kind of father would he be?"

And she said: "The kind of that would say "kid, look at that birdie over there!" an then he would run away"

Someone's words are not the perfect source, but they did tag Metal Yama and from what I know they didn't disagree with what the author of the page said. if anyone has anything to say about this (disprove or definitely prove what I said) feel free to do so in a reblog, notes, DMs, send me an anonymous ask, or in any other way you feel comfortable with

5. Ches has literally been through the same thing, and we know how important the theme of the cycle of abuse is in Metal Family (or, in this case, the cycle of neglect? Abandonment? Idk)

You managed to hide your PREGNANCY from me! AND you've been hiding the child from me for a whole year!

YES, because you would've insisted on aborting him!

AND NOW I'M INSISTING ON PUTTING HIM UP FOR ADOPTION! OR I'LL LEAVE RIGHT NOW!

6. Here we can see Ches with a blonde girl. Nothing too special, probably just a one time hook up. He doesn't seem to be interested in her, and she seems to be annoyed with him.

But wait...

What is this?

Like, it doesn't even matter if there's actually a punk/rock/whatever band named MOM or not, I just think it's pretty weird to put it in this particular drawing of Ches and this random woman who is implied to have slept with him. It's not integral to Ches' character as, for example, Korol i Shut is. It's just... there. For some reason.

------------

Alright, now, finally let's get to the second part of the theory: who is, exactly, his child?

The short answer is, according to this theory, her:

First, let me list every single instance of her appearing in canon (and by canon I mean everything made by the creators. Even with this definition of canon it's not much, I promise): The screenshot you can see above on the left (it's a screenshot from the second season and it appeared here), an instagram story posted by Alina (above, right), and two drawing with a lot of characters where you can spot the girl which I'm gonna call her PinkHair or PH for short, I'll mention them later I feel like I should mention this, comparing the sources of the images and the dates when they were posted, it's safe to assume that the screenshot in the classroom has the latest and final version of her design. The red hair most likely doesn't mean anything

1. Alright. So. we've seen Dee and PinkHair in a classroom together, so they're most likely related in some way, or at least they know each other. Their exact relationship doesn't matter here, because all that matters here is that they're related story-wise

Let's look at the first image. This is the banner of the main Metal Family channel. Ches is near Heavy (they get along quite well and I'm sure Heavy aspires to be like Ches in many ways), Dee (we can see his classmates/friends near him, they're all about his age), and we can see people related to Glam on the left side of the image (including Ches!), and Vicky's - on the right side (notice how the hell sign is also there)

Now, I'm not absolutely sure about this one, but it's still kind of weird - look at the image on the right (it's from ArtWave 2021 btw) - wouldn't it make more sense to put PinkHair near Dee? Also, Curiously enough, not only is she not close to Dee on this image, but she's also standing next to Ches.

Though this whole thing could be explained by art theory (too many small things in one corner of your drawing isn't great composition wise lol sorry PH) but I still can't quite skip this point

2. Remember the "MOM" lady? Fun fact, she has the exact same pearl earring that PinkHair has on the screenshot.

3. I'll put all similarities with her supposed parents in this point: Mother: * She's also pretty uh.. glam? for the lack of a better word? Or feminine in a traditional sense, yeah I think that's a better way to put it. Like colors they prefer to wear for example, and jewelry. Characters like that aren't common in Metal Family * She's gotta be a blonde. I can't imagine her being anything but blonde. If she manages to maintain that hair color as a brunette I'm just straight up assuming her character arc is gonna be killing God because these kind of people are capable of anything. I fear them with every fiber of my being. * I can't say for sure because of the shading, but it seems like they both have gray eyes, and she also has darker skin compared to most MF characters. Though, it's likely that Mom just applied a lot of fake tan Ches: * We know that Ches for sure has darker skin * AND grey eyes * There's also some possible personality similarities but I'm not sure if you can compare a child to a parent they've never really known in this way

That's about it, I suppose, I hope there isn't that many grammar mistakes and logically unfinished parts and whatnot in this post I forgot to edit lol x) I'm not sure how to end this post other than to remind you guys that almost all the points in this posts are inspired by the "тупая теория" highlight on the dee_girl_metalfamilyfan's Instagram page, so go check them out and subscribe, they post Dee x The Quest Girl fanart and and always credit the artists. Without them this post would be much, much shorter.

Thanks for reading this post, please feel free to let me know your thoughts on this post <3

#i tried to organize this but #yeah #also damn i hope PH's mother isn't in the same situation as Ches' :'(#at one point i misspelled parent in the context of ches as paren't and now i can't stop giggling like an idiot #these tags have completely different moods to them because I wrote them at different points in time btw #paren't #heh heh #metal family #metal family ches #metal family pinkhair #this seems like it's made up but if words end in ent or ant or something like that sometimes i automatically put an ' in without thinking

65 notes · View notes

itsonlydana · 2 years

Text

MEETING FOOLISH FOR THE FIRST TIME

➛ pairing: cc!Foolish x gn!reader

➛ idea: after getting closer over discord for the last few months, the meetup with Karl, Quackity and Tina gives you the chance to finally meet the boy you fell in love with

➛ word count: 1,9k

➛ tags/warnings: none, fluff

➛ an: i had to write this while Foolishs first stream after his break

important links: rules + masterlist

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Foolish and you had met only two months ago, when Karl had invited you to a 'total drama island' watch stream, but as soon as you had spoken a word to Foolish, you clicked

from then on you talked or wrote via Discord almost every day, mostly for many hours into the night and as soon as you got up in the morning again

it wasn't long before you were putting your conversations over into his streams, reacting to videos together or playing Stardew Valley together with Tina, where you did your best to get him to go to sleep on time with Tina or give him presents

sometimes you stayed in a call for hours without talking much or watched series and movies privately

it was not that you were completely faceless to him, one night he had asked you in a private call to describe yourself because he was curious and you had talked as well as you could about your appearance and sent him a photo in the dark of you with mask on. You couldn't see much, but after that Foolish hadn't brought it up again

the more you talked, not only alone, but also in the group with Corpse, Karl, Quackity and Tina, the closer your friendship became, even if it was always somehow different between you and Foolish. You and Karl were friends, Quackity and you were friends, Corpse was your friend, but Foolish? When someone asked you about Foolish, you always hesitated for a moment.

you had a crush, you knew that. How could you not have a crush on him when he took up 90% of your day and 100% of your thoughts?

nevertheless, the bond in your group was strong, so the idea of a meeting was bound to come up at some point and you were all on it right away

the night before the meeting you had helped Foolish with the packing over the phone, but the phone call had lasted long into the morning because you both couldn't fall asleep because of nervousness

the plan was that you and Karl would arrive at the hotel first, later in the day Q and Foolish would come, but Foolish's flight was postponed for 5 hours, which didn't help the excitement of finally seeing him

The airport was crowded, more crowded than you knew, or would have liked. The Superbowl had driven even more excited, and more importantly, noisy tourists into the city, and all those people, many of them in mixed moods about the outcome of the game, felt like they were just in the area where you were. The loud shouting of children who had lost their parents, mothers trying to find their children, fathers irritated pulling their family to another gate and even more young people, like you, stopping in the way to make sure they were right.

And in the midst of this stream you stood, flanked by Quackity and Karl, scanning the crowd of just-arrived guests with restless eyes, confident your thoughts were even more muddled than this crowded hall.

Restlessly you stood on your tiptoes several times, but the sea of heads was moving too fast for you to see any better. Your stomach flipped every time a dark mop of hair poked out or your gaze lingered on a taller young man.

"Calm down, (y/n), he's not going to run away," Karl laughed as you once again pulled your phone out of your back pocket and checked your messages. Although it was almost impossible to receive anything at all with the overload of lines, you reached for your phone out of sheer nervousness.

With heat in your cheeks, thankfully hidden by the mask on your face, you shoved your hands with the phone into your jacket pockets so you wouldn't be tempted to check again. "What if something happened and he can't reach us?" you inquired, eyes back on the gate "Or maybe we missed each other"

Now Quackity leaned into your side as well and put an arm around you "Hey, then we'll go outside and can call him there. Let's wait for everyone to get out first, they should all still be passengers from his flight" Quackity adjusted his beanie, he seemed to be the calm himself, just like Karl who was watching the gates like you, and nodded.

"But interesting how excited you are" he started and despite the mask you could sense his grin. His teasing tone made you hesitate and squint to the side. Part of you dreaded what was coming. "When we were going to meet Quackity you were much quieter, wasn't he as special as Foolish?"

"What? No!" you immediately protested, but Quackity was already tilting his head.

"Oh is that so? Nah look at that, I guess I'm not as important to them as Foolish," he teased you, turning away from you in feigned hurt.

You knew the two of them were just teasing you, they had been doing it for weeks and you knew Quackity wasn't taking it personally and yet you felt the urge to defend yourself. "Q, Karl is lying to you! We were both excited and who ended up opening the door for you? Mhm? I think it was me"

"Because I was just in the bathroom!" complained Karl.

"Gee, I guess if Quackity was more important to you, you should have just peed your pants" you responded in a similar tone to Quackity, almost scolding him and poking him in the side. But when they both decided to do the same to you at the same time, you ended up with two elbows in your side at the very moment the crowd thinned slightly and a young man stepped out of the gate with a bag slung over his shoulder.

You gasped for air, but only inhaled mask and began to pull frantically on Karl's arm, because you didn't have enough oxygen to even think of properly formulated words. Fortunately, Quackity had also spotted Foolish and he and Karl began waving at the man looking around with their hands extended upward, while you could only stand there, brain turned off and unable to look away.

The few seconds he pushed his way through the crowd to you, it felt like he was only looking at you, like it was just the two of you alone in this infinitely crowded waiting area. Even Karl and Quackity were forgotten for the time being, at least until Foolish arrived at your side and was immediately pulled into a hug by Karl. After also greeting Quackity with a handshake and a half hug, he turned to you and your world stopped the moment his bag fell thudding to the floor and you found yourself pressed against his chest.

The only thing that mattered was him.

The next few days were going to be incredible.

it had been Quackity's idea to rent a car for the week and of course you were all the more excited that it was a really good-looking and above all a fast car

after the welcomes you had thrown Foolish's bag into the trunk, ready to show him LA

The wind was lukewarm in your face, blowing through the open car as Quackity drove over the streets of LA, one hand loosely on the steering wheel as he talked to Foolish about his flight via the rearview mirror. Since Karl had gotten right into the passenger seat, since he would be the one controlling the music, and simply because he had shouted "shotgun" the quickest, you had dropped back into the back seat again without much grumbling, except that, unlike the drive to the airport, Foolish was now sitting next to you. You were separated by the empty middle, but this was closer than you had ever been.

Foolish smiled, busy at the same time taking in the scenery passing you, but also talking to Karl and Quackity about football or his trip. But he was smiling, and that was the most important thing to you. You didn't have to follow the conversation to know how happy he was right now, and you felt no different.

In between, his eyes landed on you, your head leaning against the backrest and a dreamy expression on your face, and his smile grew a little bigger, which in turn made you grin. You hadn't talked much yet, only briefly when you had helped him put his bag away while Q and Karl had already gotten into the car, and that had only been about his well-being.

Still, you didn't have to say much to each other, because at some point during the ride, his hand slipped over the empty seat in the middle and gently stroked your fingertips before he withdrew it and went back to talking to the other two.

you drove until the sun first dipped the city in a golden light before it disappeared on the horizon and it was the headlights of the car that now illuminated the street

when you went out to dinner in the evening and Quackity gave Foolish a rose, you laughed at Foolish's gesture and puzzled look. There was no nicer way to celebrate Valentine's Day than with your closest friends

each of you had your own hotel room, but that would have been an unnecessary decision within the first two days

The sounds of the city flooded Foolish's hotel room, becoming a pleasant background noise to your and Foolish's conversation. You lay tired from dinner on his bed, you with your head on his chest, looking up at the hotel ceiling on which the city lights danced. Foolish had one arm wrapped around you, letting his fingertips dance over your arms or lightly patting your head. Since the first breakfast together you had been inseparable, colliding like two magnets, as soon as he had taken your hand after breakfast and had not let it go after that. Every time you went somewhere, his hand had found yours as a matter of course, whether it was walking through the city, short distances up to the hotel room, and even sometimes on the escalator while shopping.

It felt right.

Like there had never been anything else.

Foolish's breath hit the back of your head haltingly as his chest vibrated under his laughter and his fingers slid from your arm down to your wrist where they slowly drifted over your palm, his rougher fingertips moving up to yours. You looked down at your hands and the difference in size of your hands laid flat against each other.

"You know," Foolish murmured, tapping his fingers against yours before sliding them between yours "I've wondered every day who's behind this great person I talk to every day. I wonder what you look like, what it's like to talk to you in person about all these things, how you smile and if your face really lights up when you laugh like Karl told me it would" Wondering what he was alluding to you turned and rested your cheek on his shoulder and looked up at him.

His gaze met yours.

And suddenly you knew what he wanted to tell you.

"You are probably the most fascinating person I've ever met, and I think I've fallen in love with you."

#mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt writing #mcyt imagine #mcyt headcanons #foolish gamers fanfiction #foolish gamers imagine #foolish gamers x reader #foolish gamers x you #foolish x reader #foolish x you

404 notes · View notes

hanibalistic · 3 years

Text

HALF-DEAD ROMANCE | HWANG HYUNJIN.

genre | fluff, friends to lovers au, romance

synopsis | you and hyunjin have a little love-letter-writing business in the library. things took a turn when you both received a request to write a love letter to each other.

word count | 10.2k+

warning | none

note | thank you to @citruscious for giving me black turtleneck poet hyunjin idea, and tagging @hanflix as a special request :)

Hyunjin and his black turtleneck were beginning to turn into a sore sight.

Stopping by the library entrance, you took a light step to the side to avoid blocking the exit space for others, then you kept your head up so your eyes land on the elegant figure across the room, sitting on a desk in the massive communal area.

Hyunjin sat with his head slightly dipped, his chocolate brown locks falling over his brows in pitter-patters against his lashes. His black turtleneck touched the base of his chin after he pulled it up to fend against the cold, and his golden daisy necklace dangled in front of his visible chest. He looked at his phone, sighing gently to himself, then he placed it back in his pant’s pocket as he stood up to head for one of the shelves to the side.

Hyunjin and his black turtleneck might be turning into a sore sight, but his face, his gorgeous face even from ten spaced out bookshelves away, would certainly forever remain a sight for sore eyes instead.

Your eyes trailed after him until he disappeared into the books, and a defeated sigh left your lips with an invisible slump of your shoulders. Curse him for being one of the Lord’s many favorites, and curse the angels for giving you such a shallowly romantic heart. All it took was one look into his hazelnut brown eyes, the ones that matched his wooden brown hair so well, and your heart was all shaken up with irreplaceable attraction.

Willing your legs to move on from the easily stricken state Hyunjin has put you in, you walked away from the library doors and fully integrated yourself with the calming, quiet air among the pens and papers.

The fine line between the buzzy loudness outside and the tranquil atmosphere inside have always been one of your favorite things about libraries; the sudden mood change often so distinctive and blatant, and the way it forces you to notice the dimension change fails not to make you shiver.

You stopped when you arrived at the long table located in the middle of the study area. The library was starting to look more and more like the cafeteria in your university, where the metal tables were lined up straightly one after the other, with thin seats on both sides of the tables and just enough space for two people to squeeze through at the same time.

The only difference the library made was that the desks and chairs were out of a thick, dark wood that was more pleasing to the eyes.

Taking your phone out of your tote bag, you dropped it on the chair just next to Hyunjin (you recognized his backpack sitting on top), pushed it closer to the desk, then you moved away from your reserved spot to the bookshelves on either side of the study area. Hyunjin was standing right in aisle 0305, one hand supporting an opened book and the other stuffed inside his coat pocket.

He could feel a presence next to him.

Amid the swirling of pretty words, all of them constructing a brand new world within his brilliantly eloquent brain, he felt a much stronger presence interrupting his train of thoughts—the presence of your dainty figure radiating next to him, the presence of your feathery steps getting closer to him, the presence of you simply standing by him.

He smiled to himself, a gesture you would mistake as his delight for the fantastical event happening within the pages, and he greeted, “Little Poe.”

“Mini Atticus,” you retorted easily, the comeback rolling off your sweet tongue like a red carpet after weeks of repeating the same greeting to each other.

After reaching for a random book on the shelf, you flipped it open to the middle of the page and silently celebrated to yourself that it was the start of a chapter.

Everything makes more sense when you begin at the start of a chapter, albeit you have not read anything else in the book; starting from the beginning of the book is not required if you have no plans to venture further into it after reading chapter eight.

“How have your classes been?” Hyunjin hummed out after a long moment of silence, bringing his hand up to flip a page before letting his instrumental fingers lay against the corner of the dotted texture.

You spared a faint glance at his hand, your eyes softening in a silent moan upon the sight of his smooth, slender fingers. You guessed that he plays piano the first day you met him, just out of curiosity and to break the ice between you two.

Hyunjin didn’t play piano, but he said yes anyway, and after learning you enjoyed the sound of music, he went ahead to ask his friend for a couple of lessons.

“Good. I turned in my essay today, thank you for your help on that,” you said, giving him a nod but not sparing his a full glance. “And you?”

“Likewise,” he replied before he abruptly shut the book in his hand. “But since you didn’t help me with my essay, there is no gratitude for you today.”

You mirrored his action, your eyes rolling up in temporary annoyance. That was not a fair comparison. You asked him for help when both of you were sane and awake. He had called you up for help during the middle of the night, realizing that his essay was due nine o'clock the next morning and that he had completely forgotten to start it because of his messed up list of priorities. You were already half-asleep at that time, he was lucky you even picked his call up.

Once again—curse the Lord’s favoritism, curse your romantic heart, and curse his honeycomb voice.

“Book,” he said as he held out his hand to you.

You handed it to him while he placed his own in your hands. You received it and carefully shelved it back to the empty spot in front of you, while Hyunjin placed yours back in the spot on the upper shelf.

It was a little, considerate action he started doing after he realized you have never voluntarily picked the books from the higher shelves for your standing-reading session. He had the chance to tease your height with it, but all he resulted in doing was that whenever he arrived at the library first, he would pick a book he found interesting and exchange it with the ones on a lower shelf, a place of your height.

You found out after a while. How you found out was a fleeting realization, you didn’t remember how you concluded that he was getting books from the top for you.

Perhaps it was the constant oddness you felt when you see only one colorful book-spine out of all the other dull-colored ones, sometimes the spine would be decorated with a careful font and a shade of shimmering gold. All of them eye-catching, tempting you to pick them up.

Hyunjin didn’t stop even after you found out what he was doing, and it became a routine for the both of you. He was still surprised that you managed to catch onto his quiet gesture, and he waited until the day you would piece together that all the books he has placed before your eyes contained others’ words he poured out from the depths of his soul, for you.

Romance, thriller, poetry, and fantasy—anything he has ever loved, he found your silhouette in them, and like a child, he always anticipates showing you his discovery.

“Did Jisung give you the letter requests already?” You asked, your head arched up to look at him as he placed the book back into its place.

“He did. We got one from him again, too.” Hyunjin nodded with a short huff, then he breathed out a giggle when he heard you scoff out a grimace from the side.

Han Jisung. What a name, considering the story behind it was nothing you and Hyunjin would easily forget even in the late future. He was a mutual friend of you and Hyunjin; he met you in English class and Hyunjin in philosophy, both of which he did not want to pick but had to because it was either (a) he needed the credit for his general education requirement, or (b) he would much rather not have to suffer through another science class, even if it meant having to learn about Socrates and Aristotle.

Aside from being a mutual friend, and a little bit of a nuisance from time to time, Jisung was also an introverted flirt. He was shy, you knew that. He was a blushing mess when you two first interacted for a class activity, he claimed that he thought you were pretty, but you knew better than to believe his casual compliments.

When Hyunjin mentioned that Jisung was actually a flirtatious little demon, you had not believed him, that was until the shocking day you got to witness the flirting happen before your eyes.

The way Jisung managed to turn his shyness and awkwardness into a charming point of his was nothing short of miraculous, you almost wanted to applaud him for scoring the Instagram handle. You have no idea where that confident aspect of him came from, but you knew that it would pop up whenever he was determined to catch someone’s eyes.

And Jisung wanted to catch a lot of people’s eyes.

At some point, you even started addressing him by the name “Hopeless Romantic,” and Hyunjin began asking him whether he has fallen in love with another fine maiden or another pretty bachelor every other week.

Perhaps your harmless joke went a little overboard and gave Jisung a bit of a rage-spill, he decided he would retaliate by begging you two to write him a love letter.

That was how your small love-letter-writing business started.

You and Hyunjin had decided to play along and joined together to write a mighty good love letter for the girl Jisung met in the writing center. You both had a delightful blast writing it, albeit there were troublesome bickers about certain words and stylistic choices, but overall, not only did you two get to learn more about each others’ writing preferences, but you two also wrote a magnificent love letter that Jisung’s now ex-girlfriend for two months could not shut the hell up about.

All the silent lovers, after hearing the boasting of who happened to be (also unbeknownst to both you and Hyunjin) one of the most popular freshman girls, all decided to look to Jisung for a helping hand with their love life.

And since Jisung couldn’t actually write a good love letter, yet still didn’t want to drop his dignity and reveal that the first love letter he sent wasn’t written by him, he decided to accept all the offers and dumped them all over the two of you.

Now, why did you both cave in and help? Sometimes when you think back to the day Jisung came to you with a list of names and a stack of cash, even after months of this unprofessional establishment, you still wondered why you agreed to help him write an avalanche of love letters for people you have never met before.

Hyunjin even mentioned it himself, on multiple occasions, that if he has to describe a stranger’s eyes again, he would simply blackout and never wake up.

But, truly, your decision was not hard to explain.

Jisung charged those poor, lonely souls ten dollars per one love letter, with a guaranteed five-dollar return policy if the relationship does not end up being official even after the letter. The ten dollars would be split between the two of you or would be given to only one of you, depending on who worked on the love letter. It was quick and easy money, it was extra money, albeit semi-unethical and cruel.

You two got to keep the cash, and Jisung got to keep the secret. It was a win-win situation.

“How many letters has he asked us to write by now?” You asked, tilting your head to the side and raising your hand so you could count off your fingers. “There was this one girl in the dance studio, I remember. Long brown hair, pale skin, brilliant smile–“

“That’s Minjoo,” Hyunjin huffed as he stepped back after fixing the books and lining them up, then he smiled in approval before turning to you. “We wrote about the way she dances? Jisung gave us one short clip of her doing ballet and we milked the hell out of that video just for some details.”

Your jaw dropped in recognition, your hand curling into a fist as you hit it against your palm in the moment of it. “Oh, right! I had Swan Lake stuck in my head for the rest of the week after that! I do think I have come to appreciate the song more, though. It is not that bad. I’ll say Tchaikovsky was onto something.”

“Really? I can recommend some classical music for you to listen to if you want?” He said, crossing his arms before his chest as he eyed you carefully.

“Okay, I didn’t say that. I just said Tchaikovsky might be making some points that one time, I didn’t say I like the points he made,” you clarified, shaking your head and rapidly waving your hand next to your face to emphasize your rejection of his offer.

When you quieted down and took a good look at him, you frowned at his amused expression. He was blatantly staring at you, his focused smile making your heart jump and twirl as a ballerina would.

You began arching your ankles in dismay. Your arms fell to your sides slowly, your small hands curling into nervous fists before they crept behind the back of your sweater where they met each other in a huddle.

“What are you staring at?” You asked in a scoff, feigning annoyance and hoping that it would overwhelm the blush crawling up your cheeks.

Hyunjin shrugged as he gestured toward your figure. He looked you up and down, then he pointed back at himself, and he laughed. You tilted your head with increasingly furrowed brows, flabbergasted at his undiscovered intention of eyeing your figure before pointing at his own body.

He could sense your confusion through the pouty lips and stoic gaze, both being a dead giveaway that you didn’t understand what he was trying to say, so he sighed in defeat.

“Our clothes, [Name],” he muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. “We’re wearing the exact opposite color again.”

You relaxed then, your eyes compelled to take a look at what you wore today and immediately compare it to what Hyunjin has on, even though you knew clearly what your outfits looked like today.

You were wrapped in a sweater of milky white, a complete contrast to his turtleneck of angel black. Your pants looked of a dashing denim white, whereas his pants were of a dressy silk black. Your shoes were a pair of homey, used sneakers, and his were leather, heeled boots.

You hummed as you looked up at him. That was what he meant, the complete contrast in your style was what he pointed out. You did take notice of that, you have taken notice of them since the moment you saw him from the entrance doors, you just didn’t think it was something worth pointing out.

“What about it?” You asked, not waiting for him to spin on your heels and walk out of the shelf aisle.

“It was just an observation,” Hyunjin laughed from behind, his hands shoved into his coat pocket as he trailed after you slowly. “I thought it’s funny how every time I wear an all black outfit, you manage to match me by wearing an all white outfit.”

“You wear all black all the time,” you retorted, stopping at your seat and pulling out the chair.

“Then I suppose you wear all white all the time as well,” he returned, sitting down and bringing himself closer to the table.

He was right. You do like yourself some monochromatic grace.

“Touché,” you whispered out as you got closer to Hyunjin. You clapped your hands together then, quietly because of the atmosphere, and you smiled at him. “Alright, bring on the requests!”

Hyunjin sounded in acknowledgment, his tone somewhat exhausted and irritated. The first few minutes of having to write love letters always made him want to bang his head on the table and end it all for the greater good.

It was likely that it was because writing about loving someone always makes him self-indulge in those strangers’ love life, thus being forced to recognize his tragic own, or the lack thereof, hence the tragic part of it.

“You take the first three and I will take the other three,” Hyunjin said after he placed his notebook in the middle.

The notebooks were kept neatly on the outside but scratched and torn on the inside. The page Hyunjin opened up on already had lines and lines of scribbles, slicing through the finished letter requests carelessly with all kinds of blue ink, and the new ones he just added with his jelly black pen had long got smudges fading to the side like tiny wings to each word.

Pairing with his unintelligible handwriting, there was nothing closer to trouble in paradise.

“Remind me to buy you some handwriting exercise,” you commented as you squinted your eyes, your torso leaning forward to stare at his words. “How is it that you look so neat but your handwriting looks like Zeus crashed a thunderbolt in the art classroom?”

“Everyone has flaws. Having bad handwriting is mine,” Hyunjin retorted.

You snorted then, slowly moving your gaze from his notebook to him. There was a playful smile on your face when you spoke, “Just your bad handwriting?”

He fixated on your lovable face with a defeated glare. He would think of a retort, he really would, but the mischievous smile on your face was far too adorable, unbeknownst to you. And the effect it has on him was that it was interrupting his thought process, yet he couldn’t bring himself to look away. His eyes were fixated on you, always, whenever they get the chance to.

Hyunjin will always choose to look at you.

“Very funny, [Name],” he uttered out finally, his arm reaching up so he could poke your temple and shove you to the side lightly.

You swatted his hand away with a giggle before settling down on your seat again. His smile softened as you shook the energy out of your system, and he waited for you to calm down before he asked, “Can we get back to the letters?”

“Yes, let’s!” You nodded, reaching behind you for your bag and pulling out your pencil case and a thin notebook you used specifically for your love-letter-writing business.

“Good. Like I said, you write three, I write three,” he pointed at you, and him, and then he moved his finger in a circular motion, “and then we both write Jisung’s letter together.”

“Collective effort for the big boss,” you mused without looking at him.

Unzipping your pencil case and picking out a couple of pens consisting of ink of a vibrant shade of pink (for drawing your little hearts around the paper), a mellow shade of yellow (to underline the important words), and a normal shade of black (for writing the love letter).

Hyunjin smiled as you laid out your stationaries and flipped open your notebook to the first page. You always needed more than one pen, and they were always of different colors. The colors you pick for writing changes every other day, sometimes every other week, but he has learned the secret code behind all their purposes.

It took him a while, but his observant-self prevailed and he finally got down what each colored pens were for, not just for writing love letters but for studying as well.

Compared to his minimalistic choice of a single black-inked pen and a small notebook, you were nothing short of a delightful rainbow, and Hyunjin found the divergence rather endearing, if he could think so himself.

It was the fact that despite being drastically different beings, in fashion, in height, in handwritings, and in personal organizations, you two still managed to find a common ground and fit each other perfectly.

For the most part, at least.

“Can we for once not speak of flesh and bones? Can we for once just describe love with a more…” Hyunjin sucked in a breath, his legs crossed as he leaned against the chair, a pen stuck between his delicate fingers. He waved his hands about in the air, thinking, then he continued, “a gentler approach, hmm?”

Yes, for the most part, you two could find a common ground. But when it came to writing a love letter together, such arguments often happen. It was one of the few reasons why you two have chosen to split up the love letter requests instead of writing all of them with a collaborative effort.

For one, it is much quicker to split them up.

It takes each of you less than half an hour to finish one love letter on your own, but almost close to a full hour to write only a fraction of one together. You have learned that the hard way by having to write love letters for Jisung’s ever-changing lovers. Those always take you two the longest, yet you two are unable to split up Jisung’s letter due to how massively tedious his criteria for a good love letter is.

Sometimes you thought about asking him to write one himself, arguing that it would be more genuine that way, but both yours and Hyunjin’s words were to no avail.

For two, as aforementioned, writing love letters puts both of you in a very romantic trance.

It decorates rose-colored lenses before your eyes, having to think about love for hours straight and pretend that you are in love with the receiver of the letter. Not only does that make both of you upset, with the unexpressed and ‘unrequited’ love you two held for each other, it also makes you fall in love with each other even more when you are discussing a love letter together.

You both thought it would be best to allow the emotions time to blow themselves over. There was no need for expansion or magnification. Only the small bud of affection hidden beneath your chest was good enough, anything bigger than that would be troublesome to handle.

For three, last but not least, both of you write in such different ways!

You two grew up liking books and poetry, stars and constellations, but both of you got separated into different categories of one big genre.

You were one for passionate love; you write about love with rage, with power, with a light that blinds the eyes and melts your skin. Hyunjin, on the other hand, has always been one for subtle love; he writes about love with, well, love, always sensually, slowly, and carefully.

You are the blood trickling down your pierced heart, and he is the only pair of delicate hands that are willing to soak through the redness.

“What’s wrong with flesh and bones?” You asked, blinking at him both incredulously and offended. Pushing your back off the slat of the chair, you leaned toward Hyunjin and purposefully blinked at him with mocking curiosity. “I’m sorry, do you not like to be loved violently, Hyunjin?”

“You can love people violently while still make it gentle and silent,” Hyunjin pointed out, putting his hands on the table as the tip of his ink pen dipped against the piece of paper that only has a lover’s name on it.

“Oh, but why do you want to make it silent when you can–“ you pursed your lips together, your hands making grabby gestures at his face as if you yearend to squeeze his cheeks together.

Hyunjin wasn’t wrong. You knew very well that one could love violently and quietly at the same time; having read the poems and books he was fond of, and having read his written pieces before, you have got more than a faint idea of how one could love another with burning silence—it was in the art of everlasting memories, unprovoked kindness, and constant recollections of a lover’s face.

Reading his love letters was like listening to the pitter-patter of the rain play out a smooth melody on a piano placed under the sky, the petrichor scent wrapping you in its embrace. It was like the slowing down of your heartbeat as you catch an unofficial lover’s eyes from across the room, both of you knowing that you are both in love with each other.

And you adored the way he could create such imagery. No wonder his love letters were so popular amongst all the receivers. But it simply wasn’t you.

Furrowing your brows in frustration, your thoughts throwing against each other in disarray, you huffed out a heavy breath and calmed down. Then, putting your hands together, you asked, “Don’t you ever… wouldn’t you get the urge to just scream at the top of your lungs, that you love somebody? Wouldn’t you want to show everyone?”

“I am not very fond of showing off my affection,” Hyunjin said with a shrug. “Especially not to people.”

“I never said it is limited to other human beings,” you argued, looking away for a brief moment before returning to him. “Chant it to yourself! Dance around in your apartment, play songs that remind you of them, sing your love out loud and think of them with each step you take!”

Hyunjin laughed to himself, and you gasped in disbelief that he has the audacity to laugh at your method of coping with your affection. But you didn’t know. You had no idea that his laughter came not from ridicule but from resonance, you had not the faintest idea of all the things he has done to tame his silly, silly affection for you.

Because if anyone knew anything about dancing and singing their heart out, it would be Hyunjin, and if anyone knew about declaring their affection to the world, it would be Hyunjin.

There was a playlist he made for you, of songs that reminded him of you, whether it was songs that he has discovered or songs he heard you hum next to him in the library. The playlist sits on the throne of his speaker, it lays in the empty red solo up on his desk, and it flies in the echo of his sing-song voice as his muffled, rhythmic steps filled his cozy apartment.

Every single night, he reminds himself of you. Day in and day out, he cares about you, he thinks about you, and he dances to the thought of you. He sings to the moon about his love for you, he whispers to the sun about his love for you, he waltzes to the wind about his love for you. Hyunjin loves you through the day, he loves you through the night, and everything is well because of it.

“I will take your advice and do that,” he said, caving into you with a smile. “But we do need to settle with my method, though. We have written to this girl before, and from what I remembered, she pointed out my input more than yours.”

A noise of protest left your throat as you took a moment to recall what Jisung has told you two about the girl’s reaction. You couldn’t remember any of it, just like the many times you could never take into account what Jisung has to say, because he has too much to say, and most of the information he lets out is often unnecessary.

You would just have to give Hyunjin the benefit of the doubt that he wasn’t just trying to get you to listen to him. He probably wasn’t lying, though. You have seen her before, once or twice. She was quite the mellow person; cute dresses and lovely short hair, neat and bubbly, seemed like the romantic type.

“Fine,” you said after clearing your thoughts. Reaching out for the notebook, you pulled it away from Hyunjin’s hand and brought it to your side of the table. Reflecting his confused look with a shrug, you nudged your head toward the paper and said, “You do the thinking. I’ll write and change things up as we go.”

The process went smoothly from there, with a few bumps and stumps of you complaining about his repetitiveness and him retorting with a scoff and a light kick to your chair. The clock spun until the end of the letter, where you finally got to curl Jisung’s nickname (you and Hyunjin have got a variation of those, today you have decided to use “Cool Boy Hannie Han” as the signature) to close the love letter.

“There we go!” You pulled away from the table and smiled down at the masterpiece before ripping the page off Hyunjin’s notebook.

He frowned when you tore it off clumsily, leaving jagged paper spikes at the inner-spine of the notebook. Bringing it back to his hands, he brushed the uneven road of torn texture and sent you a glare, one which you returned with a bashful smile and a shrug.

He shut his notebook with one hand, a defeated purse of his lips remaining on his face; how dare he to have never learned permanent anger, how dare he allow his affection to influence his dismay.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” you said, exasperated with the way he was still staring at you with a deadpan look. “I’ll get you a new one when you use that one up.”

“I didn’t even say anything,” Hyunjin mumbled, putting his notebook back into his bag before he stacked the ripped out love letters in his hands.

Jisung should be right around the corner to pick them up.

“You would be surprised about how telling your eyes are,” you said, wearing your bag on your shoulder and slumping down on the chair with a sore wrist.

Hyunjin hummed then, his brows raising with amusement. Right, such telling eyes he has, yet somehow you could never notice all the endearment that rushes into them when your eyes meet his. He put them there, both accidentally and purposefully and uncontrollably.

He put all of them there, and for months now, you still have not noticed it.

Sometimes he feels like he would explode near you, he really does. Sometimes he feels like he would start loving you the way you love to be loved. Sometimes he feels like he would simply crumble with stuttering words and red ears spilling out of him, all over his chest, covering every inch of him.

And he will love you, violently, loudly, embarrassingly.

Just the way you spoke of it in your letters.

However, today wouldn’t be the day of his inevitable downfall as there Jisung was, rushing into the library with a half-fallen beanie and a big guitar case strapped behind him.

You snickered when he almost tripped over his feet, and the way he frowned at you when he arrived at the table told you he saw your horrible reaction.

“I can confiscate your ten dollars, [Name],” Jisung commented immediately after he settled down in front of you two.

“I can tell everyone who is behind these letters,” you retorted while holding up the wrinkled papers.

Jisung rolled his eyes, knowing this wasn’t an argument he wanted to have, nor was it one he could win. Reaching over to snatch the papers out of your hands, he shot you a smirk of gratitude where his cheeks jut out and his nose scrunches up, and he turned to Hyunjin to do the same.

He stacked them together, grimacing at the difference in paper quality (yours were wrinkled, Hyunjin’s were not), and he reached behind him to unzip the side bag of his guitar can so he could shove the letters inside.

“Oh, right, I forgot something,” Jisung said after he had fished out a few crumbled up, soggy-looking cash from his jean pocket.

His counting movement slowed down and his hands clutched onto the stack of cash tightly instead. Looking up from the money, his eyes began to dart between you and Hyunjin repeatedly in a nervous motion, as if he had forgotten to do something important that would garner some harsh reactions from you both.

Trying to get you two worked up about something takes a lot of time, but Jisung knew not to upset the both of you, since you two could be quite the harsh critic of his personal life; he learned that the hard way and he would a hundred percent never cross that line again. Besides, as two people who were so in control of their negative emotion, once you burst, you really burst.

Jisung was ill-prepared for any form of blatant, friendly hatred and criticism on this long, tiring day. He just wanted to gather the love letters, give you your last-minute requests (which was the hard part), hand you both the money and be on his merry way back home where his leftover cheesecake would be waiting for him in the refrigerator.

That was if Felix didn’t accidentally eat it.

“Uh-oh, you are giving us the panic look,” Hyunjin mused from his seat, looking down on his lap and fixing his posture before he faced up at his friend again. He arched a demanding brow, giving Jisung a knowing look. “What did you do this time?”

“Don’t assume I did something bad,” Jisung replied with faint exasperation, his eyes squinted as he swatted his one hand toward Hyunjin’s direction in a hitting motion. Then, settling back down, he cleared his throat and said quietly, “I need to talk to the both of you… separately… about something…”

Interest piqued in your chest. You sat up straight and scooted back on the chair, making yourself appear taller in your sitting position. “Why? Did you get into trouble?”

Jisung sighed, his eyes averting from Hyunjin’s curious ones to your questioning ones. He appeared more impatient than before now, a somewhat weary look flashing before him as he laughed dryly. “Again, don’t assume I did something bad.”

“Then why can’t we both listen to what you have to say?” You asked. “You got secrets to hide from us?”

“Haha, okay, [Name],” Jisung crossed his arms, smiling at you with a calculative gleam, one that screamed how he knew something you didn’t want him, or anyone else, to know. “Do we want to start telling secrets now? Because I have a mighty big one to tell.”

Judging by the way Jisung’s eyes briefly shifted to look at a clueless Hyunjin, he was talking about your unrelenting affection for the latter boy. You pursed your lips together, leaning back against the chair and tapping your feet on the ground in annoyance.

How do you always manage to forget that he knew of your feelings? And, most importantly, how dare he use it against you!

“No, we don’t have to do that,” you said then, eyeing him with taunt as you slowly got up from your seat. You left your bag on the chair and gestured for Hyunjin. “Can you watch it for me, I’ll just talk to Jisung real quick.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Hyunjin nodded.

Jisung shot you a sheepish smile when you got around the table to his side. Your arm immediately went around his shoulder, dodging his guitar as you slipped through the gap around his neck to put him in a light chokehold. He groaned out loud, not purposefully but he would claim he did so, and you immediately released him as eyes snapped over to look at you both for causing a commotion.

You two made it around the corner and stopped in the middle of an aisle. You crossed your arms, shifted your weight to lean against one leg, and you waited for Jisung to speak.

“Look, I was never going to tell him that you like him,” he said first, making sure you knew he would keep his boundaries and that it was all just an empty threat.

“Then stop acting like you will,” you retorted, causing him to click his tongue.

“See, that threat should have lost its credibility long ago. I keep saying it but I never once did it,” he said, matter-of-factly widening his eyes and shrugging his shoulders. “You should have known that I was never going to go through with it.”

“No. What I should have done was never tell you about my crush on Hyunjin,” you grumbled with a jut of your bottom lip, clearly regretting the decision you made just a measly month ago.

“Hey, you were the one who needed to get the feelings off your chest,” Jisung said, holding his arms up in surrender. “I didn’t force you to say anything, the alcohol and you being an awfully honest drunk did.”

“I know!” You clicked your tongue in annoyance, stomping your foot with silent anger and to refrain from kicking Jisung in the ankle. Giving him an exhausted glare, you waved your hand urgently and rushed, “What did you want to tell me?”

Jisung brightened at the mention of his task, and he sheepishly giggled as his hand went up to scratch the side of his head. He looked away from you briefly, glancing at the books as he faked a cough before he announced, “I have one extra request for you to write.”

You snapped your head over, as abrupt as lighting your glare sent him a zap of shivers. The night was approaching, and you have spent your last hour drowning in other people’s business while neglecting your own. At least those love letters were for thirty dollars, if all goes well for the receiver and their relationships.

But what about all the times you’ve had to lurch yourself away from the desire to stare at Hyunjin forever? What about all the seconds you spent fighting down the unruly signals you could potentially send, just because your heart wouldn’t stop thumping at the way he looked sitting on the chair and scribbling down his unintelligible words. What about the disappointment you felt when you have to look and him and remember how today would be another day you couldn’t confess your feelings?

Even if you could, though, what would be Hyunjin’s likely reaction? You reckoned it would not something good.

All you wanted to do was go home and bother yourself with stressful tasks, be it cleaning or studying, as long as it takes your mind off Hyunjin you would do it. But writing another love letter was definitely not one of the choices.

“Can’t you ask to Hyunjin do it?” You asked in a whine, furrowing your brows at Jisung knowing that he has always been one to be persuaded by a softer approach.

“I–I would, [Name], I totally would,” Jisung said, clasping his hands together with a troubled smile. “But I think it’d be weird if he has to write a love letter to himself.”

Hyunjin glanced down at the forty dollars in his hands, and he looked back up at Jisung with a stoic expression.

You seemed a little agitated when you headed back to the seat, as did Jisung when he approached the table and asked Hyunjin to follow him to another corner of the library.

Hyunjin didn’t feel all that annoyed that he was requested to write another love letter on such short notice, since Jisung was prone to telling him of the requests only one to two days before the deadline anyway. What he was surprised about was the fact that someone asked to address the love letter to you.

And Jisung, silly little Jisung, actually thought he would be a good candidate to write it. He, under the knowledge that Hyunjin has a massive crush on you, actually thought that it would be a good idea to ask Hyunjin to write you a love letter on behalf of somebody else.

“Who is the person?” He asked, crunching up the dirty cash in his hand and stuffing it in his pockets. He stood straight, with a slight lean of his head that made him look extra intimidating, and his eyes were filled with underestimated bitterness. “Who requested the love letter?”

“I don’t know,” Jisung replied with a rushed shrug, feeling less nervous than he should in the face of a close friend. “The person who gave me the request told me it was a friend of theirs who asked for it, but since they didn’t know me, they thought it’d be easier to have a friend ask instead.”

Coward. Couldn’t even spend the effort to find the writer and ask for a letter themselves.

“You know I am not happy about this, right?” Hyunjin said then, “The fact that there is someone else out there who also likes [Name].”

Jisung frowned, tilting his head with pursed lips as he gave Hyunjin a look of distaste. “You can’t stop other people from finding them attractive.”

“I know that–I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean it like I don’t want anyone to like them,” Hyunjin clarified with disbelief, finding it strange that Jisung managed to take him the wrong way even after knowing him for so long.

He was never the unreasonable, jealous type! Jisung knew that!

“Knowing that there are rivals in my pursuit of [Name]’s affection simply makes me nauseous.”

“Oh, no, you’re doing it again,” Jisung mumbled straightforwardly, his voice monotonous and his eyes a wall of steel. “You are doing that thing where you speak like you’re a man wearing a turtleneck.”

“I am a man wearing a turtleneck.”

“Yeah, a man–sure, haha.”

“Do you want your letter written or not?” Hyunjin asked, sighing heavily.

Jisung nodded eagerly, then his enthusiasm slowed down as he gave Hyunjin a long look. When he spoke again, he made sure he sounded more serious than he usually would by lowering his tone. “It’s just a love letter, Hyunjin.”

“A love letter can speak a thousand words to them, that I cannot with my lips,” Hyunjin whispered.

Jisung paused to smile at him, unsure of how he wanted to react to a sentence he didn’t have the mushiness in him to appreciate. He walked closer to Hyunjin, reluctantly patting him on the shoulder, then he said, “A thousand words that only mean something if the person likes you as well. And I reckon [Name] likes you a big deal.”

Hyunjin chuckled under his breath. Well, at least Jisung learned a thing or two from those momentary bursts of weird sentence structures of his.

He wouldn’t be surprised, Jisung has always been a quick learner, as academically unmotivated as he could be. He might just join him in the club of ‘speaking like a man in a turtleneck’ one day, and Hyunjin would make sure he gets all over the younger boy about it.

“I think if they like me, I’d know,” Hyunjin said.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Jisung replied casually, giving Hyunjin another smack on the back. “I’m not teasing you or anything, you really wouldn’t know.”

Hyunjin flashed him an incredulous look, wanting to ask more about his words but only finding himself being pushed out of the book aisle and rushed to write the final love letter.

He bid Jisung a brief farewell, watching the boy stumble away from the library and disappear into the crowd that just happened to walk past outside the entrance door, then he returned to the table where you were busy writing things down on a piece of paper.

“Last minute love letter?” He mused as he sat down and pulled his chair closer to the table.

You blew at your face, trying to get rid of the itch in your eye and refusing to pull away from the paper to rub at it. “Yeah. I assume you got one too?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Hyunjin replied, reaching behind him for his bag where he fished out a pen from the side pocket where he had a few emergency black ball-pen attached to the pouch.

He looked over at you and nudged your leg with his feet, catching your attention. He widened his eyes a fraction then, his chin jutting up slightly as he motioned for your notebook. “Can I get a paper?”

You grumbled but obliged, flipping a page so you could rip a paper out. The same jagged line met his skin when you handed it to him, and you paid no attention to the way he continued to grimace at how incapable you were at tearing papers from books.

As you returned to the letter at hand, the one you found yourself unable to write with satisfaction, you heard Hyunjin ask.

“Who are you writing for?”

You froze, licked your lower lip, and looked up at him with a shrug. “No idea. Jisung told me their name but I don’t know them. What about you?”

“Same as you.” He smiled.

And then it was quiet from there, with the both of you scratching your heads and searching through one vault after another in search for an ounce of idea.

This love letter was somehow much harder to write than any other love letters you two have ever written.

Perhaps it was because the receiver was someone you held true affection for, and words simply wouldn’t suffice with all that you would hope to convey to each other, especially not when you two were both trying to cater toward each other’s likings in terms of writing style.

You were trying out a mellower approach, you were thinking about what Hyunjin would want to hear and what kind of words could grow out his fondness. What makes him want? What makes him feel unfrighteningly fragile?

Could the thought of absentminded hands reaching out for each other fill him with sweetness? Would the thought of tracing faint scars in the night scorch him with intimacy? Would the idea of drowning in exhaustion together, lazy and unbothered on a quiet Sunday, paint him with a sense of gentle yearning? If you were to touch his lips with your own, barely there, just close enough. Would he shiver in gold? Would he long for you?

Would you have to turn mellow just for him? Into dainty angels and white feathers, just for him to like the words you poured out?

Hyunjin licked his lower lip, his fate as a writer not so much better than yours.

Your fervor, your vigor, your energy—they shine upon him like the sun, the closest anyone has ever touched him in his life. And he felt down, he was down, that he could barely replicate it, that in your eyes he may be deeply flawed for being a rather delicate boy. But, truly, your love was one of a kind to him in every way possible.

The fire, the heat, the spirit! It wages wars and brings upon his senses the best calamities. He just knew being loved by you could never be boring, it could never be doubting, because he would always know it.

And he wanted to be the same way. He, too, wanted to burst through the door and smother you; he wanted to know you, the deepest and darkest part of you; he wanted to love you, catastrophically, devastatingly, tragically.

He wanted his heart to burn, he wanted to hurt, and he wanted to love you. And he would.

Both of you would. With your faux fragility, with his ill intensity, both of you would turn inside out for the sake of each other.

The sudden drop of your pen made Hyunjin look away from the paper. He raised his brows at you, watching you stretch your arms and slump against your chair with a pout. Reaching over to poke your cheek with the tip of his pen, he laughed.

“Tired?” He asked softly.

You turned your head, pushing against his pen, and you nodded. “Yeah, and famished.”

He brought his hand back to the paper, quickly signing the last bit of the letter before he clipped the cap back to his pen. Returning it to its original place, he went ahead to fold his letter nearly, tugging the corners against each other with the most meticulous motion, then he pressed it against the table with his palm before he turned to you,

His eyes gleamed when he asked, “Want to grab dinner together?”

You looked at him, your awkward hands shoved inside your jean pocket. “Are you paying?”

“Did we not both just get forty dollars from Jisung, or was that another fever dream of mine?”

“Don’t be petty, Hyunjin,” you kicked your legs, “we have been friends for half a year now! The least you can do is treat me to dinner!”

“Hmm,” he hummed in amusement after heaving a sigh, his defeat was quick and brief. “Fine, but I get to pick where we’re eating.”

“Not a problem!” You grinned, arching your torso over to his direction while your head dangled against the top rail, almost falling off the wood. You looked at him expectantly, your smile holding mischief he could rarely get tired of. “I kinda want boba, though.”

“We can stop by a shop after dinner,” he said.

You grinned in excitement, your feet turning from side to side with your heel pressed against the floor and your toes facing skyward. After letting yourself gush about the food, you looked at him again and asked, “Your treat?”

“What? The drink?” He asked, zipping his bag up.

“Yeah!”

Hyunjin laughed, wanting to roll his eyes at you but his eyes would only turn themselves crescent moons upon the view of your smile. “Okay, my treat.”

You smiled, looking away from him so you could watch the entrance door of the library. And you sat there, completely unaware of the way he glowed next to you.

Walking inside the library felt a little different today.

Most of it remained the same. You could still feel the abrupt change of atmosphere; rowdy on the side, peaceful on the inside. Hyunjin still stood on the other side of the library, his head dipped and his chocolate brown locks falling over his brows, resting against his pretty lashes.

His black turtleneck wrapped perfectly around his neck, and his daisy necklace dangling in front of his chest. He wore glasses today, the thin and golden frame sliding down his pretty nose.

Like yesterday, when everything remained hidden and you two were still sworn to your own secrecy, he looked at his phone, sighed gently to himself, then he placed it back in his pant’s pocket before he stood up to head for one of the shelves to the side.

You bit your lower lip, finding yourself quiver at the sight of him as your memories of yesterday night flooded back to you.

The dim table light in your room, the shuffling of your parents’ quiet footsteps outside as they attempt not to disturb your studying, and the crashing realization that the love letter Jisung handed you before you went to dinner with Hyunjin was written by none other than the man who treated you dinner and walked you home.

Those ugly, ugly scribbles of those smudged, jelly black ink.

The love letter he wrote next to you in the library was addressed to you, written by him, given to you by Jisung.

There were many thoughts regarding the situation, but you had not been able to find it in yourself to text Jisung about it. You spent the rest of the night dumping yourself into a pile of assignments due weeks from this day, just so you wouldn’t have to worry about whether Hyunjin wrote this letter with genuine feelings and whether your letter landed in his hands as well.

You continued on as if your insides weren’t churning in pain. You walked to your designated desk, put your bag down on the chair next to where his backpack sat, pushed the chair into the desk, and you leaned against the chair with your eyes closed for a quick minute.

You willed yourself to act normal, repeatedly telling yourself that everything would turn out fine, and you stood up straight again to walk toward the book aisle.

Before you took a step, though, your eyes blinked and an alarm sounded in your head. Looking away from Hyunjin, you reached down to rummage through your bag before you pulled out a piece of paper that was messily slipped between your agenda—the love letter, right.

You would probably need it for the conversation with him, not sure why you thought you two would discuss it but you kept it with you just in case.

Hyunjin could feel your presence next to him, just like yesterday, and the day before that, and every day you approached him in the library.

Instead of pulling himself out of a made-up universe written inside a thick book, he had to bring himself out of a trance he has kept himself in since yesterday evening after he sat down on his couch and decided to give the surprise love letter a read.

Those were your words, he knew, printed in your colors (pink for the gentle hearts, yellow for the pretty words, and black for the gracious body of the letter) and written on your notebook paper.

Your words, speaking of him in such an endearing and fervent way, making him wonder if there were traces of yourself poured in the words.

“Little Poe,” he greeted gently, as usual.

“Mini Atticus,” you retorted quietly, as usual.

Silence wrapped around the air, vibrating and protruding until one of you would be brave enough to take the first step and break the ice.

You looked ahead at the line of books, your eyes staring at the single purple-colored spine among all the other dark-colored ones. Reaching over to take the book out of its spot, your brows furrowed at the slip of paper stuck between the purple and the black book.

Pushing it back, your fingers reached for the paper instead. The second you saw the blank lines on the folded half, you froze. It was the paper from your notebook.

You tugged at the corner of the paper and pulled it out of the tiny gap, and you held it in your hands with silence. Hyunjin side-eyed you, and he inhaled deeply when he saw that you got the letter in your hands.

Clearing his throat, he closed his book and looked up at the shelf before him, acting as nonchalant as he could.

“You wrote me a love letter,” he said.

You nodded. “You wrote me one too.”

“That I certainly did,” he dipped his head. “Do you think Jisung planned all this?”

“Oh, yes, definitely,” you laughed, for a second letting go of your beating heart and letting the thought of Jisung’s comical-self soothe you down. “We will have a talk with him later.”

“That we will,” he said, and it took him a moment before he mustered up the courage to say, “I hope the letter was of your liking.”

You breathed out carefully, finally having the courage to look up from the wrinkled paper of your love letter to him, and you turned to him. You found him already staring at you, his gaze a tender rose blossoming with a likeness, and your heart crumbled beneath your feet like the terraformation of the moon.

“It was… chaotic,” you said. “I didn’t really like it, but I enjoyed reading it.”

Hyunjin raised his brows. He needn’t any clarification to accept your criticism, he had already prepared himself for such comment while he was inking down the words one by one yesterday. It must have been the way he kept trying to write like you that made the letter such an array of disaster.

Unfortunately, your letter went down the same path as his did. He remembered wanting to both clutch his head in frustration and laugh in delight at how badly you were trying to make your words sound vulnerable and feathery, how desperately you were trying to write the way he would in the assumption that he would like it better if he read what he was used to reading.

It was only after he read the letter, when he slumped against his bed, his limbs sprawled out and his eyes a dazed dream reflecting on the warm ceiling lights—it was only then when he realized one thing: he didn’t have to write like you, and neither did you have to write like him.

Because for so long, while disagreeing with the way you crafted your love letters for others, he has adored your words. He admired the way your words could bring about the sound of drums, the way he could hear a loud ensemble flaring in the background when he reads them.

And he reckoned—he hoped—that you felt the same way with his.

All you two ever needed to be was yourself, and there would come unconditional love.

“I am not understanding the paradox here,” Hyunjin replied to you after a momentary lapse. He turned his body toward you and crossed his arms, the book still in his hand. “Did you like it or not?”

“No,” you said. “The letter was atrocious. I know what you are trying to say, but I didn’t like the way you said them.”

“But you enjoyed reading it?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“And that peculiar contrast came from what, exactly?”

Hyunjin watched the glimmer in your eyes rose from its grave. The lights were seeping through the curtains, overflowing the edge of the windows, taking him to the brink of insanity as you smiled with such soft lips, and you spoke, with such a soft voice.

“Because you wrote it for me.”

And it was important. The love letter, the terrible love letter. It was important to you, because Hyunjin wrote it for you, and you love him so.

He understood that, somehow, without any words being spoken in explanation.

Perhaps it was because his heart resonated with that reason, because he too treasured your preposterous letter for the fact that you were the one who poured your heart out to him and not anybody else. And he knew that everything you wrote on there was true, they were real.

When you talked of the lavenders and the rainbows, when you talked of his sun-kissed cheeks and your sky-filled lips, when you talked of the exact moment of gentle exhilaration where your skin meets his hand, and there was an unfathomable fulfillment in your life. It was all true.

“I meant everything I wrote in the letter,” Hyunjin said then, his words small yet so loud. “Absolutely everything.”

You pursed your lips to suppress a smile. You failed.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a nod, “likewise.”

The air around you two changed with just one simple word. Everything was different for the both of you now; the flicker of your eyes, the quirk of his lips, the light brushes of your hands.

You could look at each other and see the ocean, the sky, the mountains, and you send each other pictures of the sunset because it reminded you of each other.

They were all different, but still, they were warm and delightful.

“Well,” Hyunjin looked away from you and turned to the books. He smiled, feeling an excitement rush through him. “Book?”

You tease his ugly scribbles, he will scold you for spending unnecessary money on colorful pens; you complain about him wearing the same damn black turtleneck every day, he will point out how your colorful clothes make you stand out among the crowd; you think love is a burning vessel for passionate bones and raging hearts, he thinks love is a gentle feather of light touches and soft words.

You two are completely different people, but still, you two have learned each other, and you two have loved, is loving, and will love each other. In exaggerating and unwavering ways, with flesh and bones, with ghosts and whispers.

Black and white no longer contrast. It makes a whole. Just as his black turtleneck and your white sweater, like yin and yang, you two make a whole.

“Book,” you replied under your breath as you stepped up.

And right there, between the bookshelves, in the middle of the aisle, you two stood closer than ever.

541 notes · View notes

gwendeeagain · 3 years

Text

How I wrote the Demon fic

Don't draw devil's traps in janitors' closets is one of my longest fic series I’ve ever written, the most notable of which would be my Demon Gakushuu fic, if you’ve seen it.

In partial response to an ask post (link here), I’ve decided to revisit my writing of this fic series! It was quite a long journey for me and I think it might be fun (?) sharing it with everyone. It’s rather long, so I’ll tag it under “keep reading”.

FYI this thread contains major spoilers for the fic (and would honestly make no sense if you do not have prior knowledge of it).

I'll just refer to the first fic in the series as Books because it has an insanely long title. Subsequent fics are in order Burgundy, Potential, Illuminate, Illuminate rewrite, and Addendum. The main series is linked here.

Addendum is not linked in the main series for reasons I'll explain below. (link here)

Books

I think one of my biggest mistakes writing Books is my lack of plot planning, and subsequently how thematically inconsistent it became. I start off most my fics with a rough idea of how I want the story to end, and a few good themes to carry me through the plot as I write, but for Books I started off with the first chapter and nothing else. If you followed the notes of my fic you'd probably have witnessed my gradual descent into uncertainty and despair as the fic spiralled out of my control due to how wrong I felt it was becoming.

The fic took a surprisingly hard toll on me. I absolutely hated it. I refused to mark it as complete because I was dissatisfied with how it ended. I thought that everyone was out of character, that I lost the original ending and goal in my head, that it was thematically messy such that I couldn't justify any ending I tried to come up with, and I was just grasping at straws trying to make it work.

The three things that bothered me were Gakushuu’s wings, Koro-Sensei and the introduction of Aina. When I started this fic I had plans to kill off Koro-Sensei at the end, however as the fic went on it became a celebration of life and learning how to live, and I knew I couldn’t bring myself to have any death in this fic... but at the same time I had Gakushuu find a lot of meaning in Koro-Sensei’s (to-be) death and I didn’t want to undo that. The wings were on a similar note, because Gakushuu spend 50k words finding out who he is and accepting that he was different. Turning that message around and making him go back to being “the same” ate me up inside, but at the same time I set-up the Demon Society in such a way that they would kill Gakushuu if he didn’t have his wings, and it’s supposed to be a happy ending, dammit! Aina was a particularly egregious case because I threw her (and Ikeda) in without any prior warning at the very last minute. I already had a whole world and setting planned for them which I never got to expand on in the previous chapters because I was so anxious about the other two points, and when it came down to the last chapter I realized I had no set-up for these two, who were supposed to be major players in the finale. Basically I was bad at writing.

Even now I cannot fully articulate why it was terrible for me, but compounded with my real-life stressors, I suppose it just became a bit too much to deal with. (This is a piece of fiction that I am creating from scratch. If I can't even get this under control, what hope do I have for everything else?)

((For come disclosure I was never formally diagnosed with any mental illness, but my parents are the sort of people who don’t believe mental illness exists anyways. I would say that I’ve had depressive episodes when I was younger and sometimes even now, but I’ve learnt my ways of dealing with them!))

Burgundy

Four days later I published Burgundy, a short sequel to Books, very shortly after only because I had already finished writing by that time. I actually do still have several half-finished follow ups at that point, but I couldn't bring myself to complete any sequels because I couldn't even come to terms with the ending of the main story. (Those wips are lost to me now.) I think I was hoping that forcing myself to publish the sequel would show me that it was "no big deal" that the main fic didn't end the way I hoped it would, but it succeeded in making me feel worse.

Potential

About one month after that I wrote Potential. It was a three parter, somehow a fifth of the length of the main fic, that followed Gakuhou's perspective prior to the events of Books. It was a prequel which imo made it easier to write, because I still couldn't move on from Books yet. I think writing Potential was me trying to remind myself why I wrote Books in the first place, to perhaps reignite my original passion for the series. It's kind of funny to think about in hindsight, and a little meta, because Potential was a lead up to the events in Books. It worked... a little bit, I think. I still couldn't reconcile my feelings for the whole thing, but through it I got to revisit the original premise that I fell in love with and expand more on worldbuilding it. I could reprise Aina and Ikeda and finally write about the world I planned to introduce them in in the first fic and give more context and insights to how the demon society was supposed to work.

Illuminate

Six months after Potential, I ran into a comment that said, "what would Gakuhou have done if Gakushuu had died?" And for some reason it struck an epiphany in me. After that I wrote Illuminate in one night, cried myself to sleep, waited one more night to proofread it, and then published it. Illuminate was an AU to the first three fics in the series, and it was a fic about grief and mourning. Spoiler alert: I straight up killed Gakushuu in that fic. And somehow that was what I needed.

I quite literally killed my first fic - I upended the terrible ending I hated from Books - everything I had been uncertain about at first? I killed it. Plot points didn't fit my original plans? Killed it. (When I reread the death scene, I... honestly think I was unnecessarily cruel. I must have really been out of my mind when I wrote it, hah!)

And then I wrote myself a love story about missing it, grieving it, and finally letting go of it. It was heart wrenching for me - I made Gakuhou cry about what he lost, what could have been, what he realized he loved, and at the end of it all he could say "I love you and I can move on from you." And I did!

Illuminate (Rewrite)

Illuminate Rewrite, one year later, was me revisiting Illuminate to reflect on myself where I've come with this series. I actually just swapped the places of two paragraphs to change the mood at the end for something more contemplative. I elaborated a bit more on this in my notes for Rewrite, so I won't repeat them here.

Honestly, I still have a hard time coming back to reread Illuminate even after the whole debacle has happened. I attached a lot of emotions through my journey with this, and revisiting it each time takes quite a bit out of me.

Addendum

Addendum was just me having fun! After Illuminate, I managed to reconcile my feelings with the fic series. I was finally able to mark Books as complete and move on from it, and afterwards I wrote a fun little au sequel to Illuminate so that Gakushuu can live again. I could creatively expand on ideas and just do... whatever! It's more of a loose connection of plot points than a real fic, honestly.

Addendum follows Gakushuu in a future hundreds of years later, after every human who he's once known in Books has died. And... he moves on! Gets a job, makes friends, lives his life, and most importantly move on.

I chose to publish in a separate collection, however, because it was an incomplete story and I didn’t want to have a half-complete fic tacked on to what I have settled in my heart as a complete fic collection.

And that’s about it! <3

#karushuu #gakushuu asano #gwentriestothink

29 notes · View notes

howdon-aldi-death-queue · 3 years

Text

NEW SAM FENDER INTERVIEW FOR NME

THE BIG READ

Sam Fender: “This album is probably the best thing I’ve done in my life”

The hometown hero has distanced himself from the ‘Geordie Springsteen’ tag, but there’s no shortage of rites-of-passage yarns and colossal tunes on the upcoming ‘Seventeen Going Under’

“You can see the ghost of Thatcherism over there…” says Sam Fender, pointing across the water to a vacant shipyard, where once the shipbuilding industry was so healthy that vessels towered higher than the rows of houses on the shore. We’re on the waterfront in North Shields, just outside Newcastle, and our photographer is snapping away for Sam’s first NME cover shoot.

The singer-songwriter stares stonily into the lens as wafts of seaweed and fishing trawlers are carried by the northern coastal breeze. He’s already been stopped for a few pictures with fans, but remains eager to point out the impact that Tory leadership has had on his working-class town over the last few decades. “It’s been closed since the ’80s, from the ghost wasteland of the shipyards. You’ve got all the scars of Thatcherism from The Tyne all over to the pit villages in Durham.”

It’s as good an introduction as any to the outspoken musician, whose 2019 debut album ‘Hypersonic Missiles’ was a record for his sleepy hometown to be proud of – tackling themes that range from male suicide (the heartbreaking ‘Dead Boys’) to world tensions (and the “kids in Gaza” he eulogised on its soaring title track). He set weighty topics against blisteringly well-executed Americana with the fist-in-the-air euphoria of Bruce Springsteen’s colossal choruses and sax solos. Much like his hero, Sam smartly weaves his own political standpoint and personal circumstance into gripping anthems of a generation, which earned him the ‘Geordie Springsteen’ tag.

“I can’t exactly bat off those comparisons, can I?” he says back in his cosy recording studio nearby. “At the same time, I don’t feel worthy of that tag. The first time I heard it, I was like, ‘That’s fucking sick’, but you don’t want to be riding off the coattails of The Boss for the rest of your life. I can write my own songs, they’re different and my voice doesn’t sound anything like Springsteen’s. I don’t have his growl; I’m a little fairy when I sing.”

He may have toned down the Springsteen vibes slightly on his highly anticipated second album ‘Seventeen Going Under’, due later this year, but there are still plenty of chest-pounding anthems capable of making your hairs stand on end: “I much prefer Americana to the music we have in our country at the moment. I love the leftfield indie stuff like Fontaines D.C, Squid and Black Midi, but I love a chorus and melodic songs. I think the American alternative scene has that down with Pinegrove, Big Thief, The War On Drugs.”

‘Hypersonic Missiles’ thrummed with a small town frustration almost that every suburban teenager could surely relate to. This was most notable on ‘Leave Fast’, where he sang about the “boarded up windows on the promenade / The shells of old nightclubs” and “intoxicated people battling on the regular in a lazy Low Lights bar”, a reference to his beloved local. But album two sees him fully embrace North Shields, an ever-present backdrop to cherished memories and harrowing life events of his youth and surroundings.

It’s no coincidence that the 27-year-old has turned inwards and penned a record about his hometown while being stuck at home like the rest of the country: “I didn’t have anything to point at and I didn’t want to talk about the pandemic because nobody wants that – I never want to hear about it again. It was such a stagnant time that I had to go inwards and find something, because I was so uninspired by the lifetime we we’re living in.

“I’ve made my coming-of-age record and that was important for me – as I get older, these stories keep appearing; I’ve got so much to talk about. I wrote about growing up here. It’s about mental health and how things that happen as a child impact your self-esteem in later life. On the first record, I was pointing at stuff angrily, but the further I’ve gotten into my 20s, the more I’ve realised how little I know about anything. When you hit 25, you’re like: ‘I’m fucking clueless! I know nothing about the world.’ It was a humbling experience, growing up.”

Early last year, before the pandemic hit, Sam was set to jet off to New York pre-pandemic to record in the city’s infamous Electric Lady studios founded by Jimi Hendrix. “Looking back, I’m thankful that it happened,” he says. “If I went off to New York and did my second album there… it wouldn’t have been the same record. I will go and do the third one in NYC, come hell or high water – I’m fucking out of here!

“The forced return home really informed the direction [of the record]. I was on the crest of this insane wave; we’d sold out 84,000 tickets for the [‘Hypersonic Missiles] arena tour that we still haven’t played yet. I’m still waiting to hear when it’s going to be rescheduled. It’s incredibly frustrating; I’ve got loads of frustrated fans. That was all cancelled on the day of the lockdown. I thought it was only going to be a couple of months and that it would be another swine flu thing, but fool me – I was stuck in the house like everybody else.”

It’s not the first setback that Sam has dealt with in his career. In the summer of 2019, he was ready to make his Glastonbury Festival debut with a Friday afternoon set on the legendary John Peel Stage, a rite of passage for any emerging artist, but had to pull out due to a serious health issue with his vocal chords. The mood in the room shifts dramatically at the mention of this devastating period: “I don’t want to focus on that, to be honest, because it’s just negative news and it’s in the past.”

“The further I’ve gotten into my 20s, the more I’ve realised how little I know”

Looking back now, he says, it was a tough decision, but ultimately the right thing to do: “We were doing so much at the time and I just burnt out. If you damage your vocal cords, you can’t take it lightly. If something happens like that and you keep going, you’ll fucking lose your career forever. I never want to end up behind the knife; I just refuse to put myself in that situation.”

The fact that his 2019 breakthrough ground to a halt again in COVID-decimated 2020 “was frustrating as fuck”, he says, “but I took solace in the fact that everyone was stopped in their tracks that time; it wasn’t just me.” This was in stark contrast to the singer’s experience of pulling the biggest moment of his music career in order to rest his vocal cords: “I didn’t talk for three weeks; I had to be silent and just watch Glastonbury on the TV, going, ‘This is completely dogshit’. But you can’t even say that out loud – you’re just saying it over in your head like a psycho. I’d take a pandemic over that any day.”

There was a brief flash of light when he headlined the opening night at the world’s first socially distanced arena, Newcastle’s Virgin Money Unity venue, to an audience of 2,500. Yet Sam’s not in the mood to wax lyrical about that, either. “It was amazing,” he says, “but it didn’t happen again.” A local lockdown in the North East brought the following shows – which would have featured Kaiser Chiefs and Declan McKenna – to a premature end in September: “It was another false start. We thought everything was going to get moving again but then we were just sat around [again].”

As for this reaction to the Government’s handling of the pandemic? It perhaps says it all that he’s selling face masks emblazoned with the words ‘2020 Shit Show’ and ‘Dystopian Nightmare Festival’ on his website. “I think everyone has said enough haven’t they?” Sam suggests. “I never want to see Boris Johnson’s or Matt Hancock’s face ever again. As soon as they come on the TV, I just turn it off.”

Political tension bubbles through ‘Seventeen Going Under’. Its second half boasts tracks such as ‘Long Way Off’, a brooding but colossal festival anthem brimming with angst and unease. “Standing on the side I never was the silent type,” Fender roars, “I heard a hundred million voices / sound the same both left and right / we’re still alone we are.” It’s gripping stuff; a Gallagher-level anthem ripe for pyro and pints held aloft.

Sam says the song is about feeling stranded amid political divisiveness here and in the US, epitomised when Donald Trump supporters stormed the Capitol in Washington back in January: “You’ve either got right-wing, racist idiots or you’ve got this elitist, upper-middle-class section of the left-wing, which completely alienates people like myself and people from my hometown.”

“The polarity between the left and the right has me feeling like I have no identity”

Closer to home, the last UK election, in 2019, saw the so-called ‘Red Wall’ crumble as working-class voters in the north defected from Labour to Tory. “The polarity between the left and the right has me feeling like I have no identity,” Sam says. “I’m obviously left-wing, but you lose hope don’t you? Left-wing politics has lost its main votership; it doesn’t look after working-class people the way that it used to. Blyth Valley voted Tory just north of here. Now, that is saying something! We’re in dire straits when a fucking shipbuilding town is voting for the Tories – it’s like foxes voting for the hunter.”

He’s even seen his own working-class friends peel to the blue side: “I’m like, ‘What the fuck is going on?’ I understand it, though. I’d never vote for the bastards because I fucking hate them and I know what they’re up to, but I get why people don’t feel any alliegiance to left-wing politics when they’re working-class.”

As ever though, Sam isn’t masquerading as an expert: “I’m not fucking Noam Chomsky, you know what I mean? I’m not going to dissect the whole political agenda of the Tories and figure it all out because I can’t. All I see is a big fucking shit sandwich – every day through my news feed – and it’s just, ‘Well: that’s what your dealing with.”

The singer is fond of describing North Shields as “a drinking town with a fishing problem”. Today he adds: “That’s been the backdrop of my life: all of these displaced working-class people. It’s a town that’s resilient that still has a strong sense of community. In a lot of big cities that’s dead. In London everything changes from postcode to postcode, but everything is quite uniform up here.”

When NME was awaiting Sam’s arrival outside the studio before the interview, a passerby clocked our photographer’s gear and asked, “Oh aye – are you waiting for Sam? We all know Sam – a good lad; very accommodating with nae airs or graces about him.” Another pointed to The Low Lights Tavern down the road, where Fender used to pull pints on the weekends: “He was a terrible barman, and he’ll be the first to tell you that. I think he got sacked about six times during his time there.”

Sam (who confesses of his bartending know-how: “He’s totally right!”) hit the local to celebrate when ‘Hypersonic Missiles’ won him a Critics’ Choice gong at the BRIT Awards in 2019, placing the trophy on the bar. “I owed The Low Lights one for being such a shit barman,” he says. “I wanted them to be proud of us because they fucking certainly wasn’t proud of us when I was around working there!”

“Celebrity stuff freaks me out. I’d rather just live my life”

He’s clearly a key member of the local community, then. How did he see the pandemic impact on his family and friends – especially when the North East faced the toughest Tier Four lockdown restrictions last December? Sam pauses before bluntly saying: “I lost more mates; there was suicides again. Mental health was the biggest thing. We lost friends who had drunk too much.”

A track on the new record, ‘The Dying Light‘, is an epic sequel to ‘Dead Boys’, with the poignant last line of the album ringing out “for all the ones who didn’t make the night”. Sam, unable to truly distance himself from The Boss after all, explains: “It’s very Springsteen. It’s my ‘Jungleland’ or ‘Thunder Road’ – it’s got that ‘Born To Run’ feel; there’s strings and brass [and] it’s fucking massive. It’s a celebration. It’s a triumph over adversity.”

He stresses that it was vital for him to be in regular contact with his friendship circle through that traumatic time: “It becomes important when you lose friends to suicide… You realise it’s always the unlikely folks. We lost a friend to suicide at the beginning of last year and it was someone you’d never expect. It really hits home; it’s important to check in on your mates.”

Sam has alluded in previous interviews to a health condition that he’s not yet ready to fully disclose, and tells NME that he spent three months shielding at the beginning of the pandemic: “I was alone for three months and that was very tough… When you’re completely alone and isolated, it’s impossible. I spent a lot of time drinking and not really looking after myself and eating shit food, but I wrote a lot of good lyrics.”

There’s a certain resulting bleakness to some of his new songs, but Sam also wanted light to shine through. “It’s a darker record, but it’s a celebration of surviving and coming out the other end,” he explains. “It’s upbeat but the lyrics can be quite honest. It’s the most honest thing I’ve done.”

You might expect a young hometown hero to rail at having been denied the chance to capitalise on his burgeoning fame in the last year or so, but Sam insists, “I still have imposter syndrome,” adding: “I don’t feel like it’s happened… I’m walking around the street and people ask for photos and it just feels bizarre. I’m like, really? I feel like I haven’t come out of my shell yet.”

Sam has rarely been one to court celebrity, and revealed in 2019 that he’d turned down the chance to appear in an Ariana Grande video. “It was an honour but I would have just been known as that guy in the video,” he tells NME. “All of my mates would have been flipping their heads off, but I don’t think she would really want an out-of-shape, pale Geordie. I’d rather just live my life, because all of this celebrity stuff freaks [me] out, you know?”

He might have to get used to it: things can only get bigger with the arrival of the new album. “As a record I think this one is leagues ahead [of ‘Hypersonic Missiles’],” he says, “I’m more proud of this than anything I’ve ever done. It’s probably the best thing I’ve done in my life. I just hope people love it as much as I do. With the first album, a lot of those songs were written when I was 19, so I was over half of it [by the time it was released]. Whereas this one is where I’m at now.”

“This is a dark record, but it’s a celebration of surviving and coming out the other end”

Still, he adds: “At the same time, this record is probably going to piss a lot of people off.” He’s referring to a line in one of the more political tracks, ‘Aye’, where he returns to his most enduring bugbear, divisiveness, and claims that “the woke kids are just dickheads”. Sam’s no less forthcoming in person: “They fucking are, though! Some 22-year-old kid from Goldsmiths University sitting on his fucking high horse arguing with some working-class person on some comments section calling them an ‘idiot’ and a ‘bigot’? Nobody engages each other in a normal discussion [online] without calling each other a ‘thick cunt’.”

He’s eager to make this statement, though, come what may: “I don’t fucking care any more. I’m not really sure how the reaction is going to be. People used to say things online about me and I used to get quite hurt about it, but now I’m like, ‘Well, they’re not coming to my house’… [But] I get so angry. In Newcastle we say ‘pet’ and someone was trying to tell me that was fucking offensive towards women. You’re not going to delete my fucking colloquial identity. It’s not even gender-specific; we say it to men and women. My Grandma calls me ‘pet’! That brand of liberalism is fucking destroying the country. We could be getting Boris Johnson and all them pricks out of office if we stopped sweating over shit like that”.

Sam might be outspoken, but he’s self-aware, too. When we were talking politics earlier, he said: “I didn’t want to start on ‘cancel culture’ because I don’t want to sound like Piers Morgan [and] I fucking hate that cunt. But there is a degree of it which lacks redemption; people fuck up. Everyone is a flawed character. If you’re not admitting that you have flaws, then you’re a fucking psychopath. The left-wing seem to be that way and the right-wing are fucking worse than they’ve ever been. Politically I have just lost my shit.”

In all of this uncertainty, though, it seems a sure thing that Sam Fender will take his rightful crown – as soon as the world lets him – with the colossal ‘Seventeen Going Under’. “It’s going to be a hell of a return,” he insists. “I know the fans are still there, you know? So I’m not really worried – I’m ready to go out there and do my thing. Finally!”

#sam fender #majestic interview #some important points were raised #loved when he said that he hates the 'celebrity façade of things'#long post

31 notes · View notes

sevenkittensinatrenchcoat · 2 years

Text

My Tumblr Year In Review Thing, But There Were Technical Difficulties

So, I wanted to post the thing, but Tumblr just kept erroring, and it’s been like five hours now, so I just took a bunch of screenshots of what I wanted to post but couldn’t, so I can share it anyway...Now with commentary!

So, I clearly talk about Cats 1998 WAY more than any other version. There character tags mostly line up with who my favorite characters tend to be, minus Jemima. I’m a bit surprised by how many Skimble and Bomba posts there are, because I don’t think I talk about them that much. But Misto, Munk, Tugger, Jerrie, Pouncival, and Etcetera come up a lot around here and I generally have a lot to say about them.

As for The Long Tag, my grandpa was very sick and suffered from dementia. He passed away in September. I hadn’t seen him since 2016 and I’m not sure my brain has fully processed the fact that I won’t ever see him again. I didn’t post about it when it happened, because this is a Cats blog.

Okay, let’s change the subject and move on to my top five posts AKA Mainly Stuff That I Didn’t Put Much Effort Into That Somehow Really Caught On

Okay, this one had actual effort put in. This was an early post, back when I was trying to rewatch 1998 a zillion times focusing on different characters. I stopped when I got bored of doing the same thing over and over.

Out of all the rewatch posts, I get why this one was the most popular, since I was just sort of riffing the scene and having a great time.

Here’s how I described the scene and it sets the mood:

Since the post is really long, I took screenshots of only a few highlights:

There is no point to this highlight. I just had to include the Tail Spin again.

Because it wasn’t relevant to this scene, I forgot to mention that, while Teazer has the larger half of the brain cell in this scene, Jerrie has it when they’re doing crimes. He’s a criminal savant of sorts.

And now, a joke with some decent comedic timing:

RIP Pouncival

Explaining The Joke: In most productions, Alonzo plays the Rumpus Cat and it goes about as well as it does here, but you’d think Alonzo would be more reliable if you didn’t know that.

I found George kind of boring the first few times I watched the show, but he’s grown on me. This post was from before that happened, so I’m maybe a bit mean to George here.

Note: Cats CANNOT safely drink alcohol. I knew this when I made this post, but the joke was funnier if Munkustrap didn’t.

Okay, time for Number 4:

This was a short little meme post I wrote off the top of my head, but it’s another one that made sense to catch on. Here are some of my favorite descriptions:

The Ballad of Billy McCaw is really weird.

Of course, actors in the same production can give contradictory answers too, but wow has the show changed over time!

Okay, we’re getting to some shorter posts where I screenshoted the whole thing. Number 3:

I saw someone make a post basically identical to this at some point and I hope that post is more popular than this one, because it was there first.

Though it’s easy to make the Tuggoffelees joke of “Misto gets away with shit than no one else can”, having seen other productions where Misto doesn’t get this line, this is actually a difference in Tugger portrayals in original vs. revival choreography. In the original choreography, Tugger doesn’t seem to have a specific response to the comment and the actor just ad-libs it. Most actors play Tugger as being too confident to care that he’s being insulted. But, the Broadway Revival’s choreography plays up Tugger’s vanity, and has him fall into the typical trope of “guy who’s really full of himself is secretly insecure”. So, this Tugger can’t handle being insulted. I’ve seen clips of actors other than Tyler Hanes doing this with the revival choreography, so either it’s not ad-libbed, or every other actor who took the role after Hanes copied it because they thought it worked well.

This is another example of Blankenbuehler choreography completely changing Tugger’s character. I wouldn’t mind so much, but “vain but uncertain” is Alonzo’s thing and we don’t need two characters with the same potential arc. Tugger’s thing, so as not to be confused with Alonzo’s, is usually “seems like a jerk, but is really a nice guy/ seems like a himbo but is actually very smart/ seems irresponsible but is a really good leader when he’s needed”.

Number 2:

Tumblr, I was pandering to you. I realized that if I made a post that was just “these characters are LGBT” and literally nothing else, it’d get a bigger response than any longer headcanon or analysis. I actually feel a bit bad that this lazy post got as popular as it did. It’s not bad, but it was something I made purely to get a reaction and not because I had anything to actually say.

Lesbian Rumpleteazer! Most Teazers aren’t lesbians, because they have to fill in for Etcetera and be Tugger’s biggest fangirl, but Etcetera’s in 1998 and out of all the girls who are fans of Tugger, Teazer is the least blatantly horny during his number. Honestly, I didn’t know who to make the L in this LGBT meme. The queens who are the most easily shippable with other queens are all more easily read as bi. Bomba and Demeter could be read as a couple, but their past relationships with and attraction to Macavity is a plot point. Most productions don’t have any characters who read as lesbian, because all the queens go nuts around Tugger. The ones that don’t are Demeter (already explained), Jenny (who has an obvious crush on Bustopher), and Jelly (I don’t know maybe?).

So, the L was hard but the other 3 were all really obvious.

Gay Mistoffelees! In most of the situations where the tribe has gender roles, Misto is an exception to the rule. His aesthetic includes glitter and rainbows. He spends a lot of time trying to impress various toms while being one of the few toms who never really actively tries to flirt with any of the queens. Add in the fact that I’m pretty sure he’s been portrayed by more gay actors than straight ones and it’s incredibly obvious why he’s usually seen as the Gayest Little Cat.

Bisexual Rum Tum Tugger! He can’t pick one side of a door. Do you really think he could stick to sleeping with one sex without getting curious about “what’s on the other side”? Also, Tuggoffelees.

Transgender Mungojerrie! Misto is the more popular trans hc character, since he had those seven kittens, but Jerrie is my favorite trans headcanon. He’s a calico cat and male calicos are extremely rare. Male calicos are actually more intersex since their chromosomes are XXY. So Jerrie could be many different not-cis things, but my headcanon is that Jerrie was AFAB but Macavity magically gave him a male body. He’s a cat, so transitioning via hormones and/or surgery isn’t really possible, so he transitioned via magic.

Finally, My Number 1 Post of 2021:

Another one where I saw someone else’s post and basically did my own version of it. A former mutual (an anti), made a post describing Cats designs of different eras as:

1981: Human People

1982: Sewer Rats

1998: Teddy Bears

2016: Instagram Models

2019: *redacted*

So, I did the same damn thing with a visual aid, more commentary, and focusing on only one character. 1981 Misto looks human, 1982 Misto looks creepy, 1998 Misto is adorable, 2016 Misto is cool and polished, 2019 Misto is a bit of a mess.

I see a lot of posts that inspire my own posts, though I avoid directly copying. Depending on your definition, I’ve probably ripped a few people off.

I have seen screenshots where he looks a bit more feline than this, so I was sort of cheating.

This is actually one of the less “cryptid” pictures of this Misto.

The Broadway Revival didn’t really make good use of Misto at times, but the rainbow jacket is definitely a plus.

Explaining The Joke: Yes, I was a bit too harsh here. Misto’s is one of the better character designs in this movie, which is admittedly not saying much, but, outside of the broken CGI, he looks fine. The thing with him is that without his dance role, Misto just seems really watered down. He’s once of the nicer cats in the movie, but he’s more focused on Victoria than anyone else. He only fit the cryptid category by accident because of the CGI. He fits the Baby Misto personality very well, but they messed up his number which ruined the pay-off. His jacket is cool, but not as cool as the rainbow jacket. He doesn’t exactly fail at all these things, he’s just not as good at them as other versions are.

Outside of the lack of dance and overemphasis on Mistoria stuff, 2019 Misto isn’t completely out of character. He’s more genuinely shy, but there are moments of attention-seeking that feel very Baby Misto, such as after the list of types of cats in Jellicle Songs, he adds in “AND magical cats!”. That’s Misto. “Me! What about me and how awesome I am! I’m a special magic boy gdi!”

Even though the “terrible bore” line is now directly only at Victoria, the original meaning of the line (”Stop paying attention to him and go back to paying attention to me!”) is still there. As a side effect of making Victoria the protagonist, a lot of stuff that’s usually addressed to everyone ends up being addressed solely to her. Misto’s competitive nature and seeking the attention of everyone becomes mainly about Victoria, because she’s the main character. Any problems in Misto’s characterization are an extension of larger problems in the movie’s structure.

I hate on Cats 2019 a lot, I know. I think that by whatever objective standards art can be measured by, it’s a bad film and a bad adaptation of the source material. But, if you like it, ironically or not, fine. You can find happiness in a place where I can’t. Good on you. When it comes to the humans I criticize in this movie, I think most of cast did the best they could with what they had to work with. I still don’t like Blankenbuehler’s choreography and I think Tom Hooper lacks a basic understand of the appeal of musicals, but I don’t think their bad people. How could I know? I’ve never met them. The only actors I poorly of from this movie are Rebel Wilson and James Corden. They played themselves instead of their characters and I never got a sense that they actually cared about the show or the movie. But, the worst thing is that they blamed everything on the visual effects and threw those people, more people who did the best they could with out they had, under the bus.

So, here’s a long, 2021 Is Almost Over Let’s Recap The Year post. What you’ve learned is that I lie, cheat, steal, pander, and I’m generally kind of a dick, but at least you think I’m funny. Hopefully Tumblr will actually let me post it.

#my year in review #cats musical #cats 1998 #Mr Mistoffelees #munkustrap #rum tum tugger #Mungojerrie #Pouncival #skimbleshanks #cats etcetera #Bombalurina #cats 2019 #i'm cynical as fuck

9 notes · View notes

painted-piggy-ships-archive · 2 years

Text

The Thorn in My Side, The Gleam in His Eyes

Charles Lee Ray x Ash

Word Count: 816

Tag List: @heavenshipped @fangedwife

Summary: I wrote this a bit ago and never posted since it's a bit of a different tone than my usual writing, but what better time to dig up months-old work than in a mental low point? /lh Takes place in the 80s, pre-"death" for Charles, inspired by the lore we got in the shoe.

Warnings: Chucky & Tiffany's strained relationship (arguing in the first couple of paragraphs), smoking, food mentions, a suggestive comment.

Thanks for reading! Please consider reblogging or leaving a nice comment if you enjoyed!

Charles and Tiffany were nagging, nearly shouting, at each other again, while Ash sunk farther and farther into their couch. He had been trying to watch Psycho with them, then Chuck made some snarky comment about Tiffany grabbing the popcorn and it completely disrupted the mood.

"That's it," Ash grumbled under the din, pausing the tape and pushing past the two "lovebirds" on his way out.

"Ash, where are you going?!" Charles called after him, breaking the argument briefly.

"I can't do this anymore!" He grabbed his coat and a pack of cigarettes before slipping out the door, slamming it behind him on his way. Once Ash had gone, the couple began blaming each other for his abrupt exit.

"You started this! You always start these arguments!" Tiffany accused.

"Do fuckin' not!" Charles barked. "You're more petty than me!"

"You act like an overgrown child with a murder obsession!"

"Have you looked in the mirror lately, toots?!" Charles turned away, going for his own coat.

"Where are you going?!"

"After Ash, obviously, he's my fucking boyfriend."

"But I'm you're girlfriend." Their voices began to return to their normal cadences, Tiffany beginning to tear up.

"You're also a fucking pain in the ass, but you don't see me kicking you out on the street yet, do you? Stay put, for my goddamn sanity."

~~~

Ash wandered the cold Chicago streets, his glowing cigarette seeming like the only real light among the neon signs and the street lamps reflecting off windows. It had rained hours earlier; Now only the damp sidewalk and slick roads were evidence of that fact. Like how Tiffany and Charles had been arguing minutes before, but now the only evidence Ash had of this was a dull headache and a buzzing mind.

He loved Charles desperately, and he knew him well enough that he knew the man picked favorites. Chucky stayed with Tiffany because of their shared hobby and because at times her behaviors amused him. Chucky stayed with Ash because he was attached and couldn't bear to lose him.

A car soon pulled up beside Ash, keeping up with his relatively slow pace. The window rolled down and Charles poked his head out.

"Ash, would you get in the car, please? We don’t have to go back to the apartment." He pleaded. Ash sighed, stopping in his tracks and taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"And this is why I don't live with you two," Ash spoke and the smoke curled around his mouth like a dragon breathing fire. He then got in the passenger seat and the two kissed, long and tender.

"I'm sorry, baby," Charles spoke lowly, as if someone outside of the car would hear and ruin his reputation.

"I'd say, ‘tell that to Tiffany,’ but I know you won't. You're an asshole." Ash kissed him again.

"I'll apologize to her, too."

"Liar."

"I will!" Charles paused as he began driving around. "I can't promise it'll be good…"

Ash stifled a laugh, resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder.

"That's what I thought."

"... Hey, can my half-baked apology wait until tomorrow?"

"You want to stay over?" Ash lifted his head, shaking out his hair. Charles nodded and he shrugged. "Alright."

Charles took Ash home, another apartment complex not so far from the one he shared with Tiffany.

"I wish you'd live with me."

"Set some ground rules with Tiffany and we'll talk."

The two went inside and Ash grabbed a styrofoam box from his fridge.

"Ooh, what do you have there?" Charles asked in mock interest.

"Grocery store fried chicken," Ash responded, plating the food and sticking it in the microwave. "You know I'm picky."

"Nothin' wrong with that," Charles hugged Ash from behind, swaying back and forth with his chin on top of his boyfriend's head.

"You are so finicky," Ash commented with deadpan amusement, "honestly, you’re worse than a cat."

"What do you mean?"

"One minute you’re at Tiffany's throat, the next you’re being all caring and cuddly toward me. You don't even like physical affection half the time unless it leads to sex!"

"And this isn't going to lead to sex?"

Ash smacked Charles' arms away lightly, rolling their eyes and making him laugh. "I'm kidding, Ash."

They retrieved their meal and the two went into Ash's room. "TV's busted," Ash warned between bites of chicken, sitting on the edge of the bed and facing the window. "I've resorted to the radio and watching the local soaps." He gestured to the apartments across from his, where people went about their lives, unaware of prying eyes.

"Hey, that can be fun," Charles responded, shrugging off his suit jacket and loosening his tie.

"You're telling me. I've seen two break-ups and an affair in the past three days."

Charles snorted as he loosened his belt and finally laid behind his partner, tossing his tie to the floor.

"Sounds familiar."

#clownie writes #self shipping #self shipping community #💒dollfriends💒#villain f/o #self insert #s/i x f/o #s/i x canon

3 notes · View notes

poisonedapples · 4 years

Text

Prologue: Roman’s Fluffy Helper

Summary: Roman’s service dog Princess helps him with a lot of things. She gets his meds, helps him through panic attacks, and helps him be able to leave the house. What Roman didn’t expect was for her to help him make friends.

Pairings: Platonic LAMP, background familial Creativitwins

Warnings: Anxiety, food, mentions of panic attacks (though no one has one), mentions of epilepsy, swearing, some jokes about murder and death.

Word Count: 3,495

Notes: Something small I wrote in two days for the Service Dog AU, created because of this post I made. If you’re interested, you can always find some more stuff about this AU in the “service dog au” tag!

Virgil shared a few classes with Roman Sanders.

He was in his first two periods, and the only student (other than Patton) that Virgil actually took note of being in his class. Though, that was because it’s almost impossible to not notice him.

Roman was a really quiet kid, one that teachers hardly ever called on and was always excused from doing presentations (lucky bastard). Virgil had only heard him talk a handful of times, and he wasn’t exactly popular either. The thing that really made Roman stand out, however, was the giant golden retriever with a service dog vest that followed him everywhere.

He’d seen dozens of kids go up to him asking to pet his dog, met with a lot of refusal and Roman leaving the class if it got bad enough. Usually he would only sit at his desk, quietly doing his work while his dog curled around his feet and didn’t make a scene. If Virgil wasn’t a loner himself, he’d go up to Roman and maybe strike a conversation. But the guy always seemed to be calm when he was alone, and Virgil sucked at starting conversations, so they never actually talked.

It was only a month into school when Virgil had his first conversation with him. And it was absolutely not his intention.

Virgil was checking his phone at his designated lunch spot when Patton slammed his lunchbox on the table. “Virgil!”

“...Yeah?”

“There’s a cute little puppy over there!” Patton pointed to the other side of the lunchroom, but Virgil couldn’t see what he was talking about from this distance. How far do those damn glasses make you see? “I wanna pet the good boy so bad!”

Virgil kept looking where Patton was pointing. “Is it the drug dog again?”

“No, it’s a different one!” Patton seemed to be vibrating with excitement where he was standing, jumping up and down with the biggest grin on his face. He seemed to be fighting a fruitless internal battle before he loudly announced “I’m gonna go pet the puppy so much!”

The moment Virgil realized what was happening was almost in slow motion.

First, he saw a secluded table away from all the others, right behind the table Virgil thought Patton was pointing to. There, he saw Roman Sanders eating his lunch, his service dog under the table just like how it was during class. Patton ran across the lunchroom to go to the secluded table, dodging any kids that got in his way. Virgil realized in horror that Roman wouldn’t be able to stop Patton before he dived under the table just to pet a dog. And doing so could fucking kill Roman.

Virgil sprung up from his seat and shoved everyone out of his way to get to Patton in time, no matter how many bitchy remarks the other students made. Roman didn’t have time to look up and notice Patton approaching before Virgil pounced on his friend, nearly toppling them both to the ground with the force of him smacking himself into Patton. The security guards looked at them both as if preparing to break up a fight, but looked away when it only seemed to be two guys being kids.

Roman may not have noticed the bubbly kid charging at him before, but he certainly did now, looking up to see Virgil and Patton basically wrestling each other.

“Patton, don’t pet the dog!” Virgil yelled.

“Awwwww, but why not!?”

“It’s a service dog, you can’t distract a service dog or you could literally kill someone!”

Patton relaxed in Virgil’s grasp, “...Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Uh…” Virgil and Patton both looked at the poor kid that almost got attacked, “Do you...need something? Or…?”

Patton’s eyes lit up. “Your dog is so cute! What’s his name?”

Roman smiled shakily to hide his flinch. “Her name is Princess.”

“Princess? I love it! What breed is she?”

“Golden retriever…?”

“She’s such a good girl! I love her, she’s adorable!”

“Uh, thank you.”

Virgil let go of Patton, but still kept a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t scare the poor dude, Pat.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I just really like dogs, and Princess is so cute and fluffy! I have two dogs of my own, but they’re a lot smaller, and I’d have a bunch of cats too if I wasn’t allergic.”

Roman’s voice gained a little more confidence. “Princess is the only dog in my house. My brother has a bearded dragon, though.”

“A bearded dragon sounds awesome! I don’t know much about reptiles though, and I’m always scared to hurt them because they’re so tiny. They’re super cute though!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind him, he really likes animals. I’m Virgil, and this is Patton.”

“Oh yeah! I forgot to mention that! I’m Patton, do you how do?”

Roman laughed, but didn’t mention the reference. “Roman.”

“You’re in my first two classes, aren’t you?” Virgil asked, “With Mrs. Jones and Mr. White?”

He nodded. “...Didn’t you like...yell at Mrs. Jones a couple days ago over assignments?”

“She’s a bitch and deserves to know it. Who the fuck assigns three giant-ass chemistry packets due in three days?”

Patton waved his finger at Virgil disapprovingly. “Now Virge, just because the homework they give is ridiculous doesn’t mean you get to cuss out a teacher.”

“I didn’t say I cussed her out.”

“I know you, Virgil.”

“...The detention was worth it and I’m not sorry.”

Roman laughed again, and Patton smiled so wide that Virgil thought he would start jumping through the roof. “Hey Roman, can me and Virgil sit with you? I’d love to keep talking!”

Virgil noticed Roman’s leg begin to bounce violently. “Uh, sure…”

“Great! I’ll get our lunches!”

“Do you have any, like...allergies, Roman?” Virgil asked. Anything I might have in my lunch that could accidentally kill you? I don’t wanna kill you. Patton already almost did that. Let’s not give a second close call.

Roman shook his head, so Patton walked back to their previous spot to get their lunches. Virgil took a seat directly across from Roman, and once he did, Princess rose up from her place at his feet and lied across his lap. Roman started petting her with both hands, and Virgil felt a sense of panic rise in him. Please don’t fucking die. “You okay dude?”

Roman nodded, but Virgil pushed just in case. “Do I need to get like...a teacher? Or the nurse?”

Roman shook his head, then took a couple deep breaths in and continued to pet Princess’ fur. Virgil kept watching him carefully just in case, but it felt awkward sitting at the table with no conversation or food to focus on. Instead, Virgil mindlessly searched through Tumblr for the thirty seconds Patton was gone, placing his own lunchbox and Virgil’s tray on the table with a smile.

Virgil put down his phone and instead started eating some of his food, but Roman didn’t talk for a while. Princess still had her head on his lap with his hands combing through her fur, and the more she laid on him, the more Virgil began to worry. Why is she on him?

Well...only one way to find out. “So, Roman…”

Roman lifted his head up to look at Virgil. “Yes?”

“What kind of service dog is Princess? What does she help with?”

Roman turned his attention back to Princess, but he still smiled a little, so Virgil considered it a slight win. “She’s a psychiatric service dog. She does a very good job of helping with my anxiety.”

“Oh, mood.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “You...have a service dog?”

Virgil’s face somehow became more pale than it already was. “Uh, no...I mean, like, I have anxiety too. Obviously not as bad as to have a service dog, but like...solidarity.”

Virgil took Roman’s second smile as an even bigger win. “Solidarity, I suppose.”

“How long have you had Princess?” Patton asked.

“About two years, I think. She was in training for a year, but she’s been my full-time service dog for this past year. I had another dog before her, but he’s retired now.”

Patton let out a loud horrified and upset gasp, “The poor baby! I’m so sorry!”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Not like that, no! Simba’s still alive, he just isn’t a service dog anymore! He keeps my grandparents company at their house.”

“Oh, good! He sounds like such a sweet puppy!”

“He is. I visit him sometimes, and he’s gotten very lazy, but he still jumps around and gets excited when he sees me.”

Patton covered his mouth with his hands excitedly. “Do you have a picture of the good boy, by any chance?”

Roman nodded and took out his phone. After a bit of searching, he tapped on a photo to show it to Patton and Virgil, causing Patton to gasp and squeal again. “Oh my goodness I love him! He’s such a good little puppy!”

“I would hardly call him a puppy anymore.”

“He’s an amazing puppy.”

“Just let it happen, dude. Pat insists every dog is a puppy.”

“They’re all babies!”

Roman smiled at the two bickering over his old dog, wondering if he should butt in with a witty quip of his own when Princess scooted off of his lap and back onto the floor. He definitely felt better now. Not completely calm, but nothing panic attack worthy. Right at the second he decided not to push his luck (saying what was actually on his mind was always harder around strangers, and he had just calmed down), the bell to signify the end of lunch buzzed through the entire school. Virgil stepped up to throw his tray away and Patton packed up his containers in his lunch box as Roman did the same.

“It was nice meeting you, Roman!” Patton exclaimed, holding out his hand for Roman to shake, which he did extremely stiffly and pulled away after only a second. Patton smiled anyway and didn’t seem to mind.

When Roman stood up to head out, Virgil came back and stood alongside Patton. “What class do you have after this?” He asked.

“Oh, uh...I actually go home after lunch. I do the rest of my classes online.”

“Damn, I wanted to bother you while you walked to class so I could skip gym.”

“Virgil, go to class!”

“It’s fucking gym, he doesn’t give a shit. I’m passing and that’s all that matters.”

Patton sighed but didn’t push it. It seemed he’d gotten used to it after this long. “Well, hopefully we run into you tomorrow, Roman.”

“Uh, actually…” The two looked at Roman and waited for him to speak. Princess pawed on his leg to warn him he was getting too worked up, but Roman ignored it this time. Definitely not his smartest idea. You can do it. Just say it. “...If you two wanna sit next to me, maybe, I wouldn’t really, uh...mind…”

Patton smiled, soft and reassuring. “We’d love that. See you at lunch, then?”

Oh hell yeah! “Yeah...see you tomorrow.”

Virgil walked ahead and waved a hand at Roman from behind. “See ya.”

“See ya, Roman!”

With that, Roman was left alone again, but this time he didn’t necessarily mind. His heart was beating out of his chest, and he couldn’t tell if it was from adrenaline or a sign of an attack, but he still considered it a win. No more sitting alone at lunch.

Roman and Princess walked through the crowd to exit the building through the main office. When he got into his car with Princess in the passenger seat, he took a minute to calm down before he started driving down the road. Princess stepped over to the driver’s side to comfort him one more time today, practically sitting on his lap and letting Roman comb his hands through her hair. The ball in his chest slowly grew smaller as his breaths became easier to take, though his arms still felt weak as they shook.

But yet, this kind of anxiety was worth it. Just this once.

When Roman did start driving, pushing Princess back to her side and taking off, he had a smile on his face the whole time.

***

“Yo, bitch!”

Roman groaned at the sound of his brother coming through the front door. “What!?”

There was no verbal response, but Roman heard the footsteps coming up the stairs before his bedroom door swung open. Remus posed dramatically in the doorway. “What’s up?”

“Just finishing up some online stuff, why?”

“Who was Mr. Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and his friend Fluttershy?”

“...You mean the kids with me at lunch?”

“That’s the bitch.”

“Well, their names are Virgil and Patton, not whatever the hell you just said.”

“In my defense, of course the Raven Way guy is fucking Virgil.”

“What are you even talking about!?”

“Don’t worry about it!” Remus walked over to Roman’s place at his desk and threw his arms around him. Roman scoffed, but didn’t protest. “But why were they sitting with you? Do I have to commit murder? I know a guy.”

Roman tried his damn hardest not to smile. “Patton wanted to know about Princess, so we just...talked. It was actually quite nice. I even invited them to sit with me again tomorrow.”

“Roman Sanders? Making friends? Surely, you jest!”

“Says the guy who only has had one friend his entire life.”

“Janus is my ride or die and if you dare to insult him again, I’ll rip out your teeth and shove them up your nose.”

“You do that. Now get out, I’m working and you smell awful.”

Remus backed away with a gleeful smile on his face. “I rolled around in a giant puddle of mud!”

“Take a damn bath!”

Remus was out the door with a large slam before Roman could continue to argue. “I can’t hear you! But remember, if you need to bury a body, tell them you know a guy!”

Roman rolled his eyes and basked in the sudden silence. Princess looked up at him from his bed, and he couldn’t resist taking a small break to pet her. “He’s so weird, Princess.”

Although Princess couldn’t agree with her mouth, she absolutely did with her eyes.

***

A week had passed since Patton and Virgil started sitting with Roman at lunch. It had become his favorite part of the school day for more than just the ability to go home. He had friends. He was talking to people who he not only enjoyed talking to, but people who seemed to enjoy talking with him. Some people would consider only two friends too little, but Roman considered it the biggest of wins.

(His mom also seemed shocked but proud of him for socializing with people, so it was an even more amazing win than before now.)

Roman was perfectly content with his two friends. So long as he kept them, he would be more than fine. Sometimes his anxiety would act up and tell him that they’re only gonna leave him again, but he tried not to think about it. For right now, they were his friends. It was all that mattered.

What he didn’t expect was for him to get a third friend.

It was his fourth period class, right before his lunch where he was able to eat and have a good time with some company. He’d noticed the new kid that joined the school two weeks ago, but of course he never talked to him. He acknowledged his presence when the teacher introduced him, but that was it.

He was doing his math work when the new kid sat next to him. At first, Roman paid him no mind. Maybe he was getting distracted by the other students and wanted a more quiet place to work, or he liked how Roman’s table had almost no one sitting at it. It wasn’t until the kid spoke up that Roman gave him attention.

“Forgive me if this is too personal of a question, but how exactly did you train your service dog?”

Roman looked over at the kid. Oh yeah, hi, my name is Roman, what’s yours? “Oh, uh...some things I had to hire a personal trainer for, but I did some of the training on my own…”

“How long does it take to train a service dog?”

“Usually about six months, I guess...but it took me a year to make double sure she was ready.”

“Is she a medical alert dog?”

Why all the questions? “No, a psychiatric one.”

“Ah. I’m aware of psychiatric service dogs, but I have a little more knowledge when it comes to medical alert and seizure response dogs. However, I’ve never actually met someone who has a service dog. I’ve only done my own research out of curiosity, especially with my own disability.”

Roman got the courage to look up from his work at that. The kid had nerdy, square glasses over his eyes and straight black hair shifted to the right side of his face. Despite the fact that it wasn’t even fall yet and they lived in Florida, he still wore a purple hoodie that almost completely engulfed his body. The hoodie read I don’t look sick? You don’t look stupid! in white and purple letters, and on his wrist, a silicone band saying Alert! Epilepsy with a red medical symbol on both sides of the words.

Roman almost said Oh aloud. He’s not trying to be rude. He’s probably trying to find someone like him, especially if he’s new. Come on, Roman, be polite! And don’t freak out for once! “...You do have quite the epilepsy hoodie there.”

The kid looked down at his hoodie and smiled slightly. “Yes, well...it encompassed my kind of humor, and I am rather intolerant to the cold. Under this I have a Doctor Who shirt.”

“I, uh...don’t have any service dog shirts, but Princess has a lot of patches.”

“Is it alright if I look?”

“Sure, just...don’t pet her or anything.”

The kid waved it off. “Don’t worry, I know better than to get her attention.” He ducked under the table carefully, like any sudden movement would alarm Princess. He rose back up after a few seconds and gave his attention back to Roman. “She has a lot of Disney-themed patches. Where did you get them?”

Roman’s heart started beating faster. “...I actually, kinda, um...I made those ones myself.”

“You did a good job with them. They’re very intricate.”

“Thanks…”

“Oh! I apologize, I never actually introduced myself. I’m Logan.”

Roman gave him a nervous smile. “Roman.”

The bell rang, and everyone in the class started to pack up their stuff. Roman put his unfinished paper in his homework folder and stuffed it in his backpack while Logan did the same. When they both stood up, Logan addressed him one last time. “I have to go to lunch, but I hope we can talk another day.”

Roman felt that same desire come up in his throat. The desire to ask, to say something he usually would never consider asking. He couldn’t stand speaking to people, especially acquaintances, but Logan had a different energy to him. He was calmer, understanding, and a lot easier to handle than someone like Patton. Not to mention that his therapist did mention he can only get better if he pushes himself…

Princess didn’t alert Roman of a possible panic attack, so he considered that some kind of improvement. “Actually, Logan?”

“Yes?”

Come on. Do it. Say it. Three, two, one… “...Would you, uh...maybe wanna sit with me and some of my friends? Today?”

Logan’s face didn’t give him any hints to his emotions. “I would appreciate that.”

“I can...show you where it is, if you want?”

“Sure. I’d be happy for you to show me.”

The two walked out of the classroom, Roman and Princess in front of Logan to lead the way to the table. The two had a moment to situate themselves before Patton and Virgil came over, and with such a small table, Roman felt like the place was all the more crowded now. All the more welcoming.

Admittedly, a million times better than always sitting alone. He saw Remus staring from another table with those mischievous eyes, but he didn’t pay him any mind. When they were home alone, then he could bug him about it.

As always, right underneath his feet, Princess was curled into her ball, ready for any signs to jump into action. Instead, Roman looked at her under the table while the others went to get food. Apparently, he thought, you are a very good conversation starter when I need it.

“Good girl.” He whispered, although Princess didn’t seem to comprehend that he was talking to her. Instead, Roman took a mental note to give her a treat when they got home.

678 notes · View notes

sly-merlin · 3 years

Text

killing me- 9

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre : angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au , smut

warnings of this chapter : smut, drinking ,mention of weapons

words :: 7k

summary : “life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”

“ curiousity got the cat hitched”

taglist :: (not tagging the old ones because they have read it already bt if u want , lemme know! ) @yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator @suhweo @exfolitae @minejungwoo @leesalts @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424

@kafenetwork @neowritingsnet

K.M masterlist

K.M 8 next

note:: unedited! i’m a bit busy so i’ll try to edit it before sleep!

“yuta.”

“bake up.”

Yuta groaned at the foreign force shaking him repeatedly. He moved, crashing his face further into the sheets, swatting the alien hands away from himself.

“wake up you horse!” this time yuta heard the gurgling voice a bit more clearly. Someone was trying to disturb his sleep. Staying on his stomach and titling his half body to face the uninvited guest, he made out a face that matched johnnys. His face fell flat on the mattress again until he realised what or whom he has seen! He jolted upright, squatting, to face johnny.

“what are you doing here.” He mumbled with eyes still closed, stretching his arms on the sheets.

“it’s 1p.m!why you still sleeping dude?” johnny’s exasperated voice sounded too loud to yuta’s morning self. Or afternoon!

“It’s m-” a long yawn stretched his mouth into an oval shape, that he didn’t mind covering “its my house. I’ll do whatever I want but what are you even doing here?” he completed quietly.

“why are you still sleeping. You weren’t even drunk. Get up and tell me where is y/n!”

“so you are not here for me!” yuta pouted at johnny before throwing himself on the bed again, covering himself with sheets.

“what the fuck yuta! You are not a baby and tell me where is she? Did you even drive her back?” johnny asked sternly, removing his layer of protection.

“the only thing I can assure is that I wanna sleep more. And about your big fat crush! She certainly came back with me but she was crying so I won’t be surprised if she left already.” As soon as yuta’s almost inaudible words reached johnny’s ears, he jogged outside the room, checking the lock of your room. He sighed in relief at the secured lock. You didn’t leave and he was glad.

Johnny noticed your movements when you signed those papers. He was cursing at himself for not interfering but not like it’d have made any difference! The best he could do was to make sure you were fine at the end. Regardless of the fact that your phone was switched off, he was trying it continuously since yesterday night. Countless phone calls and messages but all were futile. His anger on taeyong was just fuelling by your ignorance.

Annoyingly, he fisted his hair before going for yuta’s room again.

“is she in university right now?” he asked yuta, who was looking like a dead body with an open mouth.

“bloody hell nakamoto! Wake up!” he shouted at him, this time the sheets were tossed on the floor.

“johnny babes, just track her. Don’t shout at me. I didn’t do anything this time.”

“you seriously ate your ethics yuta. I’m not needed there so I’m staying until she’s back.” Johnny declared, making his way outside on the couches.

“not needed my ass john suh. Ate my ethics! Says the one who’s seducing his own sister-in-law.” He only muttered before drifting back into paradise.

johnny just sat there in front of the t.v, mindlessly waiting for you, unknown guilt corroding his mind and heart.

***************

Doyeon and mingi’s whispering felt like a hammer to your head. The incessant pounding was the result of some expensive alcohol and the stupid tears. If exams were not approaching in two weeks, you’d have stayed longer to sulk but their future was as important as yours and only one more week was left so you just sucked it up. Now you were eating the lunch brought by mingi while testing them for exam.

“civil laws suck.” Mingi exclaimed, hitting doyeon on the arm.

“no! your brain sucks.” Doyeon reiterated, poking his head with her pencil.

“wtf doyie! My brain is totally packed up to the brim. if you love it so much, then tell me the answer of question 6!” a smug smile made its way to mingi’s lips.

“what’s wrong with no.6 mingi?” you questioned, perplexed as there was no difficulty in the paper yet he was still looking here and there.

“umm. Non bis in idem! It’s not given anywhere. Right?” he hesitantly asked for he knew he was wrong, somewhere.

“what was the paper you wrote last time?” you tried not to unleash your anger on them, so you kept your voice as low as possible.

“double jeopardy!”

“and?”

“what the heck mingi! Didn’t you mention the legal maxim of dj?”

“maybe not!”

“what kind of law student forgets about legal maxims duffus! Non bis in idem means double jeopardy.” You reprimanded him tiredly, not in the mood to put up much fight with him.

“sorry” he said, head hung low.

“don’t be mingi. I won’t gain anything from this. you need to study for yourself. now complete this before I give you a subjective test. Double prep is always good. Hurry up!”

A collective musical groan leaves them both, as they tend to their paper again, you drowning yourself in your own books.

*******************

Johnny and yuta were engrossed in a football match when you entered the hallway. Upon noticing you, johnny sighed in disbelief, before making his way to you.

“why is your phone switched off?” he fumed at you, hands on his waist as you poured water for yourself.

“It wasn’t charged so I left it here.” he knew he wasn’t doing his utmost in containing his irritation and your casual tone just took him off guard.

“you jus- you should have charged it dammit. I was fucking worried that something happened to you and what kind of girl travels without a phone these days!” his hand ruined his already messy hair as he ranted, the reason of which was beyond your understanding.

“it’s not that big of an issue besides I’m not clearly out of reach right!” you scoffed at him, pointing to your arm where the bracelet was hidden, under the sleeves. You didn’t mean to sound rude at his concern but his position was no better .You had every right to be querulous!

“i-you don’t understand. i just wanted a reply from you. it’s the least I deserve! Or don’t i?” his voice went down as his face lost the previous stern expression.

“I saw my phone only this morning and I was getting late so didn’t bother!” you shrugged your shoulders at him, making your way for the room.

“where are you going?” his voice rose a bit as he held onto your arm.

“in my room!” you replied, matter of factly.

“yeah! I thought you were going to greet your dear husband!” he joked, tilting his head towards the couches where yuta sat previously but he was not there anymore.

“I don’t wanna talk johnny!” you said curtly, jerking your hand away. But he was quicker as he pulled you into him, backing you into a counter.

“just leav-

“no tell me what’s the matter with you. what have I even done?” his voice was barely above a whisper, meant only to be heard by you. the rise and fall in his speech was already shaking your resolution.

“nothing! just turned a normal student into a deadly underground member. But it’s nothing big so yeah!” you replied, mock evident in your words. As you tried to leave again, his hands caught your waist as he picked you up, stationing you on the counter. He secured you against his body, restricting your movements. His hard orbs found yours as he hands tightened around your waist, making you gulp in the process. You stared back with same intensity, as if reading his next step. He lowered his front, demanding eyes never leaving yours,

“this is the first and last time I’ll be explaining myself. I don’t know a shit about why he did that. But those papers won’t be used against you. I won’t let that happen. Ever. I promise that with my life. Just have some faith in me” He whispered. Besides it being the precise validation you sought, suspicion couldn’t be helped!

“and why would you do that. Do you also have some hidden agen-

his lips felt soft as they collided with yours with urgent need to shut you up. You froze, so did he. The only movement in your control was of your hands that were tightly gripped to the counter. The silence in the air being tense, his lips stayed still and contrary to yours, his eyes were completely shut. Johnny’s light breaths fanned your upper lip as his chest heaved up and down. Neither of you made any effort to further it nor any to pull apart. Few more seconds passed and he finally detached himself, the bodies still connected. Your lashes fluttered as he palmed your left cheek, speaking in a low husky whisper.

“I promise. Just believe me and when I say taeyong won’t hurt you, I mean it. With all my heart. Can you trust me on this please?”

He was insisting yet pleading and you merely nodded, lowering your head. His delicate fingers brushed the line formed between your brows, smiling softly.

“you have nothing to worry about. with unparalleled record that we have! You ain’t getting rid of me anytime soon. Yeah?”

His breathy laugh tingled your insides and something like awe transformed his face as he felt the warmness of your cheeks under his hand.

“by any chance, are you flustered?” your face went blank at his shameless comment when he was the very reason for your current state.

“n-no!” you pushed him hard while standing straight. He staggered a bit, giggling uncontrollably at you.

“lying suits you y/n. just like your soulmate jaehyun.” You scrunched your nose at the mention.

“don’t talk about him! He’s so annoying, i’m gonna hang him upside down someday o-or turn him into a stew!”

“and feed him to yuta!” he completed. You gawked at him for a moment before joining him in his laughing session.

“there is food?” yuta entered the kitchen, dimming the commotion.

“not for you!” you snarked.

“we have food y/n?” it was johnny this time. you had almost forgot about the sandwiches that were now probably rotting in your bag. As realisation dawned, you hurriedly retrieved your bag from counter, opening the plastics from the sandwiches with a last hope to save them.

“do you know that you don’t have to be ramsey to stuff cucumber and tomatoes in a bread?” johnny shifted, taking the packages to heat them up.

“I was out of bread. So I just took the easy route.”

“lame excuse! Work better!”

“not everyone got time john!”

You strolled for your room, passing yuta in the way, totally missing the frown and cute smile on yuta and johnny respectively. Though yuta’s internals were screaming at him to open his shitty mouth, his main focus was on his empty stomach that was growling like never before.

“pass me one john!” he whisper yelled to johnny, purposely stretching the last word to satisfy himself.

“no! it’s her lunch or snack or whatever it is.” He warned, hiding the oven with his front.

“oh so you have turned a part time servant for her!” he spewed, crossing his arms against his chest.

“no dude. She’s actual-

he was about to tell yuta but he halted his train of words for he was not in the place to tell any of your secrets to anyone , especially yuta.

“she’s what? Your girlfriend?”

“I swear I’m gonna fry you someday!”

“whatever. Now give me a sandwich before she comes out. Hurry up!” yuta looked over johnny’s shoulders to count the stacked portion in the device.

“one, two-

“three. They are just three yuta! Fuck off.” Johnny knew throwing abuses wouldn’t work but hitting him with his shoulder wasn’t either! He glanced at yuta and he seriously looked miserable. Hungry miserable!

“come on-

“are you done john?” your voice echoed from the hall as you approached wearing your famous tank top and cotton shorts. Yuta cursed under his breath, opening the fridge to get himself something.

“here” johnny handed you the plate. He hit yuta’s arm to grab his attention who was practically trying to sit in the fridge.

“renjun and jaemin are cooking their special ramyeon. We’ll eat there, come on!”

“huh!” he excitedly passed johnny to pick his things up.

With yuta out of sight, his focus shifted again on you. “don’t you get sick after eating takeouts?”

“yup I do! My gut is not the healthiest one in the world. But I’ve fewer options and I do check their health certificates so no need to worry.” Your humorous reply didn’t get more than a shit face from him. He leaned again causing you to take a step backwards.

“your hair!” He pointed and you rolled your eyes like you’d see what was happening up there.

“what my hair?”

“umm. Nothing kiddo!” he said before ruffling your hair.

“aah. I’m not a kid johnny!” you shouted at him though he was just standing by your shoulder.

“oh yes you are!” he pouted dramatically and ran but not forgetting to throw a flying kiss your way. “charge your phone, I’ll call again.”

“eww!” you snapped your head to catch yuta standing behind, making faces at johnny who was standing at the front of hallway.

“oh come on you shit.”

At johnny’s comment , yuta just followed and you totally missed the way he scoffed at both of you.

****************

You were truly jumbled by johnny’s actions, innocent yet calculated. You had maintained your calm but he was aware that you were not blind towards his growing attraction. why didn’t you push him away! What was he aiming at? Questions, questions! From the very first day, all you have are questions with no concrete answers.

But Johnny was not the sole occupier of your worries, taeyong held a significant part of it. If what johnny said was true, if his intentions were not so malafide then he’d easily have skipped it. Despite johnny’s assurance, you couldn’t afford trusting him anymore. Not like you could protect yourself from losing anything but your walls would always be enclosed for him.

Your wandering mind was pulled back into reality by a message from your classmate. The date of thesis topic submission was moved to an earlier one, a week earlier to be specific. In reality, you were all starting it a few months earlier just so the pressure could be minimised but it instead felt like a strategy for your doom. You all were supposed to submit the topic and a little introduction even before the qualification exam! And obviously you were behind the so called ahead-of-time schedule. You could have wrote a ph.d worthy book on mafia and their ploys but sadly criminal law was not the option available for it. So that’s how you ended up in the small balcony, sitting on the cold floor, enjoying the evening cool breeze. Search results on both naver and google had varied from “50 best topics of dissertation in international law” to “how to know what is my area of interest?” but every try had gone to a blank page.

************

By late evening, you got bored of sitting in the balcony and room, so you decided to study with a change of setting and the only place available apart from your room was the hall. After computing various possibilities, you dragged the single seater towards the hall windows and angling the book on the window still, a much comfy makeshift study space was ready. With the newfound determination to complete the task at hand, your eyes browsed every means of information to stumble upon anything you missed earlier, ignoring the blue skies switching to the darker ones.

***********

Yuta noticed the way he was experiencing more fatigue as the days passed by. He never trained this much until he was suspended. He looked forward for it to end so he could feel the same thrill again but two weeks wouldn’t just pass in a blink! He claimed the basement as his new home trying to ignore the activities transpiring upstairs. The desire to stay with his dear roommate jungwoo was irrepressible but his ego didn’t allow him to give in so easily. He wanted to show his anger to taeyong and that was the only reason he found himself coming back to the new home more often.

He languidly passed the kitchen to use the washroom. Only when he was about to enter his room, he noticed the lightening in the kitchen and living room. He groaned at the thought of your imprudent habit of multiplying the electricity bill which eventually he had to pay! Or maybe you were just trying to instigate him! When he was about to put out the lights, he spotted the sofa and a pair of legs perched on the widow still. He took light steps to reach your sleeping figure and suddenly he felt his annoyance melting into astonishment. Your face was covered with the open, visibly heavy hardcover book whilst your half body was on the seat and half in the air with feet placed on the window still for balance that was clearly very very comfortable place for napping at midnight. unconsciously, his hand extended for the book and as he picked it up, you stirred. Panic took over him as he lost the hold leading the book to fell on your face instead. He ducked, cupping his mouth with both hands to stifle the laugh that was about to escape. Luckily you were dead to the world. Hearing no movement, he crawled for the room , getting up only when he was at a safe distance. Without wasting another moment, he did what he was there for in the first place and went to sleep, with a thumping heart that was probably due to the initial dread he felt or that’s what he thought!

**********

The bus stop being far away, you began the long trudge for neos’ house. Taeil had requested your presence two days ago , but being too busy with studying on the first few days of the week ,it was delayed. You’d have never accepted the offer if it was taeyong but taeil suggested you to take your time even though what he wanted to ask or said was important. His readiness to prioritise your convenience warmed you and it were the emotions of the moment that you agreed to him. And now the heat was burning your exposed legs and you were cursing his sweet tongue.

You knocked on the opened door to announce your arrival despite the fact that the main door had automatically detected you to lead you in. you stood there like a statue, moving your neck like an owl, waiting for an invitation but nothing. you banged it again only to hear someone’s cursing from inside.

“who the fuck knocks when it’s op-

A screeched scream met your ears as a man came into your sight. He abruptly started bowing, apologising profusely.

“I’m so sorry noona. I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry. This won’t happen again. I-

“hey, it’s totally fine. I didn’t even hear you in the first place.” You lied, saving him the mortification.

“can I come in?”

“this is your own place. You don’t need to ask or knock noona!” you entered as he gestured you to sit.

“can you call tae-

But before you could say it, he ran inside. You didn’t know or remembered his name but his face looked familiar. Maybe he was sicheng or hyuck or someone else cause you were sure you had met hyuck before!

“I was making coffee for taeil hyung. But he’s late so it’s yours now!” he exclaimed with his eye smile. it was cute and friendly.

“what was your name again?” you asked smiling back at him, noticing the little red on his neck.

“jeno.” He immediately settled on a seat, his focus fixed on you. “I’m making snacks. Do you wanna join?”

You chuckled at his innocent suggestion, “If you meant joining for eating, then I’m all in but if you want my help in actual process, then you’d die hungry today!”

“I’m aware of that but you are never late to learn anything right!”

“wow. Your enthusiasm is admirable but I don’t wanna burn your kitchen.” Your eyes were blessed with another series of his eye smile. it was contagious.

“you are here!” you saw taeil sprinting towards you.

“I’m sorry. I got caught up in the office.” His words came out breathy as he was still panting from the jog.

“no worries but I don’t have much time. I have to study for exams.”

“yes, studying is important.” He nodded before requesting jeno to get him the coffee and water, to which the boy grumpily complied.

“why the fuck is air con off! I’m gonna roast!” He whined and got up again to close the front door.

“now. I’ve two things to tell you or rather order you. you wanna eat first orr-

“no I’m fine really. Just tell me what taeyong ordered this time!” you had no doubt that it was taeyong’s doing.

“forget about that shit. Here, veto power is mine. JENO, STOP MELTING THE ICE AND GIVE ME SOME WATER!” he screamed at jeno who came out hurriedly with both water and coffee.

Jeno took a seat beside taeil but his one glare made him go back. Sighing in relief after quenching his thirst, he continued in a polite voice. “yuta told me about the card. Why didn’t you take it?”

“because I don’t want his money. I’m good with what I have. Besides every transaction related to him would lead me in trouble so why take the risk!” you sounded harsher than you intended but it wasn’t in your control anymore. Mention yuta and you’ll obviously bite!

“the account is already open. Yuta’s gonna transfer same amount of money every month so why don’t spend his money or better, give him a heart attack by paying everything with the card. He’s gonna pay and I promise, he has no say in this so he won’t even scold you!” he sounded quite cheerful which clearly indicated that none of them understood your language.

“no thanks taeil. staying away from his shadow is much safer.”

“shadow runs with the man y/n.”

“the man himself avoids me like a plague so it’s a win win here.”

“what you see is present. Nobody can ever escape a tomorrow! You are evading it today, but one day you’ll eventually face it.”

“I don’t speak quotes!”

“simple! You both collide only to cause harm to each other. For how long do you think this can work. You’ll get tired and I suppose he’d too. when you’ll stop to rest, you’d find him there but at that time you won’t have enough energy to fight off anymore. Placebo is deadly y/n!”

You absorbed his vague statement full of philosophy but your mind couldn’t harmonise with what he meant!

“honestly, I stopped hearing the moment you mentioned yuta so can we continue!”

“yeah sure. Take the card, keep it for emergencies and I’m not taking no anymore. You aren’t hearing me so I’m doing the same. and secondly, can you defend yourself?”

“defend from who exactly?”

“drunken bastards, thieves, goons or whoever comes at you with a knife!” you were puzzled at the sudden mention.

“my personality repels violence and I’ve two strong best friends.” You declared the obvious. The only drunkards you met were outside the clubs and you never went alone so the thought never crossed your mind.

“first is a lie and second is insignificant here. I need you to learn some basics so you won’t need anyone else or just to hold until help comes.”

“what the! Are you actually recruiting me or something? I don’t wanna be a party in your gang wars.” you announced, now clearly understanding what he meant in the first place.

“I’m not telling you to fight with us. You don’t have an ounce of brain do you? it’s for your own safety.”

“safety from what? I live in a rich and peaceful neighbourhood, my dear husband is a corporate of first class, I myself never even go for a simple stroll in a park then who would I even fight?”

“here ,we all are used to the danger that we face everyday. Each and every man you see here is able to dodge anything that comes their way but you.are.not. Just because they are acting like school kids with no care in life doesn’t mean they are any safer. Jeno was making coffee a few minutes ago but after dinner, he’d be going for protection fee collection with others. If shit goes down, you might not even see him again but we won’t let that happen in the first place. It’s not same with you though. god forbid if you attract the attention of wrong people for all the reasons you stated, then how are we going to help you. even if you press the bracelet , it’d take us some time to get there. till then what would you do? You can’t even probably run for more than a mile! can you?”

You just shook your head at him, too baffled to form any words.

“do you devote any time to exercise?”

“I walk enough I guess and some planks when my stomach is out too much.”

“you are no better than these boys seriously.” She rolled his eyes at your statement.

“but despite the exercise or whatever, my strength is nothing against jeno or johhny. I’ll never b-

“if you fail in strength , atleast you can be swift. Or better you can learn to handle a gun or a knife. When do you get free?”

So, that’s why he called you!

“I don’t have a minute to spare for the next 15 days. Prep and exams are more important for me.”

“no worries. We can start after that. But don’t remove the bracelet band under any condition. Some rival mafia has hired a contract killer for you. so run fast if you notice someone following you, press it and we’ll be there. till then just hang on.” Nervousness got hold of your senses as you heard his warning.

“you are fucking kidding right! was I being followe-

“yes, I’m kidding.” he chuckled dryly. “You should see your face. If it was outside the parameters of the room, you’d have passed out already. Panic only leads to death and I don’t want you to die. so do it just for my peace of mind.” You released the breath you were holding till now, feeling relaxed again.

You just nodded at his words. He sounded like some motivational speaker luring you into his lifetime guarantee program but you knew he was right somewhere. you couldn’t depend on the boys to save you from creeps for whole life.

he was good at reading minds, you thought but despite that you wanted to pour the coffee on his head for the heart attack he’d gave you a minute ago.

“it’s risk free and beneficial. What you say?”

“ok. but I don’t wanna spar with the 6 feet ones. I’ll rather learn from you.” it was your turn to cackle!

“we’ll see about that.” He rolled his eyes to the back at your obvious attempt of poking fun at his short stature

JENO, I DIDN’T ASK FOR A COLD COFFEE. MAKE ME A NEW ONE.”

********

Meeting with taeil had benefitted you in every way. The most useful presently was the topic of the thesis he randomly suggested you. “ effect and consequences of veto power in relation to international peace and human rights”. even mr. kwang, your thesis mentor liked it as it was almost near original. Now you were just left with exams that were just a week away. Fortune was playing in your favour as yuta had been missing from past few days that saved you some extra energy and headaches that you got with his repulsive energy towards you. then there was your newfound love for the sofa that you had permanently dragged by the windows. It helped a lot in relaxing and studying and you ended up sleeping on it, nearly getting used to the cramped neck.

Unbeknownst to you, he did come back, daily. But you were just so occupied that you never noticed the slight shuffling in the midnight. it went on for days until you woke up with a blanket covering your bare legs, evidently not yours!

****************

How to start the finals? By getting wasted? No. certainly not. But birthdays are important, sometimes more than those stupid grades!

The venue for yeong’s b’day celebration was a night club, as expected from yugyeom! He need no reason to get drunk and when his s/o was herself cutting the chains, then it’s the finest deal one could get!

Loaded with university students, the party at the first floor was thundering. The hoots and roars of slightly drunk adults became deafening as soon as the cake was consumed.

“why your classmates are so fucking loud” you screamed in yeong’s ear. You both were seated at the corner on leather seats, drinking away the reality.

“with your dolphin voice, you are in no place to judge them bitch!”

“lets blame this on your drunkard mumbo jumbo!” she jumped in joy at your lame attempt, alcohol speaking out for you.

“btw where’s your boyfriend?” she questioned leaning into your ear.

“who?” you wondered who she was referring to.

“wonwoo! Who else dumbo. His whole army was invited by gyeom but I haven’t seen him yet!”

You just shrugged in response, not wanting to face him. The farther, the better. His possessiveness only elevated your fears. Now that you were bound on taeyong’s mercy, wonwoo would be calling for a danger by being with you, especially when you were incapable of returning his love.

But fate had some cruel plans stored for you. when you were ordering another drink, strong hands gripped your waist. Though beyond tipsy, the moment you touched the protective hold, you knew it was wonwoo. It was always him afterall.

“you could burn me while wearing white and I’d say thank you baby” He whispered, nibbling on your ear, shivers running down to your bare thighs at the sudden action. everyone knew how much you loved white and that’s why yeong had designed this short white satin dress which just screamed “you” and barely left anything to the imagination of the viewer. “and nothing turns me on more than your covered arms.” He continued as his fingers slowly traced the collarbones down to the cleavage, your drunken self melting into his chest. His hands worked swiftly and he guided you into a secluded part to drown the excessive noise. Your back hit a wall as his nose brushed against yours, his slender fingers siding your sling bag to hook at your hips. He bent into your lips, love filled kisses slowly smoothening into hungry ones. The taste he left on yours was of the infamous vodka that he sure had consumed in plenty of amount ,leading him to you. the pledge to keep yourself away from him broke down in figures as he rolled his hips into yours, lips syncing with the movements. His grip bruised your body, hunger lowering from lips to the bare neck. Throwing your head back, savouring his touch, you clutched his shoulders for some control. Scheduled moans became more filthy as his one hand gripped your thigh in a try to hike up your dress. He didn’t do much work as it was already climbing up your hips. A Single move and his fingers graced against your core, tingling sensation burning your whole body. The open mouthed kisses left marks on your cleavage and neck as he fingers fucked you mercilessly.

“I missed you so much baby.” His wavering yet soft tone met your ears but everything seemed hazy as he drove in and out of you. you felt euphoria in your stomach hitting you once again as he rambled on. “ don’t ever leave me again. you are my only lu-luxury. Don’t you ever dare snatch away the only hope I have! I love you. i fucking love you!” his sped up his actions under the dress but before he could provide you the final pleasure, you came back to the reality he had divorced you from. you didn’t love him and never would. To his disbelief, you separated yourself from his body, him staggering back with the push.

“wha-

“I don’t love you woo. This-

Your hands filled the space between you two.

“this was never about love. We need to stop. I don’t love you woo. And don’t expect anything better from me. We are over. This is over.”

Your drunken slurs made evident that though you were loaded, the senses were still intact somehow.

“no y/n. don’t do this to me. I’ll wait more if you want. A lifetime if you say. But don’t say you are done with us. I’d die without you.” his words rang like a bell as you attempted to corrected the panties and dress, waving slightly.

You jumped away from him as his words got registered in your head. Ignoring him completely, you turned to enter the blast again but his strong hold on your arm stopped you. you squirmed under him, requesting him to let you go but his confession never halted.

“let go of her wonwoo!” you circled to see jungkook standing there , anger clear in his eyes. “I am not gonna repeat.” Jungkook was indeed dangerous when he was boiling.

“why was he enough and NOT ME!” you shuddered at the raise in his voice as he jerked you away. Timely, jungkook caught you and instructed you to go inside to wait for him. And you complied but not completely.

you were hot, bothered, angry and helpless at the same time so you did what you felt like. It felt like eternity when jungkook found you gulping some shorts in the bar. His brain went haywire for he realised you would’ve reached your peak by now. He cautiously approached you, checking the level of warmness on your cheeks. You were gone and so was he.

“what did you do with woo?” you asked him in the delightfully lovable voice that he found nothing but scary. You acting cute meant it was end of the life for anyone who would witness it. He had tried to record you a few times before in the said condition but it never ended up well with the screen of his phone meeting your wrath everytime. He helplessly dragged you from the bar towards the parking area, ignoring your initial question and the urge to scold you for the whole ruckus with wonwoo.

“I’ll drop you home cutie” he exclaimed, checking the level.

“I’m no cutie! And what about minjunie. And I don’t wanna go with you. I wanna be alone.” He giggled as you pouted at him, a rare sight to behold.

“yeah yeah I know you wanna be alone and blah blah but its past 11 already -

“soooooo. The protocol shall be followed despite the severi-

“shut up! You are not in a class dude. N hurry up, I’ve to pick minjun’s drunk ass as well!”

The discontent in his tone was apparent while he showed you the way forward. continuously wrestling against his strong hands, he finally gave up when you almost tripped over nothing.

“stop annoying me y/n!”

“am i?” you pouted at him. “I don’t wanna go with you. don’t you understand!” he rubbed his temples in desperation.

“fine I’ll call someone else. But you can’t go alone.” But as he was fishing out his phone, you were gone.

After five minutes he spotted you outside, waving for a taxi.

“why are you so difficult?” his words fell to deaf ears. Watching you continue your frolics, he thought about giving up as a scheme formed in his head. Stopping a taxi , he ushered you in the back seat, moving to talk to the driver instead.

“no you aren’t coming!” you cried, showing your head out of the window. He grabbed his hair in annoyance, narrowing his eyes at you, “I’m not coming with you my mother! Let me give the address to the driver or else you’ll end up nowhere.” He pleaded, clasping his hands, bowing at you.

You giggled pleasantly at his gesture, hands flailing at him. “I don’t live in campus. I’ll give you the address. Wait!” after searching for your phone, you showed him the address saved in the notes app. That indeed surprised him for he wasn’t aware that you changed but decided against asking you. if it was not your new address, it could be trusted enough to be safer as it was saved under “my home”. Commanding the driver with an extreme firmness, he went away. Even in the drunk state, you were sure to some extent that maybe car was not moving.

“let’s go uncle!”

“your friend told me to wait.” you threw your head back realising that kook was upto something. A loud horn heightened your senses as the car moved.

Asshole, you muttered, grasping that he was clearly following you.

***************

“bop bop!” an eternity has passed for you in a futile try of remembering the password. The digits were changing their positions, as you regarded them.

“bop bop!” you tried again, mumbling to yourself, not knowing that you were not even banging the door in the first place. Standing still in your intoxicated state, arms crossed, the daggers you were throwing at the door would give any passer by a food to laugh but unluckily, there was noone there.

Bobbing your head from side to side, you started walking down the corridor, coming back at the your own door every few minutes. Curiously you pressed random button near the keypad. It was a bell, that you didn’t noticed earlier.

“wh- noona! You are here!” it was jaemin. He hugged you tightly before letting you in.

“duh! I’m waiting from last ten years but you won’t open.” Another giggle let jaemin known that you were in inebriated state.

“you are drunk.” He whispered.

“shhhh” you said , throwing your heels.

With jelly legs, you wobbled to the kitchen, catching attention of each and every presence in the living room and there were many of them.

“oh hiya! Home tweet home.” You chanted, hands waving like the wipers of a car. Hyuck and mark greeted you while jaehyun just sat down again, shaking his head in disbelief. However yuta was stunned and hooked to his place. He saw you navigating to the fridge, dropping the bottle, picking it up again, gulping it down, jaemin snatching it from you, apparently for you own benefit.

Jaemin guided you for your room before you got distracted by yuta’s figure staring you down.

“moshi moshi. Don’t you have any Japanese to throw at me today.” Yuta heard jaemin and others snickering as you slurred, walking unsteadily to him. He simply rolled his eyes, waiting for you to complete your attack.

“oh hi hyuck. I heard you don’t change your underwear for years. Go and take a bath right now. Asap” the liquid jaehyun was drinking, came out as a spray from his nose at the insult. Everyone was laughing at your antics except yuta. He scanned you up and down, eyes fixating on the fresh hickies on your visible neck.

“and you moshi moshi. You a-act like an angry young man all the damn ti-time,” hiccups started in between, “ but answer me with your half braincell- what kind of criminal you are! Atleast hid your face while shooting people dude.”

Yuta’s jaw cletched at your use of words, tension rising in the room. His neutral face changed into an angry one as you went on and on, all while poking his chest with your forefinger. “and that knife of yours! What are you? a street goon who hires little kids to scan cctvs for the-

And your body lunged forward, head resting where your finger was, passed out. Yuta’s red eyes didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Anger radiated his body as he removed hands from his pockets to push you off but mark scooped your sleeping figure in his arms, signalling jaemin to open the door. After finding the key in your purse, mark laid you on the bed, rolling you to the side as jaemin placed a pillow behind to save you from falling.

They arrived in the hall only to find yuta already waiting for them.

“what was the need to baby her? She’s an adult and got drunk at her own expense. Didn’-

“so what hyung? Why are you making it a big deal!” mark replied.

“she is the one who makes everything a big deal. Didn’t you just hear how she was just trash talking about you all! She never fucking leaves a chance to spit at my face that I am a criminal –

“that’s what we are! We are damn criminals and she doesn’t know anything about us”

“but she says it like we are not even humans-

“I don’t understand why are you always throwing her under the bus hyung! Drunk people speak shit and she was totally hammered. Just let it go! Your punishment is over after two days, don’t spoil your mood over something so silly.”

“you can’t ord-

“yes I can and will order you because I agree with her. You do own just a half braincell that is not letting you think properly. Now don’t you dare mention all this to her in the morning.” Several pairs of eyes wandered between yuta and mark as the air became more pressured.

“so you do admit she is in wrong here hmm”

“she was just acting with her pure conscious. She saw a man dying and went to police. Tae hyung just made sure that she isn’t leaving anytime soon. She is trapped with criminals. What else do you expect from her? I know exactly what you want.” Suddenly mark’s eyes softened as he went on. “You are craving empathy hyung. This is what I have seen in your eyes from the first day. You want everyone to realise that you are also wounded. You don’t despise her in actual but just the sympathy that wasn’t given to you in the first place. Stop acting like a stone. While blaming her you shouldn’t be forgetting that it was supposed to be me. You filled my spot as the killer. It started with me-

“no ma-

“it all started coz I was dammit feeling too sleepy to finish that contract killer. It was supposed to be a sniper attack but you had to go instead-

“I forgot my cover mark. How are you the cause when the problem was my own stupidity in the first place!” yuta shouted, tense silence following. Mark smiled a bit at him before continuing.

“then why do you hate her so much. shouldn’t you be hating me for sending you there or yourself for being careless. We should be compromising, not her. Just stop fighting with running water.”

He quietly said before picking up his jacket, going out. Everyone took that as a cue for leaving as well. Nobody uttered anything. The house was empty but mark’s words echoed in the space for entirety of the night, squeezing yuta into the reality he wasn’t ready to face.

*************

Your head felt like it was carrying all the weight of the world. Light harmed your vision, footsteps made you dizzy as you treaded for the door. Kitchen was suddenly too far away, everything looking too large for the squinted eyes. Water and sugar! two things circled in your head like a mantra, only until you felt a sharp pain in your waist. You slightly cursed the counter for bumping into you and stepped further to get water. the water soothed only your throat, stomach still craved sugar so you placed the large bottle on the counter, returning to open the fridge.

Some shuffling around the corner woke up yuta, who was resting on the couch. It hasn’t been more than few hours that he finally let himself immersed into the dreamland. His night and half of the day was spent in unearthing the deep hole that mark had thrown him into. He got annoyed at himself for failing in reaching a conclusion that would led to mark being wrong and it was the result of this constant thought provoking activity that he was having a persistent headache. He grumbled at the stiff neck as he got up. 13:03. Another sound came from somewhere, stimulating his body to check. With droopy eyes, he noticed you. actually half of you as the other half was searching for gold in the fridge. The hiked up dress was enough to give a free show of your bare legs without any strain. The thought of you eating his food wiped up all the drowsiness, making him go to kitchen.

“its not your bedroom. Close it.” He criticised, yawns escaping simultaneously. You didn’t move for his voice didn’t reach you in the first place. He tsked at your lack of senses as he neared you. but as soon as your figure got larger, his body met the floor brutally, several groans of pain leaving him. You turned around at the noise to see yuta struggling as his knee hit the polished hardwood. His other hand went to the counter for some support but it slipped causing his elbow to hit the cabinet handle more violently. His shout of anguish striked through your sensitive ears, making you swear in irritation.

Your eyes slowly traced the liquid under his body to the top of the counter. the water bottle. It was tilted and empty by the time you noticed and the water was what made yuta slipped in first place.

“fuck it!” he growled, discomfort contorting his features.

Slowly he moved himself to the other side, bruised elbow secured in his hand, grunts exiting him. You knew you were fucked up as soon as his cold eyes fell upon you.

“I guess it’s my time to call taeyong.”

#neowritingsnet #kafenetwork #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct angst #nct arrange marriage #nct mafia #yuta arrange marriage #yuta mafia #yuta angst #yuta scenarios #yuta series #nct series

135 notes · View notes