#So I’m trying to score the highest I possibly can and just go above and beyond

[stuckinapril]

u are literally so strong for being pre med. im also 21 and ive just about given up on taking the mcat and doing extracurriculars after army crawling through all the prereqs 😭 much luck to you!!!!!! praying john hopkins takes u 🙏🙏 we need more lovely, kind and genuine doctors like you and u deserve the best of the best 💖💖

Thank you my dove <3 no it’s literally the most ruthless thing ever. People don’t understand the mental stamina it takes to fulfill all facets of the application med schools expect. It’s more than a full time job—sometimes it doesn’t feel like there are enough hours in the day tbh, between doing research and volunteering and shadowing and gaining hands on experience. And don’t get me started on the mcat lmao, preparing for it feels like I’m training for the Olympics. I’m into it most days, it’s fun to be consumed by something you’re truly passionate about, but I also completely get how it predisposes all of us to frequent burnouts. Add to that the stress of meeting the still more extraordinary, still more impossible standards of elite med schools…

[absolutepokemontrash]

An Unfortunate Replacement

Chapter 2

Hmmmm, so it looks like Venus is warming up to Evie! That’s nice! Evie and Lucifer also seem to be warming up to each other~ I wonder how the carnival’s going. I bet nothing bad is going to happen at all.

Genre: Angst~ >:)

Warnings: Mild Body Horror and a fight scene

Previous Part

Next Part

Masterlist

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“CARNIVAL GAMES ARE RIGGED!”

“And this is new information?”

“Cram it, Venus!”

Lucifer quietly laughed as he watched Venus and Ash bicker over by one of the many basketball games. The pair of them were wasting their allotted five minutes by trying to wrestle the ball from each other instead of actually trying to shoot.

Nearby, Cecil and Asmo were doing their best to try and fish out a rubber duck while avoiding the piranhas that had been placed in the pool. One of the bitey fish popped out of the water and Asmo shrieked, nearly dropping his fishing pole. The rest of Lucifer’s brother’s were crowded by a strength testing game, all of them trying to get the highest score and impress Evie, who stood nearby and applauded whenever anyone tried. Well, she was standing there a second ago, where did she-

“Popcorn, Lucifer?”

He looked down slightly to see Evie holding up a bag of multicoloured popcorn. He shrugged and dug a gloved hand into the bag, popping a few into his mouth.

“I have to ask, Evie, is this your plan?”

“H-huh?”

“Keep feeding me until I explode?”

“N-no! It’s just, you never seem to eat!” Evie sputtered, clenching her hands around the middle of the popcorn bag, making the top of the bag overflow.

Lucifer laughed at her embarrassment. “So what is the reason? Why do you come over to check if I’m alright so frequently?”

Evie’s cheeks reddened as she shifted her gaze over to the rest of his brothers, who were now yelling about how Beel’s score didn’t count because he broke the machine. “Well, um… I just… you made sure I was comfortable and safe during my first few weeks here. I um, I know it was your job, but I wanted to thank you anyway…”

His face softening, Lucifer gave her a nudge with his elbow. “Well, now I need to thank you for being considerate, don’t I? How about a turn around the fairgrounds, we can go on any ride you’d like.”

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

“Aw man, where’d Evie go?” Ash asked, standing up on their toes to try and see above the other patrons.

“I think she went off with my dad.” Venus replied, trying to keep their voice as smooth as possible.

“Tsk, gross.” Ash sneered.

“Really now? So it’s not gross if she likes Mammon, but it’s gross if she likes my dad?”

“Sh-shut up!”

“Come on you two, not again…” Cecil pleaded, holding a stuffed mouse close to their chest. “No fighting.”

“We’re just fucking with each other, Ceci, nothing serious.” Venus waved a hand, scanning the crowd for any sign of Asmo or the other brothers. “Hey, where’d everyone go?”

Shrugging their shoulders, Cecil made a face and looked around. “My dad saw someone he knew so he went to go say hi, I think everyone else went off to go find Evie or do other carnival things.”

“So uh… what now?” Ash asked.

“Uh…” The Ferris wheel caught Venus’ eye, they pointed up at it. “Ferris Wheel, let’s go on that one.”

“But first I must tell you, I’m the king of Team Plasma.”

“Oh be quiet, Ash.” Cecil blushed and swatted at their shoulder. “Now’s not the time for dated Pokémon references.”

“Dated?!”

As the trio made their way through the fairgrounds, they noticed the crowd had thinned slightly, there was a sudden shriek, and then the sounds of shouting filled the air.

“Oh dammit!”

“A fight, really?”

“It’s not really a fight, the human doesn’t stand a chance.”

That last comment caused the three cousins to stop dead in their tracks. Each of them exchanged paralyzed glances, before sprinting towards the fight. The three weaved through the crowd, Cecil shouted a few “excuse me!”s as they ducked around the other patrons. Venus picked up their pace and when they reached the Ferris Wheel, their blood ran cold.

“Smells… off…” a demon snarled, wrinkling his nose at Evie, who had her hands up and was slowly backing towards an empty game-tent.

“I-If I smell off, I guess that means you won’t want to eat me, right?” Evie laughed nervously, her eyes darting around as she continued to slowly back away.

“Smells human… but not-” the demon’s gaze snapped to the half demons, his eyes narrowed into a glare. “Half breeds…”

Straightening their posture and crossing their arms, Venus fixed the demon with what they hoped was an intimidating scowl. “Get away from the exchange student, right now.”

The demon’s head tilted, a toothy grin spreading across his face. “Defending a human, are you? I guess you can’t hide your roots that much.”

Ash let out a warning growl, but Venus stayed perfectly composed, levelling an arm out to block them from going any further.

“One more chance to walk away.”

The demon scoffed, then fully turned his attention to the kids, baring his teeth.

“Go.”

The moment Venus lowered their arm, Ash bolted forward and lunged towards the demon. They transformed into their second form mid-flight and dug their claws into the demon’s shoulders.

“Lucifer!” Evie cried as she sprinted away. Good she was out of the way.

Cecil sprinted ahead to cover Evie’s escape as the demon whirled around to go after her. They hadn’t even transformed, but their eyes glowed a searing pink. “S-stop it!”

The demon held up their arm to shield their vision from Cecil’s eyes. He felt around, and his hand closed around Ash’s leg, and yanked them off him. Snarling, the demon swung his fist forward, connecting with the side Cecil’s head, causing them to shriek and send them flying to the left.

Ash let out a snarl and jumped back on the demon. “Don’t touch Cecil!”

Venus ran over to Cecil, getting them to their feet and pointing behind them.

“Cecil, go get the others.” They ordered as they allowed their wings to unfurl behind them.

“Uh-uh huh…” Cecil nodded breathlessly and turned and ran in the other direction.

Ash growled and jabbed their horns into the tough flesh of the demon’s back as they dug their claws deeper into his shoulder. The demon slammed his fist into the side of Ash’s eye, sending them sprawling onto the dirt.

Venus cracked their knuckles and dashed forward, feigning right and then diving to the left, slashing the demon’s face with their claws. They twisted around, jumping onto the demon’s back and yanking his head up with his horns.

Ash knelt in the dirt in front of them, watching with unfocused eyes as the demon attempted to throw Venus off of him.

“ASH COME ON!” Venus growled, throwing all their weight onto the horns. “GET OFF YOUR ASS AND HELP ME!”

Shaking their head like they were coming out of a daze, Ash quickly nodded and stuck out their hand, whispering a few jumbled spells. A few white sparks cracked against their palm, but nothing happened. They looked down at their hand in surprise, which was interrupted by Venus being grabbed by their upper wings and thrown at Ash, sending the two soaring backwards.

Venus let out a yelp as they rolled across the dirt floor, the dust shooting up into the air. A loud crack and a sharp pain in their ribs caused them to hiss in pain as they came to a stop, Ash lay nearly motionless on top of them.

“A-Ash?” Venus whispered, wincing in pain as they felt their ribs snap back into place. “Are you-”

“Damn,” the demon laughed, blood dripping from the claw marks down onto his face. “I was expecting better from the children of the Avatars of sin!”

“Oh fuck you.” Ash murmured, weakly lifting a hand, only to have more sparks fly out and fizzle harmlessly. “Fuck me…”

“Oh well,” the demon chuckled and shrugged. “Gotta learn to expect the worst!”

Venus and Ash both scrambled in opposite directions as the demon charged forward. Venus felt the wind whizz past the tip of their nose as they barely managed to avoid him. The demon crashed into one of the game-tents, sending wood chips and plastic flying everywhere.

Shakily getting to their feet, Venus snapped their fingers a few times, whatever ailment Ash was facing was thankfully not affecting them as a bright blue glow materialized in their hands. They stretched the light like taffy until it hardened into a whip, smirking, Venus gave it a warning crack against the ground.

“You we’re saying you expected better?”

Dried blood, debris, and dirt was caked onto the right side of the demon’s face as he let out a snarl, his own magic sparking between his fingers.

Venus strode forward, they raised the handle and cracked the whip, the arm the demon raised to block it sizzled as a long thin gash appeared.

Snapping the whip again and again until the demon’s arms were reduced to bloody ribbons, the demon finally burst forward, his fists coated with purple fire.

Venus took a breath and jumped, their wings flapping behind them as they looped their arms and legs around the demon’s shoulders.

Perfect. Venus thought. Before the demon had time to react, Venus coiled the whip around the demon’s neck and yanked both sides until the whip went taught.

The demon fell to a knee as he clawed at his neck, the whip searing against his skin. He twisted wildly, trying to buck Venus off of him, but the half demon held firm, turning to avoid being gored by his horns.

“Surrender and I won’t kill you.” Venus said, their voice almost monotone. To their surprise, the demon’s face twisted into a grin as he looked over at where Ash was laying.

“Oh little half breed, I think you have bigger things to worry about…” he rasped.

Venus’ eyes snapped to where Ash was, they were on their hands and knees, their knuckles white from strain as their whole body shook and convulsed violently. Sweat poured down their face as they took frantic gulps of air. They gagged and belched like they were about to vomit. Venus barely had time to register what was happening before they felt claws rip down the side of their face.

They jumped back, dropping the whip and causing it to fizzle out of existence. The demon gasped for air, but Venus had more pressing issues. They bolted over to Ash, dropping to their knees and grabbing them by the shoulders.

“Wh-what’s wrong?! What happened?!” Venus demanded, their stomach dropped right to the floor when Ash began to frantically wheeze, their skin turning pale.

“C-can’t… breathe… feels like I’m gonna… explode…”

“E-explode?!”

Ash’s head snapped upwards, their eyes beginning to glow a bright yellow as sweat and blood dripped down the side of their face.

“It hurts!”

Talons burst through Ash’s fingertips, much larger and thicker than their normal claws, they threw their head back and let out a scream as their horns twisted and grew. Their wings stretched, the sharp spikes becoming absolutely massive, Ash let out another strangled wail as their teeth grew even sharper.

“Over there!” Cecil shouted, Mammon and Asmo following behind them. All three stopped dead in their tracks as Ash stumbled to their feet.

“A-Ash?” Venus whispered.

“Vee,” Mammon said, slowly walking towards the two of them. “Run.”

Ash bared his fangs and lunged, talons outstretched and ready to slice Mammon into bloody ribbons. As Venus scrambled out of the way, Mammon rushed towards Ash, catching them by the shoulders and hissing with pain as Ash’s talons tore at his biceps.

“K-kid, it’s me, ya gotta… ya gotta calm down!”

“I CAN’T!” Ash cried, the glow in their eyes flickering and flashing until they returned to their normal blue. Their eyes were wide with panic and terror as they thrashed and convulsed in their father’s grip.

The sickening sound of bones snapping and popping rose to a horrifying crescendo as Ash screamed again. The skin on their face pulled itself back, the muscles underneath clenched and flexed from the effort of trying to keep their face from being torn clean off.

Venus watched in abject horror as Mammon screamed for Asmo to help. The Avatar of Lust ran over, dropping to his knees with his eyes glowing pink.

“Ash honey, look at me…”

“It hurts it hurts it HURTS!” Ash screamed again, tears running down their face. Bright white bones ripped through the sides of their cheeks, blood pouring down from the shredded skin.

“I know kiddo I know just please try and calm down, it’ll stop if you calm down…” Mammon repeated those words like a mantra, over and over again.

“Shhhh… shhhh… it’s okay… breathe, breathe…” Asmo whispered, Ash’s eyes drooped and the frantic rising of their chest slowed.

“What happened?!”

Venus whipped their head around to see Belphie, Beel, Lucifer, and Evie rushing over.

“Shhh… Sh… Belphie… put Ash to sleep…” Asmo whispered, Belphie’s eyes widened, but he nodded and gently placed his hand on the back of Ash’s head. Their eyes fluttered closed.

Everything stood still, no one dared to even breathe as Ash slowly shifted back into their second form, then to their first.

“What…” Venus whispered. “What was that..?”

——————

“It’s simple really, they nearly transformed beyond what their half human body is capable of.”

Barbatos said as he busied himself with looking over the unconscious half demon. Ash was bobbing in and out of consciousness while lying in a hospital bed, their face scrunching with pain every once and a while. Venus couldn’t help but wince, this… wasn’t how the day was supposed to go at all.

The massive gashes from the demon’s claws on Venus’ face had mostly healed up thanks to Barbatos’ magic. Cecil on the other hand, still held an ice pack to their eye.

Mammon sat at the side of Ash’s bed, his face completely devoid of his usual boisterous energy. Levi, Lucifer, Satan, and Asmo stood around the bed, until they were told to give the two some space by Barbatos.

The group had ended up stuck at the Demon Lord’s Castle, Diavolo was holed up in his office, sorting through the needed paperwork from the incident at the carnival. Someone needed to worry about the demon that had decided to enact the suicidal plan of fucking with the exchange student after all…

“Transformed beyond what they’re capable of..?” Cecil tentatively asked. They sat in one of the flimsy green chairs that were pushed against the wall, hugging their knees to their chest. “Wh-what does that mean..?”

Barbatos paused in his activities and gave Asmo a quizzical glance. “Did you not tell them?”

Asmo went pale as he suddenly crossed his arms and refused to make eye contact. “W-well, Cecil just got comfortable with transforming into their second form, I didn’t want to make them more nervous…”

Letting out a sigh between clenched teeth, Barbatos looked to Venus. “Do you know what happened?”

As the half demon shut their eyes and searched through the ocean of their memories for an inkling of what could have happened, a seemingly unrelated piece of advice bobbed to the surface.

“You have to control yourself. Keep yourself in your limits, and never lose control.” Their parent had said to them the day Venus’ wings grew in. “If you don’t, I won’t be able to help you calm down.”

“They lost control?” Venus offered, Barbatos half shook his head and half nodded. “They lost control and transformed again.”

“Almost,” Barbatos began to explain. “You know how our forms work, right? Demons have a more vaguely human-like form, then for the most part, we gain our second and more demonic features as young children. Mid ranking demons and above have a form after that, we gain it in adulthood, but very few learn to control it.”

“And extremely high ranking demons have a fourth.” Lucifer butted in and added. “We Avatars of sin, Lord Diavolo, Barbatos and a few others have fourth forms.”

“Oh… okay… was Ash just transforming into their third form too early..?” Cecil asked. Barbatos shook his head.

“No, the problem wasn’t that they transformed too early, it’s that they transformed at all.” Barbatos let the comment sit in the air. Venus felt the air slowly get sucked out of their lungs as their chest began to constrict. “Allow me to explain how a third form works,”

Barbatos snapped his fingers and a few balls of light began to float into the air. “Magic runs through the blood of demons, angels, and some special humans, in our first and second forms, the magic in our bodies is constantly being released into the world around us, allowing us to cast spells. Are you following?”

Cecil and Venus nodded.

“When a demon enters their third form, they are effectively stopping the flow of magic from leaving their body. All the magic internalizes, trading the ability to cast spells for immense physical strength. What happened with Ash here is what happens to a large chunk of half bree-” Barbatos’ eyes briefly widened and he slightly shook his head. “Half demons. Your human half prevents the safe internalization of magic.”

“So… what you’re saying is…” Venus said, their heart in their throat. “Their own magic nearly… killed them?”

“It’s what happens to most half human children of powerful demons,” Levi said, flippantly waving his hand. He snorted out a laugh as he continued. “It’s actually kinda funny, Satan’s kids never live past forty, they get so angry they transform and-”

Levi was unceremoniously cut off by Mammon and Satan elbowing him hard in the gut. The Avatar of Envy looked from them, to the stricken faces of Venus and Cecil, he remembered his audience and seemed to try and shrink into his sweater.

“U-uh… I mean it’s not funny anymore… but…”

“Levi, stop.” Lucifer said. He turned to Venus and Cecil, his features softening. “We weren’t good parental figures to our half human children before, which is why Diavolo started monitoring who went in and out of the human world. But now, things are different, we have you two.”

“I-is that why there are so few half demons down here..?” Cecil whispered, their face pale. “M-most of them… just died like that?! Because they couldn’t control themselves?!”

Cecil began to hyperventilate, tears brimming behind their eyes. Asmo rushed to their side and began to slowly rub their shoulders.

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m not going to let that happen to you, okay?”

Cecil burst from their seat and bolted for the door, a sob tearing through their throat.

“I’ll… I’ll go get them…” Asmo said quietly before beginning to trail after Cecil.

“Venus-”

“Don’t.” Venus gave everyone a parting glare before stomping out the door, their shoes clicking against the marble floors.

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

“Hey kiddo…” Mammon whispered, resting his chin on the bed. “You’re gonna be okay, y-ya just gotta wake up.”

The room had emptied out, his brothers had left Mammon alone with Ash. The only sound in the room came from the faint whir of the air conditioner and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Ash’s expression changed for a fraction of a second, but their eyes didn’t open. Mammon visibly deflated and ran a hand through his hair.

“Come on buddy, wake up for me… I barely spent any time with ya, you can’t just… leave…” Mammon clamped his eyes shut, his whole body beginning to tremble. “You can’t just die like that… not after what we saw in the Reaper’s cave…”

A candle just as tall as Mammon’s, Ash, Cecil, and Venus had inherited just as long a life as his. A candle snuffed out like that, after only fifteen years…

Maybe this was a punishment… Mammon thought bitterly. A punishment for letting all those other half demons meet the fate that Ash narrowly avoided.

“Mmmph…” Mammon’s head snapped upwards, his eyes widening as Ash sat up and rubbed their eyes. “What happened? Did I get hit by a bus..?”

All the things Mammon wanted to say crowded in his throat, his heart raced as tears of relief spilled down his cheeks. “I love you” “I’m sorry” “how are you feeling?” All those questions raced to be said, but what came out was:

“YA HAD ME SCARED TO DEATH YOU LITTLE SHIT!”

“Geez…” Ash grumbled, shooting Mammon a glare. “If I had known waking up was going to lead to that I woulda stayed asleep.”

“N-no! Just… fuck…” Mammon pulled Ash into the tightest possible hug, Ash squawked and hit his balled up fists against Mammon’s back. “Ya better not scare me like that again!”

“D-dad! Everything still hurts! Be gentle, you old bastard!”

“N-never do that again…”

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

Venus gripped their sword in a white knuckled grip as they hacked away at the training dummy. Their chest heaved and their shoulders burned from the exertion, but they kept going, slicing and stabbing until the unfortunate dummy was absolutely gushing stuffing.

With one final swing, the half demon lobbed the dummy’s head clean off. The face they had drawn on it still looked unbearably smug, even as it rolled across the dirt and into the bushes of Diavolo’s garden.

Shaking out their hands and rolling their shoulders, Venus let out a frustrated growl. They opened their palm and examined their blisters, hissing from the sting, they balled their hand into a fist.

“You’d get better results if you loosened your grip.” Venus turned to see Lucifer casually strolling into the garden, holding a sword that was much too small for him. He held the blade out to Venus. “And had a sword that you can actually effectively wield.”

“Tsk…” Venus held out the longsword to Lucifer, who took it and casually twirled it in a gloved hand. “What does it matter? I’ll never be as good as you…”

“Is that why you’ve killed that poor, innocent training dummy in cold blood? An inferiority complex?” Lucifer asked, Venus scowled as they took the smaller sword.

“No…”

“Then tell me what-”

“I’ll never be as good.”

“You just said-”

“I’ll never be as good as everyone else!” Venus cried, running their free hand through their hair and shaking their head. “I’ll never be as good as a full demon! Everyone else has third forms they can control, but no, not me! Not Ash, not Cecil! It’ll literally rip me apart, but everyone else can pop in and out of it without a care in the world… it’s not fair! It’s not… it’s not fair…”

Venus trailed off, the world seemed to come to a standstill. The half demon took a deep breath, looking down at their reflection in their sword. A child stared back, a child who had spent years playing catch-up to every other demon, a child who had waited so long to meet their father only to be seen as a shameful mistake…

A hand rested on their head, gently ruffling their hair. “I know it’s not fair, but that’s not something either of us can fix, is it?”

Venus slowly shook their head.

“You’ve come so far, are you really going to give up now?”

They stared long and hard at their reflection. This kid hadn’t given up, had they? They fixed their fractured family, didn’t they? Despite all odds they worked to learn every spell they had to, every potion they were told to brew.

Venus looked up and shook their head again. A smile slowly spread across Lucifer’s face as he stepped back and readied his sword.

“Well, if you’re going to get better at swordplay, show me the proper stance, 24601.”

Letting out a snicker and shaking their head, Venus dropped into their ready position. “I’m warning you, Javert, I’m the stronger one by far.”

“We’ll see.”

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

Asmodeus, (Avatar of Lust, visionary, influencer, model, fashion designer, etc.) was not experienced with dealing with fragile people. But their dear child was quite a delicate little flower, they wilted under almost any kind of pressure and required a more delicate hand in comforting. Asmo felt his heart clench at the sight of Cecil scrunched up in one of the beds in one of the guest rooms.

The mattress sunk slightly as Asmo sat down next to Cecil, he gently brushed his hand against their arm. Their chest rose and fell with shaking breaths, the silence of the room punctured with the occasional sniffle.

“Hey, sweetie.” Asmo gently whispered. “Do you want to talk, or should I go?”

Cecil remained quiet, but as Asmo began to retract his hand, Cecil’s arm shot out to stop him.

“…stay.”

“Okay,” Asmo nodded as Cecil sat up and rubbed their eyes. “Do you want me to ask Barbatos to get something for you?”

Shaking their head, Cecil sighed. “I’m okay.”

They took a deep breath through their nose and crossed their arms into a tight self-hug. “Why do things have to be so complicated..?”

Asmo pursed his lips and shrugged. “I don’t know… but I’ll help you, I promise.”

“How?”

“Hm?”

“How? How are you going to help me? I’m barely in control of my second form… how am I supposed to stop myself from transforming and killing myself? Or… or hurting someone else..?”

Asmo gently threaded his fingers through Cecil’s hair, the half demon rested their head on his shoulder and let out a tired sigh. “You’ll be okay, Cecil. The fact that you’re worried shows that you’ll be extra careful. And~”

Allowing his eyes to glow a faint pink, Asmo turned Cecil to face him and gave them a goofy wink. “Besides, I calmed down Ash, and I can try and talk you down too, and I highly doubt you’ll be able to resist Belphie’s sleep magic.”

The Avatar of Lust pushed his bangs to the side and gave Cecil a small smile. “We’re all here to help you, Cecil.”

Cecil bit the inside of their cheek, then nodded. “Can um… can I… never mind…”

“What is it?”

Flushing bright red, Cecil looked away and twiddled their thumbs. “Can I see your third form..?”

Asmo wrinkled his nose and squinted. “Are you sure..? It’s kind of… gross. Very scorpiony-”

Cecil’s eyes sparkled, and Asmo let out a breathy laugh. “What am I saying? Of course you’d love it.”

A soft clicking noise filled the air as Asmo shifted from his first form, to his second, then finally, the flow of magic ceased. Asmo felt his wings gently stretch and grow, his horns and fangs becoming longer and sharper. An extra set of eyes opened on his cheekbones, frantically darting around hungrily. His seldom seen scorpion tail thrashed around before relaxing and resting around the pair.

“Woah…” Cecil whispered, slowly reaching out to touch the scorpion tail. “Cool…”

“Pssst, look.” Asmo flicked his face upwards, revealing a row of serrated teeth. “Very inconvenient to brush.”

Cecil covered their mouth and muffled their giggles. His heart full, Asmo shifted back to his second form, letting his now smaller wings flutter happily behind him. “See, not so scary. If someone as flighty as lil ol me can learn to control that, so can you, Ceci.”

“Yeah… I guess. Hm?” Cecil shifted in their seat, looking over at the doorway. “Evie? What are you doing over there?”

Asmo turned to see the human exchange student, flushed bright red and sputtering out apologies and excuses. “S-sorry for intruding! I-I-I didn’t want to interrupt… I was just told to tell you two we’re supposed to be going home soon! Sorry!”

Evie quickly shut the door and Asmo let out a giggle. “Oh well, we’d better get going.”

——————

“I just don’t understand,” Evie sighed, looking between Belphie and Beel, who flanked her as they walked through Diavolo’s garden. “Why can’t their bodies stand the strain?”

“Humans aren’t as… malleable as we are. We can change and warp our bodies whenever we want if we have enough power and control. The kids’ human halves don’t allow that.” Belphie replied, glumly kicking a rock into the bushes, which the shrubs gleefully seemed to almost eat. The Avatar of Sloth felt his insides churn at the memory of Ash’s screams and contortions.

“Humans are resilient, though, and so are the kids,” Beel gave Evie and Belphie a smile, and reached over to pat Belphie on the back. “They’ll be okay. It’s nice of you to worry though, Evie.”

“Hm?” Evie’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she laughed and shrugged. “Yeah… I’m such a worry wart sometimes…”

“I GOT YOU!”

The sound of raucous applause punctured the shrieks of delight, the sudden noise nearly made Belphie pass right out. Evie and the twins sped up and peeked around a corner, Venus was jumping up and down with glee as they clapped and pointed at the sword on the ground.

“I GOT YOU! I DID IT!”

Lucifer looked down at his sliced palm, legitimate shock on his face, which quickly melted into a proud grin. “That you did, that you did.”

Belphie felt a smile appear on his face, pfft, Lucifer was such a dad. Gross.

“They’re both so cute!” Evie whispered, Belphie snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Eh, I’ve seen cuter.”

“Yeah,” Beel added, beginning to drool. “Remember the eclairs that Venus and Cecil brought home? They had cute little smiley faces on them…”

“Don’t be mean, Belphie.” Evie said, patting his cheek.

“You stop being such a mom.”

“I’ll stop when you stop being such a butt!”

“What are you three doing?” Lucifer interjected, Venus was putting the swords back in their proper place behind him. “If you wanted to watch you didn’t have to hide.”

—————————

Levi straightened himself up in his gaming chair, his eyes glued to the screen, his character dashed around the boss arena, delivering hit after hit. The timer ticked away, he only had 32 seconds left to beat his previous high score.

The boss swung its hammer, Levi gracefully dodged out of the way, he fired his character’s bow, once, twice, three times. The boss’ HP was down to a quarter. 20 seconds left.

Levi’s hands flew across the keyboard, his fingers frantically hitting each button just in the nick of time. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Just a few more hits…

Hit, hit, COMBO! BOSS DOWN! AND WITH TEN SECONDS TO SPARE!

“YES!” Levi threw of his headset and pumped his fists in the air, he swivelled out of his chair and went to grab his half empty bottle of Gatorade that was lying on the ground, only to be met with quiet applause.

Evie stood behind him, a proud little smile on her face. “That you did, that you did.”

“AGH! Wh-when did you get in here?!” Levi sputtered, suddenly embarrassed about the mess. Great… Evie would never want to hang out with him now that she knew what a slob he was…

Levi’s shoulders drooped like a wilting flower as Evie reached out and clasped his (very sweaty) hands in her own. they were smooth and soft as the nicest body pillow… Levi um… needed better descriptors. He hasn’t held many hands in recent history. “I did knock, but you were so in the zone that I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“Just um… what do you um… want?” Levi mumbled, refusing to make eye contact.

“This is ah… kind of embarrassing but…” Evie wrinkled her perfect brows and bit the inside of her cheek.

“You um… you can tell me, don’t worry! I don’t have anyone to spill any secrets to!” Levi said, frantically trying to sound as not-desperate as possible.

“Well… I dropped one of my favourite hairpins down the downstairs bathroom vent, and I know the vents go down into the underground tomb… I need your key…”

“My key..? Oh! My key!” Levi scambled over to one of his filing cabinets and began carefully moving figurines and miniatures aside, trying to see where he left his key. After Luke ended up in the Underground Tomb, all the entrances were locked with keys only the brothers and kids had, and Levi had just carelessly chucked his onto one of his cabinets.

“AHA!” Levi felt his fingers clasp around cold ridged metal. “Found it!”

Levi proudly presented the key to Evie, who began to thank him profusely. “You’re a lifesaver Levi, really. Thank you so so so much!”

“I-It’s not a problem, Evie, just give it back when you’re done.” Levi blushed and scratched the back of his neck as Evie let out a sweet little giggle and a mock salute.

“Yes sir!”

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

Lucifer glared down at the few remaining papers in front of him. One insanely stupid demon sentenced to death for, well, hurting his child and niblings, a ton in property damages, and a partridge in a pear tree. He yawned and tried to keep his eyelids open, but they were as heavy as lead.

Dammit, he was going to pass the hell out the moment he hit his mattress…

There was a quiet knock at the door of his study, restrained and dainty. Evie.

“Come in.”

The human stepped in, her hands clasped behind her back, her usual look of concern on her face. “Lucifer, I hate to nag but it’s past midnight…”

“I know, I know,” Lucifer signed his name down on one of the papers and shunted it to the side. “I’m almost done.”

As the words left his lips, Lucifer realized how… normal this had become. A human, who was only supposed to be the exchange student, had so easily inserted herself into his family. Well, it was no question as to why, she was sweet, the kids and his brothers adored her, and even Lucifer couldn’t deny how his heart quickened whenever she was nearby.

“Good… good…” Evie pursed her lips and stepped closer to the desk. “I-if you don’t mind me asking, I thought Lord Diavolo was supposed to be handling the paperwork for this..?”

“He was called away for urgent business in the eighth circle. Some souls got loose and are causing a ruckus.” Lucifer replied, his pen smoothly gliding across the page.

“Oh… okay.” Evie nodded, her eyebrows creasing.

“That reminds me, two angels from the Celestial Realm will be visiting. Lord Diavolo insisted that you get to meet them. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Oh!” Evie’s voice was louder than Lucifer expected, the ink on his pen blotted slightly and he winced as his perfect signature was marred. “Sorry… I wasn’t expecting that…”

“Don’t worry, they aren’t troublemakers like my brothers. You won’t have to babysit.” Lucifer’s mind wandered to Simeon and Luke. Sure, Simeon lived to bug him like a bothersome younger sibling, but he was never the cause of the majority of Lucifer’s worries. Luke on the other hand, was an adorable yapping chihuahua, no problems there, except for maybe a headache or twelve.

“But I like your brothers, Lucifer.” Evie chirped. “They’re fun, and sweet when you get to know them.”

“Really now? I assumed they’d drive any exchange student insane with their antics.”

“Nope, not me.” Evie quieted her voice down to a mere whisper. “And… you’re pretty sweet too…”

Sweet? Him? Really? Lucifer looked up from his final paper and up at Evie, who’s cheeks were dusted a faint pink as she turned and abruptly walked towards the bookcase.

“U-um… f-forget I said that… s-sorry Luci-”

Lucifer got up from his desk, his hand hitting against the bookshelf, his other hand turning Evie’s face to look up at him. A nervous smile wormed it’s way onto her face.

“You’re an odd one for thinking that, Evangeline.”

The two stared deeply into each other’s eyes, the stars coming in from the window sparkling in Evie’s deep green eyes. Lucifer’s breath hitched in his throat as Evie slowly tilted her head, her hair falling over her shoulder.

“Lucifer… c-can I…”

“Yes.”

Before the word had a moment to settle in the air, Evie looped her arms around Lucifer’s neck and pressed her lips to his. Lucifer’s eyes widened in surprise before he melted into the kiss. He let his hands gently rest on her back, her lips turned up into a smile. Lucifer had to wonder how long she must have been waiting to do that.

When the two finally pulled apart, breathless and bashful, Evie crossed her arms and looked towards the fireplace.

“N-no more kisses until you go get a good night’s sleep… got it?” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Lucifer chuckled and stroked her cheek.

“As you wish.” Lucifer said, taking her hand in his.

He walked her back to her room, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and smiled. “Thanks Lucifer, see… see you tomorrow.”

Nodding, Lucifer turned to leave. “Goodnight, Evangeline.”

As Lucifer collapsed onto his bed, his thoughts couldn’t help but drift back to the exchange student. Tsk, so odd, he liked this human a lot, didn’t he? He turned over and sighed. Oh well, he’d worry about that tomorrow.

———————————

Evie waited behind her door as she listened to Lucifer’s footsteps disappear down the hallway. She couldn’t wipe the giddy little grin off her face. She kissed him! She really really did!

Ah! And everyone liked her! They really liked her! She felt like she was on cloud nine!

“Oh, right!” Evie swiped a plastic bag off her nightstand and slipped out of her room and into the hallway.

The house of Lamentation in the even darker night of the Devildom was truly a different building. The portraits would flicker and change, each antique seemed to almost glow, and the cold… oh the cold…

Evie shuddered slightly as she began to walk to the hallway where the brothers’ rooms were. She was met with the faint sound of snores as she pressed her ear to each door. When she finally reached Lucifer’s, her heart skipped a beat as she heard his faint breathing through the door. Ah, good, he kept his word. There was nothing worse than sleep deprivation…

Evie quietly walked down the hall, careful not to step on any floorboards that she had learned creaked during her nightly ritual.

She finally reached the kids’ rooms, the door was open a crack. Peeking inside, she saw all three kids, piled into a pillow fort filled with blankets and pillows. Cecil’s rat was snuggled into the crook of their arm, Ash lay on their back, snoring like an old car starting up, a half eaten bag of chips lying next to them. Venus lay in the middle, their head resting in their arms, their thick rimmed glasses pushed against their face. Oh dear… they were going to have red marks in the morning…

A pair of amber eyes blinked at her, nearly giving her a heart attack before she realized, it was just Venus and Satan’s cat. The calico hissed, its tail puffed up, giving it the appearance of an angry stuffed animal. Tsk, the cat still didn’t like her. No matter. Evie sighed in contentment as she left the kids’ doorways. Everyone was asleep and safe.

Content… and dreaming…

Evie took Levi’s key out of her skirt pocket, clenching the cold piece of metal in her palm as she snuck into the dining room hallway, the door to the underground tomb stood large and imposing in front of her. Holding her breath, Evie slipped the key into the lock and turned it. The lock clicked and the door swung open. Evie winced as it quietly creaked and groaned with age.

She slipped into the cold stone corridor, the candles hanging on the walls giving off a faint light, but little warmth. A growl echoed down the hallway, Evie calmly retrieved a bag of dog treats and shook it. The growling stopped. Evie smiled and silently thanked Lucifer for introducing her to Cerberus three weeks earlier. She tossed him a few treats as she passed by, whispering a “good boy” as he quietly munched on his treats.

Finally, Evie reached the long final hallway, dark wooden coffins lined the way to the skeletal statue with a book in its hands, candles painted the entire room a faint warm orange. Her breath caught in her throat as she reached out towards the book, the leather of the cover brushing against her fingers.

Immediately, power began to hum in her veins, her eyes widened and flashed as a smile crawled across her face. The silent thrum that was as natural as her own pulse, the sweet lost feeling…

Evie held the Grimoire in her arms, she flipped it open to the middle, her smile only widening as she marvelled at the book in front of her. She raised a delicate hand and pinched the corner of one of the pages, then tore it clean out.

She wondered,

She really wondered just how long it had been since she had magic coursing through her veins.

————————

Author’s Note

Thank you so so so much for reading! Tell me what you thought by shooting me an ask or leaving it in the replies or tags! ^.^

@tisafinedayforsimping @min-rei @princessfujoshi15 @sanchezbloodline @d3nz3lm0rn @serena-hart-09 @canon-did-us-dirty @kateloveobeyme

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #290: Tomoe Gozen (Saber)

Greetings, gamers! Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re building Lord Yoshinaka’s gamer girlfriend Tomoe Gozen in D&D 5e. Hey, if Lasengle thinks letting her name slip is fine and dandy I’m not one to argue.

Tomoe’s a Soulknife Rogue to build her own VR sabers, as well as a Samurai Fighter so she can play all night long. Yep, this intro’s not super complicated, mostly because I have no idea what “VR Shinkageryu” is either.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Summer 5 speedrun no internal organs glitchless 235:6:4

Race and Background

Tomoe’s still a Tiefling like last time, but we’re making her with a Zariel bloodline instead of the original flavor. This gives you +2 Dexterity and +1 Constitution as well as Darkvision, Hellish Resistance against fire damage, and a Legacy of Avernus. You know the Thaumaturgy cantrip innately, and you get more spells you can cast once per day each as you level up- Searing Smite at level 3 and Branding Smite at level 5. While a soulknife is a fun light show, it’s not quite as fiery as we’d like for your NP. That’s where the smites come in.

You’re also still a Noble, but since we’re getting history later you’ll pick up proficiency in Persuasion and Survival instead. I don’t know how someone with a VR headset glued to their eyes is supposed to survive in the wild, but you have a skill all about it, so I assume you’re good at it.

Ability Scores

Your highest score is going to be Constitution. Staying up late is a constitution save, and once again you have a whole skill dedicated to it. After that is Dexterity. Laser swords use dexterity. Bikinis use dexterity. Dexterity is good. Almost as good? Your Charisma. Some would call playing a video game a performance, and at the very least you’re probably good at beat saber. We’re also gonna make your Strength above average, part oni and all that, so your Intelligence and Wisdom are less good. Turns out it’s hard to see what’s happening when you have a VR headset strapped to your head 24/7.

Class Levels

1. Rogue 1: We’re starting off as a rogue for the extra skills and also to get your VR experience going as soon as possible. I know we’re out in the mountains so you’re already getting shakes from game withdrawal, so we’ll make these levels quick.

At first level you have proficiency in Dexterity and Intelligence saves plus four skills like Acrobatics for flashier swordplay, Athletics for oni strength, Perception for twitch reflexes, and Performance for higher scores. You also get double proficiency or “Expertise” in two skills like Survival and Athletics. Oni be strong.

If you’re using a finesse or ranged weapon and you have advantage or a buddy near the target, you can use a Sneak Attack to deal extra damage. Right now it’s 1d6, it’ll get bigger as we go.

You also know Thieves’ Cant, which I guess in this case is just gamer lingo.

2. Rogue 2: A second level rogue can make a Cunning Action as a bonus action each turn, disengaging, dodging, dashing, or hiding with the speed of a child whose mother just came into their room in the middle of a sick gaming sesh on their DS.

3. Rogue 3: At the third level of rogue we finally take a step into the magical world of VR by becoming a Soulknife. This gives you Psionic Power, a.k.a. twice your proficiency bonus in Psionic Energy Dice, which right now are d6s. You regain them all on a long rest, or you can get one back per short rest as a bonus action. Right now, your dice have two uses. You can use them for a Psi-Bolstered Knack, a.k.a. adding them to a failed check you’re proficient in and possibly turning it into a success. You only use the die up if you succeed, so there’s no shame in trying your hardest every match! You can also use Psychic Whispers for some teamchat, rolling the die and setting up a groupchat (telepathically) with up to Proficiency number creatures for that many hours, as long as you are within one mile of whoever you’re talking to. The first shot is free, each use afterwards eats up a die though.

But none of that sounds like VR Shinkageryu, does it? No, it doesn’t. Thankfully we also have Psychic Blades to stand in for your VR sabers. Whenever you take the attack action, you create a laser blade to make that attack with. It’s finesse and can be thrown, and it deals psychic damage instead of piercing or slashing. On top of that, it leaves no trace of the damage it deals, as all the damage happens in VR. Obviously. Included in that damage might be your sneak attack, which is bumped up to 2d6 this level.

Also, you can make an extra attack as a bonus action using a smaller blade.

You could also use that bonus action to take Steady Aim, giving you advantage on your next attack at the cost of not being able to move that turn.

4. Fighter 1: Now that you have the swords, it’s time we got good with them. Pick up the Two Weapon fighting style so you can add your ability modifier to offhand weapon damage, and you also get a Second Wind to heal yourself as a bonus action. Every gamer keeps refreshments on hand for hardcore gaming seshes. It’s not pretty, but that’s just the reality of the life you signed up for.

5. Fighter 2: Second level fighters can make an Action Surge once per short rest for an extra action in a single turn. This doesn’t give you an extra bonus action though, so you can still only make three attacks in a turn.

6. Fighter 3: At third level you become a Samurai, which is thankfully a lot less front-loaded than Soulknife was. You become proficient in History, and you also gain a Fighting Spirit up to three times per day. Spend a bonus action, get temporary HP and advantage on all attacks for the turn. Simple stuff.

7. Fighter 4: Now that we’ve put it off for as long as possible, we can finally grab an Ability Score Improvement for higher dexterity. That’s a higher AC and stronger swords, baybee.

8. Fighter 5: Fifth level fighters get an Extra Attack each action- that’s two per action, up to three per turn with a bonus action attack, four with your action surge, or a maximum of five with an action surge and a bonus action.

9. Rogue 4: Use this ASI to bump up your Constitution for more HP. That’s a +9 bonus this level- remember, HP changes are cumulative.

10. Rogue 5: Fifth level rogues can make an Uncanny Dodge as a bonus action, halving one instance of damage coming your way. Psychic blades have plenty of perks, but you can’t make reaction attacks with them, so at least now you have something to use that reaction on each turn. Thankfully your 3d6 sneak attack should make up for not having opportunity attacks.

11. Rogue 6: Sixth level rogues get another set of Expertise, so your Performance and History checks should be even better than before. You’ve seen it all before, both in terms of games and historical events.

12. Rogue 7: Seventh level rogues gain Evasion, supercharging your dexterity saves. On a failure, you take half damage. On a success, you take none at all. This only works on saves to halve damage- if passing the save already negates all damage, you’ll still take all the damage on a failure. Speaking of damage: 4d6 sneak attack, once per turn. It’s nice.

13. Rogue 8: Use this ASI to max out your Dexterity for the hardest bathing suit around and to make sure your VR sabers burn as brightly as possible.

14. Rogue 9: Ninth level soulknives have Soul Blades, which isn’t a confusing name at all. This gives you two more uses for Psi Dice. You can add a roll of the dice to a missed attack roll to make Homing Strikes, only spending the die of the attack now hits. Alternatively, throw that sword (and that die) around for some Psychic Teleportation, moving up to 10’ x the die roll.

Your psychic blades also become a bit stronger thanks to your 5d6 Sneak Attack damage.

15. Fighter 6: Sixth level fighters get another ASI, and since our dex is already maxed out, might as well grab a feat like the Flames of Phlegethos. This mostly just makes your searing smite a little more searing- whenever you roll fire damage from a spell, you can reroll 1s and take the new roll. Also, whenever you cast a fire-dealing spell you become a little bit of a sun yourself for the round, shedding light and dealing fire damage back to any creature that hits you with a melee attack. It also bumps up your Charisma, which is nice since…

16. Fighter 7: Seventh level samurai are Elegant Courtiers, so you add your wisdom modifier to your persuasion checks. This isn’t a “can” ability, and it also doesn’t have a minimum, so… yeah, you’re worse at persuasion now. At least you also get proficiency in Wisdom saves.

17. Fighter 8: For more save proficiency, grab the Resilient feat with your last ASI for +1 constitution and proficiency in those saves! Staying up late will eventually be a constitution save, so now it’s a bit easier for you. Shame we’re leaving off on an odd number, but oh well.

18. Fighter 9: If that’s not enough, your Indomitable spirit lets you re-roll a failed save once a long rest. Save this for saves you’re good at, like… most of them, actually.

19. Fighter 10: Tenth level fighters get a… Tireless Spirit. Yes, we really picked up this entire subclass just for this joke. This also legitimately helps you stay up late, since rolling initiative with 0 Fighting Spirits lets you gain one back.

20. Fighter 11: Your final level is pretty simple, but effective- another Extra Attack lets you make up to seven attacks in a turn, if you’re using two actions and your bonus action to attack. That’s three per action, if you’re averse to division.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

With a maxed-out attack modifier, an absurd number of attacks per turn, and the ability to just give yourself advantage at will, you’ve got some consistent damage on the table. I can’t even dock points for range since you can throw these things around and teleport. It also helps that they’re the extra hard to defend against Psychic damage type so that very few builds can block your attacks. Just… ignore the Abby build we just made.

While all summer servants are used to traveling light, you take it to the next level since you need no equipment to work at your absolute best. Okay, to be fair you work better in actual armor, but it’s not mandatory.

You’re not only good on offense either! Your saving throws are also fantastic, with four proficiencies, including all of the big three- Dexterity, Constitution, and Wisdom. Those three make up a large bulk of the saves you’ll make throughout a typical game of D&D, so they’ll definitely help you shrug off some of the nastier effects your party deals with. Plus, you have fighter-tier HP with a rogue’s uncanny dodge, so you can stay up for a while.

Cons:

Psychic laser swords are cool, but soulknives have some drawbacks. First off, if you’re fighting a creature like Abby, your reliance on psychic damage will hose you completely, unless you have a spare dagger on hand. Also, you can’t use attacks of opportunity with a soulknife, since that’s not an attack action. This seriously cuts into your damage output, since you could sneak in another sneak attack on someone else’s turn. That’s especially bad since…

The only serious damage you’re doing is with sneak attacks. With small damage dice on your soulknives and the limited number of smites you get per day, you’ll only be doing appreciable damage on late-game enemies once per turn no matter how many attacks you land.

Speaking of smites, you have a ton to do on your bonus action, don’t you? Smites, healing, cunning actions, an extra attack… Having options is never a bad thing, but it does mean this is a more complicated character to bring to the table.

[lovetorn]

all for the game [dream]

Exy player!Dream x Reader

summary: dream runs into trouble when the florida falcons play the edgar allan ravens.

w/c: 3.4k+ :D

warnings: violence, blood, swearing, ha typical exy shit

a/n: an au based on my favourite book trilogy, all for the game. idea by 🍀 anon <3 i wrote this for my own enjoyment AHHAHAAH. if u don’t understand the rules etc of exy, it’s basically hockey, soccer and lacrosse meshed together, but if u have any questions, send me an ask!

—

Exy is a bastard sport, an evolved sort of lacrosse with the violence of ice hockey. Dream loves every aspect of it. It is vastly different from the usual college football, and it certainly gives you more bruises. Maybe a little too many more bruises. Played in a stadium, on a soccer-sized basketball court with plexiglass to protect the crowd, it brings Dream immense joy.

Scooping the ball into the net of his racket, Dream looks at the wall before he uses his body to launch the ball towards it. The ball is quick to bounce back and plop into Dream’s net. He adjusts his grip on the stick and tilts his head, deciding where his next shot should be.

“Dream?” The dirty blonde turns around and sees you push through the plexiglass door that leads onto the court. “Hey!”

Dream smiles from under his helmet. “Hi, Y/n!” You don't play Exy, choosing to watch your best friend from the sidelines instead. He grips the grate of his helmet and slides his head out of it, his hair sticking up in every direction. “What are you doing here?”

You throw your arms up. “Coming to see you practice the great sport that is Exy,” You laugh before spinning around and looking up at the highest seats of the stadium. “Haven’t broken a bone yet, I assume?” This made Dream laugh.

“No, not yet. Saving that for the game against the Ravens.”

Dream’s determination for Exy scared you a little bit—it was almost like he wanted to get hurt. “Easy, tiger. We all know what happened last time we played them. Never again, please,” You shake your head, walking closer to him. The last time the Florida Falcons played the West Virginia Edgar Allan Ravens, Dream got a concussion so bad he couldn’t walk for a few days. You had sworn they would pay for their damage, but Dream went against you.

Dream rolls his eyes, lightheartedly. “That’s the way the game goes, Y/n. No way you can stop it,” he said that back then, too. You throw him a glare before taking the racket out of his hand to gain his full attention.

“Just, please be careful.” You practically beg. Dream’s eyebrows raise slightly, surprised. He didn’t see that coming.

“Yeah, always,” He follows your eyes as they trace the scar that runs from his temple to the middle of his forehead. You sigh and pass his racket back to him.

—

The dark purple Edgar Allan Ravens bus pulls into the Falcon’s home stadium car park that Friday night. Fans from all over the state and West Virginia crowd the entrances and surprisingly, there are a lot more supporters in purple and black than green and white.

Dream looks down at his forest green Exy uniform and smooths out his jersey. He rolls his neck in a circle to release the building tension. A hand clamps down on his shoulder as Dream slips his hands into his green and white gloves.

“You’re gonna be fine, dude. We all are,” Sapnap says, although Dream can hear the waver in his voice. Dream shakes his head and Sapnap inhales sharply.

“Nah, we won’t be.”

Sapnap slides his hand off of Dream’s shoulder and turns around, probably going to the bathroom to calm his crippling trepidation. The locker room is silent as the team moves around, changing and preparing themselves for the game ahead. Dream tries not to think about the team on the other side of the stadium, who are most likely already warming up despite the game starting in an hour.

Dream opens his locker and fumbles around for his phone. He needs to know that you’re here. Opening his messages, he’s frozen from the notifications coming through.

I hope your little friend prayed for you last night.

You got lucky with that concussion. Take this as a warning.

Dream’s fingertips trail up to hover above the scar on his forehead. He clenches his fist and throws his phone back into the locker, not flinching when the dark green metal dents. Dream leans his head against his forearm that rests on the locker.

“Dream! Dude, calm down,” A voice calls from across the room. Footsteps come up behind him and Dream has to stop the tears collecting on his waterline. “It’ll be fine, Coach said he might put you on for one half.”

George’s comments do nothing to soothe Dream’s anxiety. Dream has told nobody about the threats he’s been getting for a few days leading up to this game. If he told you, he wouldn’t even be here. You.

Dream ducks down to find his phone. George furrows his eyebrows as he watches. “Wha—?”

Grasping his phone, Dream then stalks out of the locker room. He walks down the hallway towards the inner court, presses your phone number on his now-smashed phone, and brings it to his ear. Pick up, pick up. “Dream?”

The sound of your voice makes Dream exhale deeply. “Where are you?” He asks desperately.

Dream can hear the crowd chattering through the phone as he scans over the stadium trying to find you.

“Uh, section 4, row 38, where I am every home game. Why? Is everything okay?” The worry in your voice is evident and it fails to calm Dream down like he thought it would. And when he sees waves of purple instead of green, his anxiety grows.

“I—Y/n. I need to see you, I don’t—I can’t,” Dream screws his eyes shut and tries to breathe through his nose slowly.

“Dream, I’m coming. I can see you in the inner court. Stay there.”

Y/n hangs up after that and Dream looks at his phone.

Scared? A text says from an unknown number.

Dream presses his tongue into the inside of his cheek and blinks a few times. A knock on the plexiglass behind him startles Dream. He turns and sees you smiling. He lifts his hand in a small wave and you do the same, laughing at him. At least he has a way to take his mind off of the shit with the Ravens.

A bell signals the start of the line-up announcements and Dream throws his thumb over his shoulder. You nod, understandingly, and blow him a kiss. Dream smiles shyly, his cheeks growing pink before he turns to leave.

You make your way back up to your seat, your legs bouncing in anticipation as the Ravens walk on the court one by one while the announcer calls the line-up. Once the Ravens are in a line on the halfway line, the Falcons are announced.

Since teams are co-ed, the variances in heights differ greatly. The Ravens are much taller than a majority of the Falcons, which gives them an advantage, to an extent. Dream had told you that being shorter allows you to move around the court with more agility, but being 6’2’’, Dream chose to be a striker instead of a dealer or a backliner.

“Number 2, Dream Tucker.”

At the sound of your best friend’s name, you stand and cheer, earning a few dirty looks from Ravens fans. As the remainder of the team is announced, you grow more nervous than you thought possible. A warning buzzer sounds and both teams go back to their benches.

“Alright, guys, this is our biggest game of the season, again. The last game against these idiots wasn’t ideal, but don’t let that deter you from doing your best tonight. That goes for you too, Dream," Coach looks towards Dream and he nods. Dream draws his bottom lip between his teeth from under his helmet and looks down at the ground. Sapnap’s hand slaps Dream's back in support and then the rest of the team is in agreement.

At his teammates’ words, Dream huffs. He can do this. The starting team goes onto the court, the doors closing behind them with a thump and then the scrape of a lock.

Dream sits on the bench next to Punz and Liliana. They hear the buzzer go off again and then watch as Sapnap flicks the ball into the air and slams it with his racket. There’s a distinctive crack as both teams race off their lines to find their preferred place on the court along with the players they need to mark. Three bodies crash into each other and the ball pops out on the other side, rolling silently.

At the sight of violence, the stadium roars. A Ravens backliner throws the ball and it hits the plexiglass in front of Dream who jumps in surprise. The ball is picked up off the floor by another Ravens player. He throws it to a girl who is running across the court and it lands perfectly into her net. Dream sees Tegan bodyslam the girl into the wall, the glass shuddering under their weight and Sapnap throws his hand up in a thumbs-up at Tegan, who smiles under her helmet.

The ball sails high in the air and players push and shove each other under it. As it comes down, George gets pushed to the floor, skidding to a stop a few feet away. The Ravens striker looks George dead in the eye and smirks as he catches the ball. He then tosses it powerfully towards the home court goal and the Falcons' goalie, Gabby, hits it up the court and away from herself. Dream, Punz and Liliana cheer from their spots on the subs bench.

“Nice one, Gabs! Falcons down the court!” Coach yells through the plexiglass.

Dream wears a smile when he turns back to look at you. You grin back, give him a thumbs-up, and nod. That’s when Dream knows he’s ready.

But, ten minutes into the game, the Ravens break the Falcons defensive line. The ball slips through the gap between Gabby’s torso and racket and lands in the back of the net, the siren above the goal going red and blaring a high-pitched sound. The Ravens don’t hug or cheer and return to their places on the court. Their fans, however, throw insults and middle fingers up at the Falcons while screaming and hollering.

“Fuck’s sake,” Dream mumbles. Punz slaps his pair of gloves against the bench and Liliana shakes her head.

The game went on like this for the rest of the half—the Ravens scoring 6 more goals, the Falcons scoring none. At half-time, Sapnap throws his helmet on the floor of the locker room.

“I fucking hate these guys,” He curses, pacing around the room. Coach sits on a chair, his elbows on his knees.

“We all do, but complaining about it isn’t going to help us win,’ Dream says. “Coach put me on.”

Coach looks at Dream for a moment. The tension in the room is thick and Dream knows he’s pushing his luck by asking. Nonetheless, Coach sighs before nodding stiffly.

“Dream goes on for Peter, Punz on for Drew, Liliana on for Tegan.”

And so it’s decided. Dream’s thumbs fly across his screen as he texts you. You pull your phone out of your pocket at the sound of your text tone and see the message. I’m on.

You smirk softly at it and message him back before you tuck your phone back into your pocket. The warning buzzer sounds and then both teams are back on the court: the Ravens with a whole new line-up and the Falcons with their three new subs.

Dream’s heart pounds in his chest, sending shuddery heat through every inch of his body. He holds his breath in anticipation for the serve, and then it starts. The Ravens are clearly a lot more experienced than the Falcons, but that doesn’t stop the team in green from giving everything they’ve got.

The ball hits the far wall and comes soaring back, thanks to the Ravens goalie. Dream jumps to catch it before it can fly over his head and it lands safely in the soft net of his striker racket. He looks around for opponents and takes 7 steps of his allowed 10, and passes it to George who is open further down the court. George catches the ball, then twists and passes the ball across to Punz. His mark collides with him a moment later and George goes sliding, his arm out with his racket to help him balance. Punz runs down the court, stops, then throws the ball to Liliana. His mark slams his racket down violently on Punz’s in retaliation. The backliner shakes his head in annoyance and continues running.

Dream is already near the goal by the time it gets to him again. He gets the ball and only has two steps to aim and shoot before a Ravens player crashes into him. Dream hits the ground so hard, he rolls. But, the crowd holds their breath as they watch the ball sail past the goalie and into the back of the net. The siren glows red and all Dream can hear is his ears ringing. Sapnap runs up to Dream and helps him up, congratulating him in the process. Dream looks around confused before realising he scored a goal. The entire team rushes towards him, cheering and laughing.

“Good job, Dream! Let’s do that again!” Coach yells. Dream’s surprised he can hear him over the crowd.

The game starts again with Falcons serve. The Falcons’ are fired up and back in the game, even if it is 6-1. And as soon as George throws Dream the ball, he dodges his mark and flies up the court, unguarded and ready to score again. The Ravens’ goalie isn’t prepared for Dream’s throw and misses the ball as it’s thrown at him, making the score 6-2. The crowd gets impossibly louder and Dream looks up into the sea of people to spot you. The smile on your face gives Dream newfound confidence and then everybody is back at their starting positions.

The Ravens are angry, there’s no doubt about that. Sapnap gives the striker a boyish smirk and a snide comment, which Dream can’t hear. He guesses it pisses them off because the second the ball is thrown from the Ravens dealer, the striker goes straight for Sapnap. The younger boy is thrown against the wall of the court and continues to spit insults at the Ravens player, despite his situation.

“Sapnap! Get out of there, bro!” Punz yells, collecting the ball from the ground and throwing it back to Gabby to hit up the court. Sapnap laughs and shakes his head, his lips still moving. Dream sees, out of the corner of his eye, the Ravens player drawing his fist back before punching Sapnap in the nose. The Falcons fans in the crowd start booing at the unnecessary violence and the referees unlock the doors to intervene. Dream meets Sapnap’s eye and raises his eyebrows when he sees Sapnap laughing, blood dripping into his mouth and coating his teeth. The referees pull the Ravens striker off of Sapnap and give him a red card for throwing the first punch. The Ravens fans boo and start swearing at the referees, but their cries are drowned out by the sound of the home crowd.

Due to the incident, the teams are to go back to their positions to start the serve again. Now that the Ravens are down a player, Dream knows the ways to get around them, especially when Sapnap is unguarded.

“Dream!” Sapnap calls when Dream catches the ball. He spins around a little too quickly, loses his balance slightly but throws the ball anyway. As he watches it fly across the court, Dream feels his entire body get crushed against the wall of the court. His head rebounds off the wall from the impact. There’s a heavy weight that pushes him into it more and he can’t breathe. Dream flails his arms, drops his racket, and attempts to push the Ravens player off of him. There’s no doubt that Dream hit his head again. He knows he did. A helmet can only do so much.

Dream can only hear ringing in his ears as he feels the Raven get pulled off—and it isn't the same ringing he heard when he scored the Falcons first goal. He tries to scramble to his feet before he crumples to the ground. Dream blinks a few times, disorientated, but still fails to gain a conscious mind. His eyes start to close when he feels his helmet being tugged off and then someone’s slapping his cheeks. “Stay awake, Dream.”

Dream can barely hear the sound of someone slamming their fists against the plexiglass behind him and then the person in front of him nods. He thinks it’s Sapnap. “Come on, bro, it’s only a few steps and then you can lie down.”

Dream’s head lols to the side, eyes half-open and a lazy grin on his mouth. “Sappy,” he slurs. Sapnap lets out a laugh for the first time since his best friend got knocked out and smiles at him.

“Yeah, dude, it’s me. We’re gonna get you fixed up, okay?” Dream nods before he closes his eyes. “No, no, Coach!” The world fades out around him and Dream falls unconscious.

—

The light is so bright above him. Dream closes his eyes again after he opens them and groans softly. The sound is almost too quiet for you to hear, but you do. And when you do, you lift your head from where you were resting on the edge of his bed. The chair you are sitting in is uncomfortable, so when you stand up, your muscles ache. “Hey, baby, how do you feel?”

If Dream was fully conscious, he would have blushed immensely at the sound of the pet name, but for the moment, he feels like he’s in a dream. His mouth is dry and he struggles to keep his eyes open for longer than 3 seconds. “You don’t have to talk, it’s okay.”

Dream feels pressure on his hand and moves his head slightly to see that your fingers are wrapped around his. You hear him murmur something, and lean down.

“Hi,” He whispers. You furrow your eyebrows at his greeting and look him in the eyes.

“That’s all I get? Hi?” You let out a breathy laugh and use your other hand to brush his hair away from his forehead. But, Dream can’t feel you on his skin. He hesitantly lifts his other hand to touch his forehead and feels a bandage.

“Surprise! Another scar,” You joke. Although, Dream can hear the edge to your words. Your smile disappears from your lips and then you sigh. Your eyes scan over Dream’s face, noting the dull green of his eyes and the pale of his skin. “Oh, Dream. I was so worried about you.”

Dream opens his eyes from when they had fallen closed again and sees the silent tears dripping down your cheeks. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’m fine,” His voice is scratchy and the sound of the word ‘fine’ does not sound fine. You smile sadly at him, then huff, wiping at your face.

“I almost forgot…” You trail off, rounding the bed to the other side to pick up a bowl and a cotton ball. You sit on the edge of the bed and dip the cotton into the antiseptic. You turn Dream’s head slowly to get a better look at the cut on his cheek. You drag the medicine over the gash and watch as Dream doesn’t flinch.

Once you are done, you place both of the things on the side table of the medical bay in the Falcons home stadium and look at Dream. He gives you a lazy smile and his fingers twitch against yours. “Thank you.”

You nod, eyes wide. “Of course, you know I’ll always be here to clean you up.”

Dream can feel his skin heating up. You get a concerned look on your face when you see the rise in pink on his cheeks. “Oh my god, are you heating up? Do you have a fever?”

He wants to laugh so badly. “Y/n, I’m okay. It’s not a fever. I’m blushing,” Dream says bashfully.

You realise why and then grow embarrassed. “Oh.”

The air isn’t tense, but there’s something there and you want to stick around to find out what it is.

Feedback is always appreciated xx

[justimajin]

Whac-A-Headstone

Pairing: Game Owner Jungkook x Employee Reader 

Genre: Fluff & Humour

 ↳ (10k) BTS Village AU 

Summary: Working at the arcade can be downright miserable and it doesn't help that your boss isn't, well, the brightest lightbulb in the world. Add to this his extremely dramatic and prideful ways, you're left wondering why you even choose to work at the place anymore. You fortunately receive the answer in the form of Richman V one day, who has been eyeing your boss's pride and joy for quite some time.

Warnings: pg13 rating, some major spoilers for BTS Run ep. 120-121 (watch them before reading this), everyone in this fic literally has no chill (WHAT!?) 

A pair of two small feet come to a stop.

Across from the road are multiple posters and signs, from large cardboard cutouts to cliche and cheesy slogans scribbled on paper. There’s a string of colourful lights hanging from above, ranging from a neon yellow to a dark blue. It’s extremely noisy, but the boy’s feet tread closer, round eyes enamoured from the over the top appearance. 

The door is cautiously pushed open, the sound of his feet slowly shuffling against rough carpet echoing. 

The boy’s eyes widen, peering around in puzzlement. 

The shop appears nowhere near what its display offers. The walls are painted with a hue of dull beige, and there’s no intriguing lights with huge signs compelling him forward. Instead, there’s a large bookcase that he barely acknowledges, alongside a set of bright machines that remind him of its exterior. 

As if in a trance, his attention is drawn away instantly and he doesn’t hesitate to stumble across one of the machines, eagerly eyeing it down. After struggling to sit on one of the high stools, an innocent smile spreads across his lips once he eyes the multiple colourful controls within his reach. He presses a button in curiosity, but the screen in front of him doesn’t change. 

His smile drops into a pout, and he attempts again, only to be met with the same result. He then presses multiple buttons, frustration only building up at the blank screen. 

A shadow lurks behind him. 

“Hey kid.” He jolts, spinning around instantly. “You have to pay to play games here.” 

The boy stares like he can’t comprehend those words, his eyes big and naive. You cross your arms, a scowl lining your lips and expression void of any amusement. 

His shoulders deflate and the corners of his mouth downturn with disappointment. You continue to stare at him, gaze not wavering. 

A long exasperated sigh leaves your lips and your eyes quickly survey the empty arcade around you. Taking a step forward, you rummage through the pockets of your uniform pants and out emerges a shining coin that has the boy’s eyes lighting up. 

The coin slots into the machine and you turn around to face him, features still impassive. 

“You owe me for this one.” You mumble underneath your breath, but he simply retaliates with a gigantic smile on his face. 

The game immediately turns on as the boy begins playing, eyes eagerly sweeping across the bright screen as his fingers hurriedly tap against the multiple buttons. You watch from afar, the corner of your mouth lifting into an amused half-smile.

The sound of loud footsteps echos through the walls. 

An annoyed exhale leaves your lips and it isn’t long before the back door is being ripped open, a young man emerging within seconds. You’re unfortunately painfully aware of who he is and it’s probably high time to clarify who you exactly work for. 

Jeon Jungkook ‒ or simply your boss, if you actually took the liberty to address him as one ‒ is the person in charge of your employment. You’ve been working for him longer than you imagine and as you eye him from the corner of your eye, you can only contemplate how you’ve managed to even stick around for so long. 

He pushes the big glasses on the rim of his nose back with his fingers, his eyes wide and practically boiling with vigor. He’s dressed in his usual attire, a button up shirt with a subdued green print on it and tight fitted black trousers. There’s a jarring amount of gel in his hair that only seems to increase with time and if anything, he looks more like some kind of mafia boss running an organization rather than the owner of an arcade. 

His gaze is targeted on you, barely acknowledging the child that was excitedly playing one of his games and who is now staring between the two of you with wide eyes. You presume the boy is having the same thoughts running through his head that everyone has when they meet Jungkook, and it could be summed up with simply calling him a‒

“Y/N!” He abruptly yells, a muscle in his eye already twitching, “I heard one of the machines being turned on?!” 

A nutcase. 

You work for an absolute nutcase. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s how arcades work, you know? The machine has to be on for you to play an‒” 

“You know what I mean!” Jungkook snaps, waving off your sarcasm. 

“Oh.” You say, pointing towards the boy, “The kid wanted to play a game, so he paid for it and now he’s playing it.” 

“Actually…” The boy suddenly speaks up, voice quiet and hesitant, “The nice lady paid so I could play.” 

His eyes sparkle, like he holds you in high regard. Although he warmly smiles acknowledging your kind deed, your eye twitches and you mentally make a note to never to help out a child in your lifetime ever again. 

Turning around, your eyes meet Jungkook’s and he’s fuming. 

You internally sigh, already aware of what’s to come. 

“Y/N, how could you do such a thing?!” He dramatically says, pressing a hand against his temples, “To take away from the money I could have had….just how? How?!” 

“I was bored.” You honestly retort, unfazed in the slightest as you shrug, “And our only customer was a kid, besides‒” 

You raise an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at Jungkook, “Are you losing money or something? Why are you so worried about one kid that I paid for?” A spark resides in your eyes, “Is the business shutting down?” 

Jungkook gasps, like you’ve offended his whole entire being. “What?! NO!” He shakes his head, “H-How could you even suggest something like that?!” 

He leans against one of the machines, tightly wrapping his arms around it. You roll your eyes, watching him have a semi-crisis over the fact that you suggested his business is going down the drain. 

“I’ll never give my business up!” He yells it out like it’s a statement he wants even the neighbors to hear. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure thing, boss.” You retort as you slide over an extra lollipop to the kid that you were saving for later. He beams at you and you smile, but then Jungkook complains you aren’t listening to him enough and you let out a sigh, turning around to coax him. 

***

After playing a couple of rounds on the machine before it shuts down, the boy bids you both a goodbye and sincere thank you. You tell him not to forget to bring some coins next time with a mumble and his eyes light up, followed by a very cute nod. 

Closing the door behind him as he leaves, you spin around with a lengthy sigh. Digging into the pockets of your uniform, you yank out your phone and begin to scroll through the contents with tired eyes. The entire store is empty, save for you and the supposed boss of yours that you presume is lurking around somewhere. 

The sound of a loud ding startles you, phone nearly slipping onto the ground. Your eyes are wide and on alert, sweeping around the vacant room. 

“Aha! TAKE THIS!” There’s a loud thud that echoes through the room, and your eyes instantly narrow. You tuck away your phone, shuffling your hands in your pockets and nonchalantly walking towards the source of the sound. 

Although puzzlement strikes you first, it quickly morphs into amusement as you reach the doorframe. Jungkook stands before the whac-a-mole machine, practically slamming the hammer against the poor plastic mole pieces in an effort to increase his score. 

Which is nearing a hundred and fifty by the way, the highest score one can achieve in the game. 

Your brows knit together as he keeps striking the popping moles, only for the machine to brightly light up seconds later with large digital letters saying WINNER in red across the board. 

“I DID IT!” He suddenly shouts, spinning around and spotting you instantly, “Y/N, I beat my own record!” 

You cross your arms, “Congrats.” 

There’s a spark of smugness in his expression as he crosses his arms, cockly staring at you, “Looks like my score is officially unbeatable now.” 

Although you know it’s practically bait that he’s throwing out, your lips move faster than you can register. 

“It’s still beatable.” His irises light up in an instant and you want to curse at yourself for falling into the trap, but the look of challenge in his eyes is enough to spark your own fuel, “I can beat it.” 

“Oh, really?” Jungkook questions, offering up the hammer, “Let’s see you try.” 

You grab it from his hold without hesitation, gesture for him to turn on the machine. It lights up within seconds and with a deep breath, you brace yourself as much as possible. 

The moles pop up within seconds, your eyes darting and flickering all over the platform. The hammer in your hands is soaring, hitting as fast as possible as quickly as possible. At one point, your hands mismatch and you catch an empty one, something that makes Jungkook snort but only increases your competitive streak even more. 

Sweat has begun to fester at your temples, but you pay it no mind once the last mole is hit and your eyes are glued to the scoreboard. In giant bulging letters, your score is displayed before you. 

5 points away from Jungkook’s score. 

You can already hear the cheers of ecstasy leaving his voice, or the daunting smugness leaking from the words that he’s aching to sprout in your direction. But when you turn, there’s this annoying magnified smile plastered onto his face that’s somehow even worse. 

You let out a huff and before Jungkook can start running all over the place in excitement like a child, a knock sounds from the door. 

You straighten up immediately, raising a brow. 

Customers don’t usually knock. 

“Were you expecting someone?” You immediately wonder. A groan leaves Jungkook and he mutters underneath his breath, something along the lines of ‘this guy again’. 

Dragging himself to the door to answer, your features contort into surprise once it’s yanked open. 

A young man stands before you, his arms crossed behind his back and gaze scrutinizing. He’s dressed far too fancy for an arcade, a fine white collared shirt with a black tie and vest that hug his body. His bronze locks are long and perfectly curl at the front, but their rich appearance is muted from his piercing eyes, which at the moment are gawking all around your workplace. 

Jungkook is first to speak up, clearly annoyed with the stranger’s prolonged ogling antics. 

“Hey!” The stranger immediately turns to him, “Are you going to keep staring at my game room or are you going to say something?” 

He stares at Jungkook, completely unfazed and apathetic to his loud exterior. It throws you off for a moment, wondering if there was even someone aside from you that possessed the ability to do so. 

His words are sharp and discrete, straight to the point. “I want to buy it.” He tilts to his head slightly to the side, “Have you made up your mind yet?” 

Your head snaps in Jungkook’s direction at the inquiry, appallment crossing all over your features. Jungkook looks like he’s ready to explode at any minute, hands balling up into fists. 

He mimics the stranger’s tone, gritting the words out, “It’s not for sale.” 

“I think there should be enough space to rearrange the front.” The man continues to speak as if he didn’t hear Jungkook, “These will have to be destroyed in order for a counter to be placed.” 

He’s examining the machines already, frowning at their appearance and that’s when Jungkook ticks. Pacing forward, he wraps his hand around the stranger’s arm and begins to drag him out, even as he continues to survey the area like a thousand thoughts were running through his mind. 

“Okay, now that’s really nice.” Jungkook cheekily says, but you can still hear the lingering anger in his voice, “How about you go redesign the neighbor's place? I hear they have a hairstylist who loves to gossip so it’d be nice for the two of you to chit-chat.” 

The posh man looks composed and you’re beginning to question if he was potentially holding onto a facade to not be able to hear Jungkook. It’s not long before he’s politely escorted out the door, with Jungkook practically lunging for the opportunity to shut the door behind him. 

He spins around, pressing his back against it as a sigh of relief leaves his lips. You can only stare at him in confusion as silence lingers, eventually breaking it with your own inquiries. 

“What just happened?” 

Jungkook’s wide eyes snap up, like he had completely forgotten you were in the room with him. 

“Oh that,” A strained chuckle leaves him, “He’s been coming around here often, usually in the early mornings when you’re not around.” 

He sits down on a chair that’s in front of the cash register, continuing to explain, “That’s Richman V, the guy nearly owns every property here in BTS Village.” 

Jungkook continues to meekly laugh, but it only serves to draw out concern from you. “So...what? He wants to buy the arcade?” 

“Well, uh,” He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah…” 

A deep frown settles on your features as you stare at Jungkook, who’s smile seems to be fading by the moment. 

“And like…” You begin, trying to wrap your head around the situation, “What? Are you going to sell it and hand it over or something?” 

You’re the one laughing now, staring at him in amusement. Jungkook’s smile is completely gone, his eyes fixated on the ground. 

“And what if I just did?” 

For a moment, you could have sworn he was joking. But Jungkook’s tone is completely different ‒ voice having dropped a couple of octaves with no hints of humour present. 

It only drills in deeper when he lifts his gaze to meet yours, a certain glint of anguish residing in there that you haven’t quite seen before. 

You struggle to come up with words, “Y-You can’t be serious…” 

“And what if I am?” Jungkook rests his hand against his cheek, leaning against the front counter. A sigh leaves him and your brows contort together, lips pressing together into a firm line. 

You scoff, “B-But I would be unemployed....” 

Jungkook’s gaze is fixated on the counter as he shrugs, “Then just find another job.” 

“It wouldn’t be the same!” 

His head snaps up, lips falling agape with the sudden outburst. You immediately avert your eyes, letting out an awkward cough. 

In the midst of the silence, you ponder again, “Have you made up your mind then...? To sell it?” 

“Sort of.” Jungkook mumbles, gaze drifting to the ground, “The game room hasn’t been doing too well financially and even though Richman V is kind of annoying....I’ve been thinking about his offer.” 

Your eyes narrow at him. 

His tone sounds like he’s already been defeated without a full fight, giving in without any resistance. 

The boss you know would have to be physically dragged out of this arcade, his loud protests probably being capable of deafening those that want to take away his prize possession. 

“Wait, just like that?” For once, you’re the one that’s more upset, “You love this place.”

His features twist, “Well yeah, but‒” 

“This is coming from you, the same person that tried having a disco day at the arcade to attract customers and forced me to wear a rainbow coloured wig with roller skates because ‘it goes with the flow’ and ‘the entire vibe would be ruined’ if i didn’t!” 

Jungkook stares at you wide-eyed and you scoff in disbelief, gaze connecting with the bookcase stationed in the corner of the room, “At one point, we even hauled in that giant thing together when you were convinced that the youngsters are ‘reading too much these days’ and that we’ll lose popularity to a hair salon next door that was giving out free magazines in their waiting room!” 

“You seem to remember a lot of the things I’ve done....”

“I’m not done!” You wave a finger at him, ignoring his astonished expression and continuing with your rant, “There was even a time when you used me to distribute flyers and made me shout that ‘there’s no place I would want to work at beside Jeon’s arcade’, which by the way, is pretty much the opposite of how I feel!” 

Jungkook lets out a snort at that, to which you direct an angry glare in his direction. Your rambles continue as he fondly watches you, somehow managing to spur up a spark of hope that was diminishing by the minute inside him. 

“So you’re telling me that the same person that was responsible for all that is willingly going to give up his arcade?” You plant your hands on your waist, raising a challenging eyebrow at him, “Are you sure you’re my boss?” 

“You’re right.” Jungkook honestly confesses, “This place means a lot to the both of us and we can’t let it head down under because some posh guy wants to own it.” 

He raises up a fist, looking more determined as ever, “I’m not letting anyone take it from me without a fight.” 

You cross your arms, a smirk rising on your lips. 

“Now that’s the boss I know.” 

“Jungkook, this is stupid.” You protest, the icy breeze from outside already nipping at your skin. Your boss spins around on his heels, his determination still overflowing. 

“How is having some faith stupid?” 

“It’s stupid when you drag me out at 7 in the morning without a coat to make a damn wish.” You bite back, barely able to feel your toes as you walk behind him through the village. 

“I don’t feel cold.” He proudly announces. 

“You’re shivering.” You point out, his chattering teeth and quivering form already being a dead giveaway thanks to his need in retaining his weird get-up out of the arcade. 

“Shivering? That’s nonsense, I don’t feel the c-c-cold.” You let out a sigh, unraveling your scarf in the midst of his protests. Instead of handing it to him, you toss it over his head and he whirls around, frowning at you. 

“Take it.” You mumble, not noticing him eventually wrapping it around himself as if it was desperate to retain some heat. You walk ahead of him, halting your steps and glancing around confused. 

“So where’s this headstone you’ve been obsessing about?” 

Jungkook squints, “It should be somewhere her‒OH!” 

You whip around, watching Jungkook jog over to a small landmark at the side of the trail. Treading cautiously after him, you notice a structure made up of granite, appearing like a round ball that was placed on a stick. 

You tilt your head, “This is the ARMY headstone?” 

“It protects the entire village!” Jungkook chides, “Don’t you know that?” 

“Yeah, yeah, it protects us and we protect it in return.” You wave away it’s history. Unlike others the stone simply just existed for you, not being as ‘special’ or ‘glorious’ as it was for the other villagers. 

“We need to make a wish to save the arcade.” He firmly states, eyeing you for an answer. You let out a sigh, eventually mumbling out the words in the most monotone voice. 

“Please save our arcade.” You turn to Jungkook, “There, happy?” 

There’s a smug smile on Jungkook’s lips and you scoff, glancing around as he makes his wish. Your eyes roam around the expanses of the village, landing on an individual scurrying around with bright teal hair and dressed in a uniform. 

Your eyes instantly light up, “Namjoon!” 

He notices you right away, jogging over in an instant. 

“Y/N?” He says astonished, “I haven’t seen you around in a while, how have you been?” 

“Ah, just the usual.” You shrug, “I’m always at the game room these days.” 

A laugh slips from him and you smile, but you don’t notice the gaze Jungkook throws in your direction. 

“Find any new auditions recently?” 

“Ah no, I’m still trying though.” He professes, “I’ve been saving up in case I actually manage to get one.” 

“You’ll find one soon, I’m sure of it.” 

Namjoon sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, a dust of pink on his cheeks, “You know...there’s this new movie playing in the theatre….”

He rummages through his pockets, pulling out two tickets. “I’ve heard really good things about it.” 

Your eyes spark, reaching out for them, “Oh, that would be so ni‒” 

The tickets are instantly snatched away from you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders. 

“That does sound lovely!” Jungkook smiles, “Thanks for the tickets RM!” 

Namjoon glances between the two of you, “O-Oh…” He meekly laughs, “I-I hope you guys enjoy….” 

He takes a step back, waving at you. “Guess I’ll see you around then Y/N....” 

You watch his fading back in dismay, barely able to say goodbye to him as he rushes away. 

The moment he’s gone, you spin around and glare at Jungkook. “What the hell?! I wanted to go with him!” 

“Too late.” Jungkook cheekily smiles, “Now you have me~” 

A deep frown settles on your features, “Perfect. Just perfect.” You shake your head, “Not only do I have to see my boss at work, but now I have to go watch a movie with him.” 

“I know right?” Jungkook leans forward, “Who is this boss of yours by the way? He sounds like an incredible person.” 

“Oh, he’s great ‒ great at being annoying.” You huff as Jungkook laughs at your silly taunt, practically skipping behind you as you return back to the arcade. 

In the midst of your banter though, you don’t notice the particular pattern Jungkook’s shoes leave in the soil. 

***

Upon returning, you and Jungkook get to work right away. 

“What about a slogan?” You suggest, “Something that catches people’s eye and gets stuck in their minds?” 

Jungkook places a contemplating finger against his mouth. It’s not long before his fingers are snapping, a bright glint sparking up in his eyes. 

“Jeon’s arcade is the best.” His pupils are wide and there’s a giant grin spread on his features, but it clashes with your muted expression. 

You raise an eyebrow, “Jeon’s arcade is the best…?” 

He snaps his fingers again, shaking his head, “It’s great, I’m telling you. It’ll catch on within days.” 

A dreary sigh leaves your lips, “How about something less...prideful?” Your eyes twinkle, “Like come down to Jeon’s arcade for a brand new experience?” 

Jungkook scrunches up his nose, “That sounds awful.” 

“It’s better than declaring you have the best arcade.” You mumble. 

“It is the best arcade!” He pursues his lips, before finally muttering in defeat, “And technically the only one here…”

You’re about to suggest that maybe rearranging things in the game room would help for better promotion, but the lights begin to flicker.

“Wha‒” You’re unable to finish your sentence, the entire room plunging into complete darkness. 

“Jungkook?” You question in concern, carefully shuffling your feet around. There’s a slight movement that brushes by your arm, your head spinning instantly. 

“I think it’s a power outage.” He confirms, and you can hear the soles of his feet pacing around the room, “Let me see if I can find the backup generator…” 

You hear some scrambling and shuffling around, until it’s accompanied by a loud thud and a sharp “ow!”. 

“Are you okay?” You ponder, only receiving a dismay groan from him. 

“I’m fine, but why is your voice coming from the machines?” 

You blink, “Because that’s where I’m standing?” 

“What?” Jungkook says in disbelief, “I could have sworn‒” 

In an instant, light floods the room. Your eyes are rounded as they finally peer around, noticing Jungkook at the other end of the room with his eyelids screwed shut and holding onto his foot. 

His lids flutter open, taken aback with your appearance. A sudden thump resonates against the floorboard. 

You and Jungkook can only stare at each other petrified at the sound of feet moving about while both of you remain stationary. 

Swallowing down his unease, Jungkook places a finger on his lips, gesturing for you not to let out a peep. He carefully steps forward, keeping the silence in the room intact to peer over at the counter. 

A man suddenly pops his head out, a pout resting on his plush lips. 

Jungkook staggers back, placing a hand against his racing heart. 

“What are you doing here?!” 

The man tilts his head to the side, looking down and then dusting himself off. There’s a black beret sitting on his head, a white-collared shirt overlapping with two suspenders that connect to his brown trousers. He continues to pout, eyes glancing around the counter until they stop on a circular object. 

“Ah, there it is!” He excitedly whispers, wrapping his fingers around the large magnifying glass. Jungkook’s eye twitches, strutting up and grabbing onto the man’s shoulder. 

“Hey! I asked what you’re doing here!” 

He frowns, “Are you always this rude to people?” 

Jungkook scoffs, but you interject, voice confused. 

“Jin?” 

His eyes snap up to you, “Oh, hi Y/N.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Investigating.” He immediately says, raising his magnifying glass. He begins walking around the room, a curious look to his eyes. “How long have the two of you been here?” 

“Since the power went out.” You answer. 

“Fascinating.” He continues his stroll, only faltering when Jungkook pulls at one of his suspenders from behind. 

He appears annoyed from the former barely acknowledging him. “Why are you in my arcade trying to investigate, Jin?!” 

Jin spins around, smacking his instrument against Jungkook’s head. 

“Ow!” 

“That’s Detective Jin to you, Mister.” He shakes his head in dismay, “Seriously, where have your manners gone, Kook?”

He glances at Jungkook, “And to answer your prior question, there’s been a recent crime in BTS Village. I’m here to solve it.” 

“A crime?” You cross your arms, “What makes you think the arcade has anything to do with it?” 

“Well, it’s not so much the arcade that has something to do with it…” He suddenly twirls around, pointing his giant magnifying glass at Jungkook who looks baffled, “But someone that might play a hand in the crime.”

You peer over his shoulder, noticing him narrowing in on Jungkook’s eye as the latter stiffens. 

A scoff leaves your lips, “You’re drawing an absurd conclusion.” 

“Oh really, Y/N?” He spins around, nearly whipping you in the face with the glass, “Perhaps you were at the crime scene too then?” 

He begins scrutinizing you, and you uncomfortably shift from the glass being pointed at your eye this time. 

Jungkook huffs, straightening up his clothes. “Don’t you use that magnifying glass to see how big your mouth is half the time?” 

Jin raises his head, suddenly feeling offended. A snort leaves you, further fueling his dismay. 

“Trying to use a personal connection on a detective now, are we?” 

Jungkook plants his hands on his hips, “Well, this detective showed up at my arcade out of nowhere and is interrogating the hell out of me and my employee without any proof.” 

Jin smiles, “Proof! Of course!” 

He moves at the speed of wind, racing around the game room as you and Jungkook hurriedly trail after him. He stops right at the front, a small shoe rack capturing his interest immediately. 

He starts tossing them aside one by one. 

“Hey, stop!” Jungkook scrambles to catch them before they land on the ground, “Those are expensive!” 

“Timberlands?” Jin questions, eyeing one certain beige pair before tossing it away too, “You need better taste, kid.” 

Jungkook practically shoots out his arm in efforts to catch it, but it slips from his grasp and you dive forward, grasping onto it instantly. 

“This is ridiculous.” You huff, “Jungkook hasn’t done anything, Jin.” 

He hums, rising onto his feet. “Is that so, Y/N? Then how about you explain this?” 

Whirling around, he points towards the base of one of Jungkook’s slippers, the same ones he hastily put on when he pushed for you to come with him to the headstone. 

You narrow your eyes, not grasping onto his dramatic revelation, “It’s a slipper. You know, people use them for their feet…?” 

“Not just any slipper!” Jin waves it in the air, far too close to your face as you grimace, “But evidence! Evidence that was at the crime scene during the time of the crime!” 

He pulls out a photograph, showing a footprint that matches up to the shoe, “Someone knocked over and broke our precious ARMY headstone and that person is standing right in front of me!” 

Jungkook looks as much at a loss of words as you do. You can’t deny that Jin is wrong, the picture in his hands and the slipper looking similar. The problem is you know what events transpired, having been with Jungkook as he pushed you to make a wish before speaking with Namjoon. 

There’s no way he could have done anything. 

“I-I…” Jungkook begins. 

“You did it! Mystery solved.” 

“What?” You snap, stalking up to Jin, “This is prosperous, you need more evidence than just a footprint!” 

“Oh? Is that denial I hear?” Jin cheekily questions, cupping his ear and leaning closer to you. Your lips settle into a firm line, teeth gritting. 

“Not denial, but facts.” You place a hand against Jungkook’s shoulder, “I was with Jungkook when the footprint was made and I know he’s innocent.” 

“A counteract argument!” Jin says in excitement, “Fascinating!” 

You let out a groan, “Jungkook is innocent, Jin.” 

“I am.” He hurriedly says, hoping it would do something to diminish the detective’s accusations. Jin’s eyes sink down, puzzlement crossing his features. 

He keenly eyes you, voice no longer childish, “He’s going to be the prime suspect.” 

“He’s innocent.” You press forward again, causing the detective to stare at you for a moment before letting out a long exhale. 

“Prime suspect.” Jin announces again, pretending to write down on an imaginary clipboard. His voice morphs, spiking up in volume, “I won’t stop until I catch who it is! Even if it’s you!” 

The door is yanked open and Jin struts out, closing it on his way. You let out a relieved sigh, pressing a hand against your temples. 

Jungkook being a prime suspect means that Jin doesn’t have the power to turn him in and he’s given you some time to figure out things as well. 

He hasn’t taken his suspicions away, but at least he’s given you some leeway. 

Jungkook’s desperate eyes connect with yours and you know what you have to do. 

Your boss is innocent, and you’re going to prove it. 

A loud bell dings as the door is shoved open, a huff leaving your lips. The shop is close to being semi-busy, a couple of customers planted down in seats and facing elongated decorated mirrors. Save for a couple of heads that turn in your direction, your eyes rake around. 

Your brows are furrowed, a crease forming in between them. 

A flash of white whizzes by your sight, your hand instantly snapping out and grabbing onto their collar. 

A scream leaves the man’s lips, his eyes wide and petrified. They lock immediately onto yours and within seconds he’s slipping away from your hold, trying to make a run for it. 

His voice screeches as he runs around the salon with a pair of scissors, “The culprit is here! The culprit is here!” 

The showcase sends his customers into a frenzy, voices spiking up into the mayhem and a handful staring at you in horror. 

“Hey, Chatterbox!” You scoff, “Come back here!” 

You chase after him as he wails, bumping back and forth into his clients with no regard. You eventually grab a hold of his shoulder, a squeal leaving his mouth. 

“NO!!” He cries, “Spare me, please!” 

He tussles around within your grasp, “Hoseok!” 

Abruptly freezing, he stares at you from behind his giant glasses, “Y-Yes?” 

“I need to talk to you.” You profess, noticing the way his scissors are still held up in defense, as if they possessed enough of an ability to scare you away. 

The sound of shutter snaps your attention away, your head whipping around to see a particular lens pointed towards you. It’s pulled down, a man with keen cat-like eyes and a resting pout examining its contents. 

“Picture of the culprit.” His deep voice hums, seemingly satisfied. You tug away the camera from his hold, still keeping a tight grasp on Hoseok before he flies away from you. 

“For ARMY sake‒” You scowl, noticing the apparent ‘frightening’ angle of you in the picture. Shoving it back at him, you hiss, “Delete it now, Yoongi.” 

His eyes narrow, clearly not enthusiastic with the suggestion. You glare right back at him, suddenly realizing why you don’t swing by Hoseok’s salon or his photography shop often. 

With a sigh, Yoongi deletes it and you let go of Hoseok, crossing your arms. 

You hold up a finger, “First off, I’m not the culprit, and neither is Jungkook. Let’s get that straight from the start.” Hoseok opens his mouth like he wants to interrupt, “I’ll take questions at the end.” 

He closes his mouth, a ㅅ shape taking over. “Second off, I’m here because I want to know who the true culprit is.” You take a step forward, eyeing Hoseok, “And I think the local gossiper can give me the details I want.” 

Hoseok’s eyes are wider than before, his hands fumbling around with his scissors. Although he doesn’t care to admit it, you know the village folk feel extremely comfortable around him, willing to spill out all their secrets and desires with no mind over the naive and tender boy’s head. 

Even to the point of professing some oh so good reasoning about a particular headstone. 

Yoongi tilts his head to the side, clutching onto his camera, “How do we know you’re not trying to cover up your own tracks from the crime?” 

Hoseok’s irises sway from you to him, growing only larger in size. You shake your head with a sigh, aware of the latter’s protectiveness towards his childhood friend. 

“Because the crime was committed during a power outage….while me and Jungkook were at the arcade…..” 

The truth sounded a lot better in your head. You can see Yoongi’s gears turning, his gaze becoming more and more scrutinizing. 

To your surprise, he suddenly clears his throat, taking a step back. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“What?” He raises a brow, “Do you want me not to trust you?” 

“No.” You deadpan, “I just thought you would ask more questions.” 

Yoongi shrugs, “You barely pay any attention to the headstone in the first place. Plus Jungkook isn’t the type to break something he’s been making wishes to since being a kid.” 

You blink, astonished with the analysis. Yoongi turns to Hoseok, nodding his head as the latter hesitantly begins to speak up. 

“T-There’s a rumour…” He whispers, causing the two of you to lean in, “I-I didn’t mean to spread it! I-I just thought it was interesting and my clients like to hear stories of the village while I-I’m cutting their hair‒” 

“What is it, Hoseok?” Yoongi wonders as you hum. 

His pupils oscillate on the ground, hands fumbling with his scissors. 

“Treasure.” He heaves, glancing up at the two of you, “There’s a rumour of the headstone housing treasure.” 

He tilts his head to the right. 

The giant magnifying glass in his hand follows the direction, inflating the image of the remains from the headstone by tenfold. 

Planting one of his hands on his hips, the other comes forth to stroke his invisible beard. His legs swing, about to turn back to head towards the arcade again. 

“Find anything yet?” 

A scream escapes him. 

Jungkook stands before him, covering his ears as Jin places a hand against his racing heart. 

“You frightened me!” Jin scolds, narrowing his eyes, “What are you doing here?!” 

Jungkook frowns, “I’m not the culprit.” 

“Sure, that’s what they all say!” Jin begins walking down the trail near the headstone as Jungkook closely follows behind. 

“So….” 

“What?” 

“Did you find anything yet?” He questions hopefully, doe eyes twinkling at his elder. The man before him sighs, aiming his glass piece at the trail before him. 

He suddenly crouches down, scrutinizing another footprint. 

“I’m not telling you anything, Kook.” 

“But why!” He practically whines, childishly clinging onto Jin’s arm, “Come on, you’ve known me since I was a kid. Does this look like the face of someone that would break the headstone?” 

He gestures to himself as Jin stares, purposely widening his eyes and putting on a pout. 

Jin smacks the back of his tool against his head, causing Jungkook to wince. “Stop getting cute with me.” 

Jungkook’s eyes sway, “I-I’m not getting cute….” 

“Uh-huh.” Jin reminisces, looking around the headstone carefully again. There’s a furrow between his brows as he picks up a chuck of the stone, bringing it up to examine. 

“Find anything?” 

The stone piece nearly slips from Jin’s fingers as Jungkook peers over his shoulder wide-eyed, appearing more like a naive child than the owner of an arcade.  

“Will you stop doing that?!” Jin scolds, growing irritated by the moment with Jungkook’s interventions. The latter pouts, desperation leaking into his irises. 

“Then tell me something.” At Jin’s withering gaze, Jungkook pulls out all sorts of cuteness he wouldn’t be caught doing in daylight, “Please.” 

Jin rolls his eyes, sight landing right on top of the headstone. 

“Blue Village..…” 

It’s so incredibly faint, but Jungkook’s ears catch onto it right away. 

“What?” 

“Blue Village.” Jin says louder this time, his brow twitching. Clearing his throat, he lowers his voice again, “I think someone from Blue Village did it.” 

Jungkook’s eyes are instantly enlarging, features contorting into a sudden epiphany. 

“Now leave me alone!” Jin says, pushing him away, “I have mysteries to solve!” 

Jungkook nods in an instant, a smile curving on his lips at the new piece of information. 

It’s not long before you’re pacing towards the arcade, surprised to see Jungkook already there and buzzing with energy. His eyes light up with your presence, lips moving immediately. 

“Treasure!” 

“Blue Village!” 

You stare at each other for a moment, confused with the notion. “Wait, Blue Village? What about them?” 

“Jin says that someone from Blue Village might be responsible.” Jungkook explains, scrunching his brows together, “What do you mean by treasure?” 

“Hoseok told me that there’s treasure underneath the headstone.” Your eyes sparkle, “That means someone who needs money probably broke it.” 

Jungkook grimaces, “Shoot.” 

“What?” 

“I need money.” He honestly states. Your features twist up with the fact, acknowledging that your tidbit on the situation wouldn’t work well in his favour. 

Shaking the thoughts away, you pursue more information, “Who do you think did it?” 

Jungkook doesn’t respond to you, instead he stares outside the arcade’s glass exterior. Puzzled, you turn around to see what he’s staring at, only to see a young boy dressed in a yellow shirt and blue overalls walking by. 

He appears to be within his own world, a dreamy smile curving up on his cheeks and a colourful lollipop in his hand. His eyes instantly connect with yours, crinkling up into half moons as he waves over to you and Jungkook. 

You return his gesture with a smile, but Jungkook had a sneering look in his stare. 

“I hate that guy.” He spits out, drawing out perplexment from you. 

“What?” You spin around, pointing to the oblivious boy. “Leader Jimin?” 

Jungkook hums and you shake your head, watching an angelic smile take over the boy’s features. “How could you possibly hate him?” 

Suddenly, something sparks within his eyes. He turns to you, determination spiking his gaze. 

“He’s the one that broke the headstone.” 

You let out an exhale of dismay, “He didn’t.” 

“He’s from Blue Village.” Jungkook says, as if all the clues finally made sense, “No one know where he came from or what his background is. It makes perfect sense!” 

“You’re starting to make up conclusions like Jin now.” 

“He could use the money!” Jungkook snaps his fingers, “I heard that he’s been living at the village doctor’s house and pays rent!” 

At your look of disbelief, he smirks, “Rent gets expensive, Y/N. Don’t you know that?” 

“He’s innocent.” You protest, shaking away his accusations, “He’s a happy person that just wandered into our village one day. He looks like he can’t even hurt a fly!” 

At the moment, Jimin lets out a giggle, one of the village kids smiling brightly up at him. 

Jungkook narrows his eyes, a hum leaving him. 

“Wait, you’re right.”

“See‒?” 

Jungkook deadpans, “He’s an idiot.” 

“He is not an idiot.” You’re about to list more reasons as to why, but you notice Jimin walking away to ‘lead’ the children behind him, not realizing that one of them has stolen his lollipop and the rest are trying to fight the child for it. 

He breaks out in a daze of giggles, happy to be their leader. 

Your features scrunch up, “Okay, maybe he is, but‒” 

Jungkook smirks like you have no option but to agree with him. Before you have the chance to prove him wrong, there’s a knock outside the arcade door. 

A trail of goosebumps spike up on your arm, the look of annoyance on Jungkook’s features telling you enough of who's at the door. 

However, this time there’s no intrigue, just a simple big white label possessively planting against the wall. 

“I heard you’re not doing so well financially,” Richman V states, “This arcade should be mine soon.” 

Jungkook’s jaw drops at the man’s blatant actions, orbs following him around as he continues to plaster his labels all over his precious arcade. 

You beat him at the chance to intervene. 

“This arcade isn’t yours.” You tug at his sleeve, only for Richman V to spin around and plant a label smack against your forehead. 

“Everything I label, I possess.” He interjects, “This arcade will be mine, and so will everything that comes along with it.” 

He passes by you and begins sticking on more labels. You huff, ripping off the label and smacking it onto a nearby wall. “I am not going to work for you.” 

“Yes, you are.” He states, like it shouldn’t even be in question. “You work in this arcade. The arcade will belong to me. Your services will be mine.” A smile curves on his lips, “You should be happy. I’ll at least be a proficient boss.” 

Your eye twitches and Jungkook looks like he wants to interject, but you scramble around, locating a pen. 

Taking one of his possessive labels, you scratch out his name and scribble on Jungkook’s before sticking it back onto one of the machines. 

“You can’t take this arcade because it doesn’t belong to you.” You huff, grasping his attention. “And I already have a great boss, thank you very much.” 

Jungkook blinks wide-eyed as Richman V stares at you, clearly annoyed with your meddling. Turning around, he leans closer, looking at you eye to eye. 

“I own every property in BTS Village, and this arcade won’t be an exception.” 

Without another word, he leaves, a clutter of his labels all over the walls and machines. Your eyes are sharpened, lips twisted with suppressed fury as you pluck off the flimsy pieces of paper that demand its ownership. 

“Who does that guy think he is?” You rant as Jungkook silently watches you, “I mean sure, label all your things. Your toothbrush, your comb, whatever.” 

Kneeling down, you narrow your eyes at the one he’s managed to stick behind the counter before tearing it off, “But a place he doesn’t even own? Talk about really wanting to possess stuff.” 

“Did you mean it…” 

Jungkook’s voice is soft, near quiet. 

You turn around, bafflement crossing you. “Well yeah, he seems like kind of a jerk and wanting to possess an arcade after all he has seems like a petty list of things a person would want to own‒” 

Jungkook shakes his head, stopping your ramble. “Before that. About me being a great boss….” 

You stare at him like a deer in headlights, clearly caught off guard. Freezing in place, you open and close your mouth a couple of times, no words managing to come out. 

Instead, a pink hue dusts over your skin. 

“Well, I...I-I did say that…” You attempt to begin, “And I...well‒” 

“Fascinating.” 

Your eyes snap up at the sound of a third voice, noticing Jin leaning behind the counter as he listens into your conversation. Jungkook immediately swivels around, placing a hand against his racing heart. 

“Can you call or something the next time you show up?!’ He angrily retorts, only for Jin to completely ignore him and step forward. 

He walks straight towards the shoe rack, plucking up the pair of slippers Jungkook wore to the headstone. He drops them with a hum, walking over to the counter again to flip through some paper sheets, something that has Jungkook scrambling forward. 

“Why are you looking at my accounts?!” 

“It all makes sense now.” 

Jin finally speaks up, pointing an accusatory finger towards Jungkook, “YOU DID IT!” 

“I’ve already told you that I’m not the culprit!” 

“Really?!” Jin challenges, “We found your footprint. You’re the one in need of money and tried to get the treasure underneath the headstone.” 

He suddenly glances around, like he was still collecting proof against Jungkook’s case. 

His eyes land onto the battered mallet used for Jungkook’s whac-a-mole machine, raising it in the air. 

“Aha!” He exclaims, “This is what you broke it with!” 

“Actually he broke that mallet because he’s ridiculously competitive and was prepared to win at any cost.” You interject, arms crossed.

“Oh….” 

Jungkook deadpans at Jin’s dwindling resolve, an impassive and unimpressed expression spreading over his features. 

“You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?” 

“Of course I do!” Jin protests, grabbing a small book from his back pocket. He vigorously flips through the pages, eyes twinkling, “I told you about Blue Village being involved!” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen, “Leader Jimin did it!” 

You attempt to hush him down, but Jin cocks up a brow, baffled with the suggestion. 

“What? That kid?” Jungkook nods, “Nah, he’s an angel. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.” 

Offense is written all over Jungkook, “Then what am I?!” 

“A greedy game owner!” Jin accuses, only for Jungkook to sigh. 

“I’m innocent, Jin.” He desperately glances in your direction, “Just ask Y/N!” 

“She’s probably plotting with you!!” 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, about to give your two cents on the ridiculousness of the conversation until the sound of small ding resonates through the room. 

A pair of two small feet come to a stop, wide eyes staring at the three individuals in front of him. 

You recognize him immediately as the boy that came to your game room the day you had barren business. 

“Oh, it’s you.” 

Jungkook perks up, “The kid who Y/N paid for!” 

Jin whips around, narrowing his eyes at Jungkook and prepares to write in his book. “Excoriating money from our employee’s now, are we?” 

“I willingly paid for him.” You correct right away, aware that Jin seemed to be on Jungkook’s tail no matter what. Spinning around, you crouch down to view the boy, “What are you doing here?” 

“I saw the headstone marked as a crime scene.” He speaks, peeking around with wide eyes. “I wanted to see the Detective.” 

Jin immediately pushes forward, adjusting his hat and leaning down with his notebook. 

“Do you know anything about how it was broken?” 

The boy nods, “I was on my way to school when I saw two people walking to the headstone. One of them was dressed very fancy and the other one had blue hair.” 

“Richman V and RM!” Jungkook exclaims, only for Jin to hush him down. 

“It’s too early to draw conclusions!” 

Jungkook scoffs, “So drawing conclusions about me without evidence wasn’t too early?!”

“Did he have bronze hair?” You immediately question, and the boy nods, “Was the other one wearing a box office uniform?” 

He nods again, “They were talking to each other but not in a nice way. I think they were fighting.” 

“They were fighting?” Jungkook wonders, staring at you in disbelief. 

“Hold it!” Jin exclaims, moving towards the boy. He points towards you and Jungkook, expression keen, “Did you see these two near the headstone?” 

He places a finger against his chin, a spark lighting up in his eyes, “I did!” 

“AHA‒” 

 “But they were making a wish together when the headstone wasn’t broken.” 

“….oh?” Jin whispers, his pen freezing in place. The boy smiles, gazing at you. 

“I hope your wish came true.” 

You return his smile, “Thanks for coming by, kid.” 

He nods, waving at Jungkook and Jin before you open the door and let him rush home. 

Silence reigns heavy in the arcade room.

Jin eventually clears his throat. 

His voice is considerably quiet, nowhere near the loud and dramatic tone you were accustomed to hearing. 

“It seems like I’ve made a mistake…” 

“Seems like?!” Jungkook angrily shouts, but Jin coxes him right away. 

“Mistakes can happen! Someone can look guilty and end up not being…” 

Jungkook has a “are you serious?” expression and Jin cheekily smiles, before racing towards the door. 

“Oh wow, would you look at the time?? I’ll catch up with you guys later!” The door is shutting close before you can even utter another word, your eyes rolling at the man's catastrophe. 

This just in! 

Famous Property Owner and Dealer Richman V and Box Office Employee RM caught for destroying one of the more treasured possessions of BTS Village! 

Thanks to the testimony of one boy, more eyewitnesses were found and several pieces of evidence led to the duo facing charges. It is said that RM needed the money to attend an audition and had tried to negotiate with Richman V for help near the headstone. Richman V, who was facing the displeasure of not obtaining a particular arcade in the village, wanted to know about the mysterious treasure hidden deep beneath the stone. Sources suggests that two were baffled about the broken headstone and attempted to cover up the accident by‒

“Oh, would you just get to the good part already?!” Jungkook slams his fist against the counter, desperation leaking into his voice. 

You let out a sigh, scrolling through the newspaper until you find the excerpt. Clearing your throat, you mimic your best anchor voice again. 

Initially, Detective Jin from BTS Village had suspicions on a certain game room owner that goes by the name of Jeon Jungkook, but with further investigation done, it was found that he was at the crime scene prior to the incident and was deemed innocent. 

“Well, it’s nice hearing someone say I’m innocent.” Jungkook remarks, leaning against his hand on his cheek. 

The newspaper is yanked down, “I said you were innocent.” 

“Of course you did!” He proclaims, “Why else would you want to turn your innocent boss in?” 

“I can think of a couple of reasons.” You mumble underneath your breath, only for Jungkook to pout. “What?” 

“I’m still broke as hell.” He shifts his attention to his account book on the counter, lazily flipping through the pages. “Business has been better, but I’m still not making enough money.” 

You roll your eyes, aware that business truthfully has been better thanks to your combined efforts and that it would take time for some stable revenue to roll in, as long as Jungkook’s dramatics don’t manage to interfere. 

“Maybe you should hire a different employee instead of me.” You sassily retort, “Let’s see what happens to business then.” 

Jungkook narrows his eyes, “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because you’re ‘losing’ money.” You exaggerate in the same tone he used.  

“Nah, I’m never going to get rid of you.” He softly says, “You always have my back.”

For a moment, you just blink your eyes. Turning around, you’re expecting a cocky smirk on his lips or a teasing raise of his brows.

Instead, you’re met with sincere eyes and a genuine smile, something that nearly has the newspaper in your hands slipping from your hands. 

You slowly open your mouth to respond. 

“Why are the two of you having a staring contest?” 

Both you and Jungkook whip around, watching Jin poke at one of the machines with a frown on his face. 

Jungkook’s jaw drops down, “What are you doing here?!” 

Jin looks at him taken aback, the anger in his voice prevalent. “What? Were you two having a moment or something?” 

You avert your eyes as Jungkook’s brow twitches. 

He shakes his head, a whine escaping him, “Why are you here, Jin?” 

“Oh!” He pipes up, “Are you hiring at the moment by any chance?” 

“What?” 

Jin cheekily smiles, “So my reputation as a detective kind of went sour with this recent case, you know, with suspecting and falsely accusing someone innocent and‒ what are you doing?” 

He’s being effortlessly lifted by Jungkook, before being planted right outside of the arcade. 

Jungkook closes the door shut, sending him a friendly wave with a strained smile as Jin scoffs.

“Oh come on, JK!” 

“Come back when I really am innocent!” He childishly laughs as Jin throws a fit of anger from the display. 

Jungkook glances in your direction almost as if to gauge your reaction to his antics, but you simply smile and shake your head with a roll of your eyes. 

Jungkook snaps his fingers. 

“This entire place should have a makeover!” He springs up from his seat from his revelation, pacing around the room, “We can take out the bookcase and maybe add more machines, we could even paint the walls maybe like a royal blue, put some speakers here‒….” 

You lounge on one of the chairs as you watch your boss continuing his ramble, eyes follow along with the speed of his legs as he practically pounces around the place. 

It’s been a while since the ARMY headstone mystery has been resolved, and aside from helping Detective Jin with getting a job after Jungkook’s refusal of hiring another employee, you’ve come to terms with yourself. 

You have feelings for your boss. It’s plain obvious.  

The problem lies in the fact that you work with him, meaning that no matter what you do and say, he’s naturally inclined to believe that you’re simply doing him a favour as an employee. 

A sigh leaves your lips as you lean back in your chair. 

Jungkook whirls around, childlike excitement sparking in his large doe eyes, “Well?” 

You abruptly blink, realizing that you hadn’t caught onto a single thing he said because you were too caught up in your own head. 

Standing up, you pat his shoulder and walk over to the counter, “Let’s discuss this later.” 

“What?” Jungkook watches your fading form, a crease forming between his brows, “A-Are you sure? You seem to be really out of it these days, Y/N.” 

At the hint of concern in his voice, your eyes widen, “Uh, yeah!” You nervously laugh, “I seriously doubt we’ll figure it all out in one day.” 

Jungkook pursues his lips, “Hm, that’s true.” 

He smiles and you wipe away the sweat from your temples, a relieved exhale leaving you. 

***

You have to confess to him. 

You’ve been thinking about it all night long, and as soon as the sun rose this morning, you were determined to tell Jungkook how you felt about him. You’ve already come up with a bunch of ways to convince him that yes, you like him in case he dips into his notorious denial, and even were prepared for any spouts of panic that might burst out from your dynamic abruptly shifting. 

There’s nothing that can surprise you now. 

Your feet immediately slow down, mouth falling agape. 

In front of you is the arcade, and at the same time, you wonder if you’ve even arrived at the right shop. 

Gone are the large advertising and attention drawing signs, cardboard cutout replaced with navy blue and black speakers. The yellow and blue lights have been replaced with midnight black and white ones, soft music radiating out from the door. 

You continue to stare at it in puzzlement. 

The arcade you knew was loud and bold, noise drowning through into your ears and strobe lights nearly blinding you. 

Cautiously, you open the front door, your surprise simply magnifying with every step you take. 

The walls are coloured with a shade of dark blue, replacing the dull beige completely. The bookshelf has disappeared, replaced with new gaming machines instead of similar ones linked up in a row. 

One of them consists of a brand new whac-a-mole machine, your eyes flickering over the colorful display and shining mallet. 

“Y/N?!” A voice suddenly calls out, snapping you out of your awe-filled daze. Turning around, you don’t see your boss in sight. 

“Jungkook?” You call back out, only for the sound of boxes shifting resonating from the back room. 

“Just give me a minute!” 

You hum, picking up the mallet with a smile as you walk closer to the door. 

“What have you done to this place?” 

“You like it?” 

You inspect the instrument in your hand, “Yeah, it looks amazing….” 

His laughter seeps through the door, “That’s great! I just thought the place needed something different, you know? Almost like a re-opening.” 

The corner of your mouth lifts up, “From now on, Jeon’s arcade is a new experience for all!” 

You snort at the slogan, placing the mallet back down on the counter. That’s when your eyes focus onto the small bottle on the counter, the words ‘hair dye’ causing them to enlarge with size. 

As you grab onto it, the back door room opens and Jungkook emerges out, his blonde strands bright and damp with drops of water. 

He beams at you, doe eyes crinkling and a giant smile breaking out onto his features. 

“What do you think?” He eagerly asks, “Doesn’t it help with the new experience in here?” 

The hair dye bottle slips from your hands, no coherent words forming from the tip of your tongue as your mouth drops wide open. Jungkook can only stare in confusion as pink rapidly scatters across your features and it’s in that one sole moment you realize. 

No matter how hard you try, your boss always finds some way to surprise you. 

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 6)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Special Grade

Next Chapter: Bird of Flame

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

We are finally past the introductions and getting into the bulk of the story🥰💕 excited for this to unravel.

Chapter 6: Speed of Sound

You had a physical and cursed energy examination along with the second years the next day. Much like when you had your height and weight measured at the clinic. But this time, it was your power, speed, stamina, defense level, and flexibility with and without your cursed technique that they were measuring.

“Ugh, it’s so windy out today.” Mai complained. The sun was really bright as the four of you first years stood there.

“Y/n.” All of you turned to look at the source of the voice. You smiled brightly upon hearing him. “It has been a while.”

“Noritoshi senpaii~” you skipped your way towards him with a huge smile on your face. “How have you been?”

Noritoshi was always busy, with clan affairs, missions (now that he got recommended for grade 1 and is enroute to a semi-grade 1) and studies that you only had a short time to say hi whenever you passed by the other in the hallways. But he always secretly looked forward to seeing you.

He nodded his greeting to the other first years before turning to smile down at you as you came up to him. “Not too bad. Hope you’ve adjusted well to campus life?” he murmured, eyes softening.

“I’m okay, don't worry about me. Shared class today, this is my first time. I wonder how it will go?” You excitedly said.

“The usual, you might find it boring. Ah, and I’ve heard that you were given the title Special Grade. Congratulations.” He said.

“Is that something to be celebrated?” you asked while tilting your head to the side. “Thank you though.”

He mimicked you, tilting his head in the same direction and leaning forward so that your eyes were both still in line with each other’s, “It’s proof that you’re strong and that’s also a good thing.”

You hummed in thought. “I don’t really care about rankings to be honest. I just need to be strong enough to protect the ones I love.”

Noritoshi’s eyes slightly widened at that. He was about to speak when he was rudely interrupted.

“TSUCHI CHAN! You owe me a fight.” Todo senpai boomed with Momo sighing tiredly beside him. You jumped about 4 feet into the air at the sound and Noritoshi protectively held a hand in front of you again. “That’s enough Todo. It’s still early in the morning.”

“A fight, or else I will reveal who your ideal type is to everyone here.” He grinned.

Oh no he didn’t. The winds picked up around you as your cursed energy flared dangerously. Everyone except Noritoshi took a step back from you.

You looked up at him with the coldest eyes you have, “You promised you wouldn’t senpai. But I am not backing down from a fight. Don’t cry too badly when I bury you 6 feet underground.”

“There it is! Her dark side.” Miwa cried out. “You’re gonna die senpai.” But Todou just laughed. “I knew you were interesting the moment we met Tsuchi chan. It’s settled. A fight later after class.”

“Todo’s gonna die later. I look forward to seeing it.” Mai yawned nonchalantly as Mechamaru just nodded. Momo just laughed as she settled in beside Mai.

Soon Utahime called you all to attention and you went on with the activities. You were competing with Todo for almost every measurement (with the use of cursed energy of course. You were not so strong without it).

You just laughed at yourself as you found out you had the weakest physical punching power among the first years. Yep, you rely too much on your cursed energy to back you up.

You had the highest score though when you used your cursed energy. You warped the space around your hand in a spiral motion, the wind picking up around your fist, before you propelled yourself to punch the target. BAANG! It was pushed a number of meters back further than Todo’s target.

Todo just clapped. “Well done.” And the entire time, Noritoshi was closely monitoring you, staying by your side and asking questions about your technique.

At that, you tugged on his sleeve and he smiled and bent down for you. You told him quietly that you would tell him more about it later when you’re alone. His eyebrows raised, but his smile widened, “Thank you for that. I don’t mind telling you about mine too.”

The others were just silently watching you both out of the corner of their eyes.

“Mai chan, wanna bet as to when those two will get together?” Momo whispered. Everyone else except the two of you heard her.

“Depends on what you wanna bet on. But I’m willing to bet they’ll get together in the next maybe 4 months or so.” she smirked.

“3 months” Miwa piped up quietly.

“Maybe 2 months lol.” Mechamaru said.

“No. They might take… a few weeks. 3?” Todo said seriously.

Utahime cleared her throat out loud gathering all of your attention. “Last activity. Running laps. This track field is 400 meters long as you all know. Finish 1 lap. First without then with your cursed technique. Nishimiya and Tsuchimikado flying is permitted.”

You perked up at that and clapped your hands excitedly. Then stopped and thought about it remembering your father’s words:

“ ‘You don’t have to max out your abilities. We keep our clan’s abilities as much of a secret as possible to prevent any information leakage that may be used against us. Remember to use your technique wisely. You’re the strongest in our clan, sweetheart.’ You nodded, ‘Okay papa.’ ”

So God speed mode of a Mach 4 is out of the picture. Mach speed 3… maybe out. ‘No I can limit it to just under the speed of sound.’ you thought determinedly.

You zoned out the next hour until it was time to run with your cursed technique. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.” Noritoshi put a hand on your back to support you.

You quickly shook your head “I’m fine, no worries.” He didn’t look like he believed you but let you go ahead.

“Tsuchimikado. It says here on your report that you can move at mach speeds.” Utahime spoke. FUCK. Oh well. You turned to her with the stiffest smile on your face as she realized you didn’t want the information disclosed.

You took your starting position, still determined to keep it under half the speed of sound. “Ready… go!” You whipped around the entire trackfield in just under 3 seconds.

“Tsuchimikado. 2.4 seconds.” You nodded and jogged back beside Miwa who gave you a high five. “That was sooo cool, you need to let me fly with you next time.” She excitedly said.

You laughed. “I’m not the best at holding people with me when I move at high speeds. But slow flying is fine.”

“Why don’t you go faster?” Todo asked. Everyone quieted down as you turned to him. “I have a feeling you've been limiting your output. You’ve obviously been holding back this entire time, are you not taking it seriously? We are here to challenge ourselves, there is no need to hold back.”

Your eye and finger twitched. “That’s not it.” This man was amazing at pushing your buttons. But you sighed as there was no reason to hide it anymore. “Utahime sensei can I-”

“Go ahead. When you’re ready.”

You took your starting position again. You could push Mach 5 if you wanted to, though just above Mach 1 should be enough.

But you can feel Todo just silently egging you on from the sidelines. And it honestly worked. “Start!”

There was a loud BANG! You were back in the starting line in less than a second. The only proof of your movement was the smoke and dust rising above the tracks.

“I am so sorry, but I didn’t catch that. I physically can’t. That was less than a second. Your speed please?” Utahime called out. “Mach 2.”

You stepped right up to Todo with a challenging glint. “Prepare yourself for later.” He just huffed out a proud smile, then you stood aside with Miwa and Noritoshi.

“Was that, just now a sonic boom?” asked Noritoshi. “No it was my ringtone.” you deadpanned. The others choked a laugh out at that.

He turned to you with a pout, but you just bumped his hip with yours and laughed “It’s called sarcasm Noritoshi senpai~” He quietly chuckled along, which he was surprised at how easy it was to do so whenever he was with you.

You all finished up. Momo was also pretty fast, going at 10 seconds around the track. Noritoshi senpai blew you out of the water to be honest. His record was 35 seconds on foot. How. That was over the world record for men’s running.

You noticed a red marking forming over his eye and remembered seeing it for a bit when it came to the strength measurement test earlier. He was just a bit behind you, Mechamaru and Todo in terms of power.

And Mechamaru and Todo were largely… disproportionate to him, being way bigger and bulkier. But he could somehow manage.

“Are any of you going to spar after this? If so I will be supervising.” Utahime sensei called.

“We will.” Todo senpai motioned between the two of you. Noritoshi surprisingly spoke up too, “I also wanna have a go against y/n if that’s fine with you.” He turned to you with a concerned look. You just smiled, “Of course it’s fine Noritoshi senpai!”

“Okay, try not to break anything, limit the damage here on campus please. I will be calling a close if it gets too bad.” Utahime warned.

“There's no need for that.” You smiled to yourself.

Author's Rambles: Mach Speed (AKA Supersonic speed) is described as a speed greater than the speed of sound. Mach X means that the speed is X times greater than the speed of sound. A Mach 5 would be categorised as Hypersonic speed^^. O/C uses her Psychokinesis to move her forward as fast as she can.

Blood Bound Chapter Masterlist

[twstgameplay]

In Defense of Defense Tests

For those of you that are wondering “Why is it that my score seems to vary wildly whenever I try a defense test? What exactly do I need to score high?” I present a not-so-light analysis based on the Water Defense test that ran from 16 Jan 2021 - 31 Jan 2021.

This will get end up bit long winded, so I will keep most of it under the cut. I don’t say for certain if this is 100% correct, as this is only based on one sample size of tests. To summarize what I will detail below, what seems to be the key to getting an SSS from our repeated trials is: 

Last until Turn 5 (ending on first attack is recommended), 

Take ~30k in damage (unless ending on second attack, ~32k),

Have ~60% of health remaining (unless ending on second attack, ~55%).

Minimize taking Neutral/Weak damage as much as possible

Over the course of the two weeks that Water Defense was accessible in game, we attempted the test 125 times (of which 10 were SSS, 98 were SS, and 17 were S) and screen recorded each one. I watched each battle and collected the data points I believed would be a significant factor in determining the Score:

Remaining HP

Total HP(Initial HP + Heals)

Enemy Total HP

Total Damage Dealt

Total Enemy Damage Dealt

Number of [Neutral] Attacks

Number of Enemy [Neutral] Attacks

Second Turn 5 Attack (Y/N)

Most of these factors are obvious, as this is a Defense Test, and as the other mods and I have stated before, it’s imperative to last until Turn 5 with enough health leftover. What I am looking for in this analysis is something more specific.

Let’s look at four examples that I’ve sorted in Remaining HP order:

This was the highest score captured that did a total damage of 82220 against the enemy, and took 25097 points of damage. The Remaining HP was approximately 65% of the Total HP

This attempt had the second highest Remaining HP value, but because it ended on Turn 4, the score dropped as expected. It did 74872 damage against the enemy, and took 24194 points of damage. The Remaining HP was approximately 66% of the Total HP

Out of the three SSS scores here, this was the lowest SSS score, with approximately 62% of the Total HP leftover. This test caused 86117 in damage and took 26820 points of damage.

Finally, this attempt was the only one of these four that ended on the final attack of turn 5. That explains the dip in the Remaining HP, only retaining approximately 58% of the Total HP. It did more damage than the first example above, but less damage than the third example (85612). It also received the highest enemy damage (29802)

These help show the variability of the results.

Why point these out? Doesn’t it make sense that the more you last, the higher your remaining HP, the better your score?

Yes, but lets delve deeper－

In the Basic Tests, in general all you need is:

Overkill on Turn 3 or Turn 4

At least three duos

At least 80% in the battle gauge

I plan to find what the thresholds we need for a score of SSS on Defense Tests. Before I start throwing this into my statistical software, this is what I believed was needed by simply eyeballing the dataset:

Last until Turn 5

At most 30k in damage from enemy

At least 60% of health remaining

First things first, I imported the data into my statistical program and looked at distributions.

Sexy~

The distributions themselves don’t really give me the information I want, however. It just lets me take a look at what kind of distribution I might be working with. The Total Score and the Percent Health Left do tend to barely look like normal distributions, so that is a start.

Next, I created a model based on the factors that I’ve collected, with the Total Score as my response variable, the thing we’re looking for. I won’t go too far into statistical jargon, but using a stepwise model, I was able to remove a few of the factors that weren’t significant. Namely the Enemy Total HP and Number of [Neutral] Attacks. I had already discounted these two before I even ran the model, so I was pleased to see that my software thought the same.

The model of significant factors I ended up with were:

Total Damage Dealt

Total Enemy Damage Dealt

Number of Enemy [Neutral] Attacks

Second Turn 5 Attack (Y/N)

And a calculated column of the % of Health Remaining

I’m a visual person, so I made another chart based on these factors:

(Total Damage Dealt was the least significant of all the other factors, so I opted to look at it with the Total Enemy Damage. Number of Enemy [Neutral] Attacks will also be covered below.)

Just by the pretty colors and shapes alone, you can see that scores that reached 20k or above tended to be on the first attack of Turn 5, take less than 30k damage, and over 60% health remaining.

Hey, I’d say my eyeballing was good!!

Within this batch of attempts, only three of our SSS scores didn’t follow this pattern. Two of them ended on the second attack of Turn 5. The third one is a battle that mimicked the results of many of the other SSS tests before it, but took in about 3k more damage than the rest.

Doesn’t that mess with your prediction?

N-no! Don’t call me out like that! (>3<)/

The two that ended on the second attack still was within the margin of error for my prediction, taking no more than 32k in damage, and having approximately 57% of health left.

One other aspect to keep in mind, although it sounds obvious is minimize taking weak/neutral damage. This was not something I was looking at originally, but I found that there was a difference in score when we took 1 Neutral attack vs 2 or 3 Neutral attacks. (We took no Weak damage)

That third attempt that skewed my prediction finished the battle with approximately 59% of its Health remaining. Oo, so close. But based on the other attempts with similar Health, Damage Taken, etc, it should not have gotten a score of SSS. Yet it did. Why?

Because unlike the other battles that ended in a similar position, that battle only took one neutral attack from the enemy, instead of two or three. Out of the 10 SSS scores, 7 of them completed taking only one neutral attack, while 3 took two.

Based on this quick analysis, both visual inspection and effect screening, I have the hypothesis I presented at the beginning. Statisticians don’t like to deal in absolutes, so this will always be just a theory.

I hope this was at least interesting, I know it was a lot of numbers. I tried to avoid jargon and simplify most things, but there’s just so many interesting points to find when you’re going through so many of these battles!

As with all games, there is a bit of RNG that plays into it that I may have missed. Does it matter that Malleus buffed twice in one battle, but only once in another? Maybe. Do I want to go back through 125 battles to determine that? Absolutely not.

I’d close with saying that although I laid out what is most likely required, this does not mean that it’s not possible to get the SSS score in other ways. Finishing on the 4th turn with more HP remaining is quite possible. But in order to spread out and hone in on a more accurate threshold, there would need to be more occurrences of 4th turn SSS, and we were unable to do that during the Water Defense Test.

Perhaps next time! I look forward to updating my assumptions when I collect data from the All Defense Test~

-🐬

[blizzardfluffykpop]

The Ko’s Arcade

Summary: Falling for the arcade owner’s son is a lot easier than you think. 

[He would probably propose to you with a vending machine ring ngl very cute tho].

Do or Not Series

Fluff

Word Count: 2,843

Shinwon X Reader

I’ve been going to the arcade on the outskirts of the city for years. To the point where Mr. Ko knows my whole family, considering they were the ones to start bringing me here. My parents thought I would stop going to The Ko’s Arcade when I was a seventh-grader at the latest. But here I am, almost out of college and still going at least once a week. Who knows, there might be a new game there? Or better yet, they have a new prize to win. Or a new thing to get at the vending machine. It’s a reward after a long week of courses, tests, and my job. The stress relief of beating Donkey Kong at his own game is the best feeling. But it not only those, maybe it’s because Mr. Ko’s son Shinwon is working there now? Yeah,... about that,... I may have a slight crush on him,... May. 

“You’re going to that silly arcade again?” My mom asks, and I nod, “It’s Sunday, so yeah.” She shrugs and tells me to enjoy myself and to tell Mr. Ko ‘hi’. I ride my bike over to the arcade, and for the next five hours, I am going to play some games and unwind. And possibly sneak a peek at the cute guy who runs the prize station. The bells ring above the door as I walk in and spot a few kids playing different games. Shinwon goes, “Welcome back to The Ko’s Arcade!” I grin and wave at him and walk to the back to find Q*Bert. After eight levels and three different tries to get up to the ninth level. I give up as I hop on the snake by accident again. I decide it’s not worth the hassle and get a pop from the vending machine. 

While looking around for another game. I catch Shinwon playing a two-player racing game by himself. Working up my confidence, I make my way over to him and challenge him to the next round. He smirks, “Alright. What’s the reward if we win.” I scrunch up my nose and think for a moment before it hits me. I need fifty more tickets to win the giant stuffed animal I have been eyeing. I rarely play the games that spit out tickets, so it is harder to earn than you would believe. “If I win, I want the big stuffed animal you guys have behind the counter.” He nods and tells me, “If I win,... the next time you hit the high score on Donkey Kong, you have to write my name.” I scoff, “Of course,... it has to be my title you are after.” He laughs, and I grin, “So is it a deal?” I nod, and we both shake hands. 

Let’s just say the game did not go as I expected. I expected to be at least in second place, if not in first. Let me say, Shinwon had some tricks up his sleeves and knew the track better than I did. Considering this was my second time playing this game, and probably his fiftieth. I ended up in last place in the first two races, and by the third, I was finally in seventh place. Shinwon moved around in numbers going from second to fifth to first. There goes my Donkey Kong high score title, I’ll miss it, but at least I’ll know that it’s me that has the highest. Mr. Ko will be in shock that my high score got taken by Shinwon. When everyone knows he is awful at the game like I am with racing games. I pout over him as the last race finishes up and totals our scores. He laughs, and in a teasing voice, he goes, “Did someone lose?” I pout and nod my head as he smiles over at me before he types in the winner. I don’t look at who’s name he types in till it circles back to the leaderboard. And printed in bold red letters is (Y/n). He winks at me and helps me out of the chair. 

He walks us over to the prize counter and reaches underneath, and pulls out a clip-on stuffed animal. He hands it over to me with a smile playing on his face. I grin at him as I realize it’s a little monkey. “Here, I had an unfair advantage on that racing game. Plus, your favorite game is dad’s favorite so,...” I thank him and put the monkey on my belt loop with a big smile on my face. I tell him to give me one second, and I race over to my backpack. And take the hot wheel car pin off of it and hand it to him. The one I had won at the arcade years before, “You suit the title of the best arcade racer better than I do.” He gasps, “My dad hasn’t carried these for years! They went out so fast that I didn’t get a chance to win one!” I grin and pin it to his green and white striped jacket. “Well, here you go. You deserve it.” It’s his turn to blush, and we give each other a fist bump before I make my way over to Donkey Kong. 

Three hours later, I hit the high score again. He comes over as I’m about to hit enter. “You don’t have to put my name as the high score, by the way.” He tells me, and I turn around to look at him and hit the enter button as I shake my head. “Yeah, but a deal is a deal. By next Sunday, I’ll have your score blown out of the water anyway.” He smiles, “I’ll gloat while I have the chance then.” I grin, “You go for it, King Kong.” He laughs as he says, “Whatever you say, Speed Racer!” I laugh and grab my backpack and make my way out. “I’ll see you next Sunday?” I ask, and he tells me, “Couldn’t miss it.” My heart is pounding by the time I leave. 

--

Next Sunday, like clockwork, my mom tells me to have fun at the arcade. But weirdly, it isn’t Shinwon standing behind the counter to greet me it’s Mr. Ko. “Good Morning, Mr. Ko!” I exclaim, and he goes, “Ah! Good Morning, (Y/n)! Bright and early like usual!” He notices me looking around for Shinwon, and he says, “If you’re looking for Shinwon, he’s in the back. He’s getting ready to put a new game out.” I nod as he points to the back room, and I decide to go back there. 

I open the door and don’t spot Shinwon, but spot some old classics I grew up playing. Like my mom’s favorite Pong. When that went out of order, she stopped coming in. Or Ms. Pacman, my dad’s favorite. I hope someday they will come back out on the floor. As I head further in, I see Shinwon struggling with a cardboard box, and I can’t help the giggle the falls from my lips. He whips his head around in my direction, I wave, and he smiles at me, “Here to help?” I shrug, “Am I getting paid?” He rolls his eyes, “Depends if you’re good to help.” “And if I’m good help?” He smirks, “We’ll see.” I shake my head as I place my book bag down and try to see what he’s doing. “Usually, the boxes come off easier, but this particular game is a special order so,... it’s packaged weirdly.” I nod and grab the box cutter he was using and slice down the side carefully. We pull on either side, and it still doesn’t give. After a few minutes of figuring out the best approach, we agree on ripping the box open. When we get it open, he asks, “What do you think?” I grin, "This is gonna be fun." He smiles as I take a closer look at it. Unlike the classics that are stand to play, there are chairs for you to sit and play on the tabletop arcade. On the instructions, it contains a bunch of old classics that no longer inhabit the place: like Pong, Asteroids, and Centipede. I help him wheel it out, and we each grab the two metal chairs and bring them over. He plugs it in and says, “I challenge you to Centipede!” I smirk, “You know I’m a pro at the classics!” He shrugs, “Are you?” 

Two hours later, after playing the different games, he has to return to the counter. Five kids walked up to the register with a bunch of tickets. His dad went home after we came out of the backroom, which left him to run the ticket counter. I watch him from afar and see how kind he is with the kids, and my heart melts a little. I remember being that age and rushing up to the counter to see what I could get. Or if I needed more to get what I want. Hoping that I would have enough time for one more game before my parents came. That Mr. Ko would let me have the prize although I was off by a few tickets. It seems that Shinwon is no different in that department; the one kid was off by five, and he still handed him the fifty-ticket item. I smile to myself. How could I ever get tired of this place? It’s filled with my childhood memories and,... Shinwon. 

As I watch him, I realize I’m in deep with my feelings for him. From his smile to his aura, I can’t help but fall more and more for him each second. He comes back over to me and says, “Sorry about that--” I cut him off, “Don’t be, we were both kids once.” He smiles, and I continue, “It was cute how you cared for them. You reminded me of your dad--” He groans, “Ah man, not my dad!” I shake my head and laugh, “Your dad is like the coolest and sweetest--.” He smirks, “Are you trying to say you find me cute and sweet?” I roll my eyes, “I was going to finish my sentence with ‘old man’. But I mean if the shoe fits--.” He shakes his head, and I laugh. I squeeze the little monkey he gave me that is hanging off of my belt loop. And I notice the pin I gave him is still in the same spot. He notices the monkey is still on me. He smiles, “I see you still are wearing the little guy.” I smile, “It seems you still have the pin.” 

Five more games against Shinwon, and it’s time for me to go home. I start to bid him goodbye when he goes, “Before you go, I know I’m going to regret it if I never ask you. Would you want to go on a date with me sometime? It's okay if you don't want to!” I turn around and look him in the eyes and ask if he is for real. He nods, and I grin, “I would love to, when and where?” He taps his chin with his first finger in thought and goes, “Would the pizza parlor uptown be good?” I nod, “I believe so, around six pm tomorrow?” He nods, “I get off at five, so I can pick you at six?” I nod, “Sounds good to me, King Kong.” He laughs, and I bid him goodbye, and he yells after me, “See ya later, Speed Racer!” My heart is beating out of its chest as I race home. The butterflies in my stomach are unbearable, “I have a date with my crush, Ko Shinwon, tomorrow!” I don’t realize I yelled that out loud until my dad let out an, “Um??” I laugh and scratch the back of my neck, “So uh, when were you going to tell us that? Is that why you always go to the arcade?” I shrug, “Partly, but I also have to defend my title as the champion of Donkey Kong.” He laughs, “Well, I trust you two, but be back home at a reasonable time.” I nod and race to my room, throw my head into the pillow and squeal about it. 

--

At 6 pm sharp, I hear a knock on my door, and I race over to it. I bid my parents goodbye after slipping on my shoes and head out with Shinwon. When we reach the pizza place, he asks, “Are you any good at card games?” I grin and nod my head as we slip into a booth. He pulls out a deck of cards and deals them out. “I challenge you to a game of War!” By the time the waiter comes over to take our order, we are in a heated battle. We only break our concertation to order the pizza and our two drinks. Before we are back in action, firing cards at one another to see who will come out on top. Unlike the last time with the racing game, I come out on top. “I win!” He groans and dramatically falls back into the seat. I laugh, and he smiles as I choose the next game like Rummy, and he pulls a pad of paper out of his deep pockets. “How deep are your pockets in the jacket?!” He grins, “I can hide a whole lot of movie theatre snacks in these babies.” We laugh as we start up the game. We finish the game coming out as a tie with a perfect 500 on either side. “I guess that means we’re even.” I wink at him, “Not for long.” He smirks at me as I grab a pizza slice from the pan. “May the best player win!” He exclaims when we shake hands before we devour our pizza. 

“Winner gets a kiss on the lips!” Shinwon exclaims, and I blush, “Alright but be prepared to lose!” I tell him with confidence. He grins, “Either way, I’m a winner.” Thirty minutes and three pizza slices later, I win the card game. I blush as I realize what’s going to happen. He wipes his hands off on a paper towel. I push the pizza pan to the side, and he reaches over the table. I meet him halfway as he puts his hand underneath my chin and places a chaste kiss on my lips. Before he can get away, I pull him back in for another kiss. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while, King Kong.” I sigh as we pull away, and he grins, “So have I, Speed Racer.” I hide my face behind the cards and blush. He laughs at me and pulls the cards down, “You’re cute.” I give him a small smile and tell him, “I think you’re cuter!” 

Three games full of laughter [a few kisses] and two pizza pans later, we’re, finally, worn out. We walk out of the parlor, and right outside is a small vending machine that flattens coins and stamps them. We rush over to it, thinking the same thing. Luckily, I have two pennies in my pocket as I slip one in and type Speed Racer in cursive on the machine. When it comes out with a hole punch on the top for a necklace chain, I hand it over to him. “So whenever I’m not around, I’m always with you.” He grins and puts it in his jean pocket, “Okay! My turn!” He makes mine, and when it comes out of the machine, he hands it over to me. Placing my hand over it so I don’t see it at first. I open my hands to see a few goofy little smiles on it. And in big block letters, it says, ‘King Kong’. I grin and place it in my jean pocket as he tells me, “It keeps me close to you. I think I like you.” I grin, and peck his cheek, “I think I like you too.” He places his hand over his cheek and throws his arm over my shoulder. Before he places, a big kiss on my cheek. I can’t help but laugh as we walk home together. 

When we reach my house, I go, “Do you want to go to the movie theaters next time?” Shinwon grins at me, and I continue, “Well, I got to see how many snacks we can sneak in with those pockets!” He laughs, and before he parts to his house, I kiss him. He kisses me back, and when we part, it feels bittersweet, “I’ll see you soon?” I nod, and he leaves as I go inside, I hear a loud, “WOOHOO!” And I can’t help but laugh because I have the funniest and cutest date possible. I cannot wait for Sunday,... Maybe I’ll see him before that. I tell my whole family, filled with excitement, “So are you going tomorrow to see him?” I grin at my mom, and I nod happily, “I think so.” 

[theuniversitychallengereview]

UC 51.03 - London Business School vs Hertford, Oxford

Since it was introduced at the 1988 Olympics, every single Gold Medal in the Women’s Team event in the Archery has gone to South Korea. Including yesterday’s win that’s nine straight victories, and their period of unparalleled dominance continues. The men’s team have also won six of the nine they have contested, and a mixed team won the first staging of that event in Tokyo too. Adding their success in the individual events, South Korea have won 26 gold medals, and 42 in total, in the 43 archery events which have been thus far staged at the Olympic Games. 

As Twitter’s own @tarequelaskar pointed out in the brilliant article which alerted me to this story, this is a perfect example of specialisation, an economic concept whereby countries or companies focus intensely on one particular aspect of a given industry and come to serve that niche in such a specialised fashion that they become the ultimate experts and nigh-on irreplaceable. This is done in government and business by providing companies with incentives to specialise, and supporting those who succeed at it. 

With respect to Korean archery, similar forces are at play. There are a bunch of professional teams and leagues in the country, giving archers financial stability while they focus on their training, something not as common across the world. Said training involves such things as practicing in live baseball stadiums and replicas of the Olympic venues, to mimic first the atmosphere and then the conditions that will be present on the day of the actual tournament. 

This philosophy of marginal gains - the same system used by Team Sky and Chris Froome to win multiple Tour De Frances on the trot - puts their preparation miles ahead of the competition, which goes some way to explaining their dominance. It is not the only reason. Before the fine-tuning of the elite shooters comes the discovery of the promising young ones, and the inspiring nature of past success (along with a historic national love of the sport) helps to create a virtuous cycle which give Korea a far larger number of archers to choose from than any other country. This greater choice means that there is a greater chance of finding the next Gold medallists.

Making the argument that professional footballers are at a higher level than other elite sportspeople, Michael Cox used this same argument in a recent article for The Athletic. To summarise, he stated that because there are a far higher number of people who wish to become professional footballers, that must mean that the ones who do make it are at a higher standard than those who make it in other sports. Initially, I was drawn in by the pure maths of this point, but having thought about it some more I’m no longer sure to what extent I agree. 

Now, the fact that hundreds of millions more people play football than rugby, or basketball, will certainly confer some level of “eliteness”, but only up to a certain point. Because football has been so popular for so long, the general standard of the play, relative to what it used to be, has had longer to improve. In the same way that if you transplanted a 100m runner from the Olympic final in the early 20th century to now they probably wouldn’t even qualify for the games, a footballer from the 80s would stand less of a chance of making it were they playing today. Many other sports don’t have that level of natural progression, afforded by decades of technical and tactical advancement - at least not globally. 

But the numbers argument only goes so far, as can be demonstrated by the Korean archers. Yes, there are more archers in Korea than anywhere else, relatively, giving them a higher chance of uncovering those with a natural aptitude, but the reason behind their bow and arrow dynasty is the specialisation. The hyper-detailed level of training and focus which allows them to be the best they can possible be. 

Now, archery is unique in that there is a theoretical maximum score (I understand that this is to some extent arbitrary, and related to the rules of the game as defined by some human being, semi-randomly, but it works in terms of this argument, because it gives a percentage score of how good the archers are based on the agreed-upon parameters of the sport), which, at the Olympics, is 720. The Olympic record is 700 (held by Korean Kim Woo-jin, giving an implied “eliteness level” of 97.2%. 

The best player in the history of football (don’t @ me) is Lionel Messi, and few would doubt that he operates at or above that level of perfection in his sport. But I also don’t think you could doubt that Novak Djokovic, or Serena Williams in her pomp, were similarly magnificent at tennis. Cyclists on the Tour De France put their bodies through more in three weeks than most people endure in a decade, and have every aspect of their training and diet strictly controlled so as to bring them as close to perfection as possible. There will certainly be a higher number of these elite performers in football, because there are a higher number of paying jobs for said elite performers, and because more people attempt to become elite performers, but I don’t think that it follows on from that that they are better at their sport than other elite athletes, all of whom have undergone years and years of specialised training to get them where they are.

Does any of this matter, in terms of how each sport should be enjoyed? Probably not, but its interesting to think about, and kind of awe-inspiring to try and appreciate just how good those at the top of their respective games are. And if there is some discrepancy in the level of eliteness between the different sports it doesn’t detract from the fact that they would handily dispatch any civilian challengers without breaking a sweat. The joy comes from watching people who are good at stuff doing that stuff - and, as evidenced by the crowds which gather for non-league football, it doesn’t matter whether or not they are at the absolute pinnacle of said stuff. They’re still going to be much better than the rest of us. 

Competitive quizzing is different from the activities previously mentioned in that any normal person can have a guess at pretty much any question, with a chance that they’ll get it right. What sets the contestants apart on shows like University Challenge is the speed of their recall under pressure - the quickness of their knowledge as well as the knowledge itself. But there are plenty of armchair quizzers who think they could wipe the floor on the show, so just how good are the actual contestants? (Compared to an elite footballer or archer on an imaginary scale that accounts for relative skill in all disciplines?). I don’t know (and in case you hadn’t noticed by now I’m just fascinated by people who are really good at anything, and wanted to share some of that fascination with you all), but I’ll try and have a go at answering it anyway. 

So, the World Quizzing Championships have been dominated by British and Irish quizzers since its inception in 2003, with 16 of the 18 winners coming from either Britain or the Republic of Ireland (who have four wins courtesy of The Egghead Pat Gibson). This, in my mind, makes this neck of the woods comparable to South Korean archery. It is a hotbed of talent, and the infrastructure is in place to encourage and aid talent maximalisation. Indeed, if you scroll down the list of highest ranking players at the WQC in any given year you can see a significant cohort of UC alums, so clearly there are a number of elite quizzers who have passed through the show. 

This specialisation can be seen in microcosm with the preponderance of top-level quizzers produced by Oxford and Cambridge, who both have a long-standing culture of competitive quizzing far beyond other Universities. The debate is there to be had on the fairness of each institution having so many teams, but clearly they produce enough elite players to compete with far bigger Unis when entering as (sometimes tiny) colleges. 

In conclusion, I think it is pretty obvious that UC is a breeding ground for world-class quizzers, and though no one has won a World title straight off the bat after appearing on the show, there are top-50 and top 100 finishes abound, which is still greatly impressive, and helps to give an idea of just how good these students really are. 

Hoping to justify the 1000 words I’ve just written about their exceptional talents are two teams from the London Business School and Hertford College, Oxford. The Oxford side have never made it beyond the second round, but LBS reached the semi-finals in 2006, their only previous appearance on the show. Anyway, there is quite literally no time for me to recite the rules; here’s your first starter for ten... 

Paxman mentions that LBS were in the show in 2006, but doesn’t mention that they reached the semi final, which is lazy imo. A bunch of them are studying for MBAs, which makes sense. He doesn’t mention Hertford’s previous appearances either, but that’s more understandable.

Hertford’s Hitchens takes the first starter with Kennedy, and the Oxonians added a full set of bonuses on words made up by authors - including a couple of educated guesses. LBS hit back with the next question, but can only manage one bonus on famous scientists. One of the two they miss is Rosalind Franklin, and Paxman teases them for not spotting an apparently obvious clue within the question.

The first picture round is on national emblems, and LBS are first to recognise that of Vietnam for the starter. They don’t know Laos or Belarus, but do know that Mozambique has a machine gun on its one. Butterworth then jumps the gun with argon on the next starter, giving his answer just as Paxman says it in the question. Butterworth makes up for it with the music starter, recognising Fat Boy Slim before anyone else, and LBS know Primal Scream and Wu Tang Clan too. They’re still fifty points behind though, and will need a big second half to turn things around.

This task gets more difficult for them, as Hitchens takes another starter. Lloyd adds a second in a row for Oxford and they are nearly one hundred points clear. LBS really need to get some points on the board, and Ruess duly obliges, knowing that there is a massive sculpture of a spider called Maman, which sounds needlessly scary, to the extent that I’m not even going to google it.

The comeback is ended before its even begun as Oswald takes a starter for Hertford, which gives them the picture bonuses - the starter having been dropped by both teams. Lloyd produces another excellent guess of Reuben, demonstrating how useful it is to have vague knowledge as well as specific knowledge. This is one of probably five questions he has answered in a throwaway manner, but which turned out to be correct. 

By this point LBS seem to have accepted defeat. Ruess takes another starter, but there is little to no urgency on the bonus questions. They’re right, granted, to have none, they have no chance of winning, but if they gave it a go they might scrape a high scoring loser spot. Ruess is the only one who seems bothered, and bags himself ten more points. They have an amusing discussion about methods of poisoning in Agatha Christie novels (’it was used as a curry ingredient?’, Ruess wondered aloud, trying to figure out which spices could be poisonous, before Butterworth pointed out that it wasn’t something commonly used as a curry ingredient, prompting respectful mirth from the audience) on the bonuses, but still languish miles behind. 

Lloyd grabs the last starter of the night for Hertford, who win by eighty at the gong.

Final Score: London Business School 100 - 180 Hertford, Oxford

At the end, Paxman mentions Hertford’s stellar guesswork, which means I wasn’t chatting nonsense (at least on that front, the jury is out on the rest of it), and says that they’ve done a really good job. Incredibly effusive praise for a score of 180. He really is going soft in his old age.

Phew, that was a long one. If you made it through the intro you deserve a prize. And that prize is that you get to come back next week for the next episode of this blog!! Woop woop! 

And if this wasn’t quite enough UC content for you then you can subscribe for extra blogs on my Patreon, which features Retro Reviews from the 2015/16 series of the show. Ta x

[duckprintspress]

I'm confused about the scoring system. It was said on the website that people were scored (numerically) and yet someone with much higher scores than I got didn't get accepted nor was offered the mentoring/beta/get to know discord.

I can't help but feel there is an error here. Is there a way to explain this?

Hi anon!

So there are a few things going on here, and I’ll try to explain them all.

Thing the First:

The scores on the rubrics are raw scores. Once we really got down-and-dirty with rating things, and I did some data analysis, I discovered that some of our raters were being a bit more generous than others. By the time we were done with all the scoring, there was nearly a 2 point split between the most generous and least generous scorer, on average. This was clearly a fairness issue - if one writer got our three most generous raters, and a second writer got our three least generous raters, even if they submitted identical stories, the second writer would get a lower rating. Rather than leave things like that, I did some research on statistical models that would standardize our ratings.

Basically, with the help of an excel algorithm (the “STANDARDIZE” function), we calculated the average that each rater gave, and that rater’s deviation from the mean (standard deviation), and plugged that in to convert their ratings from the 0 to 20 scale to a different, standard scale - which ran roughly from -2.5 to positive 2.5. What the standardization really did was - for each rater, whatever score they personally gave on average was 0 (so, if rater one’s average score was a 15...that was standardized to zero. And if rater two’s average score was 10...that was also standardized to zero. So now instead of comparing apples to oranges, we were comparing apples to apples). Then, if they rated a fic 1 standard deviation above or below their average, that became a 1 or a -1. If they rated it 2 standard deviations above or below their average, that became a 2 or a -2. And so on. This ensured that all of the stories were rated on the same scale and everyone was treated equally - standardization of test scores erased the differences caused by some people rating more strictly.

So, if you and your friends are comparing rubrics (which you’re welcome to do!) and you noticed that some of you did better, numerically, but had different outcomes, that’s likely a factor - one of you may have had more generous or more strict readers.

(Here’s some more information on how Standardization, here’s the very basics...there are other forms of standardizing, such as fitting folks to a bell curve, or curving the entire score, but those were not suited to our needs)

Thing the Second:

The top 20 authors, statistically adjusted for fairness, were invited to contribute to Add Magic to Taste. As it turned out, these top 20 DID roughly correlate to our top 20 by raw scores; comparing the two rankings, there are only two people out of the top 20 who wouldn’t have made it based on raw scores but did when their scores were adjusted to be standardized against the same scale.

The next 20 authors (ranked 21 to 40, when statistically adjusted for fairness) were also invited to Discord, and we’ve also invited them to potentially be involved in a second anthology. Depending on how many of them say yes, we may be able to open that opportunity up a bit more, but we’re not sure yet. Two of these people, by raw score, would have made the top 20, and three of these people, by raw score, would not have made the top 40. However, again, when we standardized the data to reflect the differences in rater strictness, these were the results.

That leaves another 62 people, who had various ratings all below those top 40. Some of them had a raw score fairly similar to their standardized score...and some of them didn’t. For example - my wife was an applicant to this, and she gave me permission to use her numbers for this example. By raw average? My wife came in 49th. However, one of her raters was someone who USUALLY rated very high, and gave hers a (relatively, compared to that person’s usual hig haverage) low score - when that was adjusted statistically, it caused my wife’s fic to plummet to 64th, because even though the raw number itself wasn’t bad, it was statistically well outside the norm for that rater. So, believe me when I say - these standardizations can make a big difference. If you, or anyone reading this, would like, I’m willing to send you what your standardized scores were (while still maintaining reviewer anonymity). I was originally thinking of adding them to the rubrics but doing so would have been a lot of work, and so I passed - next time we do this, they’ll probably be on there.

Thing the Third:

Often, what separated a fic that succeeded from a fic that didn’t was the range of raters scores. For example, the fic that ended up with the highest rating (by both calculations) wasn’t anyone’s favorite fic - but all three readers thought it was solid, and that was enough. My personal favorite fic? Didn’t even hit the Top 20. What often happened was -

Top fics: either all three people liked it pretty well, or one to two people adored it and the other person or people liked it well enough.

Second tier fics: either all three people thought it was okay, or one person loved it and two people were fairly meh about it.

Middle-range fics: either all three people thought it was average, or one person loved it and two people didn’t like it, or two people thought it was pretty good but one person hated it.

Lower quartile fics: either all three people didn’t think the fic was “up to snuff,” or one or two readers really hated it while a third thought it was average.

This isn’t universal, of course - but a fic that had one really high rating could easily do worse than a fic that had three so-so ratings, because...that’s how averages work. And that’s also why we had three readers for each - to try to even out some of the differences that would arise if someone had an extreme reaction to a fic that others didn’t. Obviously, it’s not a flawless system - no system was flawless - but with the resources and manpower we had, we thought this was a fair way to handle things, and we truly did our best. As soon as we broke 20 applications, we were never going to be able to accept everyone, and so we strived to create a transparent system that treated all of our applicants equally.

Thing the Fourth:

Now, in addition to the “why might scores be higher/lower” aspect of your question, there’s the aspect of “getting the Discord invite.” Now, the top 40 folks got Discord invites automatically, and those offers were based solely on the rating they received.

The other Discord invites that we sent out were not based on ratings alone! Just like we had a “reader subjective feelings” category on the rubric, when we’d finished rating all the stories, we were left with a conundrum - all of us had fics we liked that didn’t make the top 40. Maybe it was that “one person love it and two people didn’t like it” permutations. Maybe it was that all of us thought it was “good” but not “great.” Maybe some aspect of the story caught our eye. Based on our reactions, and the fics we saw that we wished had made it, we selected people to get invites. Those Discord invites were sent out based solely on subjective criteria.

Yes, we worried about doing this. Yes, we went back and forth about doing it at all. But in the end, what we decided was - we didn’t want to give Discord invites to everyone, because there were plenty of people we didn’t think their writing was quite ready yet - mentoring is an intensive prospect, and one for which we won’t get paid up front and might possibly never get paid, and while this all looks wonderful from the outside please do remember that we’re running a business - one that I’ve been working my ass off on for more than four months and have yet to earn enough to draw a single paycheck. So inviting everyone was never in the cards. And on the other hand, if we chose to give invites to no one, that would mean potentially having some people that caught our eye “slip through the cracks.” What if they got too discouraged to reapply? What if we missed the chance to work with them, after they’d impressed us?

To use an analogy - we saw something in everyone who applied, but in some it was “this is an uncut diamond, and we aren’t in the position to take it from raw to finished,” and in others it was, “this is a diamond with a crack, or a flaw, or a rough spot...and we think if we put in the work, we can get it to perfection.” And our verdict on the uncut diamonds isn’t, “this is uncut and it will never be cut,” it’s, “all of these diamonds have spent years honing themselves and working hard to strive for flawlessness, and but some are clearly farther along that journey than others. Once these uncut diamonds have shaped more of their rough edges themselves, we hope they’ll come back when they are ALSO only one flaw from perfection, and work with us then!”

There was no way for us to win, and there was also no fair way to distribute invites based solely on the raw scores, or even based solely on standardized scores, because some of the scores were sometimes not reflective our actual opinions of the writing. For example - if someone wrote a grammatically perfect story, with a compelling use of language, but the plot and characters were inaccessible to us because it required fandom knowledge we didn’t have, that might have scored very poorly, but we have every reason to think that if they’d chosen a different work that was more accessible they’d have done much better. Or, as another example - if someone’s writing was really sloppy, because of a lack of editing or possibly because English isn’t their native language - but they have a skill for creating characters, or setting a scene, or had excellent pacing - then again, they could have ended up with a score that didn’t reflect the actual potential that we saw in their work - using our judgement and expertise.

So, flat out - yes, there are inequalities in how the Discord invites were distributed to the 62 people who didn’t make the cut for either anthology. And yes, we agonized over whether to give them out at all. And no, I won’t swear that we always made the right choices - we were going by the one story submitted to us, and we had to use our best judgement based on what we were presented - what each applicant chose to submit. In the end, we invited the people who - regardless of their score - we personally thought were the closest to being sellable - in the sense of, “probably only missing one piece that would help with to get them from ‘didn’t make it’ to ‘now we’re talking.” And I truly, truly wish that we could have everyone. But if we spend all our time mentoring people, then we won’t have time for doing any of the other aspects of this business. We are not a writing school. We are a book publisher. This ISN’T just fandom, and I DO have to think about what is sellable and what isn’t, because in the end...I’m trying to make money, and pay my staff, and give our authors the highest royalties possible, and, and, and.

As a further note on this topic? We are still issuing new Discord invites, based on e-mail conversations we’re having with people. Several people who didn’t initially get those invites? Have now gotten them. It just depends on how people are responding to us, and the conversations we’re having, and lots of other factors.

And, as I tried to say in the post I put up earlier today about notifications: even the people who didn’t get invites have potential. Every single writer who applied has potential. All of you, even if you struggled with multiple areas, had some aspect in which you shined. In a perfect world, we would help you all. But this isn’t a perfect world, and I don’t have the hours in the day to bring up the people who aren’t already close, and I’m sorry about that. So, please, please - if you didn’t make it, don’t be discouraged, and don’t give up. You’re the only one who can tell your stories - if you don’t do it, no one else will. Find fandom friends who will give you honest critique. Learn to read your own writing with a critical eye. Track down stories that really speak to you, and read them like a writer - to see how the original writer put them together, and deliberately emulate what you thought worked. There are many, many ways to improve writing craft, and if ya’ll want to be published, either with us or with anyone, we strongly encourage you to examine whichever ones appeal to you and work for you.

There’s isn’t a single person who applied who couldn’t, one day, be published by Duck Prints Press.

We were never going to make everyone happy, however much we hate making people sad.

We did our best to make as many people as possible happy, while also doing what we feel to be best for Duck Prints Press.

If we hurt you - we’re sorry. We said in the application process that we’d be giving honest feedback, and we’ve never made a secret of the fact that this is a business and our goal is to publish books that sell - nor did we pretend that we’d be able to take more than 20, but we were so impressed by the quality of what we received that we did everything we could think of to open the doors to more folks, while still maintaining the core integrity of our business model. That means we have to narrow the pool; we can’t just take everyone, especially now, when we’re so small and new. Our desire to take as many people as possible is why anyone who wasn’t in the top 20 got an invite, and why we planned an entire second anthology on the fly, instead of no one below the top 20 getting anything except a rejection letter.

Now, as a final thing - it IS possible we made a mistake. We’ve spotted one big one already, and we’re working with that author to rectify the situation. If you truly believe we made a mistake, please e-mail us, and we can look into it. Our email is info @ duckprintspress dot com.

Sorry this got long - but I figured, if one person wondered this, others too, and as we have since day one - our goal is to be transparent, and so I thought it better to answer more thoroughly rather than less.

[sepublic]

So given how terrible the blight parents are I wonder how their parenting methods effected Emira and Edric given their care free and rebellious nature? I also find it worth noting that the twins don’t really seem to have many reservations about who they make friends with.

           Well, I’ve already tried my hand at analyzing those two. But if I had to guess…

           I think the implication is that Emira and Edric have each other. Amity is clearly defined as an incredibly lonely individual, and even when she had her best friend Willow back then, she couldn’t exactly confide in Willow about any grievances she had towards her parents. But Ed and Em? They’re literal twins and siblings. No matter what they go through, they go through together.

           Similarly, Emira and Edric just seem… Naturally more confident and sociable. Whether or not that’s just how they were born, or the result of slightly different upbringings, or otherwise; We can’t say for sure. But as you’ve suggested, I feel like part of the reason why the twins are such troublemakers (beyond them already having a penchant for that kind of thing), is because they’re defying their parents in their own way? Edric himself says he’s allergic to the rules; These two have no reservations about appearing ‘proper’.

          Them being a lot more sociable also means that they’ve likely interacted with others more and thus have a better view of how people actually act, or at least should. Likewise, they definitely lived underneath a strict household; Maybe not TOO strict at first, but enough that these two would’ve grown to dislikes rules and authority as a result!

           Then again… We never DO see Ed and Em talk to anyone outside of their family besides Luz, who they already know has a connection to Amity for various reasons. But regardless, I wouldn’t be surprised if the twins have the confidence to be more openly defiant against what their parents say because they have one another as support, just have more self-esteem like that, and interact with other people more. Even if Luz is the only ‘outsider’ we see them going out of their way to interact with, these two kids obviously are still rebels in their own right.

           We also know that the twins are VERY talented- They skip class, but otherwise their grades can’t be argued with. Emira and Edric apparently have the highest scores on the exam; Or at least scores so high that Amity feels the need to compete with them. Given how Amity knows about Ed and Em’s class-skipping, but still regards their scores as valid, this would suggest that the twins are INDEED pretty skilled, and naturals at it. They don’t have much to worry about because everything they do, they ace through without effort! I have to wonder if Ed and Em are like Eda, in that they both enjoy their curriculum but hate the stifling environment, hence why all three are talented in magic but hate the rules. But given how Edric laughs about the idea of him and Emira being interested in school, probably not.

           Now what’s interesting is that in Amity’s diary, she mentions how her parents apparently just let Ed and Em get away with things, and claims that she knows they aren’t perfect. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ed and Em being naturally talented and skilled, and thus having a guaranteed successful future, is why their parents are allegedly more lenient with them; To Mr. and Mrs. Blight, Emira and Edric are their popular kids who do things effortlessly and with grace! There’s nothing to worry about too much…

           But Amity? I suspect that there may be pressure on her… That her parents are disappointed that Amity didn’t immediately prove to be the child prodigy that her siblings were. As a result, Amity’s parents feel the need to put extra pressure on her, to make sure she maintains the family name. But not only that…

           Some more speculation, but I have to wonder if despite their good skills, Emira and Edric still manage to annoy their parents for precisely the above-mentioned reasons, and know it? Perhaps when Mr. and Mrs. Blight raised them first, they didn’t expect the twins to become so rebellious and defiant; Potentially because they had one another as support. And with the twins being confident able to see through the pressure that their parents put on them, Mr. and Mrs. Blight have essentially ‘given up’, labelling their first-born children a lost cause…

           …While focusing pressure on Amity; Amity, the new kid who’s supposed to make up for the flaws of her older siblings. Amity, who isn’t too old to mold into the perfect, ideal Blight now that her parents know how they’ve ‘messed up’ with the twins. So it’s possible that Emira and Edric are considered too old to reshape into the ideal children that Mr. and Mrs. Blight want, so they’ve focused all their efforts on Amity; Who is much more vulnerable, younger, and naturally less confident. They keep a close eye on Amity and control everything about her life, because they don’t want to end up like her siblings; Who, while they ARE talented (and this somewhat compensates for their ‘mistakes’), they’re still not ideal.

           So instead of bothering to discipline Emira and Edric, their parents have more or less just ignored them in favor of Amity. And, I have to wonder if Amity is also at least somewhat aware of this, given how she knows that Ed and Em seemingly don’t get in trouble with their parents, and are just naturally more defiant against the rules like that. I can see Amity’s parents encouraging her not to be like her troublemaking siblings; Or Amity just naturally competes with Ed and Em for her parents’ affection anyway. Only, her parents aren’t truly fond of the twins… Just ignoring them at this point, or passing them off as ‘sufficient’ for their grades and popularity in school.

           I also have to wonder if Ed and Em turned out better because there wasn’t as much pressure back then; Their parents expected them to grow up super-obedient at the time, and didn’t foresee the twins being such troublemakers. Perhaps this privilege of not having to live as strictly led to Emira and Edric embracing a troublemaking lifestyle, and by the time their parents noticed; It was too late! They had grown to be rebellious kids and adding more rules wasn’t going to change things. So, may as well leave them to their fate and focus on the one kid they CAN change…

           And as I mentioned in that previous analysis, I think Ed and Em are at least somewhat aware of the effect that their parents have on Amity, and that’s why they want her to loosen up; There is little doubt in my mind that they were also abused. Possibly not as much as Amity, but still- The effects of their parents’ teachings are still there. Emira and Edric believe in ‘tough love’, that one has to do harsh punishments for the ones they love, and I can see them also acting out of selfish retribution for being told on. Similarly, they’ve also had their fair share of just general meanness towards Amity for the sake of entertainment; I can’t completely gloss over that. This lack of self-reflection may be a result of Emira and Edric just naturally being privileged kids.

Of course, I’ll give the twins more slack given that they seem genuinely concerned with how Amity pushes others away- I’m not sure if they know why Amity broke ties off with Willow. Either way, they’re looking out for her… and I wonder if that’s part of why they like Luz so much; They see her immediately try to make a friend with Amity so unconditionally, and they’re like, “Perfect! The perfect friend to get Mittens to lighten up, a natural troublemaker who can teach her that there’s more to life than rules!” And of course, Ed and Em interact with Luz themselves and see first-hand how lovable she is, and grow to unconditionally like her as well!

TL;DR I think Emira and Edric manage to compensate for their perceived ‘flaws’ by being naturally-confident, talented people; Them having one another likely helps with this. Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Blight still see how their first-born kids are delinquents with no respect for authority… It may be due to privilege since their parents never bothered to enforce many rules, or because they DID impose them. Regardless, when Amity rolls around, the parents basically give up on the twins, and focus all their effort on molding Amity in particular while she’s still ‘young and fresh’, and making sure not to make the same ‘mistakes’ that they made in letting the twins be their own individuals.

           And, this gives mixed messages to Amity; To be better than her siblings, but also being punished by her parents for not being as good as them when it comes to grades and other things like that. Ed and Em are aware of the effect their parents are having on Mittens (they’ve experienced it firsthand), but they’re not self-aware enough to realize that they’vealso internalized some toxic teachings as well, and have also been pretty harsh and mean to Amity with their pranks. They mean well, it’s just that Emira and Edric underestimate or don’t think fully on what their actions are doing; I’m fairly confident that the twins are also a major part in why Amity is the person she is now.

But, we know after Covention that they actually apologize to Amity and try to make things up to her. It’s possible that they’re also doing this to keep Amity from getting them in trouble with their parents (see my previous analysis), but genuine love is there nonetheless, alongside some growth, maturity, and self-reflection. It’s also why they like Luz so much; Not only is she just neat to the twins, but they know that she’s the perfect person for helping Amity unlearn the toxic abuse from their parents.

           (What I’m saying is, Emira and Edric TOTALLY ship Lumity, and it may have been their intention from the start.)

[babyeijra]

Socially Anxious INFJ Introvert

January 22, 2021

Okay, so it’s been a while since I last made an entry in this blog

I feel like I had to write something about what happened today because I wanted to get over something that I know will bug me if I don’t vent it or say anything about it.

I have always known that I have social phobia. Even without being clinically tested or what do you call it, psychological testing or diagnosis from a professional(?), I know I have social anxiety. I just don’t know what degree, but I know it’s there. Since elementary and high school, I was a quiet kid. I never speak unless spoken to, I don’t even interact with relatives, cousins, or strangers I just met. I have always been like that. I was afraid to be called in class, I get mental blocks when I get called even when I know the answer (this really happened), that’s why I don't participate in class recitations, and activities (unless forced). If I get called, my mind blanks, my heart pounds so hard, and I could feel the blood rush through my whole body and to my brain. Then if I stutter, I feel like I don’t know what I was saying, l feel like I’m being laughed at secretly and I would think of it hours, even days after what happened. And I learned that by writing it and reading more about my condition, and reading from other people’s (with social anxiety) experiences, that’s when I could get past one mistake or move on from my shame. When I read that there are others just like me and have experienced what I went through or going through, is only when I could move on from ONE mistake. But then, until when am I going to be like this? I honestly thought I got passed this social anxiety. That what I had was just acute social phobia, nothing too serious, that I will not experience anxiety to my adulthood, that I could now proceed of dreaming to be a lawyer since I passed high school, college, and now a CPA working in the government. I got passed a lot of interviews when I was just trying to find work as a fresh graduate. I thought, maybe nervousness during interviews, or presentations is just normal?

But now that I think about it, I had always needed days, even weeks of preparation and practice to get passed simple interviews. I had always had sleepless nights thinking of the days of interview. In high school I had always needed to study 5 times, even 10 times harder just so I wouldn’t get left behind, because I lack class participation. I always though I was stupid or stupidest person in class, I had always envied my classmates who can get through being called and being made to stand to answer and yet giving the wrong answer, because they seem like they were answering a question like it’s nothing, being called to stand is nothing, reporting in front of class is nothing, speaking and interacting with others is nothing. But for me, it’s not a simple “nothing”. I would think about it, I would remember my embarrassment when I stutter, or get mental blocks and gave the wrong answer, I would remember the judging stares (my mind probably had created).

I could recount, even today, how my high school English teacher, embarrassed me had called me to answer the last question, in front of everyone. The previous questions I had mentally answered and got them all right, after they were discussed or when my classmates had got it also right after they were called to answer. It was coincidental or I don’t know, that the last question was given to me. I had already made up my mind on the answer to the last question before being called. But when I was called, I don’t know what happened. My mind went black, and every symptoms of a social anxious person (from what I read from others’ experiences), I had really felt. I missed to give the right answer which I had already made up before. It just went away, I tried many times and I still had given a different answer, During that time, I really forgot what I answered in my head.  Didn’t I say, I went blank? And so this teacher made it worse by saying,  “If you got the highest score in the exam, you have to prove it, otherwise I would think you cheated” (nonverbatim). Okay now that I think about it, was she allowed to say that to a student? (I want to know the answer to this). I felt embarrassed then, but no one can deny the fact, that I did get the highest score on her exam. I really studied hard (like five times hard) and I listened well in class in high school and not because I wanted to compete with others, but I really had an interest to learn, and I also thought I was stupid and might fail (because of my lack of participation) that’s why I had to recoup by studying. I had the lowest self confidence and self esteem then. It was the lowest of the low. Surprisingly, actually, I graduated high school as salutatorian, and I dreaded it. I never wanted to be salutatorian. I never want to make a speech in front of many people, on the stage in an open space, at the University Quadrangle. I thought, maybe I’ll just get the “1st honorable mention” (3rd in the batch) or even 5th place, because I knew, what would pull me down (even though I sometimes or often times get the highest scores in exams and quizzes; Math, Science, Physics, and others included. Okay maybe except Filipino) was my lack of participation.

But yeah. Surprised? I was the salutatorian? Although it made me proud after I learned this from our class adviser (also our trigonometry teacher), but the next second I felt was, dread. “Oh shoot! I had to make a speech. I had to speak in front of everyone!”. Did you know, I even cried inside the Teacher’s room, in front of all the teachers, when we, I and another classmate who was the valedictorian, was asked to rehearse our speech in front of them? I was so nervous, I was crying while I was trying to speak (and the tears were not happy tears). I was so nervous that it made me cry. Can you imagine that? And you know what, the teachers actually thought? That I was crying because of happy tears, but I said to them, it’s because, “Gina kulbaan ako”(I’m really nervous). I should tell you, that when I said “crying”, I was spasm-sobbing (you know that sound you make when you cry, you get breathing spasms or hiccups) and had runny nose. I was a mess inside that teacher’s room. When I got out, my valedictorian classmate asked, “Ngaa nag hibi ka?” (Why did you cry). Yup, this happened. I need not relay to you what happened during the graduation. It would take up the time. Oh yeah!, I tried to think of ways to skip delivering the Salutatory Speech, like searching “how to get colds” so my voice will get coarse. I guess I would say, I never want to experience that (Salutatory Speech) again! And I had more also experiences in college. Like when we had to stand in front of the Audio Visual Room. And recite a (I think it was a long poem or verse). I was able to memorize it, but when I got in front. Well, you guessed it. I panicked and had a mental block. *sigh*

Wow, I actually made a long entry about my high school experiences as a Socially Anxious INFJ Introvert. I haven’t even gotten work experience yet. Huh!

I guess I need to let everyone first know the struggle of being a Socially Anxious Introvert from childhood experience POV, or what one feels like when speaking in front of everyone. So please, don’t judge this entry. What happened today, during our online Legal research class was, we had an oral exam about a hearing observation we had of a case. It was the easiest question by our Professor (who is a MCTC Judge) I think out of everyone’s. But I wasn’t prepared for the easiest question. I prepared for different questions and not the one she asked. So yeah, I blanked, stuttered and I guess and most probably flunked. Now you may be asking. Why did I enter Law School if I have a Social Anxiety? If you really read everything above, you’ll get the answer.

PS, I used at least 2 and a half hours of writing this entry. I have final exams next week. But I know I really couldn’t concentrate if all I think about was what happened 3 hours ago. I wanted to move on from a mistake and embarrassment. I really feel like and did sound stupid answering that SIMPLE question.

Now, what do you think? Should I give up Law School? Or try and conquer my fears in Law School? Do I even have a chance? Do you think I’m being brave? or being stupid for taking up Law but can’t even speak properly.

Any answer from anonymous person will be appreciated. Even if it’s a discouraging answer. I should accept the truth, whatever truths there would be. When I said, “don’t judge” I don’t mean it. Judge all you want really. It is the fact of the world. We even do it unconsciously.

PSS (is there such?), I have found a site (just now, while looking for pictures) that also talks about dealing with Social Anxiety in Law School (http://www.thelegalduchess.com/2018/08/dealing-with-social-anxiety-in-law.html). So I guess I’m not the only one. (by Sam Smith lol, unrelated content but still a good song). 

Will take time to read it. But, I need to study after this entry. (ugh! 😖The horror, I have a lot to cover for the finals and I have wasted so much time). I feel a lot better after writing this. So I guess it was not wasted time after all.

PPS: 12:17 am more than 4 hrs since my bad recit. I still can't concentrate. I have now been watching youtube about moving on from bad recits. I still cringe everytime I remember it, quite often. That's why I dont think I can remember what I read. Also, I'm writing this because I remember something. Studying harder is now 10 times harder to do in law school, especially if you are a full time, full load, working student. I couldn't prepare well for the next class, and I couldn't prepare for all possible questions as a Socially Anxious INFJ Introvert (which means all questions my mind could think of, because like I said, there'd be no time). And what makes it more embarrassing and humiliating, I have a classmate who is also a coworker (she's in a different work group) and her husband is also my coworker in the same work group.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #45: Mata Hari

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re building the living embodiment of clickbait, Mata Hari! If this post ends up getting five times as many notes as normal, it’s okay, I understand. Mata Hari is another bard/rogue combination, this time mixing the college of glamour with a mastermind. She can help out in combat, but her strongest points are going deep undercover to learn an enemy’s secrets.

You can read the level-by-level breakdown below the cut, or check out the summary spreadsheet here.

Race and Background

Mata Hari is a Human(though like the Phantom, if you want to spice it up Siren is a good place to start), giving her +1 to all stats. Mata Hari is the textbook example of a Charlatan, giving her proficiency in Deception and Sleight of Hand, as well as the Disguise and Forgery kits. She also has a False Identity she can assume, complete with disguises and documentation. Furthermore, she can forge documents she has seen before.

Stats

Your highest stat is Charisma: you’re so good at charming people they literally can’t tell you’re an enemy unless they’re told so, that’s pretty charming. You’re also a dancer, which requires a lot of Dexterity (or it would if dnd stats made sense). Next is your Wisdom, a good spy needs to know when they’re being watched. Follow this with Intelligence, you’re not unusually smart, but we need to keep your physical scores as low as possible. Constitution is next, because we’re never going to dump that if at all possible. Finally, we’re dumping strength, because dex builds don’t need it.

Class Levels

1. Rogue 1: We’re starting the build as a rogue because they have the most proficiencies, and they’re ones you want. At first level, you become proficient in Dexterity and Intelligence saves, as well as Persuasion and Performance for obvious reasons, Stealth for even more obvious reasons, and Insight. You can’t string people along if you don’t know what they want.

First level rogues get Expertise in two skills, doubling their proficiency. Your Deception and Persuasion should be as strong as possible, so let’s start there. You probably won’t use your Sneak Attack that often, but it’s always there if you need some extra damage on a creature you have advantage over or an ally within 5′ of. Finally, your Thieves’ Cant lets you talk to other rogues without people catching on, assuming there are other rogues. Maybe you should coordinate with another party member.

2. Rogue 2: At second level you get your Cunning Action, letting you disengage, dash, or hide as a bonus action. Ideally the enemy won’t know you’re working against them, but a way to get out of danger without being turned into a shishkebab is always a good idea.

3. Rogue 3: At third level you become an official Mastermind, becoming a Master of Intrigue and a Master of Tactics. Master of Intrigue gives you proficiencies you already have, two languages, and the ability to mimic speech patterns and accents that you’ve heard for more than a minute. There isn’t a limit on how long you can copy an accent for, so that’s why Mata Hari started the game with a thick scottish accent, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s the only accent I know, shut up. As a Master of Tactics, you can Help as a bonus action, and it has a range of 30′.

4. Rogue 4: 30′ is some rookie numbers, and we can improve that by using our first ASI on the Tandem Tactician feat. This increases your helping range by 10′, and you can help two people at once if they’re targeting the same enemy. Toss in some thieves’ cant or a foreign language and you’ll be useful for your party no matter which side you appear to be on.

5. Bard 1: When you multiclass into bard, you  get one skill proficiency of your choice. Perception is a good choice-again, you need to know if anyone’s watching you before you do the whole “stealing state secrets” thing. You’re not making that mistake again.

First level bards have Spellcasting based on their charisma as well as Bardic Inspiration, a bunch of d6 you can throw at people to help them.

For spells, grab Friends, Unearthly Chorus, and Charm Person for extra charming action, Message because learning an enemy’s secrets doesn’t mean much if you can’t pass them off to your friends, Disguise Self to help you infiltrate no-humans-allowed areas, and Sleep for ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

6. Rogue 5: Your Uncanny Dodge lets you react to avoid half the damage of an attack. Getting hurt is bad, stop doing it.

7. Rogue 6: Your second round of Expertise boosts your Performance and Insight. You’re good at dancing, and stealing things from the saps watching you dance. Now you’re even better at doing both of those.

8. Rogue 7: Seventh level rogues gain Evasion, severely reducing the amount of damage you take from dexterity saving throw attacks. If you’re consorting with the enemy, some splash damage is going to hit you. Now it’ll hit you less!

9. Bard 2: You’re now a Jack of All Trades, adding half your proficiency to all nonproficient checks. You also learn how to sing a Song of Rest, adding a d6 to any healing your party does on short rests.

For your spell this level, grab Animal Friendship. Your charm might not hit most creatures, but it does work on Orion, so I’m counting it.

10. Rogue 8: Your next ASI is going to improve your Charisma for more charming and more Bard fun.

11. Bard 3: Speaking of Bard, here’s your last level in it. At third level you get Expertise in two more skills, pick Stealth and Sleight of Hand- you’re a spy, and those tend to help.

You also graduate from the College of Glamour at this level, giving you two more features. The Mantle of Inspiration lets you burn a bardic inspiration die as a bonus action to heal a couple people and let them move without causing attacks of opportunity. Is your wizard facing down a raging barbarian? Now they’re not.

You also learn to put on an Enthralling Performance, letting you charm a number of creatures once per short rest after you perform for a minute or more. They won’t fight for you unless they would anyway, but they’ll be good to you while they’re charmed.

Speaking of enthralling, Enthrall is your final bard spell. It causes any number of creatures within 60′ of you to make a wisdom save, and on a failure they have disadvantage against perceiving creatures who aren’t you. If you’re at the bar with your friends and your real friends show up, that could be a problem. This spell will keep everybody groovy for a while.

12. Rogue 9: You’re now an Insightful Manipulator, meaning if you chat up a creature for 1 minute outside of combat, you can learn two of the following characteristics: its Intelligence score, its Wisdom score, its Charisma score, or its class levels. You might also learn some of its history, and that last bit is the real goldmine here. You can’t be a fake manic pixie dream girl if you don’t know what hole in someone’s life you can pretend to fill.

13. Rogue 10: For this level’s ASI, you become a Linguist. This gives you a couple extra languages to pad out the number of countries you can pretend to be from, and more importantly lets you write down codes. Sometimes you need to talk to your party and you can’t get an opening for Message or Thieves’ Cant; this will help out.

14. Rogue 11: You now have Reliable Talent: any skill you’re proficient in will always have a roll of 10 or higher. This means your deception and persuasion rolls have a baseline of 24 that they’ll always be at or above, so your cover story is pretty much unbreakable.

15. Rogue 12: Max out your Charisma with this ASI for better lying, spells, and more inspiration.

16. Rogue 13: Thirteenth level masterminds learn Misdirection. If there’s an attack heading your way, and there’s a creature within 5′ of you between you and the attacker, you can react to make the attack hit them instead. This means if you play your cards right, your terrible AC is secretly someone else’s. Hang out around that guy in plate mail an get your party to send one attack your way each round, and he’ll be a pincushion in no time.

17. Rogue 14: You get Blindsense this level, letting you know the location of any creature within 10′ of you as long as you can hear. This isn’t particularly useful for this build, but you’re not one to turn down free things.

18. Rogue 15: You now have a Slippery Mind, giving you proficiency in Wisdom saves. Most of your stats aside from charisma aren’t great, so take what you can get.

19. Rogue 16: Use your last ASI to improve your Dexterity and Constitution. You aren’t using these that often, but if you go to stab the big bad in the back an miss, it would be really awkward.

20. Rogue 17: For your capstone level, you gain a Soul of Deceit. Your mind can’t be read unless you will it, and you can’t be magically compelled to tell the truth either. Falling into a zone of truth mid-job is a rookie mistake, one you won’t be making.

Pros: You’re an expert manipulator, knowing exactly what buttons to push to trick people into doing what you want. Moreover, you don’t have to worry about a fight breaking out, because your entire fighting style is letting someone else take care of it. Some advice here, a shove there, and soon enough you’re the only one still standing.

Cons: Your entire not-fighting style means you won’t get to use your sneak attack, and 9d6 damage per turn is a lot to just ignore. Skimping on bard levels leaves you with very little magic each day, and not getting the Font of Inspiration especially hurts. Finally, some games simply won’t work for you. Being a master of seduction doesn’t help when you’re fighting automatons. Also, like 90% of the evil groups in D&D are slavers; you probably don’t want to try and cozy up to them. Even when there’s an enemy army you can worm your way into, you might be forcing your DM to run two games at once, which they won’t appreciate. 

Next up: We’re finishing off the assassins with someone we’ve already built twice. Kind of.

[everlarkficexchange]

Fortune Favors the Brave

Written by: @ambpersand

For Prompt 46: Pacific Rim inspired AU with drift compatible Everlark (or not if you’re inspired by angst). I really just want to see more of that aspect of Pacific Rim explored than what they did in the movie and what better way to do it than with Everlark! [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Rated T. 

———————————————————–

Gale was supposed to be my drift partner. My co-pilot in the giant, nuclear-powered Jaeger that we’ve dreamed of controlling together since we were kids. We promised each other that’s how it would work out once we graduated from the academy. There wasn’t any other option. How couldn’t we get a match? 

Dropping my head into my hands, I let out a long groan. When that doesn’t help, I pull my hands forward, dragging them across my face until I can dig the tips of my fingers into my eyes.

We’re practically the same person. Raised from birth in the same town, in houses next to each other, we are mirrored versions of the same personality. Long lost siblings, our mom’s joked to each other. Especially since I looked more like Gale and his siblings than I did with my own sister, Prim. 

We both hate mushrooms and would rather eat cold leftovers for breakfast than cook eggs or eat the cardboard-flavored cereal they served in the mess hall. We’re light sleepers and early risers. Our tempers flare up at the same time, from the same triggers. We have the same sense of humor and we like the same music. The same movies. Food. Everything. I can tell what he’s about to say before the words can make it to his lips, and he can do the same for me. We’re one in the same. 

How could we not be drift compatible? 

“So who did you match with?” he asks, his voice rough from beside me on the bench outside the testing center. We just got our compatibility test results back, ranked from highest to lowest. I didn’t even bother to see who else was on my list–I just searched out Gale’s name first. Anything above a 95% was considered almost a perfect match. It was rare, but it happened. 90% was good, but the Jaeger Program would accept pilots at 85% or higher. The closer the match, the better the drift.

My score with Gale? 62%. 

We spent six months in the Jaeger Program together, being beaten down by the instructors and memorizing every bit of information we could about the Jaegers and the Kaiju that we would eventually face. Every night we sparred for hours, relentless in our determination. We saw our classmates get cut. Drop out. Abandon their dreams of being a pilot because it was too hard. Too much, they claimed while they packed up their stuff from the barracks. They settled for being technicians or strategists, even though we all knew it wasn’t the same. But we made it. We graduated together, we got our pilot pins together. We did this together. All of it. 

All for a measly 62%. 

“I don’t know,” I finally find the words to answer him. The match results are sitting by my feet, crumbled into a ball from my frustration. Reaching down to grab it, I smooth out the wrinkles and hand it to him. Right now, I don’t really care to look. 

“Oh,” the sound that comes out of his throat sounds more like a laugh than anything else, and I shoot him a confused look. He’s laughing? Right now? 

“Lucky you.” 

His shoulders are shaking with restrained laughter, and horror dawns in my stomach, crawling up my throat until it feels like I might stop breathing entirely. Whatever is on that paper, it must be bad. 

I snatch the results back from him in a quick move, but my hands are shaking as my eyes track across the printed words. Please don’t be him… Please don’t be him… 

Shit. 

I can feel the color drain from my face. My usually tan complexion is probably ashen white, and my lips feel numb. It takes every ounce of energy I have to force myself to swallow. To keep breathing. To not throw up my lunch on to the sidewalk in front of our other classmates who are currently celebrating their test results. 

I didn’t just get a good match. I got the highest match possible with the worst person I’ve ever met. 

Peeta Mellark. 98%. 

———————————————————–

He’s waiting for me when I get back to my bunk. I should have known he would. Maybe I did, and that’s why I’ve got my fists clenched in anger before I even round the corner to the hallway where my room is located. It’s been burning inside of me all day, flaming up every time I think about Peeta Mellark and my stupid, pointless test scores. 

The only sound in the hall are the soles of my boots slapping against the concrete floor, but he doesn’t look up at my approach. Of course he doesn’t, I think, grinding my teeth together. He’s so wrapped up in himself he probably doesn’t ever recognize anyone else is around him. His eyes are locked on his phone, his straight white teeth digging in to his lower lip while he reads whatever is on the screen. 

“Everdeen,” he greets me with a grin when I’m only a few feet away. Or rather, he says. Greeting me would be an overstatement, considering it takes him several extra seconds to drag his eyes away from his phone and up to my face after he speaks. “You’re a hard woman to nail down.” 

I’ve avoided coming back all day, and the sun set hours ago. Just like I got my test results this afternoon, any available and eligible pilots would have received their matches today as well. The Jaeger Program is constantly scanning for better drift matches. It’s done almost weekly, with every new crop of graduates and every new addition to the pilot database. It doesn’t matter if you’re already matched if a new, better match comes along. As far as the head of the program, Plutarch Heavensbee, is concerned, the stronger the connection, the better you fight. And a well equipped Jaeger fleet is only as strong as the pilots controlling the machines. 

Peeta Mellark and I just skyrocketed to the top of the program with our 98% match. 

It’s too bad, though, that he’s absolutely insufferable. 

“You’re in my way,” I give him a pointed look, ignoring the giddy smile that’s still stretched across his face. He’s leaning against the threshold to my room, blocking me from being able to reach the door handle. 

“What? No apology for making me wait?” he teases, either oblivious to my sour mood or completely uncaring. With him, it could go either way. 

“Nope,” I shake my head and shove my hand between his back and the door, grabbing the knob. In one swift move I wrap my hand around the metal and push it forward, smiling when he stumbles back a little. 

“Easy now… That’s no way to treat your new partner, is it? Wouldn’t want me falling and cracking my head open.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad to me,” I muse, dropping my bag on the small desk next to my bed. A small kernel of guilt nestles deep into my chest. I don’t like being mean. I really don’t. But he has a way of bringing out the worst in me, and it seems like everything he does or says is my own personal brand of torture. 

Ignoring my retort, he pulls out my desk chair and drops his body down into it. He dwarfs the entire thing, built with stocky muscle and broad shoulders. He’s not that tall, but he’s tall enough that he takes up too much space in my cramped room.

“Are you really telling me you’re not excited about our match?” 

“Yes, actually. That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” I grit my teeth and try not to look at him. I don’t know why he feels the need to invade my space, now, either. Unfortunately, I know what will happen if I try to kick him out. Absolutely nothing, because Peeta Mellark does what Peeta Mellark wants. So instead I sit down on my mattress, as far as I can get from him, and begin unlacing my boots. 

“Katniss, this is huge,” the incredulity in his voice is hard to miss. “No one ever gets a 98.” 

“It must have been a mistake,” we both know it wasn’t, but I’m still going to hold out hope. The test is never wrong, and it’s not about to start messing up compatibility matches now. 

Peeta huffs out a sigh, and when I glance up at him he’s staring straight at me. Was that noise to get my attention? His blue eyes are sparkling with what looks like happiness, and my mouth turns sour. It’s just another reminder of how different we are. He’s like a giant golden retriever, but so much more loud and brash and in your face. Never not joking around, strutting through the base like he’s so special. Like nothing can touch him. He’s happy. 

“Come on, you know you want to give me a chance. Give us a chance,” he lifts his ashy blond eyebrows in expectation, and I can’t stop the snort that slips out. 

“I really don’t,” my words are honest, and I see the moment they hit him. His eyes dim a little and his mouth twitches down slightly, but as soon as the frown appears it’s gone again. Expertly smoothed away and masked by that signature confidence he’s known so well for. Or cockiness, if we’re all being honest. 

There’s no doubt that Peeta Mellark is the best Jaeger pilot in the country. Even I can’t deny that fact, as much as I don’t like him. His hit counts are legendary, and he’s never missed a drop. Even through the training exercises and demonstrations he gave to the academy students, my class included, it’s clear that he knows what he’s doing. 

The only problem? He can’t keep a drift partner to save his life. 

“Katniss,” he says my name again, his tone pulling the syllables into a little melody. I hate it, and I don’t try to hide my glare at him. “You won’t even spar with me?” 

“No,” shaking my head, I sit back up and push my boots off one at a time. When my feet are finally free, I can’t help but wiggle my toes in relief. The standard issue uniform is uncomfortable at best, and the leather of my shoes are still stiff after months of wear. 

“Not even once?” 

“Not even once,” I stand and move toward the door. I can’t take having him in here any longer. It’s making my skin crawl, and I want to scrub my nails across my arms until I feel like myself again. “Now please leave. I have things I need to do.” 

Surprisingly, he listens. It’s a first, and I struggle to cover my shock at his sudden compliance.

“Fine, but I’ll be back,” he promises me with a wink. 

When he struts out of my bunk, I finally let out the breath I’ve been holding in my lungs. It’s the most I’ve ever spoken to him in one sitting, and the only time we’ve ever been alone…. And I’m not looking forward to when it happens again.

———————————————————–

That night, I can’t sleep. I toss and I turn so many times that it feels like my skin is starting to chafe from the friction against the rough, standard-issue barrack sheets. Every time I close my eyes, I see that damn list. Then, I see Peeta’s grinning face, and I get frustrated all over again. It goes on and on for hours, no matter how many times I try to direct my mind elsewhere or to focus on something else. I can’t. 

How could I match with him? Of all people? 

We couldn’t be any more different, and I don’t understand. I would have bet my entire life savings that I would have been matched compatible with Gale. It made sense. This? This doesn’t make one lick of sense and I don’t know how to begin processing it. 

The worst part is that once you’re a pilot, you can’t deny your drift partner. If you’re matched, you’re matched. You don’t get to be picky, and the only way to get a different partner is to find a better match. It’s either that or drop out of the program entirely. Which is not an option. Then again, neither is finding a new match. The likelihood of finding anyone above a 98% is impossible. Even Gale’s highest match was an 89%. Some people don’t even find eligible matches after graduating from the pilot’s program, and to have such a high result on my first shot? It’s likely that I’ll be stuck with him forever, or until one of us inevitably dies. 

Even though I tried to deny the test results earlier when Peeta was in my room, I can’t. Over the last few years, they’ve refined the process until it’s virtually flawless. It’s never been wrong before, and it won’t be wrong now. It would be stupid to try and believe otherwise. The tests look at every possible aspect of your personality, analyzing and categorizing you until you’re just a series of traits. There are thousands that it ranks you on, taking into consideration the tiniest of details and adding them up into one profile that gets added to the compatibility database. 

Your memories. Your experiences. Good and bad, it looks at everything. No stone is left unturned. It reviews your temperament, your fighting techniques, your natural dispositions and your best skills. The test itself takes an entire week to complete, and it spans from memory puzzles to written essays to physical sparring matches. It even takes into consideration references from the academy, and how you interact with other pilots. Simulated Jaeger drops complete the test, but at that point it’s just a formality. 

I know I’m good. Gale and I both are, and we graduated at the top of our class. Even our instructor, Haymitch Abernathy, couldn’t disagree. We had the highest simulation kill rates in the last five years. Which, coincidentally, was when Peeta Mellark graduated from the program. 

It’s the only thing we have in common. 

Everything else, we’re polar opposites. I wouldn’t consider myself petite, but I’m small enough. Him? He’s easily 10 inches taller than me, with stocky muscles and a body made for brute force. I’m lithe and quick on my feet, trained from a young age when Gale and I used to have to hunt for food to feed our families. After both of our dads died during a Kaiju attack on the coast, the two of us had to step up and fill the gap.

Peeta? He grew up in a happy home. Or at least, it sure as hell looks happy. It was normal at the very least, as everyone knows when his parents give tearful interviews on TV about him and how wonderful it is to have a son that’s out fighting for the safety of the world. As if there’s no one else out doing the same thing, and the entire Jaeger program is resting on his shoulders. 

Ugh, I roll my eyes in the dark of my room. 

I’m confident, yeah, but I’m not cocky like he is. I would never go around bragging about my drop/kill rates the way that he does. Or boasting every time he loses a partner that it’s “for the best, because he’s the best.” If my memory serves me, he’s never had a drift partner last longer than a year, and he’s gone through six since graduating from the academy. They’ve never been higher than a 90% match, either. 

Not that I was paying attention. 

With a heavy sigh, I twist my body around in the thin blanket until I’m laying on my back again, then push myself into a sitting position. There’s no sense in trying to pretend I’m going to fall back asleep. If it hasn’t happened yet, it wont, and I need to do something with the restless energy that’s coursing through my limbs. 

With ease, I get dressed in the dark, pulling a pair of clean shorts and a t-shirt from my dresser. That’s something else they taught us, back at the beginning of the program. Get dressed fast, because there’s no time to waste if a Kaiju crosses the breach at 2 AM. 

Shooting off a quick text to Gale, I pull on my running shoes and lock the door to my room as I head toward the gym. Even though there’s still an hour or so before dawn, he’ll likely be up soon. I can get in a few miles on the treadmill, and then practice sparring techniques until he shows up and we can do our regular workout together. 

Pulling a deep breath into my chest, I try to settle my raging nerves and focus on what changes I want to make to my workout routine today, instead of the impending drift training with Peeta Mellark. 

———————————————————–

He only gives me three days of space before tracking me down again. I’ll give him credit for lasting longer than I would have bet, because I expected to find him camped outside of my room on more than one occasion. 

Then again, I have been avoiding him, so maybe I didn’t make it easy. 

Gale immediately jumped into training with his new partner, Thom, which has left me with more free time than I’ve had since enlisting in the academy. Training with your new partner means spending almost every available moment with them. Eating meals together, exercising, sparring practice… Anything to give you insight into who they are and what it’s going to be like when you get hooked up for your first drift. Everything I’m not doing with Peeta.

Even though the pilot academy had us doing weekly drop simulations, the Jaeger Program keeps the drift technology under lock and key. Only certified pilots are cleared to drift, and from all the stories in our history books… It’s dangerous. Not as much as it used to be, but dangerous enough that only certain types of people are cut out for it. 

People like me and Peeta, apparently. 

Back before they refined the technology that enabled two minds to link up into one massive machine, the Jaeger Program lost a lot of pilots. Some to brain aneurysms and strokes, because the neural load was too much, and others to madness. They learned pretty early on that it’s too much for one brain to handle on their own, but you can’t just throw two people into the drift together and expect it to be okay. When you link up with a drift partner, you see everything about them. The things that make them who they are, the events that shaped them into the person strapped in to the Jaeger beside you, facing down death and destruction. It feels like you’re there with them. It feels like you are them. You see the innermost workings of their minds, and see what they are thinking before the thoughts can translate into words. In the drift, you take a little bit of themselves into your mind, and they do the same in return. 

So if it’s not a good match? You’ll never be the same. 

I can’t imagine what Peeta’s mind looks like after six partners. I’m sure it will be utter chaos as soon as we link up, and I can only theorize on the types of things I’ll see. Flashes of his memories, definitely. Probably some from his childhood, and others during the academy. Not only does he have a reputation as a cocky pilot, but he’s a playboy to boot. I’ll see him sleeping with half the female population on the base. At the thought, I shudder. It’s a worse reality than knowing I’ll see what it’s like to face a Kaiju in the middle of the ocean. 

That, I can handle. I’ve studied the pictures and the videos. I know that they bleed toxic blue sludge and scream at ultrasonic frequencies that will burst windows and fry electronics. They’re big and brutal and deadly. I’ve spent years learning about them, starting in school when they added the first attacks to our history books. After my dad’s death, I grew up with a desire for vengeance burning in my chest to finish as many of them as I can. I’ll die in a Jaeger, if it means I can protect another child from having to experience the same grief and trauma I did. 

Hearing about Peeta Mellark’s sexual escapades are one thing. Seeing them and feeling them as if I’m him? It’s enough to make my stomach churn. The overwhelming nausea only increases when I realize the reality of the situation…. If I have to see all of Peeta’s dirty little secrets, he’s going to see mine too. 

Oh god. He’ll see the awkward kiss that Gale and I shared in the woods. When his lips were so cold from the morning frost they felt like ice cubes against my own, and I laughed through my nose at how strange and wrong it felt. He will see the day that my mom sat me down and told me that my dad was dead, and that his body was never recovered so we couldn’t even have a burial. He’ll know the sharp stomach pains that I felt when I realized my mom was too depressed to go grocery shopping, and that I would have to do something about it if we wanted to survive. 

He’ll know the nights that I laid awake in the too-small room I shared with my sister, listening to the steady whispers of her breathing while I wondered what it would be like to survive. To succeed.  

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t even see him when he comes into the gym. Or when he leans against the wall, watching me as I finish out my three mile run. My eyes are straight ahead, burning holes into the wall while I think about all the ways my life is about to get turned upside down. 

It was always supposed to be Gale. 

“Wow,” Peeta’s voice jolts me out of my reverie, and my left foot catches on the belt of the treadmill. My feet stumble a little but I right myself quickly, sucking in a deep breath and slapping the emergency stop on the machine. My heart feels like it might burst through my ribcage and out of my chest completely, but I cover my surprise with a hard scowl in his direction. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone frown so hard before. I’m almost afraid to ask what you’re thinking.”

“Then don’t,” snatching my water bottle from the holder, I step off the treadmill and move toward the door, but his words stop me. 

“It’s just a matter of time before I see it for myself, anyway.”

I can’t stop the flash of anger that makes me turn on my heel and march right up to him, crowding his body against the wall. I’m small, yes, but I’ve got more anger than he does.

He steps back a little, pressing his body into the wall, but looks down at me with an amused expression, like he’s waiting. Waiting for what? To see what I do next?

“Leave me alone,” I demand. 

“I have,” he shrugs, completely unbothered. “I gave you three days. It’s time you get your head out of the sand so we can start training.”

“I’m not training with you,” I spit back, crossing my arms over my chest. It’s still heaving with exertion from my run, and I’m fairly sweaty, but I don’t care. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were dropping out of the program. My apologies,” the smirk that stretches across his face is so smug that I have to refrain from throwing my water bottle across the room. 

He’s got me backed into a corner, and there’s nothing I can do. I either train with him, or I drop out. I knew what the stakes were when I enrolled in the pilot program, I just didn’t realize I’d get screwed so hard. 

“Not today,” I shake my head and move to leave. I need more time. 

“Then when?” he laughs, following me.

“I don’t know.” 

I only make it halfway to the door before his large hand wraps around my wrist, halting my steps. 

“That’s not good enough, and we both know it,” when he speaks, his voice is low and rough. 

“Let me go,” I yank at my wrist, but he doesn’t give. 

“No,” he replies, and when I turn my head to glare at him, his eyes are sparkling. 

“You know, I heard a lot about you from Plutarch. And Haymitch. They said you were good.”

I don’t understand why he’s telling me this, and I try to back up a step but he pulls me closer instead. 

“But I didn’t take you for a quitter.” 

His words hit me like a punch to the chest, and the water bottle in my opposite hand drops to the floor with a clatter. 

“You–” I start, snarling the words as I rear back to punch him. But he’s too quick, catching my fist with his other hand, as easily as he might catch a ball during a game of toss. 

“There she is,” he laughs a little, watching me as I struggle. He’s too strong, and with my hands locked in his palms, I’m almost helpless. Almost. 

Continuing to pull with my upper body, I wait a moment until it looks like he’s distracted by holding me still. His arms are big, yeah, and roped with muscle…. But his center of gravity is a lot higher than mine. 

Dropping low, I sweep my leg out, catching his ankle with my foot and knocking him down to the ground. He lets out a grunt, releasing my hands to catch his fall, but I’m too slow to scramble away. My limbs are already feeling heavy from my brutal run, and he takes advantage of my slower pace by yanking me down on top of him.

It turns into a scuffle almost immediately. When I go to roll off of his body and on to the floor so I can get back up, he locks his leg around my waist and twists his torso. I know what he’s doing–he’s trying to get me pinned. It’s the same move I typically use on Gale, and it’s not exactly in the sparring rulebook. Unfortunately for Peeta, I know how to get out of it easier than he does. 

With a quick shift of my weight, I pull my leg up and press my knee against his chest, using the leverage to push him up and off with a heavy grunt. Just because he’s bigger doesn’t mean he’s going to get the upper hand. For all his strength and power, I’ve got speed and flexibility. The force of my shin on his abdomen causes him to let out a rough groan, but I don’t get anywhere that fast. He latches his arms around me and rolls backward, taking my body on top of his.

His biceps are like iron grips around my torso, and we pause at the same moment, breathing heavy and in sync. 

“You’re a little spitfire, aren’t you?” he doesn’t sound mad that we’re wrestling around on the floor like a couple of children. He sounds amused. 

“Screw you,” I hiss between clenched teeth, bucking his hold. Or at least, trying to. I don’t get far, but I manage to loosen his hold enough to get one arm out and press it against his throat. 

“Let me go,” I demand.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he wheezes, trying to suck in air while I press down hard on his windpipe. In a flash, I’m back on the floor, my back hitting the polished concrete with a dull thud. The only thing keeping me from smacking my head against the floor is the strain of my neck, keeping it upright while I struggle to get my footing. His weight is pressing me down and he moves into a hold position, swinging his legs around to the side and pressing down on the tops of my thighs with one heavy knee. 

“No,” I know if I can twist myself around to my stomach, I can leverage myself up and back. The move will push him off me, and I’ll have all the power. If I wasn’t afraid of getting a citation and being put on bathroom cleaning duty, I’d throw in a headbutt to disorient him. 

And to give him a bloody nose. 

Pushing my arms out, I loosen his hold just enough to make room so I can turn around underneath him. It’s stunted by the fact that he’s pressing his entire weight down on top of me, and I pull a shoulder muscle in the process, but I get there. 

“Not so fast,” he manages to catch on to my maneuver and shifts his body the rest of the way on top of mine, pressing me down completely flat. 

Shit. He’s easily got a hundred pounds on me, and I can’t move. I’m plastered to the floor, sweaty and exhausted, and I can’t even lift my hips by an inch. When I try, I suck in a deep breath to hide the gasp that rises up my throat–Peeta’s hips are pressed into my backside, and I can feel everything. He’s not hard, but the outline of his penis is obvious enough through the thin material of our workout clothes. 

“Let me go,” I grunt the words out again, trying my hardest to get out from underneath him. I barely move an inch, and he laughs. 

“Is this what you’ve been running from? You don’t want to spar with someone who’s on your level?” 

“You’re not on my level,” I try, but it comes out weak. We’re evenly matched, as much as I don’t want to admit it. If we weren’t, we wouldn’t be wrestling around on the dirty gym floor. We’re highly skilled, trained fighters. One of us should have won the match immediately. 

“I am and we both know it. Hawthorne, on the other hand…” he trails off, musing to himself like he’s not practically laying on top of me. 

“Don’t talk about Gale,” I snap, shoving my shoulder back. It bumps him in the head, but he only tightens his hold. 

“Why not? Your precious boyfriend isn’t that good. I’ve seen the way you whip his ass every time you guys spar. It’s not even a contest,” he says the word contest like it’s an insult, what Gale and I do. And sure, maybe I am a better fighter than Gale, but that doesn’t mean he’s bad. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I don’t know why I feel the sudden urge to clarify that to him, and I regret the words as soon as they fall from my lips. Peeta must be processing the words, and in his moment of confusion, I know what I have to do. I have to do what he least expects, because that’s the only thing that can take him by surprise. It’s the only thing that would take either of us by surprise, and it’s the one thing that we’re hardwired to never do. 

I give up. 

I go completely limp underneath him, letting the air rush out of my lungs on a heavy sigh. My arms go slack and my legs stop twisting, and I feel my heated skin melt into the hard floor beneath my body. 

“What the–” Peeta’s sudden confusion isn’t lost on me. It’s the first time I’ve given up a fight since enrolling in the academy. 

“That’s it? You’re giving up?” 

“Please let me up,” I try for a nice tone, but it’s ruined by the fact that I’m grinding my teeth together. I’m sure I’ll have a hell of a headache to show for it, but I just want him off of me. 

“Promise me you’ll come to training, then.” 

“Fine,” I sigh after a moment of hard silence. I’ll get a summons if I don’t, anyway. 

With a slight huff, Peeta rolls off of me and extends his hand. Shooting him a hard look, I press my palms on to the floor and push myself up, ignoring the offer. 

“Plutarch wants to push up our training schedule. He wants to get us in the drift immediately.” his words stop me in my tracks.

“What?” taking a step back from him, I look around. There are only a few people in the gym at this hour, and they’re all avoiding looking at us. Probably because we just made a huge scene, and they’re just waiting for us to leave so they can all start to gossip. 

“We aren’t supposed to drift until after we train together. To see if we work,” I shake my head, like I might be able to dislodge the outrageous statement he just told me. It’s too soon–we need time first. 

“Maybe for the others. But we’re a higher match than anyone else in the program, and I’m the best ranked pilot in the entire country. There’s no sense in wasting time.” 

“God, you’re cocky,” reaching down to pick up my discarded water bottle from the floor nearby, I shake my head. 

“Yeah, well, get used to it. I’m yours now. And you’re mine.” 

This time, he doesn’t wait for my response. He walks away, sauntering through the gym and out the double doors before I can pick my jaw up off the ground. 

———————————————————–

I’ve got another new reason to add to my list of why I can’t drift with Peeta Mellark, and it’s because as soon as we connect, he’s going to see the effect he had on me. That when he walked out of the gym two days ago, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his body felt on top of mine, and how, for once, his swagger was enough to make me feel a little weak. 

And I think I might be sick because of it. My stomach is rolling, and acid is burning at the back of my throat as I walk through the Shatterdome. It’s total chaos in here, with Rangers and Jaeger technicians running from machine to machine. Right now, there are four massive Jaegers stationed inside, ready and waiting. 

And one of them belongs to Peeta Mellark. 

There aren’t that many pilots in the program. In total, it’s a little over 15, now counting me and Gale. It’s a ranked system, with the best and most established pilots getting their own Jaegers. Gale and I would have been at the bottom of the list, too, as new graduates. I suppose he still is, but I’ve managed to cheat the system somehow, even if it wasn’t intended. 

Two of the Jaegers are dedicated to pilot teams, including the one that I’ll be joining Peeta in today. It’s a big hulking thing, with a nuclear reactor nestled in the chest and cannons attached to each arm. It’s an older model, a Mark V, but it’s strong and sturdy. The second one is manned by Finnick Odair and Johanna Mason, and as a team they’re both about as ruthless as they come. They’re cunning and fast, and the Mark VI machine is made for speed. Aside from Peeta, they’re the best in the country. They’ve been at it longer than he has too, by several years and a few extra kills.

The other two are kept as backups, and when the Breach Alarm sounds, they’ll be filled with whoever is stationed on base and the most qualified. It’s a last line of defense, and if Peeta or Finnick and Johanna do their jobs right, they won’t need to be deployed. 

I guess that means me too, now.

“You ready?” my old instructor, Haymitch Abernathy, comes limping toward me as I’m stuck staring up at the massive machines. I’ve seen them in person before, and it’s never short of breathtaking. The pure power is undeniable, and if I were the type to cry… Well, it’s a good thing I don’t wear mascara. 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

Haymitch used to be a pilot, back when the Mark II machines were considered state of the art. But after his partner died in combat and he was left to pilot the Jaeger back to safety with a crippled leg, he’s never stepped foot back inside one. Now he’s just a gruff instructor who likes to give me shit. 

“Why are you here, anyway?” I ask him when we step into the elevator that will take us up to the loading platform. The drift tech is nestled deep inside each Jaeger, and the best way to drift with your partner is inside the machine you’ll be piloting. 

“To make sure you didn’t kill him before getting into that machine,” Haymitch flashes me a wry smile, and heat creeps up the back of my neck. 

“That obvious?” 

“I had a feeling from the first day you stepped foot into my classroom.” 

The choked noise that erupts from my throat makes him chuckle, and my mouth drops open as I sputter for words. 

“Don’t get yourself all worked up about it now,” he shakes his head, cutting off whatever denial I was about to come up with. “It was just a hunch. Gale’s a good guy, but…”

“But?” I shake my head, waiting for his answer. The elevator doors open to the loading platform, but I’m not going anywhere until he gives me some sort of explanation. 

“You’re fire. And so is Gale. And you know what happens when you burn too hot? You either explode or you extinguish yourself entirely.” 

He walks right past me, limping along like there’s nothing ridiculous about what he just said. I follow before the doors can close and separate us and catch back up in a few swift steps. 

“Your partner is supposed to be someone who’s just like you. Who can anticipate your thoughts before you can even finish thinking them. Who knows you, inside and out.” 

“You learn who your partner is through the drift, Katniss. Not beforehand. And your partner isn’t supposed to be just like you. Your partner is supposed to be there to compliment you. To make up for your weaknesses with their strengths. And so you can do the same for them.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” I try to argue, but he shakes his head and stops me with a hand on my shoulder. 

“Get your head out of your ass. I know I taught you better than that.” 

He leaves me behind again, making his way toward the control room without a look back. The technicians behind the control desk will be monitoring our drift. They won’t be able to see everything that we do, but they’ll be able to watch how our bodies react. They’ll see our vitals as they spike and drop, as we rush through a lifetime’s worth of memories in just a few seconds. 

“Katniss Everdeen?” a tall woman pokes her head out from a door nearby, catching my attention. “We’re ready for you.” 

Behind that door is where I’ll get suited up with a specially designed set of full body armor, made exactly to my measurements. Casted out of lightweight carbon fiber, it’s rigged with the latest and greatest technology to keep me safe. To keep my brain connected with Peeta’s, and our bodies connected to the Jaeger. 

With a deep breath, I summon what little bravery I can find and walk through the door. Once inside, I come to a full halt. Luckily, Peeta isn’t in here, but it seems like half of the Shatterdome is. It’s packed full of people, bustling around like mad. A smaller man comes rushing from a door to the left with a helmet tucked in his hands, while another begins detaching hoses from the armor that’s hanging against the far wall. Hydraulic fluid. I recognize the color, and I wonder why they’re doing a full service on the drift suit since this is just a trial run. It’s a bigger deal than the simulations we go through, but it’s not like they’re preparing for a drop. 

“What’s the deal?” I manage to catch one of the armor technicians as he passes by, wrapping my fingers around his upper arm. 

“The suits always have to be ready to go. Just in case,” he shrugs out of my hold and continues on his way, hurrying toward the control desk. 

“Are you ready?” the same woman who pulled me from the hall takes a long look down my body. “You’re going to need to undress down to your underwear, please.” 

In here? I think, my eyes darting around at all the people, but before I can argue she purses her lips. 

“Come on, we don’t have all day. You better get used to it if you want to be a pilot.” 

Shit. With a sigh, I reach down to untie my boots, kicking them off one at a time, before following with my pants. As soon as my shirt has been pulled over my head, another tech comes and sweeps away my pile of clothes. I guess that’s that. I try to resist the urge to cover my stomach with my arms, and press my shoulders back instead. This is it.

“Okay, let’s get you ready to drift, pilot,” her face warms a little when she smiles, and I soak in the title. 

Pilot. 

It takes three technicians to get me dressed in my armor, but I’m surprised once it’s all on. It’s lighter than I expected, and I can move around freely in a way that I didn’t think would be possible. 

“Ranger Mellark is ready to go, Captain,” the same tech that collected my clothes comes by again, this time wearing a headset. 

“Copy, tell them we’re headed to the loading platform,” the woman beside me answers, straightening to her full height and resting a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go.” 

As we walk out of the room, I catch sight of her nametag. It’s situated on her left breast above a stack of medals and commendation pins. 

Paylor. 

“Any parting words of wisdom?” I ask when we approach the loading dock and she stops at a wide yellow line on the floor. Past that line is the interior chamber of the Jaeger, where my co-pilot is waiting for me. Where everything is about to change. Everything I’ve been waiting for has led to this moment. Everything I’ve worked for, hoped for, and dreamed about. 

My palms are beginning to sweat, and I pull in a shaky breath. With a smile, Paylor pushes me forward. “Good luck.” 

Peeta is waiting for me in the main chamber, with his back to the door. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, shaking out his arms and stretching his neck as he gets ready to step into the mechanisms that lock our bodies into the Jaeger. There are two techs ready and waiting to help us step into the controls, but he turns to me before they even catch that I’ve entered the room. 

“Katniss,” he smiles, and a strange warm sensation floods my system. 

“Peeta,” I nod, unwilling and unable to muster a smile. The warm sensation morphs into something else, rolling over my stomach like ocean waves against a buoy. Don’t get sick. Don’t get sick. 

“Did Haymitch have to drag you here, kicking and screaming?” he asks, even though his face is lit up like a little kid on Christmas Day. He might be giving me shit but he’s completely alive right now, in his element and ready to drift. 

“Is it that unlikely that I would show up on my own?” I avert my eyes forward and step into place, locking my feet into the metal stirrups that control the lower half of the machine. 

“Yes,” his answer is blunt, and he follows my movements. As soon as we’re locked in, the armor technicians come around and pull our helmets over our heads, securing them into place. 

“How many summons did you get?” his next question is louder in my ear because of the comm system in the helmets, and I wince at the sudden noise. 

“Just one.” 

There’s no sense in trying to lie. He’ll see for himself soon enough. 

“Ready?” he asks, giving his technician a thumbs up. I repeat the action with my own and nod, even though he’s looking straight forward. 

“I guess so,” the words barely make it out of my mouth before the countdown begins, crackling through the earpiece speaker. 

“Drift initiating in five… four… three… two…” 

Peeta interrupts the countdown in a low whisper. “See you on the other side, Everdeen.” 

“One.” 

With a jolt of electricity, my body seizes up. It’s like being struck by lightning, but instead of my vision going black, it’s pure white. Flashing images and noise flood my system, and I can’t make out a word of it. I can’t hear anything through the sudden chaos, but I feel the gasp as it rushes into my lungs. As soon as I manage another breath, the images start to get sharper, morphing into recognizable scenes. 

A little blond boy, being hugged by his father. Peeta. Then he’s laughing and running through an empty yard with two older boys who look a lot like him. Brothers?

It flashes again, changing suddenly. He’s cowering in the corner, clutching his arm. It looks odd and bent at a weird angle, and he’s trying to shield his body away. There’s screaming, but I can’t make out any of the sounds, until a woman comes at him with a large wooden rolling pin. 

Don’t chase the rabbit, don’t chase the rabbit. I try to resist the pull… if you pay attention to the memories too much, you could get stuck in them. 

“You’ll never be as good as them. Your brothers have always been better than you. I don’t even know why you keep wasting your time,” the same woman is looking at Peeta now, but he’s older. Almost an adult. And he’s got a book in his hands… about Jaegers? “I need to at least try,” he tells her, but she laughs at him instead. 

I shake my head, but it doesn’t dislodge the memories. I have a sinking feeling that the woman I’m seeing is his mother. From my recollection of the television interviews, it looks a lot like her… This version is just younger and less grey. 

“Peeta Mellark!” he’s greeted by sudden applause at the academy graduation ceremony, and he’s decked out in his dress uniform. His satisfaction is hollow though, and empty when he looks out across the crowd and doesn’t see any familiar faces. 

A sudden flash of lightning and a force rocks me back on my heels. No, it’s the memory. He’s locked into the Jaeger, stepping back into position with his partner. The Kaiju has swept it’s tail round, knocking the side of the machine with brute force. It’s trying to take them down into the ocean. To drown them– “No!” both Peeta and his copilot shout at the same time, fighting back as one. “Get ready!” he shouts, pulling forward the controls. They’ve got one shot left in the cannon, and if they don’t hit the beast right in the middle of it’s bulky body… Thousands of people will die. Easily. 

The floor stabilizes, and the images blur again. “Your partner has been reassigned,” Plutarch Heavensbee rests a hand on his shoulder, apologetic at the news. “Again?” Peeta can’t help but sigh, and the rejection stings like a knife in his stomach. I can feel it, and my hands clutch at my abdomen, even though there’s nothing there. “The right match will come up one day, just wait. You’re too good to go solo,” Plutarch tries to joke, but Peeta can’t even muster a smile. 

Damn, she’s good. The voice in my head is now Peeta’s, but I see… myself? 

He’s watching me spar with Gale, I realize. We’re wrestling on the floor of the academy training center, and my hair is pulled back in a tight braid. I remember this day… It’s the day he came to speak to our class about what it was like to fight off a 2500 pound Category 3 Kaiju. “She’s pulling her punches for him,” Peeta whispers to the man next to him. Haymitch? “I know,” he responds. “But you can’t tell her that.” “She’s not going to get any better if you keep babying her.” “You think I’m babying her?” Haymitch laughs, but Peeta’s eyes go back to me. I’m grappling with my legs wrapped around Gale’s torso, my elbow driving in to the back of his neck. “God, she’s magnificent.” 

The last words fade, and I realize he didn’t speak them out loud. He’s thinking them right now. I suck in a breath, but the vision falters to a final scene. 

“Oh god,” the words are more of a moan than anything else, and Peeta laughs deep in his chest. “Be quiet,” he shushes her. “Before someone hears you.” He’s trailing kisses over a woman’s neck, but I can’t see her face, They’re locked in a dark closet somewhere, cramped between shelves, but that doesn’t stop them. He’s grinding his hips into hers, and her legs are latched around her waist while she writhes against him. When his lips find the spot on her neck that makes her clench, he laughs again. 

“Katniss,” I hear him speak, but I’m too focused. I can’t look away, even though there isn’t much to see. I can feel everything. His desperation. His desire. All of it. Buried deep underneath the haze of lust, though, is something else. Something smaller and harder to pinpoint. It feels dull and achy, like a scar that didn’t quite heal right. 

“Come on,” I hear him murmur into her ear. “You love it, don’t you?” “I do,” she cries, raking her nails down the back of his neck. I can feel the warmth flooding my system like I’m right there with him. Like I’m her, whoever she is, and I shudder in a ragged breath. It’s so good, and it seems so close–

“Katniss!” Peeta shouts into my earpiece, and I suck in a breath like I’m breaking the surface of the ocean. It feels like I’ve been drowning, and as soon as my eyes pop open, I realize that I must have closed them. I’m out of the haze of his memories, back in the middle of the Jaeger with him. In person. Not a memory. 

“You chased the rabbit,” he chides, and the heat that floods my face is second only to the raging fire between my legs. “See anything good?” he laughs, but I know that he knows. 

Now that I’m not submerged in 25 years worth of his memories, I know what he saw of mine. Prim following me around when we were just kids, when she still carried around the stuffed yellow bear that was her favorite. The day my dad died, and when Gale and I started hunting together. The promises we made. My first day at the academy, when I thought I might faint at the sight of a jar of Kaiju blood on my instructor’s desk. When I got the news that Peeta was my partner, and the strange heat I felt after we sparred in the gym. 

“Drift successful. Pilots, you are now linked,” the technician’s voice filters through the earpiece, tinny from the control room transmission. 

“Well, well, well,” I hear Peeta say, but when I look at him, there’s more written on his face. It’s clear as day, but it takes me a minute… no, the emotions that I’m sensing aren’t on his face at all. They’re in his head, and so am I. 

The worst thing isn’t that he knows that I’m turned on by what I saw. It’s that he’s turned on by me, too, and now we both know it. 

[andimlonely]

You Shine

BNHA; Denki Kaminari x f!reader | With finals approaching, your diligence is cranked up to the highest setting, but after rarely seeing you outside of class for a few days, Denki has to step in before you run yourself into the ground.

✿♦ Fluff and angst 

A/N: I was struggling with this one for awhile but I think I like how it turned out in the end. Listening to this: https://youtu.be/AGtKpeY6UqI really helped to inspire me, because it captures the feeling of the angsty moments well. Really, a lot of the angst I write will probably pair well with that song if it’s not super heavy. I hope you enjoy this one, and maybe even find some comfort in it if you can relate! 

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

“Heya, (y/n),” greets Kaminari as he strolls into your room casually, as he always does, clad in a black tank and grey track pants.

You lift your head and glance over your shoulder at him from your desk, noticing the dampness of his forehead and hair, “Hey, Denki. What’s up?”

“Nothin’ much. Kiri and I just got back from the gym. Can ya tell?”

It takes one glance at your blond friend’s silly pose, an attempt to flex all the muscle he purported to have, for you to chuckle, “Yeah, I can tell.”

He chuckles along with you, retorting that maybe he isn’t all muscular yet but he’ll get there, and dropping down onto your baby blue beanbag chair - and probably widening the small but worrisome ripped seam that you have yet to sew back up. 

While he makes himself comfortable, you continue to tap at your keyboard, then pause to read, then tap away again, a monotonous cycle that threatens to lull him into a boredom-induced nap. By now Denki is used to the sight, having learned of your diligence before he even got to know you personally. In fact, it was due to Aizawa’s praise towards the students with perfect scores on the first exam that he reached out to you in the first place. With Yaoyorozu overbooked for studying sessions, it was between you and Midoriya, and while he had nothing against his freckled classmate, he wasn’t going to choose him as a tutor when there was someone cute and just as capable available. 

But despite how accustomed he is to seeing you hunched over your desk, he’s no less dismayed. 

“Don’t tell me you’re still studying,” he groans, his head tossed back against the beanbag. 

The rhetorical nature of the question has you playfully rolling your eyes. “Should I even answer that? Besides, have you even started studying? Finals are next week.”

“It’s Monday! This week just started and you’re already worrying about the next one?”

He really won’t let this go. Exasperated, you drop your pen and swivel around so you can plead him to let you study.

“Denki,” you whine, “We’ve been over this. Cramming at the last minute isn’t a good idea, didn’t you learn that after the last math test?”

He cringes at the mention, raising his hands defensively, “Alright, alright. I’ll let you study, but you’re still playing games with us later. I’m not gonna let you ditch me for some homework.”

“Fine,” you sigh with exaggerated reluctance. Secretly, as exhausted by Denki’s refusal to let you work in peace you are, you’re endeared by how persistently he tries to give you a break. Taking a little time to go get food with your best friend, or watch a movie, or anything really, sounds especially fun right now. Almost fun enough to loosen your tight study schedule, almost.

It’s not as if you want to study, or that it’s some kind of recreational activity for you. Flicking endlessly through pages, straining your eyes scanning line upon line of text, and scrawling numbers and letters that become progressively less neat in your notebook are all pretty dreadful to you. But the prospect of being handed back an assignment marked with anything less than 90% possesses your body to keep at it. The weight of maintaining such a strict regimen might strain your shoulders, but the weight of failing or underperforming threatens to crush you. And as much as you want to let it every now and then, you sweep the idea aside by burying your nose into your work. 

With a reminder that you have a few hours until you have to report to Jirou’s room for some gaming, Kaminari dismisses his still mildly sweaty self for a much needed shower. 

----

You spent that night huddled between Jirou and Denki for a couple hours, immersed in the almost evenly matched brawling of Smash Ultimate and the tumultuous rollercoaster of a game that is Mario Kart, among other games. It felt nice to indulge in something fun for awhile, even more so surrounded by your friends, but before it went on for too long you excused yourself back to your room for the night. 

That was the last time Denki and Jirou had seen you outside of class not hunched over a book or your computer, or training furiously at the gym. Needless to say, your absence from the group activities, and spaces outside your room in general - besides meals - quickly grew worrisome. 

“Dude, I haven’t seen (y/n) out here like all week,” Kaminari frowns, “I get it’s finals almost, but she’s kinda pushing it, don’t you think?”

Jirou, after taking a drink from her water bottle, sits on the adjacent sofa. “Definitely. I tried dragging her out earlier but she was asleep at her desk.” 

“Damn, dude. All she does is homework and study. I’m getting kinda worried about her.”

You might be what Denki considers an overachiever, but he’s never seen you this determined, except maybe during practical exams and of course during the many villain encounters the class has endured. But as for school work, you’re never this obsessed.

“We should try talking to her or something,” Jirou suggests, sharing in the blond’s concern for you.

“She’s so stubborn though. I tell her to take it easy all the time, she just won’t have it.”

“That’s not what I meant. Of course she’s not gonna listen if you tell her to take a break. I meant ask her why she’s so stressed in the first place. Maybe something else is bothering her.”

For some reason, the idea that something besides compulsion and maybe a little masochism is fueling your tireless work hadn’t occurred to him before. 

Denki crosses his arms, “Ya think?”

It makes sense as he considers the idea. But what could be so compelling to keep you chained to your desk everyday? He isn’t sure, but he aims to find out.

----

You barely hear the knocking over the audio playing in your earbuds, the explanation of a scientific concept you find too abstract put on hold as you answer the door.

“Denki. You knocked,” you say, eyebrows hovering far above your eyes.

Your eyes. You look so tired. Denki is struck by the darkness encircling your usually bright (e/c) irises, now swimming with tired determination.

“I know,” he replies, his hand stroking the back of his head as he steps into your room, “I dunno why.”

The curtains are loose, completely shielding your room from any light that could spill in from the night sky, though it could surely use some; your table lamp is the only source of light in the dimly lit room. In the dark he can still make out the clothes and few other items littering the floor around you, probably accumulating from all the time you sank into your studies this week.

“I assume you’re here to tell me I need a break, but I already took one. I watched youtube for an hour or so,” you inform him, a tired smile on your lips.

His smile is weak, and you notice it. “Not bad.”

He’s too quiet. 

“What’s wrong?”

A nervous chuckle falls from his lips, “Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Then.. Why are you so quiet?”

The only times Denki ever acted this strange were after brushes with villains, and that time he was feeling insecure about his critical thinking on the field, so you know better than to believe nothing is bothering him. 

“Ah.. guess I’m just tired. Aren’t you?”

“A little,” you confess, your fingers tugging at the hem of your t-shirt. “But I can’t stop now. I’ve gotten a lot done, but I still have lots to finish.”

“Dude,” your friend whines, and you sigh, already ready to protest his insistence that you’re pushing yourself too far. “I know you don’t wanna hear this, (y/n), but you really need to take a break. We haven’t even seen you out of your room since the other day, except for dinner.” 

“Denki, I don’t have time for this..”

“I’m serious, (y/n). We’re getting worried about you. Not even just me and Jirou, but the others too.”

“Worried? I’m fine.” 

Even you don’t sound so sure, your stare locked on anything that isn’t Denki. 

He drags a hand down his face, groaning once again. Maybe his pestering is annoying, but enough is enough. He would rather risk you hating him for a little while than let you run yourself into the ground like you’ve been. 

“(y/n), look. I get you’re driven and all, but it’s okay to take a break, you know?,”

“No, Denki, it’s not okay! It’s not chill, or cool, or fine! I have to pass - no, I have to ace these tests!” 

Your outburst has him taken aback, and he places a hand on your shoulder, eyes like honey saturated with sincerity.

“Hey, hey. (y/n). They’re just tests, relax.” 

“Relax”..? The word alone has you flying into a fit of rage. How could he possibly expect you to just relax, as if it’s easy, as if you can erase the glaring red numbers that flash through your mind any time your hands aren’t busy. As if the imaginary anvil hanging over your head will just disappear if you pretend it isn’t there. As if you can even dig yourself out of the mounds of paper you’re swimming in in the first place. 

“They’re not, though! Why aren’t you getting that?! Maybe you don’t feel an urgency to do well, but I do, why is that wrong?”

Denki has never seen you this distressed before, and he only grows more alarmed by the way your eyes grow glassier every time you speak. 

“It’s not wrong, (y/n).. But obsessing about it like this is. It’s not like you’re anywhere close to failing your classes, so why is this freaking you out so much?”

“Because it’s the only thing I have! If I don’t do well academically then --” 

Before the rest can escape, you cut yourself off, halting the flood of words that threaten to break through your lips. Your wrap your arms around yourself, your fingers pressing firmly into your arms.

But Denki can’t forget what you’ve said. He has to know. Why are you so desperate to prepare for these finals?

Rather than try to make you look him in the eye, he steps into your line of sight again, urging you to finish your thought. 

“Then what..?” 

Half of your face is illuminated by the glow of your lamp and computer, a gleaming droplet rolling down the slope of your cheek. Your breaths stutter faintly. The silence feels thick, so gripping in the absence of your raised voice from just moments ago. The room’s energy might have diminished but the weight of your emotion clings to the air.

“T-then I.. don’t stand out at all,” you murmur, all the defensiveness from before drained from your voice.

‘(y/n)...’

His hand is raised as if reaching weakly out to you, but you turn your back to him.

“What are you talking about?..” 

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

“My quirk isn’t really exciting, and my field work is fine but it’s not outstanding.. If I can’t ace every test, then there’s nothing exceptional about me at all. I’m just.. mediocre without my academics.” 

And you struggle to even stand out then. Yaoyorozu, Iida, Deku.. even Bakugou. All of them are just as, maybe even more, focused on their grades and just as often share in your tendency to receive high marks. It’s not as if you want them to fail; you even admire their intelligence and diligence, but sometimes, sometimes it seems so unfair. They already have such amazing quirks, make such an impression whether they’re participating in something controlled like the Sports Festival or finding creative ways to elude villains. They already seem like heroes. Why can’t you have just one moment to feel that capable, even if your moment is confined to the classroom?

“(y/n).. Hey, that’s not true. You’ve got it all wrong. There’s tons of stuff about you that stands out.”

By now your shoulders are shaking, every drop of frustration and exhaustion you locked away to be able to focus on your studies over the week seeping out of you at once. 

“Like what, that I’m the least interesting student in the class?” 

Denki’s chest stirs with a guilt-like feeling. How could you think this way? How could all this fear and insecurity you’ve been carrying have slipped past him? Quirk aside, he isn’t the brightest, but he thought he at least knew you well enough to notice when something is wrong.

He moves in front of you, and seeing you have your head lowered, he crouches before you so his face is in sight.

“No. Like how great you are at thinking on your feet. And how much you trust other people, instead of just taking the reigns every time you’re working with them. And all the creative ways you use your quirk. I’d never be able to think up stuff like that if I were you. Hell, I couldn’t even think of a way around the obstacles of my quirk without some help.”

“But.. what if my quirk just isn’t special enough?..”

“Hey. I get it. Sometimes it can feel like the rest of us fade into the background when you look at people like Bakugou or Todoroki. They seem like they’re lightyears away from us sometimes, and it can be kind of a downer. But just look at all the times relying on their quirk wasn’t even enough.”

“Yeah.. I guess so.”

He continues.

“I mean, yeah, quirks are pretty important, and powerful ones get all the attention. But if the only thing you have going for you is your quirk, I dunno, I doubt you’re gonna get very far. Don’t you think? I mean maybe if I was as smart as you I’d have a lot more brain cells left after using my quirk for a long period of time,” he jokes, tender smile deepening when you crack a laugh of your own.

“I guess I’m trying to say.. Your quirk is just as cool as anyone else’s, but it only is because you made it that way. You don’t have to ace every test to stand out, because you already shine without that. But it’s not like you even have to try that hard to do well, right? So just.. Keep being you.”

“I.. shine?”

“Even without your quirk, or your good grades,” he nods, rising to his feet, “You’re already awesome without all that.”

Without warning, your arms are wrapped tightly around him, your face buried into his shoulder, dampening his shirt somewhat as the tears you were suppressing flow free - not that he cares. You could blow your nose with this shirt and he wouldn’t mind if it meant he got to feel you like this. With the arm not trapped in your embrace, he squeezes you closer.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” you mumble into his shoulder.

“It’s okay. You’re kinda cute when you’re mad anyway,” he grins, half expecting you to shoot him a playful glare, but you stay nestled in the fabric of his t-shirt instead. “So you promise you’re gonna slow down?”

You can’t remember the last time you felt this calm. You don’t want to let him go, not any time soon. Despite how close you’ve become, you had never hugged Denki for this long, but now, as he sways you lightly right to left, you can’t imagine going long without it. 

“I’ll try,” you nod, face flushed as you come down from your emotional high, “Could we maybe.. watch a movie together? I’m tired of studying for tonight.”

“‘Course. I’ll get my laptop, it’s bigger.”

[totaldramafan-lauri]

Eurovision 2021 final thoughts

Well.....it’s over.

It feels great, but also kinda weird to be done with it. I mean, it took an extra year to get here! But I’d say it was worth the wait....

Holy CRAP this year was good. Oh my god, this was SO much fun to watch! The presentation, voting, and especially the songs were unbelievably strong! It made me so happy that my bad luck in the semifinals didn’t even let me down all that much, so that’s a good sign. XD

I haven’t shared this before, cuz I didn’t wanna be a downer, but.....there was a part of me that was worried. Even after listening to and loving the majority of the entries, I was still worried that, when the show started, there’d be some kind of big tell that....this wasn’t a “normal” Eurovision. Something that would bring my enjoyment of the show down to a level where....I-I’d only be able to say “at least it took place, but it wasn’t as strong as usual”. That small, pessimistic part of me that was so hurt by last year that it’d become cynical, and scared of getting hopes up.....but I hid it. I love this contest so much that....bringing down the mood for my fellow fans wouldn’t be cool at all.

And thankfully.....I came out of this with a big smile on my face like normal. I enjoyed this year just as much as previous years! In terms of the songs alone, I’d seriously call this one of my favorite years, probably just behind 2016 (my favorite year). The fact that I don’t just agree with the winner, but I LOVE the winner, was definitely the icing on the cake! But the presentation was also outstanding! It really feels like everything was put into this contest to make it as enjoyable as possible with the limitations they were given. The interval acts were great, especially getting to see so many of the winners again! The rooftop concerts in the final were a lot of fun. But, as good as everything in the final was.....When the first semifinal started, and I saw that there was a crowd, coupled with the song that Duncan sang, I legit thought I was gonna cry. That’s definitely gonna stick with me in the future when I think of the most memorable moments of watching Eurovision. I could seriously go on and on about how much I enjoyed watching this....so I will!

Oh god the voting. OH GOD THE VOTING. Tense as always, and I loved it! No clear favorite, the juries making decisions the televoters didn’t agree with, a plethora of different countries getting twelves, and an ending that proved my predictions wrong in the best way possible. It was the BEST way to end the contest, and a very good example of why I’m really loving having the jury vote and televote separated....cuz you never know what’ll happen until the very! Last! Moment!

Seriously, that moment of Finland’s televoting result making them in the lead for a brief period was AWESOME. And then it was Ukraine, and then it was Italy, and I was thinking “oh god slow down, my poor heart-” And yeah, there were SO many great songs and great performances that it really did feel like a close race! 

Even rewatching it was exhilarating! Rewatching it also made me appreciate things that I didn’t before (due to being, well....too caught up in the moment). Like, the wide range of music genres in the top five! I hope this inspires more diversity in future years! I mean, you got Italy bringing us rock (which, by the way, never dies), you got France bringing us a classic waltz, you got Switzerland bringing us a powerful modern ballad, you got Iceland bringing us disco, and you got Ukraine bringing us.....well, a friend of mine called it “folktronica”, and yeah, I don’t think there’s a word that describes them better. XD

Not only that, but there’s one more interesting thing about this top five! Can you guess what it is?

......

......Yeah, only one of them’s in English! Imagine that, entries that DON’T have to be in English to become big hits! Seriously, I’m American and even I know that having understandable lyrics is really more of a nice bonus in Eurovision. What’s most important is having a song that sounds good. And if a song sounds best in another language, you don’t have to translate it for the contest! (Especially if it results in obvious ESL that loses the song’s original meaning, but that thankfully hasn’t happened often) Don’t be afraid to send songs in your native language! I hope people learn from this...

(But then again, this has happened before.....In 2007, the winning song wasn’t in English, runner-up was in multiple languages and third place was also not in English, so....I’m probably putting too much emphasis on this, s-sorry >.<)

But enough about the top five, let’s look at the full results:

I’ll say it again.....this is my favorite winner since “Heroes”. I love the Italian entry, and I’m very happy that they proved me wrong. I didn’t think they could do it. Not only is it a rock song, which isn’t to everyone’s tastes....but it’s from Italy, who seemed to be cursed to never win even while sending fan-favorites year after year. Two second places (oneofwhichwasunserved*cough*2011*cough*butIdigress), one third place that also won the televote that year, and one very, very robbed sixth place. I thought this was gonna be another one of those cases where Italy get screwed somehow by other, more popular songs. But I still absolutely loved the song and rooted for it anyway, and......lo and behold, here we are. A rock song won Eurovision. A rock song in Italian. And it’s awesome, and I couldn’t be happier! To be specific, they were my fourth favorite in the final, but they were my favorite of the possible winners, so it still feels like the best case scenario! Woo!

Having the runner-up also from the Big Five is kinda surreal, since save for Italy they’re usually all underrated due to not having to pass through a semifinal (with exceptions like Germany 2018 and Spain 2012 and 2014). That’s a cool way of looking at this, since.....I’m sorry, but I never got the hype behind France’s song.....It was well-performed, but.....I just find it kinda boring, save for the ending. I-I feel bad that I couldn’t make myself love it, cuz I wanted to, but I just....couldn’t. I guess it’s a case of me being too stupid to get it, pffffff. But I don’t dislike it, so I’m fine with it being the runner-up.

Switzerland won the jury vote and achieved their highest placement since.....*looks it up*....1993, geez.....AKA, their highest placement since I started watching. XD This is FAR from my favorite entry of theirs, but I still like it fine and I’m happy to see Switzerland do well. It was a powerful song. And, unlike other jury-pleasers like the Austrian entry in 2018 and the Macedonian entry in 2019, they actually got a triple-digit score from the televote! They were loved all around! The same goes for France, so....that makes the most obvious “jury bait”, uh....Portugal, I guess. XD

Iceland came fourth, and.....can I just say how bad I feel for those guys? From having a potential win snatched from under them by last year’s cancellation, to one of them getting Covid the day before their semifinal, making them the only act that couldn’t perform live, it felt like Iceland couldn’t catch a break. But thankfully, due to their very strong rehearsals, they were able to rise above it and come fourth PURELY based on the strength of their song. Heck YEAH, what a beautiful ending to this story. They weren’t one of my personal favorites, but it was still a very cute song, and it DESERVES its placing just so much.

Ukraine’s song was one that only got better and better for me over time, and it was also the favorite song of a friend of mine, so seeing them in the top five makes me happy too! That’s a FUN song, and it’s near universally loved, so I wasn’t too surprised. I did guess that it had a chance at pulling off the win, but the competition was too strong. In a weaker year, they probably would’ve done it.

I’m really happy to say this next one: Finland came sixth! WOOOOOO! Their first top ten result since Lordi’s win and awwwww MAN do they deserve it. Such an awesome, intense song! It was my favorite song in the final, and I wasn’t alone! They brought the roof off the place, and for good dang reason! Seeing Finland do so well after being so underrated for so long.....it makes me very happy to see that happen. Especially with a song as amazing as “Dark Side”. It’s now a permanent part of my playlist, and I love it. <3 Empire of the freaks, all drinks on ME!

(I stand by the fact that Finland should just keep sending rock songs to Eurovision. They’re clearly very good at making those)

Now, Malta coming seventh.....hmmm....I have some problems with this? I mean, pre-contest favorites not doing as well as predicted HAS happened before (oh, hello 2017), but that doesn’t mean I’m not a little surprised? I really do think they deserved to do a bit better.....I thought that was a top five-worthy song and performance.....I’m happy with the top five we got, but I didn’t think Iceland and Ukraine would place over Malta! Destiny had one of the best voices of the show! If I had to guess, it was because they performed so early? Or maybe people just overhyped the heck out of it and it got old. I dunno. Seventh is still good for Malta. So yeah, it’s not bad, just a bit surprising.

Lithuania in eighth, I pretty much called. I knew that was a top ten song. Still couldn’t beat LT United’s record though, pfffffff.....Guess Lithuania have to try even harder to do that. XD Russia was another one I knew would be in the top ten. Their song had a very strong message that sticks with you. Lithuania and Russia may not have been favorites of mine, but I can’t complain with their results at all.

And finally, rounding out the top ten is my second-favorite, Greece, tied with Bulgaria! I’m more than happy with this result for Greece - I would’ve liked to see them do a BIT better, but a top ten finish is a top ten finish, and the competition was really strong. Their entry was still fantastic! A powerful song I can’t get enough of AND the best staging of the year. You can’t say Greece didn’t try their hardest!

As for Bulgaria....not complaining. It was a fan-favorite for a while, but for me, it was a song that I loved the lyrics to, but not much else. I did think it’d do a bit better purely because of how relatable the lyrics were, but with this competition? This was the best they were gonna get. XD A slow song in a sea of high energy-performances. Makes it stand out, but not necessarily be what people wanna hear.

The same is true for Portugal, who had the other slower song. THIS was the “jury bait”. XD Seeing how many points the jury gave them compared to the televote....wasn’t all that surprising. It’s not a bad song at all. It’s actually pretty good. And twelfth is a good result for Portugal. I think they can be happy with that. “Jury bait” isn’t a bad thing at all, cuz I’ve liked plenty of songs that’ve had similar results (I’ve even loved a couple of them)

Moldova were a surprise for me. I honestly expected them to place toward the bottom. Their entry was fun, sure, but I didn’t think it....stood out all that much? I feel like it was missing something staging-wise. Moldova’s entries usually have really creative staging, so yeah, maybe I just felt a bit let down. But the song’s good. It just....was a party song in a sea of them. XD

Now Sweden, on the other hand.....I’m actually not surprised THAT much. Yeah, I did at first predict that it’d finish in the top ten, cuz....well, it’s Sweden, and the song was good and seemed to be popular. But after the first semifinal, reading comments and posts from fans really made me realize just how many people....don’t like “Voices”? It’s been called generic a lot, and.....well, I don’t agree. I think it’s a very good song. But I’m just one person and yeah, seeing the popular opinion of it just drop like that made me change my mind on calling it a top ten song. XD Not gonna act like seeing Sweden on the right side of the board (even at the top of it) isn’t still a bit weird, though....

Serbia, I thought would do better. I thought they’d be higher than Moldova at least. That was a big crowd-pleaser and a great hype song. I didn’t think it’d be a front-runner or anything, but I did think it’d be on the left side of the board. I can’t even say that it being in Serbian held it back, cuz this year proves that non-English songs can and will be fan-favorites. So.....I dunno what happened there.

After Serbia are two other party songs, Cyprus and Israel. I have nothing really to say about Israel. I thought they’d do about this well. And Cyprus, I’m kinda bummed didn’t do better, since it was a GREAT performance - it was enough to win me over, when it was a very hit-and-miss song for me before the contest - but going first when already there were a lot of party songs to compete with probably did them in. Oh, and the people who think parts of the song are annoying, like......I did for a while.....ahem. >__>

Then we come to Norway.....who were my third-favorite. At first, I was kinda....OK, very surprised at how they did, especially when it came to the juries. But after learning that they were only five points away from not qualifying for the final.....I’m just happy they were there. I’m happy I got to hear that song in the final. It’s obviously not to everyone’s tastes, so I shouldn’t have expected it to do well. I was just a bit hopeful. As it is, I love the song, and it’s currently one of my go-to songs to sing to myself. XD (Also, TIX is an icon)

Belgium getting only three points from the televote was painful, since I did like their entry a lot......but I can’t act like I didn’t at least kinda see it coming. Even though I liked them, I was still surprised they even made it to the final. XD With such strong competition, a band just standing there and singing a downbeat song? Yeah, this was as good as they were gonna do. Still a very cool song, but standing out was always gonna be an issue for them. They also performed really early on, so that probably didn’t help.

Azerbaijan....oh Azerbaijan.....how did they do you like that. Seriously, down in twentieth? What are they doing in twentieth!? They were one of the best of the upbeat songs! They stood out! I’d put them above Cyprus and Israel easily! I don’t understand that.....I do understand Albania though. They were pretty much doomed. Barely qualified for the final, and then stuck in second position. Ouch. Kinda unfortunate, since I actually like Albania’s song a bit more now after hearing it live....

I really, really, REALLY wanted San Marino to do better. I was HOPING they’d do better. They were clearly trying really hard this year. The little country that could, pffff....And if you ask me, “Adrenalina” is probably the most solid song they’ve ever sent (I say this as someone who loves “Spirit Of The Night”, for the record), so I thought it deserved to give them their best result ever. But....nah. It did worse than “Say Na Na Na” because....I dunno.....Serhat funny? That’s all I got....seriously, it’s unfortunate. The dream should’ve done better than the meme. XD

And we finally come to the flops.....the four countries that got nul from the televote, all automatic qualifiers. Seriously, why did FOUR countries get nul? At least three were saved by the juries, but if you ask me, it was still unfair.....

The Netherlands are the one I easily have the hardest time understanding. Germany, while I found their song funny, I can easily see why people would find it annoying (I DID think the televote would like them MORE than the juries though?), and I was not expecting them to do well, because it didn’t seem like they were trying to do well. They were just having fun. Spain, well.....a good singer does not a good entry make. It’s the Eurovision SONG Contest, not Singer Contest. If the song fails to stand out, you’re doomed. I was impressed by their performance, but it’s still just a ballad. It’s sad when you know the story behind it, though....And with the UK, it was a party song in a sea of party songs. It had TOUGH competition.

But....the Netherlands? Why the CRAP didn’t they get points from the televote? While not one of my absolute favorites, that was a darn good song and a great live performance. What happened? I don’t understand! There was nothing else that sounded like that! It was unique and sounded great, wh- my brain hurts....

On the UK getting nul overall though, I do have some complaints. Sure, it failed to stand out, but to score nothing? A bit unfair, isn’t it? I mean, there was nothing wrong with the song or the performance at all! It was the most fun song the UK have sent in years! I liked hearing a fun song from them! And c’mon, they’ve sent a lot worse before and still got points. “Still In Love With You” got points. That was debatably a joke song. “Love Will Set You Free” got points. That was a boring ballad. Heck, even flipping “That Sounds Good To Me” - it came last, but it at least got SOME points! And that song was CRAP.

Now, thankfully, I didn’t love this song nearly as much as I loved “Bigger Than Us”, so I’m not super salty about it or anything. I’m not gonna rant about the UK coming last again. I’m just.....a bit baffled by the nul. Geez, UK, who did you piss off? Eh, it’s not the end of the world or anything.....and I’ve been through good songs getting nul before (....”Black Smoke”....forever confused TT__TT)

It does make me a bit....hesitant....to track down the BBC commentary for this show. I usually love watching it that way, and it’s my preferred way to rewatch Eurovisions. And usually, Graham is a really good sport about the UK’s poor results (even when coming in last like 2010), but....how’d he handle a nul? XD I hope he didn’t overly praise the song....

So......yeah, that’s about it! I’ve missed rambling about Eurovision, and now.....it’s over! It was a good year, and I had a great time. It truly was a ride. Here’s hoping next year in Italy will be just as fun.

Until next year!