#their first interaction in a nutshell

[incorrect-ironwidow]

Wu Zetian: Don’t talk down to me!

Li Shimin: I have no choice! You’re so short!

[maxences-hat]

"My shsl tsun tsun hair"

[source]

[mahowaga]

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT FOR THE BEAU IDÉAL OF IDIOCY | N.K. — PROLOGUE

SUMMARY: you're supposed to be in the stands, eating snacks and talking strategy with your friends, enjoying watching the three champions battle for the triwizard cup. you're not supposed to be entangled in what seems to be your own personal (hell) triwizard tournament.

PAIRING: ravenclaw!nanami kento x hufflepuff!fem!reader | mc’s best friend yu haibara, insufferable asshole fushiguro toji, no-nonsense house-elf ryomen sukuna CONTAINS: hp x jjk au, (friends who are) idiots to lovers, romance, fluff, crack, profanity PLAYLIST: the course of true love never did run smooth WC: 8.2k WARNINGS: a slur thrown, an almost fistfight, a fainting spell, just mc being a clown

series masterlist | next

— PROLOGUE: A TRIFECTA OF TRAGEDIES TO PUT ALL OTHER DISASTERS TO SHAME

(First and foremost, a person’s purity of blood should have absolutely nothing to do with how they are treated. Isn’t it their heart that should be pure, after all? 

That’s the mentality you try to live by.)

In retrospect, you should have known better than to ask Fushiguro Toji, the insufferable dark haired (and pure-blooded) boy from Slytherin who only interacted with people of, and you’re quoting him directly here, the same stature as I, to be your date to the Yule Ball. What had quite possessed you to even go up to that intimidatingly long bench in the Great Hall on which he had lounged on with such repose alongside his friends is knowledge that’s probably hidden behind some kind of paywall. For the time being, you’re okay with letting it elude you. What you aren’t okay with is how he had completely shut you down without so much as giving you a chance to state your business.

You aren’t surprised. No, you’d pretty much expected this. Why on Earth would Toji go with the likes of you? Well, there’s no need to wonder because here are some, if not all, of the reasons why:

You are a Hufflepuff. (In Toji’s eyes: “The house where all of the leftovers go.”)

You are a Muggleborn. (Again, from Toji’s point of view: “What the hell is that?”)

You had come up to him with a piece of fabric that you’d sewn yourself - a simple necktie - a golden yellow with a dotted pattern that resembled spots of dark ink that someone had spilled (this hadn’t been the intention but you’d decided to roll with it) - and had offered it to him, telling him that you two could coordinate your outfits by matching the tie with a hairband you’d sewn for yourself (same pattern and everything; because you are nothing if not dedicated to the cause). (Toji: “That’s the ugliest fucking thing I have ever seen.”)

It sounds worse than it is.

Actually, scratch that. It’s a nightmare given sentience. You’ve just gotten yourself embarrassed in front of basically the entirety of Hogwarts. And if that isn’t enough, the students and staff of the two visiting wizarding schools are here, probably enjoying your public humiliation. Lovely.

But no, you’re not surprised. This is Toji in a nutshell. You’d expected as much. If anything, you’d hoped he would have a change of heart (similar to how he’d helped you during Potions the other evening, but that appears to have been a trick of the mist now that you look back at it and really think) and say Yes, I thought you’d never ask!

Hope is such a dangerous thing.

You just stand there in shock more than anything else, looking into his eyes, as dark as the soul swirling inside of him, the color of tar, trying to force yourself to say something. Right now, you’re hyper aware of everyone and everything, including the way the din of the Hall had died down the moment Toji had opened his mouth.

Focus. You need to move, or speak, or both.

Finally, you’re able to coerce your brain to communicate with your vocal chords. “I can change the color of the tie,” you say meekly.

Inwardly, you want to facepalm yourself. Are you serious? You think the tie is the problem here?

The Slytherins perched around Toji snicker, because they (and you) know what’s coming. He’s going to rip you an entirely new one and send you back to the Hufflepuff common room with your tail between your legs and a newfound resolution to never cross paths with him ever again.

He cocks his head at you, as if he’s simultaneously amused and irked that you were still talking to him. His eyes narrow ever so slightly, his brow raised in disapproval.

You have to get out of there. This feels like a natural disaster waiting to happen. (It is.) And yet, you find yourself rooted to the spot.

(This isn’t quite the way you’d imagined you’d realize that, deep down in the recesses of your body and mind, you are somewhat of a masochist. This is the only explanation you can offer as to why you’re still standing above Toji, the tie in your hand, awaiting a very rude awakening.)

“Listen,” Toji says, his voice deep and gravelly and it almost makes you want to swoon (but you can’t and you don’t because this boy is evil incarnate), “I don’t know what made you think you could just, I don’t know, walk up to me and start talking, but I think you should walk away while I’m still being nice.” He shrugs, flashing a charming smirk at his friends. “Or not,” he says, standing up and towering over you. You feel yourself shrink into yourself. “Your choice, Mudblood.”

Son of a bitch.

The necktie will be covered in blood and creases by the time you’re done with Fushiguro Toji.

You grip the tie so tightly you can feel your nails digging into your palm, the fabric doing absolutely nothing as a buffer.

Walk away? You want to scoff. Not a chance. You might’ve considered walking away, running away, even, just minutes ago, but he’d just insulted you. Now it was a whole different ball game.

He notices your clenched fists and smiles. He reaches into his robe lazily for his wand.

You huff. If Toji is going to fight you, he is going to fight you hand-to-hand. You know, the way Mudbloods like you do.

What good is a wand when you’ve already gotten your face punched in twice before you can even cast a spell?

The entire Hall is engulfed in pin-drop silence. It’s almost calming, in a cathartic way. Like a battlefield before the battle, just both sides with their eyes closed and their palms pressed together in prayer.

You raise your fist, the spotted tie wrapped messily around it, ready to throw hands. Toji, in turn, raises his wand with a sense of detachment. He doesn’t care.

“Enough,” comes a voice, calm and certain and authoritative.

You curse under your breath, but don’t bring your hands down. You’d be damned if you let your guard down in front of Toji.

“Head Boy Nanami,” Toji drawls, pointing his dark wand at the boy in question. 

At the mention of his name - well, his title and his surname - your heart begins to hammer in your chest. This is bad. Very bad. You don’t want Kento to see you like this. (It’s already horrifying enough to have the entire school and more watch you get rejected and then almost get into a fistfight, but the fact that he’s seen it makes everything infinitely worse. It’s bad for business.)

And so you do the only logical thing you can think of after turning your head to meet Kento’s gaze, those hazel eyes of his burning into yours, asking you if you are out of your mind: you pass out.

(Passing out on command is a gift. Or a curse, depending on how you look at it. You don’t even remember how you figured out you could do it, but hey, it seems to have worked in your favour.)

The first thing you see when you open your eyes are your best friend’s own staring down at you. They are filled to the brim with sheer delight and pure entertainment. His smile pulls the whole look together. You wonder how long he’s been sitting on the wobbly wooden chair next to the bed with that smile on his face. Knowing him, probably the moment you’d been brought into the hospital wing.

“Don’t start,” you groan, turning your head away from him and resting your forearm across your eyes. So dramatic.

Haibara grabs your arm and pulls it off of your face. He looks way too ecstatic for someone whose best friend had just embarrassed themself in front of everyone and Head Boy Nanami.

Your arm flops back down onto the crisp white linen sheets of the bed. You sigh and avoid his eyes, though it’s proving to be a daunting task seeing as how he’s now inches away from your face. (Hey, that spot on the ceiling looks real interesting right now!)

“You know,” Haibara starts, already trying to suppress a giggle, “when you said you were going to find yourself a date to the Yule Ball, I didn’t think you were talking about Fushiguro.” He pokes your side and you flinch, smacking his hand.

You roll your eyes. You really don’t want to have this conversation right now. You’re still reeling from humiliating yourself in front of Head Boy Nanami.

Why are you fixated on one person? You literally gave all three wizarding schools gossip for days.

That thought isn’t comforting either, but it’s the former that’s going to keep you up at night.

You feign nonchalance. “Right,” you say, “and who, pray tell, did you have in mind?”

Previously, you’d thought Haibara’s grin couldn’t get any wider, but you’ve been proven wrong. That boy is like a drop of sunshine that evolved into a human. This is great, except for the fact that you are currently allergic to sunbeams.

His glee sickens you.

It’s like he’s trying to suppress his laughter. “You already know my answer, genius.”

There it is. Of course he knows. And he knows because you’d told him. On more than one occasion. Haibara, he’s so handsome. How can he walk around looking like that all day? It’s crazy. And when your best friend had asked you, point blank, by the way, if you had a crush, this had been your response: Absolutely not. How dare you insinuate such a baseless accusation?

You had lied.

And you’re about to do it again.

“I barely know him. Why would I ask him to be my date?”

He purses his lips in disappointment, though it does little to mask his amusement. While he helps you sit up, he cocks his head and looks at you. “Come on,” he huffs. “I introduced you two to each other for a reason. Make my efforts worthwhile, please. This is the perfect opportunity.”

If you hadn’t just had the most horrific experience of your life, you might’ve considered it. Unfortunately, that’s not how life works, at least for you. So you shake your head.

“He’s clearly not interested in me.” You pull the blanket off of your legs and swing them off the side of the bed. Haibara scoots his chair back to give you space, his gaze still fixed on you. “Besides, we barely even talk. The only conversations we have are in the hallways on our way to class. ‘Good morning’ and ‘Good evening’. That’s it.” You take a breath. “I don’t know him like that.”

“And you know Toji like that?”

Well. He has a point (as much as it gagged you to hear it). You’re obviously not going to make this known.

“Look,” you start, steepling your fingers together as you rest your elbows on your knees, “I asked Toji out because, well, he was nice to me.”

It’s Haibara’s turn to be gagged. “He was what?” he asks, his mouth open. “We’re talking about the same person, right?”

You nod, and suddenly the information that had been hidden behind a paywall is accessible to you. (The payment was probably your public abashment earlier.) Your palm flies to your forehead.

“Oh my God,” you say, standing up quickly. Haibara mirrors you, his arms held out in case you topple over. (He thinks you’d actually fainted from the stress, and not just from the sheer willpower of wanting to remove yourself from the situation.)

“Haibara.” You put your hands on his shoulders, your eyes wide. “I know why I asked Toji to be my date.”

You pause for dramatic effect, and he urges you on. “I’ll bite, but you literally just said it was because he was nice to you.”

It’s all fitting together like the pieces of a very flawed jigsaw puzzle. The kind where there are corner pieces in the middle and middle pieces in the corners. Utter chaos.

Shaking your head at Haibara, you start to pace in front of the small bed, your hands clasped behind your back.

“It was during our Potions class two weeks ago,” you start, nodding to yourself as you recall the memory. “We were making that thing-” you snap your fingers, trying to pull the name of the elixir from the edge of your mind -”felix felicis. Next thing you know, he was high on his own supply. But I didn’t know that, because I didn’t think he was dumb enough to try something he’d made without verifying it with the professor first, so when he came over to talk to me he was the sweetest he’d ever been and then I thought I could sort of help him change his ways and grow.” You spread your hands triumphantly. Remembering things was hard. You were proud of yourself.

Your best friend, on the other hand, was anything but impressed.

He frowns, his brows knitted together tightly. “Toji has hated Hufflepuffs and Muggleborns since forever,” he says, waving an arm out. “What is wrong with you? Why would you think he’d just, I don’t know, suddenly develop a conscience just by being around you?”

Because you’re an idiot, that’s what. An idiot who had hoped. Really, you should’ve known better. Haibara is right. But, yet again, you refuse to give him the satisfaction. So instead of acknowledging his words, you shrug.

“I was just willing to give him a chance. See if he really did want to turn over a new leaf.” And it’s the truth. There is no other reason that you can think of for having pulled quite the risky stunt, not unless there’s something your subconscious isn’t telling you.

That’s something you’ll unpack later. (Years later, you hope.)

Haibara opens his mouth to say something, maybe to tell you that you are the bane of his existence and have zero brain cells (true), but you cut him off.

“I’m going back to the common room.” You shrug your robes on and straighten your tie in the tiny mirror at the bedside table. “I’m hoping that you and I can put this whole Toji situation behind us, and by that I mean please don’t bring it up ever again because it’s a lack of awareness on my part and no, I will not repeat what I just said because you’ll use it against me as leverage.”

And then you wave, and you’re off towards the staircase, leaving behind a baffled and thoroughly entertained Yu Haibara to fix the sheets.

You’re not paying attention to where you’re going. In fact, you’re not sure you’re even on the right staircase that leads to the kitchens. (You’re royally screwed!) You’d just wanted to escape Haibara’s inquisitive gaze, and dashing right out of the hospital wing seemed to be a better option than passing out again (although that was always Plan C. Don’t ask about Plan B.)

The necktie is still in the pocket of your robe. You brush your hand against it, wanting to grab it and throw it right down the labyrinth of stairs, gone forever.

It’s not the tie’s fault.

It isn’t. It doesn’t deserve to be treated like a piece of garbage. Especially not after you’d poured your blood, sweat and tears into sewing it two nights ago after waking up in a cold sweat having dreamt about showing up to the Yule Ball with a date who’d forgotten who his date was because he couldn’t tell her apart from the rest of the attendees.

What a nightmare.

You pull the necktie from your pocket and look at it. It’s crinkled from where you’d grabbed it earlier, ready to make Toji see stars.

A sigh escapes you, more of relief than irritation. It’s salvageable, at least. There’s nothing a little ironing can’t fix. Well, that or a spell. Unfortunately for you, you don’t know what the magic words are.

All of your attention is focused on the tie as you descend the stairs to the kitchens. There’s a sickening squelching sound that cuts through your train of thought, and you realize too late (an understatement) that you’ve just stepped on the Forbidden Step.

Shit.

You look around hurriedly for someone, anyone, to come and help pull you out. Curses possess your tongue, aimed at either yourself, the stupid staircase or that damn tie, still clutched in your hand, now squished into your palm with the stress. (You’ve created a multi-purpose tie: it’s a formal accessory, a hand wrap, and, of course, the newest addition! A stress ball. Your ingenuity is outstanding.)

Quite how long you’re standing there with one foot sunk deep into the innards of the staircase and the other braced on the step directly above you aren’t sure. Physically, it feels like it’s been a day. Mentally you’ve relived the horror of a few hours ago at the Great Hall with Toji about a million times.

No good ever comes from a stationary body paired with an idle mind.

You keep thinking about what Haibara had said about Toji. Should you have even bothered to ask him out? Should you have asked out someone else instead? You know, the one guy you’ve wanted to talk to since the moment you’d met him. The guy who’s always been there when you made a fool of yourself and who’s never said anything to make you feel bad about it. (He can’t say anything anyways - you barely know each other.) The guy you find extremely handsome and charming and smart and everything a Ravenclaw embodies - yep, no guy other than the one and only-

“Need help?”

You’d scream if you didn’t want to protect your last sliver of dignity.

You look up to meet his eyes, those eyes that always seem to be scrutinizing your every move, questioning, wondering, thinking. A pained smile inhabits your face (you need to look good no matter what, especially in front of him).

“I’m good, thanks,” you say, waving him off, that stupid smile still making the muscles in your cheeks work overtime.

Kento tilts his head as if he is not convinced. He crosses his arms. “Are you sure?”

“Yep,” you say, even though your legs are aching and you really, really want him to pull you out. (But you can’t ask him, you’ve already embarrassed yourself in front of him once today and you’re not sure you can handle a double whammy.) “I’m just,” you pause, looking for a word that would remove all suspicion, ”chillin’.”

His eyebrows shoot up the moment it comes out of your mouth. You honestly didn’t expect anything less - Kento is very observant and does well at reading people, so he knows you’re lying.

“Just chillin’?” he asks. The corner of his mouth twitches as if he’s trying to suppress a smile.

“Just chillin’.” 

Please go away, Kento.

The shake of his head tells you that he doesn’t plan on leaving anytime soon. At least, not before he wins the game of tug-of-war between you and the truth. You need to do something to make him let his guard down and leave you alone, as much as it pains you to think. Here he is, your raging crush, in all his glory, offering to help you, of all things, and you want nothing more than to turn him away.

Haibara would love this. He’d love seeing you suffer. He’d probably say something like, This is the perfect opportunity to get to know him.

Actually. Hold that thought. This is the perfect opportunity to get to know him. Ask Kento about himself and make small talk and he should be totally and completely charmed by you that he’ll forget that you’re halfway sunk into a staircase.

(Thank you, Version-of-Haibara-who-lives-in-your-head.)

“So,” you start, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand, your elbow on your knee (this just pushes your leg further into the stair, but you’ll do anything to appear nonchalant), “how goes the second task for the tournament?”

Kento doesn’t miss a beat.

“Let me help you.”

You shake your head adamantly. (Operation Ask-him-about-himself is a bust. At this point, you are beginning to realize that you are digging yourself a hole and once you are deep enough, the dirt that covers you will be your chagrin.) “I’m fine.”

He runs a hand through his parted blonde hair, the color of straw. Very pretty straw. (Who said that?) A sigh escapes his lips. “This isn’t as embarrassing as you think it is. You know that, right?”

You almost choke. See, you’d known he was a master at reading body language, but you hadn’t known just how good he was. Now you know, and it makes you feel oddly exposed. And also slightly humiliated because you thought you were doing a pretty bang up job of hiding your emotions.

“It’s not that!” you protest, trying to stand up as straight as you can. “Look at me, I really am fine here. Trust me.”

“You look like your calves are starting to burn,” he says.

You scoff. He’s too good. Your calves seem to light themselves on fire the moment he mentions it, and you bite back a grunt as you fix your stance.

He steps closer to you. His hand twinges at his side. You’re about ten inches away from him, and he’s down on his knee to be at eye level with you. If your family didn’t have a history of cardiac disease, you’re about to be at the start. Your heart begins to hammer in your chest, thumping erratically, like there’s something in there begging to be let out. The proximity is suffocating.

He holds your eye contact as if it’s a gun pointed to your head.

(You’ve had a crush on Nanami Kento ever since Year Four. You’d known that your best friend, Yu Haibara, was really close with Kento, having been together since they were kids, but you’d never asked Haibara to introduce you. You preferred to appreciate Kento from a distance, because, let’s be real, he would never notice you, let alone be interested in you the way you were into him. But then Haibara, unprovoked, mind you, had dragged you to the owlery one evening after classes during Year Six, and you’d come face-to-face with the boy you’d been dreaming about for years.

It had been an awkward conversation, more so for him than you. You had been quite a mess, stuttering and stumbling over your words, while he’d been the poster boy of tranquility and composition, and after a few minutes you’d excused yourself, feathers dusting your head, and rushed back to the common room, your face beet red because of a thousand emotions.

As uncomfortable as you’d felt that evening, you didn’t blame him for it (no, you’d done all that yourself) and continued to admire him from afar. Having him inches away from your face now is doing things to you.)

Your brain is running at a million miles per hour. You process everything the only way you know how: by making a list.

Nanami Kento, your crush of three years, is squatting in front of you, approximately ten inches away from your face. His hair is neatly parted, his sunburst eyes are trained on yours and his mouth is twisted slightly into what you can only assume is a smile.

You have had the misfortune of stepping onto the Forbidden Step, AKA one of many trick steps in the Grand Staircase that causes its victim’s leg to sink right through it. You wish you had been paying more attention.

The step has such a hold on your leg that you don’t see any other way out other than to accept help from someone else - in this case, Kento.

You have embarrassed yourself more times than you can count today, but the only person you’re really worried about is Kento. He’s your crush. You’ve always tried to act your best around him. Now he’s had the pleasure of seeing the following: a) Toji breaking you down to your blood status, b) you getting ready to scrap with Toji, c) you passing out (on command, you might add) for the sake of your self-respect the moment you saw Kento in the Great Halll, and now d) you stuck knee-deep in one of the steps, claiming you are just ‘chillin’’.

Having a crush is exhausting. You have to be orderly every moment of every day because you can’t do anything compromising for fear of losing whatever respect he has for you (it’s down to zero percent now, you’re sure).

You give up. You’re hungry, you’re tired, and you need help. The fact that it’s him there to assist by chance is not your business. You’ll take what you can get. Your reputation is already tarnished in his eyes anyways. If he’s offering out of the goodness of his heart or solely because he is the Head Boy and that’s what Head Boys do (you have no idea), who are you to argue? He’s your only chance, because the staircase seems otherwise deserted. How fortunate for you.

You exhale slowly. “My calves are burning,” you mutter, looking away.

“I thought you were just chillin’,” he says. Your eyes snap to his, and he’s smiling, enjoying your discomfort, but you’ll be damned if you don’t admit that he looks drop-dead handsome when he smiles. It feels like when the sun peeks out from behind the clouds after a period of rainfall.

Focus, please.

Before you say anything else, however, he reaches his hands out for you. You realize you’re still holding the tie in your hand and press it into his palm. The faint breeze dances across your sweaty palm, now free of the fabric. This is humiliating. You can’t hold his hands with the slick sweat. You wipe your palms on your robes hurriedly.

When you look back at him, ready to grab onto his arms, he’s looking at the spotted tie in his hand.

It’s silent for a few seconds, the sound of the cogs of his mind turning.

Kento looks up at you, his face strangely devoid of any emotion whatsoever. You can’t gauge what he’s thinking (then again, you are no connoisseur at reading people).

“Sure, I’ll go with you.”

Confusion floods into you like a dam had just broken. “Huh?”

He holds the tie up, the scrunched up fabric trailing limply. You cringe at the visual. “The Yule Ball,” he says simply. “I’ll be your date.”

You want to die. He cannot be serious. You never even asked him. It’s not like you don’t want to go with him - he is literally at the top of the list of potential dates, but he’s also at the top of the list of dates who would reject you (Toji is right beneath him) - so his words turn you inside out.

(If he’s serious, you’re 0 for 1 on your list of dates who’d reject you. That’s right, there are only two names on that list. Send help.)

You’re beginning to short-circuit. There’s only so much that can happen in a day before even you start to wear yourself out. This is just overkill.

Get it together, you hiss at yourself. You need to say something to clear up the misunderstanding. (Where did he even get this idea that you were asking him to the Ball? Was he asking you? No, that couldn’t be.)

“Oh. Oh, no, that’s not-”

“Aren’t you asking me?” he asks, arching a brow. He looks so innocent when he lifts the necktie again, as if that’s supposed to explain anything.

You make an attempt to grab the tie from him. That damn thing was the bane of your existence. “Give me that back. It’s hideous.”

He holds it just out of your reach. “No, it isn’t.”

You roll your eyes in exasperation. You’re sure you’d have it in your hands already if you weren’t buried in the innards of a staircase right now. Skill issue. “It is,” you insist, desperation creeping into your voice. “Don’t argue with me, Kento. And I don’t need you to come with me just because you feel bad for me. I know you saw everything earlier.”

“I did see everything with Fushiguro,” he admits. He lifts a shoulder. “I do feel bad-” When he sees your expression, your narrowed eyes, observing his every move, he holds his free hand out in a placating gesture. “I do,” he says slowly, “but that’s not why I want to go with you.”

That’s not why I want to go with you.

Want. Is he insane?

Keeping your cool is detrimental to the situation right now. “You’re a bad liar, Kento,” you say, shaking your head. His brows raise. “Now give me the tie back and we can forget this happened at all.”

It dawns on you just how stubborn and straightforward Nanami Kento is when he says he’s keeping the tie and drapes it over the back of his neck so it hangs like a scarf. It’s a gaudy contrast to the blue and silver of his tie, the crisp white t-shirt, the dark robes lined with that striking sapphire blue. He’s definitely out of his mind.

This is where you start to lose your calm (if that was even something you had) and your insecurities leak into your words.

“You cannot be serious, Kento,” you huff, spreading your arms. “You’re popular and handsome and smart and the Head Boy. You’ve probably got a ton of dates lined up for you. Go with one of them, okay?”

“Right. Because you’re going to ask Toji again?”

Wow. Just wow. He went there (he’s right to). He’s just like Haibara, if not even worse, though you don’t mind because it’s Nanami Kento. (That is a crappy excuse.)

Leave it to Kento to hit you with the cold, hard truth.

You take a minute, and avoid his gaze while you’re at it. There are a million things running through your mind. A billion, even.

First, Kento wants to go to the Ball with you. He thinks you were asking him. And he said yes. He also seems to be oddly attached to that ugly necktie. Even now, when you sneak a glance at him, he’s still squatting, but now he’s looking down at the ends of the tie, running his fingers along the silky fabric. He seems thoroughly entertained.

And let’s not forget how he completely violated you by bringing up your failure with Toji. You want to bury your head in the sand and become one with the hermit crabs.

If he wants to attend the Ball with you, let’s indulge. This is what you’ve wanted, after all. Maybe this time won’t be so awkward.

A knot forms in your stomach at the thought of being his date to the most anticipated event of the year. All eyes will be on him. And then all eyes will slide to the person next to him, and everyone will be thoroughly disappointed. You know everyone wants him to go with someone more popular, like Utahime, the Head Girl.

You decide to roll with it, swallowing all of your doubts and fears. There was no point in letting your thoughts fester over things other people wanted. You have Kento and you have a date to the Ball. (And, it seems that Kento isn’t going to make the Toji incident a big deal. That’s an automatic plus.)

You take a deep breath. Kento looks up at you, waiting.

“Okay,” you nod. “But I’m scrapping the whole matching accessories thing."

“No.”

You let out a scoff again. The audacity he has is immeasurable. It’s also slightly attractive (don’t tell Haibara).

“What?” you ask, hoping your ears were just malfunctioning.

“No.”

You narrow your eyes. “Is that all you say?”

His eyes widen for a millisecond before they slip back to normal. “No.” A flush crosses his face. “I mean, yes. I mean-” He pinches the bridge of his nose with a defeated sigh. “We’re keeping the tie and headband and we’re wearing them and we’re going to the Ball together, okay?”

He’s bold, you’ll give him that. Butterflies flutter about your stomach at his words. You feel like you’re in a dream (one of many that you’ve had before) and the only thing grounding you is the fact that you are literally grounded. In a step.

Still, you don’t like the necktie. A few hours ago you’d thought the tie was your magnum opus, but now, looking at it contrast against his house’s colors, all crinkled from you transferring all your stress (and sweat) into it, you decide that if he wants a tie, you’ll at least make it look better.

“Let me change the color,” you suggest. “It looks like Hufflepuff’s colors. I can do blue for you.”

“No.”

Here we go again.

“Give me a break,” you whine.

He shakes his head, looking at you as if he can’t believe you would even suggest such a blasphemous thing. “I like it as it is. It doesn’t need improvements.”

You try to protest, but his opinion is set in stone and he won’t be swayed. It’s infuriating, but you can’t bring yourself to argue with him about it anymore. You just want to be pulled out of the step and run along to the common room. Well, you’ll hit the kitchens first - Sukuna will be thrilled to hear about your trainwreck of a day.

You finally, despite how painful it is, agree to keep the necktie in its original form. (At this point it’s just to appease Kento.)

Still, you can’t help but make a playful jab at him (your stomach roils with fluttering). “I can’t believe you’re forcing me to go with you.”

He laughs, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. It’s a soft chuckle but you’ll take it. It feels like flowers blooming in the morning sun.

“I really am,” he says, smiling. His eyes are sparkling as he looks at you. You look away, your cheeks warming.

He holds his hands out for you. “Come on.”

You try to avert your eyes, blindly reaching for his arms - his strong, solid arms that you were gripping with all your might - and he holds onto yours as he pulls you out.

You groan as your foot is dislodged, the freedom almost akin to ecstasy, and subsequently stumble right into him with a grunt.

He catches himself with one hand on the banister and the other around your waist.

Your blood is rushing in your ears, your heart beating way too fast to be deemed normal, your face as red as a rose. You’re looking anywhere but at him. You can’t. You’re pressed against him, hands grabbing at his robes, and you can hear his heartbeat (which, for the record, was almost beating as fast as yours).

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, almost tenderly.

You step back, slightly woozy from the effort - you could have stayed in that position forever, you fear - and place a hand on the banister while you rub your leg. There’s definitely going to be a bruise tomorrow morning.

His hand lingers on your side for a moment before he lets go.

He’s looking at you. Those eyes that appeared to hold entire galaxies inside of them, swirling angrily, waiting to be released into the universe. Those same eyes that were also currently holding your gaze with a compassion that you didn’t know what to do with.

(You have wanted to be in this situation with Kento for years. Maybe not with the whole Toji thing or passing out or being stuck in the stairs, but definitely close to him, and most definitely to be going to the Ball as his date. But now that you have it in the palm of your hand, you have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing. You’ll just have to freeball it.)

“I’m fine,” you say quietly, your voice cracking (how embarrassing). “Thank you.” Your smile looks more like a grimace than anything else. He probably sees it too, that’s why his lips quirk up.

He nods. “Okay, then.” He flaps his hands at his sides, and it’s oddly endearing, because he looks like a kid who doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “I’ll see you in class, then?”

“Yeah.” You give him a thumbs up. (You don’t know why you did that.)

He chuckles again. (You’re elated at the fact that you’ve made Nanami Kento laugh twice, which is more than the amount of times you’ve actually seen him laugh outside of this interaction.) “Try not to pass out anytime soon,” he says, then starts to go up the stairs, his shoulder brushing against yours as he passes. Your body tenses at the contact.

You’re already blushing from his little jab, but when he stops and says, “And just so you know, I took points from Slytherin because of what Fushiguro called you,” you almost drop down from a heart attack.

There is no way Kento is real. He’s so- ugh. He’s a drug and you’re high on him. (You can only imagine what it’ll be like at the Ball if this is how you’re acting around him after only about half an hour.)

You clear your throat. You turn, but his back is facing you.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you call out.

He shrugs, and looks at you. “I wanted to.” He keeps walking up the steps, then pauses. “And I can. So I did.”

And then he’s gone, onto the next flight of steps, leaving you standing there in utter disbelief, clutching the banister with a bruising grip.

Nanami Kento is going to be your undoing.

You make your way down the stairs to the kitchens, your brain feeling like it's been mixed into a slushie. Your thoughts are all over the place and the only thing you can really recall is that you’re somehow going to the Yule Ball with Head Boy Nanami Kento as your date. 

What you need right now is a nice warm meal and someone to talk to who isn’t Haibara (because you wouldn’t hear the end of it from him) and you know just who to go to.

The kitchens of Hogwarts have always been something of a safe haven to you. When everything is too much to handle - the studying, the extracurriculars, the infinite trials that come with dealing with people - the kitchens have got your back. Plus, the house-elves don’t judge, they love to make conversation (most of them), and hey, it’s free food. What’s better than free food? (And the fact that no one really cares about the kitchens, which is sad, but it works in your favor when you want to run away from people.)

You’ve always thought the way to get into the kitchens is bizarre, and that’s saying something since you’re literally in a school that teaches magic. The whole tickling pear thing is really pushing it. Why can’t it be something like waving your wand around in front of the portrait while saying something like Fruit basket, fruit basket on the wall, let me in so I can eat it all? (Honestly, the lack of imagination is insulting.)

Unfortunately for you, tickling the pear is the only way in, so you comply (but you are anything but happy about it).

You turn the handle and open the door.

The lights are brighter than the sun, and you squint, trying to adjust. You can’t see yet, but you can hear, and smell, and right then you can hear the sounds of trays being set down onto the countertops, of feet pattering across the tiled floor, of soups and broths bubbling in huge pots, the scents of freshly baked bread, ground spices, roasted meat and, oddly, the smell of buttercream frosting as it’s piped onto cupcakes.

When your eyes deem themselves ready to open, you see the elves running around the vast area of the kitchen, all in a rush, all busy. They’re all wearing aprons and tea towels with the Hogwarts insignia on them, some splattered with flour and sauces, others clean and bright.

You’re looking for one elf in particular, though you’re quite familiar with all of them by now (you’ve had seven years to get acquainted with them - it’d be pretty embarrassing if you couldn’t tell them all apart from each other in a lineup).

As you peer deeper into the kitchen, through the pots and pans and utensils, someone calls out to you. Your attention snaps to the voice.

“Here to get some sandwiches, young lady?” Eso asks as he cuts the bread in half. He smiles at you brightly, and you smile back. Eso is three feet tall, give or take, with a small tuft of dark hair that he spikes with cornstarch (his words, not yours) and grey eyes as large as tennis balls. (You have never told him, but since the other house-elves don’t grow hair like he does, you’ve always referred to his pride and joy as the Handful of Hair That Could. He’d probably snap his fingers and transfigure you if you ever told him, though.)

You shake your head. “Not hungry,” you say, walking over to him, still scanning the room for the one elf you’d come to speak with. “What kind of sandwiches are these?”

He cuts the bread and holds up one for you to see. You don’t really get a good look because of how fast he’s moving and so all you catch is a bit of lettuce, and you nod and say it seems tasty.

Eso gives you a quick huff, as if it could be anything but delicious.

Your eyes catch on an elf moving at what you can only assume are supersonic speeds near the ovens.

Bingo. You make your way over, greeting the other house-elves as you try not to mess their flow up.  Some of them offer you something to eat, but you decline - your stomach is still disagreeing with you ever since the staircase and Kento.

“Hello, Sukuna,” you greet, sliding next to him.

He’s one of the older house-elves; he’s been around for a long time and has seen things you couldn’t even begin to imagine. He can come off as gruff and dismissive, but after you’d befriended him out of sheer persistence you’d realized that he was quite the sweetheart deep down. (Now that you think about it, he probably just gave up on trying to repel you and is now just entertaining you for the sake of it. Ah, what the hell, sure, you’ll take it.)

He looks up and sees you smiling down at him. You try to crouch, or, to take a page from Kento’s book, squat so that you’re not towering over him, but he waves you off. He hates it when you try to stoop to his level. Literally.

Sukuna’s skin is reminiscent of a manila folder, and it looks about as strong as the contents of such a folder - easily torn. That doesn’t mean he’s weak. Absolutely not. No, Sukuna is quite possibly one of the strongest people you’ve ever met. The guy can lift a whole oven with one hand. One hand. It gags you every time.

His eyes are a different story. He’s the first elf you’ve seen whose irises are the deep shade you only find in the purest of the purest garnets. You could get lost in them if you stared for too long, it’s almost hypnotizing.

“Young miss,” he says, setting down a tray of dough on top of the oven. He’s waiting for the batch inside to be done (yet another thing you wonder about - why can’t they just use magic to cook the food?). “What brings you here today?”

You shrug, trying not to vomit out all the reasons at once. “I always come here.”

He gives you a skeptical look, his brows raised, unimpressed. “Unlike Master Geto,” he mutters under his breath, getting back to work.

At the mention of Hogwarts’ champion Geto Suguru, your eyes widen. “What about him?”

Sukuna shrugs. “Master Geto always comes in here and steals food.”

You bite back a laugh. “You know, that would be right, actually.” As true as it sounds, you feel the need to defend Suguru’s honor. “He’s a nice person, you know,” you say (even though you barely know him). “He’s the champion of Hogwarts for the Triwizard-”

“We are all well aware,” Sukuna cuts in. He snaps his fingers and the oven door opens, blasting you with heat. You jump back with a yelp, shielding your face with your arm.

While he works to put in a new batch of pastries, he continues, “Master Geto brought a young lady with him the other night. They had some of the eclairs together and drank tea and then left.”

Your brows raise. “I didn’t know anyone else came to the kitchens,” you murmur.

The house-elf catches your gaze, which is focused on the tiled floor, and smiles. “You’re still a regular here, young miss.”

You realize how pathetic you must look to him. (Is it time to make another list, this time of things to tell, AKA rant about, to Sukuna? You should hold off on the lists for a moment.)

There’s a stool in the far corner; a small three-legged thing that wobbles on one end. You move over and drag it a bit closer to the ovens, not so close that you’ll get hit with the heat again and burn your face off, but close enough that Sukuna won’t have to strain to hear you and have to stop what he’s doing to listen (if he even cares).

You begin to tell him about your day, from asking Toji out to Haibara making you think about things you’d rather not to Kento finding you stuck in the steps. While you speak, he replies with a grunt or mutters something under his breath (still unsure if he’s talking to you or not). 

It feels good to get it all off your chest. And Sukuna doesn’t hold back with his opinions and he’s not biased. He’s perfect for a fresh set of eyes and ears on your dilemma.

When you’re done, you’re practically out of breath, and your ears are burning, not from the heat, but from your embarrassment.

Sukuna takes a minute, tending to the pastries, before he turns to you, crossing his arms over his chest. His ears, resembling that of a bat’s, flutter for a moment while he thinks of how to reply back to you.

After a minute, he sighs, tossing you a fresh pastry. You catch it, raising your brows in confusion.

“Master Nanami is a bright young man,” he says slowly, his eyes running over your face, probably trying to see if you’ll have any reaction to his words. You do, you get even redder. He smiles, almost triumphantly. “Sukuna thinks you’re being ridiculous about everything.”

You sit up straighter, feeling insulted. You’d just opened up your heart and soul to the house-elf who was practically one of your closest friends (only from your end) and this was the thanks you get? Being told you’re overreacting. How dare he. Why you ought to-

Sukuna knows what you’re about to say before you even say it. He always does. Perks of being old, you assume.

He holds a hand up. “Eat the pastry, young miss,” he says. “It’ll help you see things clearer.”

(Turns out you were just hangry. Sukuna really had you thinking he had psychic abilities and whatnot, what with being able to tell you just needed to eat something to feel better. And you’re fighting demons to even admit this, but the pastry tasted like heaven on earth.)

So Sukuna thinks you’re being an idiot about the whole thing. Whatever. He doesn’t know what it was like being in the Great Hall with Toji. He doesn’t know what it was like having Kento obsess over that stupid tie while you were stuck deep inside of a step. The next time you see Sukuna (in a few hours) you’re going to give him a piece of your mind (no, you aren’t). For the time being, you’re left to figure out how you’re going to survive the Yule Ball because, and it hits you like an eighteen-wheeler going one-twenty miles an hour, you don’t know how to dance.

(In retrospect, maybe Toji rejecting you is a good thing, because you can’t even begin to imagine how he’d react when you tell him you don’t know how to do a simple waltz. He’d drop you as his date, no doubt, leaving you scrambling for someone else who’s willing to teach you.)

A/N: thank you so much for reading, i really hoped you liked this chapter! i know it was quite long, i promise the others will be between 3-6k tops, save for one other chapter. i really have to thank @gojover for quite literally pulling me out of my cave and hyping me up to write. (sometimes with a gun to my head /j) and allow me to give @admiringlove a shout out for being yet another one of my cheerleaders. (art by elitamasan on X)

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Animorphs #5: The Predator thoughts (pt. 1):

Speaking of sci fi realism, I love Marco trying to do the classic Spider-Man thing of rescuing a guy from a mugging in an alleyway... only for the guy he rescued to freak out because there's a wild gorilla attacking people and start taking potshots at Marco. Animorphs plays with all the superhero tropes, to excellent effect.

"«The higher the danger, the higher the honor,» Ax said. «Is this not true?... What else do you fight for, if not honor?»" (p. 20) Oh Ax. Oh honey. We're all glad you're here, but you need the corners knocked off you so bad. Also, the fact that Jake comes back with "dunno about honor, we're kinda just trying to keep the human species alive?" is the entire series in a nutshell.

Also, the number of times we get interactions like "«Do you fear them [controllers]?» Ax demanded. He stared at me with all four eyes./ 'You better believe I fear them'" (p. 22). Like, I love the number of times we see an Animorph undercut "What are you, scared?" by going "Yep." A+ verbal jujitsu. It happens in their very first conversation — Rachel's ready to fight Jake over the implication she'd be scared of the construction site until Cassie calmly announces she is scared — and it happens all the time when the experienced characters brush up against the inexperienced ones. Fear is wisdom, fear is the voice of experience. Bravado is naïveté. Again: this ain't like other superhero stories.

Animorphs books can be read here | Book Club schedule is here

[leonalovesalot]

Make me feel

Dealer!Patrick x Reader

18+ Minors DNI

wc: 7.7k

Also, lots of negative self-talk so proceed with caution!!

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Patrick was your town's ne'er-do-well.

He sold drugs to anyone who had the funds and didn't care that every dollar he made was dirty. A man's gotta eat, right?

Molly, grass, poppers, speed, crack, bump.

You name it, he sold it.

He was well-known and those who had interacted with him, always took a liking. He was charismatic and he knew it.

But all that street-smart prowess didn't translate to 'school smart' since Patrick was held back in his senior year. He was pissed because he didn't get to share his graduation with his friends, who all moved away to big, pretentious— sorry, prestigious— universities, while he rotted in this stupid town. There was a silver lining though. He expanded his clientele through people he met while repeating senior year, and made more paper than he ever could've imagined.

The summer after graduation was spent getting high and partying until he felt numb. That was the lowest he had ever been and it got worse when his parents threw him out. Something about how he needed to get his shit together because he couldn’t just live off of them for the rest of his life (he wasn’t really listening).

Patrick was lost. He spent the next few months couch surfing until he got enough money to rent a tiny studio apartment above a corner store. He was still proud that he afforded it all on his own, but it wasn't enough.

Eventually, the dealing became a side hustle when he got a bartending job at a seedy pub down the road from a motel and a gentlemen's club. His coworkers would invite him along, after their shift, to the strip club. He went the first few times but then began declining because of the second-hand embarrassment he'd get when his coworkers shamelessly flirted with the strippers. Though Patrick loved women, and never passed up on an opportunity to flirt with a pretty lady, the strippers were just working and he didn't like to interfere.

That's what his life was like in a nutshell. Most days were identical to the ones that came before them, but he didn't mind. He was making decent money and living independently with no one to answer to.

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

You were an empty shell.

Another long day made you plummet further into your numbness. Pleasure, love, laughter were all a distant memory that you’d find yourself holding tightly in your hands to keep yourself from slipping over the edge. The edge of what? You didn’t know yet. But you had a gut feeling that if you kept going on like this, you would meet your undoing.

You weren’t depressed, no, you had no reason to be. You were just an average student with a shit sleep schedule and a stacking debt that you actually began having recurring nightmares about. In those dreams you were always standing next to a pile of money that you needed but could never reach. You’d reach out to grab it and it was always out of your arms-length. You’d run towards it but never get there because you were running in the same spot. Although running and not moving was scary, the main fear you felt from those nightmares was how alone you were. No one else was in those dreams. Just you, struggling, screaming, panting. Then your alarm would pull you out of it and you’d head to the bathroom to put your face on.

A good night’s sleep was beginning to feel like a myth. Something that you heard of, but knew wasn’t real. Not to you anyway.

After cruising through high school without breaking a sweat, you assumed university would be the same. You were cocky, and had every right to be. But the universe likes to prove you wrong, and so you had no idea you were gearing up for the worst years of your life.

For everyone else, it seemed easy. Commuting, living alone, studying, hanging with friends — the ideal student experience. You were nowhere near that crowd. You hadn’t made friends, no connections, you’d even lost passion for your major. You were a bitter and lonely person.

Stupid, idiot.

And it would be fine and you could get over it, if your self worth wasn’t tied into your academic performance. Those letter grades, the GPAs, the feedback, was all a direct reflection of you. On a day you’d get a bad mark on something, you’d come home and look in the mirror only to find that you’d grown uglier. Hands would be all over your face — touching, picking, scratching— anything to vent your frustration whilst punishing yourself. If your grades were ugly, you’d make yourself uglier. You didn’t deserve to feel good on the outside. Not until you got your act together.

“You’re a waste,” you spat, disgusted at your reflection in the mirror. You slammed your fist on the counter and left the bathroom.

Toxicity was your roommate.

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

It was almost reading break. A full week without class where you're finally allowed to take a breather. That was its intended use anyway— but you had an exam on the first day back, which completely defeated the whole purpose of taking time to yourself. Whatever, you didn’t have it in you to care.

Your last lab of the week had taken the life out of you. While you waited for the lab facilitator to check your station for cleanliness, you almost fell asleep standing up. A four hour lab was fucking criminal and you wanted to find whoever was responsible for bringing this nightmare into existence, and rip them to shreds.

But leaving late meant your bus was basically empty and that made you feel better. You liked to sit near the middle, right next to the door, so you could be out right away. You had an irrational fear that you wouldn’t make it to the door on time and the bus driver would laugh and just drive on anyway. Irrational.

Usually after such a long lab you’d rest your eyes for the duration of your journey home, but today you just stared out the window as your headphones softly played Chopin. It was cold out, despite it being spring. But spring in your city didn’t mean flowers and dresses. It meant rain. A whole lot of it. But tonight, it was just breezy, the rain stopped around the evening time and left behind numerous puddles.

Your eyes watched the scenery pass you by. The bus was going through a particularly sketchy area that you’d never want to step out in at this time of night. Not for any real reason other than, well, the vibes were off. It was that kind of area where you’d see mostly men, which was enough for you to avoid it. You could make out a bar and a motel a little further down. You wondered what would happen if you just got off the bus right now. It was going to stop anyway.

One small decision and maybe something would change.

It was an intriguing thought.

Mostly because it would make your numbness go away, even just momentarily. That was enough to convince you. Look at you, a thrill seeker.

Your body was getting up, before your mind could overthink and shit on your spontaneous plan. You walk to the door and hang on to the thin yellow pole as the bus comes to a halt. The doors slide open and you take a deep breath before calling out a “thank you” and stepping off.

The doors shut tight and the loud whir of the bus began fading into the background.

Now what?

It was chilly, probably around 9°, and you cursed under your breath for not wearing a warmer jacket. You turned your head to look around but didn’t see anyone outside.

Well, this was pointless.

But you wanted to feel something. Even if that feeling was fear or anxiety. It was stupid, but it would be worth it. This was like a test for you. An experiment.

You finally pick up your feet and begin walking towards the bar before you. A bright neon open sign was on display with the “E” flickering. You took your earbuds out, shoved them in your pocket, and pulled the door open.

It was exactly as you’d imagined; a little more barren though. Only a small group of older men huddled around the pool table to the left of the entrance. They all paused their game to size you up and you could tell they shared the same thought: you didn’t belong here.

But when you turn away to walk in further, they go back to focusing on the game. You hesitantly walk to the bar as all the tables had the chairs stacked on them.

You prop yourself up on the stool and look around. There was no bartender in sight, maybe they were busy with something else.

You sat there staring at the counter and drumming your fingers to the rhythm of some song you couldn’t remember the name of.

Your little recital stops when you hear a door swing open and eyes dart to the side at the sound, immediately widening.

Patrick Zweig?

Shit.

You hated seeing people from high school.

You were panicking which wasn’t numbness, but surprisingly worse.

Seeing old classmates made you regress to your teenager- self, whom you despised. She was puny and antisocial and all the things you wanted to convince yourself you weren’t anymore.

Usually in these situations, you’d either suck it up and shoot a tight lipped smile then go about your business, or you’d quickly run away before any interaction took place.

Seeing as this was Patrick Zweig, you settled for the latter.

But just as you were about to slip off the barstool, a voice called out and stopped you.

“Sorry, for the wait what can I get you?”

Shit. I should’ve just stayed on the bus.

You slowly look up and force a small smile, “no worries.” You paused to see any sign that maybe he’d cut you off and call you your name. But he didn’t.

Oh, he didn’t recognize you.

So you continue, “could I get the menu?”

He nods, “of course. But just so you know we already cleaned up the kitchen for the night, so a few of the items may not be available.”

He walks to the end of the counter and grabs a small lamented booklet off the top of a pile and places it in front of you.

You nod, mumble a thank you, and get to reading. It was awkward. You knew you hadn’t stood out much in high school, but you didn’t know it was to this extent. Were you that easy to forget? Was your presence really so insignificant?

Your eyes skimmed the page and you got hungrier as you read the options.

Should I get a grilled cheese with fries? Or a chicken sandwich?

“Quick question,” Patrick’s voice makes you snap your head up to meet his lively gaze. “Did you go to Gray Coast Secondary?”

He asked with a half- smile. It hadn’t changed at all, even after almost four years.

Your eyes widen slightly at the question.

So you weren’t a total nobody after all.

You nod almost like you wish it wasn’t so.

His eyes light up, “I knew it! I knew you looked familiar, it’s- I’m Patrick,” he points to himself and grins at you like he was genuinely happy to see you.

It made you feel… warm.

“I know,” you try to mirror his smile but your face wasn’t used to it.

He stared at you clearly waiting for you to introduce yourself because although he recognized your face, he had no idea what your name was.

“I’m Y/N,” you say after a beat of silence.

He repeats your name a few times and you laugh softly, liking the way it sounded coming from him. He said it so… relaxed. Casual. Like you were old pals.

“It’s been a while,” he walks over to the shelf grabbing you a glass and pours you some water. He puts it next to your arms on the counter and you smile at him.

“It has, yeah.” You weren’t sure what you else you could say. The antisocial trait made itself right at home inside you again.

He notices your lack of response but doesn’t mind. He just chuckles and asks if you know what you want to order.

“Oh, I think I’ll just get the grilled cheese.”

He nods, “Got it. Instead of the fries, do you think you could do wedges?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“And what can I get you to drink?”

You think for a moment and look at the menu again. You weren’t that experienced when it came to drinking, only ever trying wine, and one time a mimosa.

“I think I’m good for now.”

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Patrick disappears out the back and you assume there's a kitchen behind the doors. You stared down at your palms and noticed they were sweaty. Unsure why you were so nervous, you wipe them on your jeans and gulp down the water he brought earlier.

It was actually nice seeing a familiar face. You felt like you understood him because the two of you were a part of the very few kids from your graduating class who didn't move onto bigger things. You wondered if that disappointed him like it did you. Did he feel like a failure the way you often did? Sure, you were doing fine in university, but you just didn't feel anything about it. Your degree threw million hurdles your way, and although you got through them, you didn't come out stronger. You considered giving up at times, but what good would that do? There was no plan B.

You stare into the glass of water that you were chugging. It was almost empty. You swallow the rest and feel the cool liquid all throughout your neck and chest.

Patrick returns with a plate of your order in one hand, and two cold beers in the other.

Your stomach growled at the sight of the food and you felt your cheeks get hot from embarrassment. But, Patrick didn't draw attention to it and just set the plate down, along with the beer you didn't order.

"Bon appétit," he takes a bottle opener out of his pocket and pops the lid off of the two drinks.

"Thank you." You reach down and take a bite of a potato wedge.

Another silence came between you two. All you heard was the conversation of the men who were by the pool table. You could make out that they were bidding each other farewell.

You really hoped that wasn't the case because you didn't want to be left alone with Patrick.

"See you later, Patrick."

"Bye, kid."

Deep voices call out and you hear the creaky door open and close.

Great. Now you two really were alone.

You just keep your head down and take a bite of your sandwich. Oh, this is good. It had been a while since you'd eaten a hot meal. You were always in a rush and had to pack food everywhere you went, only to eat it cold when you got the chance.

"How's the sandwich?" Patrick asks you softly. He was clearly an extrovert, you thought.

You nod and swallow your current bite, "really good, thanks."

Met with more silence, you clear your throat and try to make conversation.

“So, how are you? I mean how’ve you been since uhm high school?” You avoided eye contact with him, not really understanding why.

He was happy to answer your question, and grabbed a small rag to wipe down the countertop.

“I’ve been great, actually. Yeah. I have my own place,” he says with a small smile on his face feeling a sense of pride. “I like working here too. The regulars are pretty nice.”

You listen attentively to his every word and were quite surprised at his answer. You thought that the both of you could bond over how shitty your lives are. ‘Misery loves company’ and all. A little pang of guilt struck you because you assumed that just because he was a little rough around the edges, he lived an unfulfilling dead-end life. No, that was just you.

“That’s— wow— that’s impressive. Good for you.” You take another, larger bite, of the sandwich.

Patrick snorts and you look up at him a little confused.

“That didn’t sound very genuine. You okay?”

You blinked, slightly worried, that maybe you’d somehow come across as bitter. That was the last thing you wanted. You truly were happy for him as it seemed that he’d turned his life around. But, it just made you think of your own situation.

The two of you were on opposite ends of the high-school-student spectrum. He was type B, never doing his homework, no extracurriculars, and honestly he was a dick to his teachers. He sold drugs for God’s sake, and everyone knew! You, on the other hand, were as goody two shoes as they come. Spending weekends buried in textbooks and assignments, working towards a bright future. The hours you put in got you into a good university, but now you were just so… unhappy.

That’s not what was supposed to happen. He was careless and irresponsible and was still doing way better than you. No! No! Your hard work was supposed to pay off! When would it pay off?

“Earth to Y/N?” Patrick stood on the other side of the bar counter waving his hand in front of you.

You snap out of your badgering thoughts.

“Sorry,” you take a sip of water, “I’m just tired.”

He didn’t buy it. And he was always shamelessly nosy, which was something his friends found annoying but forgave when he’d apologize with his charming half-smile.

“Oh that’s bullshit. Come on, you can tell me.” Patrick puts the rag in a little basket below the counter and walks around the bar. Your eyes follow him as he pulls up a stool next to you. Not too close, but a very comfortable distance. You liked it. From an outsider, you would’ve looked like friends.

You take in a deep breath and decide to tell him anyway. There was nothing to lose. After tonight, you’d go back to your life and he’d go back to his. You’d never get off at this bus stop again.

“I guess I’m just a little surprised. Uhm- you were- in high school you were kind of…” you couldn’t string together a coherent sentence that didn’t make you sound like an asshole. You clear your throat, “just didn’t seem like you were going anywhere.”

Oh God, had you forgotten manners?

Patrick’s brows shoot up and his smile fades a little but not fully. He wasn’t offended, he knew you didn’t mean to hurt him. You were genuinely curious. But he couldn’t resist the urge to tease you about it.

“Shit, Y/N— you sound like my Dad." He reaches out and grabs one of two bottles on the counter. He pops the lid off of it and takes a swig.

You stayed quiet.

You saw his parents once in the hallway during parent teacher conferences. They were quite the opposite of him. Walking from classroom to classroom with a sense of purpose. The type of people you'd see and immediately step to the side to not get in the way. They were intimidating and you could picture Patrick sitting next to them, while his math teacher was red in the face complaining about how disruptive he was. His parents would sit there and politely listen to Mr. Murphy, and would shoot glares at Patrick every other minute.

His Father had a permanent scowl settled on his face. Is that who he was comparing you to? Shit.

You force an apologetic smile, trying to show him that you weren't all bad. You look down at your plate and finish the sandwich.

"I think I'm just kind of angry these days," you said each word super spaced out, like it was a sinful confession.

"At who? Me?" He tilts his head. Eyes twinkling under the dim lights.

You shake your head, "At the world... at myself."

The beer bottle he brought you earlier was having a staring contest with you. You weren't much of a drinker and didn't want to indulge since you had no idea how you'd get home tonight. But, after deciding that tomorrow you wouldn't go to class, you grabbed the bottle and brought it to your lips.

Patrick nods, thoughtfully.

"I don't know. It's just that everyone seems to be moving onto bigger, better things— you know? Like," you take a gulp feeling it move down your throat. You didn't care for the taste. You scrunch your nose at the strong taste. Patrick chuckles.

"Like there's this ladder, and everyone is climbing it. Step-by-step, they all accomplish small things and get closer to- to becoming well rounded individuals."

Patrick leans in and rests his chin on his palm. He was listening to your every word and soaking in the sound of your voice. So gentle and soft, with a little rasp on the edges— you sounded exhausted.

"And I was on that ladder," you pause and eat one of the salty wedges. "until, I got to this one rung, and it was like faulty." You take a shaky breath in, feeling your eyes beginning to water. But you didn't feel the need to freak out and change the subject. You were comfortable around him. It really was easier to confide in strangers. "It broke off the second my foot landed on it. And, right away, I fell off."

You stare off into a space, "And at first, I tried to grab onto something—anything— to catch myself. But it was all air. And I feel like I've just been falling since."

You let out a heavy sigh and quickly rub your eyes, glad that there wasn't too much moisture.

"You think too much." Patrick says after a while.

Your face fell further at that comment, so Patrick quickly chimed in, "That's just what everyone experiences in their 20s. We're all lost, Y/N. People are just really fucking good hiding it."

He was right, but you were so deep into your self-loathing that his words went in one ear and out the other.

You finish the wedges and wash them down with the cold beer.

"So, is this it?" You cough, awkwardly, wanting to shift the subject from you to him.

"Elaborate." He tilts his head leaning further on his palm.

"This. Like is this your plan?" You sniffle and gesture to the whole bar. "Bartending forever… mixing drinks… forcing conversations with your coworkers until, well, the inevitable happens."

He snickers, "hm, well I’m only 24. So, I’m sure I’ll figure something else out. I don’t plan on settling down just yet anyway."

"Gotcha." You take another sip of your drink. It was starting to go down easier, and you didn't mind the taste all that much anymore. Or maybe you were too distracted by the fuzzy feeling Patrick had stirring inside you. It was truly something: how being seen could make you want to live.

"And you?" He grabs your empty plate and walks around the counter to rinse it in the sink. He leaves it there, reminding himself to wash it first thing tomorrow morning. He turns back to you and wipes his hands on his jeans. "Do you plan on just being a tortured academic… days and nights wearing a snow-white lab coat… until you spill—what?— like hydrochloric acid on yourself, and the inevitable happens."

That pulls a genuine laugh out of you, "Yeah, cause of death: hydrochloric acid. You're funny." You shake your head. "I mean who knows though, right? Anything is possible."

"Yeah," Patrick walks back to you, pulls the barstool closer, and sits on it with his knees touching yours. "But then you can join me— down there."

Your smile widens and you scoff, "I am not going to hell, Patrick." You reach over and jokingly push his shoulder causing him to giggle. "Not that I believe in heaven or hell but if they exist— I’m going to Heaven." You shrug cockily and he quirks an eyebrow, entertained by your sudden playfulness.

You continue, "I mean, just yesterday, I gave this kid— he lost some money his mom gave him for ice cream and he was crying with like snot everywhere— I gave him money. Bought him a nice, cold rocket pop. So if anyone up there was watching, I’m pretty sure I secured my seat."

Patrick was finding you infatuating now. He plays along and nods. "Yeah I’m sure that’s all it takes for a nice warm welcome at the pearly gates."

"It is," you exclaim, almost jumping out of your seat. Almost. You didn't want to move because you'd miss the feeling of his knees bumping against yours. "But in your case I mean… selling drugs? Yeah, you should pack for a hot climate."

You instantly regret mentioning it when his nose twitches at your words, like he wasn't glad to be reminded of his side-business. He shrugs, "I don’t know. I feel like no matter what you do to make money... it'll always be somewhat unethical— whether it’s directly or indirectly." He takes a big gulp of the beer, tilting his head back. He had a nice neck.

"Yeah, that’s true." you reply softly.

A silence fills the bar. Not an uncomfortable one because you found yourself at ease around Patrick. You never thought this is where your night would take you. Drinking beers with an old classmate. One whom you never got close to. One whom you just observed from the sidelines, worrying he was too cool for you. This moment felt like a movie— picturesque.

Before you knew it, you were speaking up again.

"Why didn’t you ever talk to me in high school?"

His eyebrows knit together like he had no idea what you were talking about. "What? That’s not true."

"It is." You chug down the rest of the beer, placing the empty bottle next to you. "I mean, even today, you didn’t remember my name."

"I’m not good with names."

You narrow your eyes, not believing him. "Fine, but answer my question."

Patrick finishes his beer too. He shrugs, "Why didn’t you ever talk to me?"

You scoff at his avoidance of the question. "I would've. You know I was assigned to be your tutor right? For calculus?

To your surprise, he nods.

"I waited everyday, dude. Well— every week. Mondays and Wednesdays. I was in the library for an hour." You emphasize, "And not once did you show up. I even fell asleep and the librarian was like shaking me awake." You bring your hand to Patrick's thigh and shake it, making him laugh. "She was livid. Lectured me about how the library is for learning and that I insulted her and all the books in there. It was horrible!"

He snorts and places his hand on top of yours before you could pull it back. It was warmer than yours. It felt natural, and you didn't feel all that panicky about literally resting your hand on his thigh. Maybe it was the liquor.

"I know. She always had a chip on her shoulder." He stares down at his hand on yours and rubs slow circles with his index finger.

"So? Why didn’t you come?" You press him for an answer you'd wondered for an embarrassingly long time.

"I did. But I never had the- the guts to walk in."

Your eyes widen and your hands reflexively tighten on his thigh. "Really? Why?"

"I don’t know." Patrick smiles softly at your shocked expression. "I've always hated asking for help. And I was ashamed. Or, embarrassed. I mean you— a girl who's a younger than me— would be teaching me about the absolute value of whatever the fuck. It was just embarrassing. So, instead, I just switched out of that math. Did an easier one. Passed it— but barely."

Another moment of silence envelopes you two. Feeling ashamed and dumb were all too familiar to you. You understood exactly where he was coming from.

"It’s all in the past now but … if it’s any consolation, I don’t think it’s embarrassing at all. I mean no one’s good at everything. We all have to get help from others where we can. It’s just— I don’t know. It’s human."

He nods.

You nod.

And then you're both leaning in.

You weren't thinking about anything. It was the first time in years where your mind was vacant. All you wanted was to feel his rosy lips on yours— the rest didn't matter.

Patrick, on the other hand, was intrigued the second he laid his eyes on you. When you weren't looking, he was using the opportunity to check you out. Respectfully, of course. He had been hoping that something would transpire between you two. Something that would make him feel like a carefree teenager again.

Your lips met and you melted into him. You hand moved up his thigh while his came up to cup your cheek. It was so sweet. You felt your eyes moisten underneath your lids. He tilted his head to get a better angle and kissed you deeper. You parted your lips and his tongue came out to find yours.

You wanted him closer and you kept trying to bring yourself forward until your shaky stool tipped forward causing you to stumble onto him.

You gasp, scared that you were going to fall but Patrick's quick movements had his hands wrapped around you, holding you still. You were disappointed that your kiss was interrupted but Patrick's breathy laugh washed that away.

"You okay?" He unwraps his arms and brings his fingers to your chin to tilt it up. Your glossy eyes meet his.

"Yeah," you whisper.

"You wanna get out of here?" Patrick leans down and softly pecks your cheek.

You were nodding before he finished asking and he chuckled at your eagerness.

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._..

Patrick locked the bar up and the two of you staggered your way down the road to the motel. The vacancy sign was lit bright with big red neon letters but that didn't make the place seem inviting. However, in that moment, you didn't want to be anywhere else. In that moment, you realized you'd go to the ends of the Earth with Patrick.

He holds the door open for you and you both walk right up to the tired looking concierge. An older women with short hair who was engrossed with her computer— probably playing solitaire.

She was cold, not bothering to acknowledge the two of you even when you were clearly waiting for her attention.

Patrick clears his throat, and the lady lets out a sigh finally turning to face you both.

“Yeah?” She brings her cigarette to her lips.

“Could we get a single room, please?” Patrick reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet.

The concierge’s skeptical eyes look you up and down and then Patrick.

“We don’t charge by the hour,” she blows out a puff of smoke.

Your face heats up and your jaw drops at her gratuitous remark.

“Excuse me? Do I look like a—”

Patrick wrap his arm around your waist in a comforting manner and forces a laugh to cut you off. He wanted to kiss you more tonight (and maybe do some other things) and he knew that bitching at the concierge would only hurt his chances.

“Single room. Please.”

She scoffs and types something into the computer while you clenched your jaw out of anger, still not over her comment.

Reaching over the counter, she hands Patrick a key with a worn out key chain. He mutters a ‘thanks’ and hands her his card.

After the transaction is over, he pulls you along to the room and you two whisper about the displeasing interaction.

“I’m literally carrying my backpack- like I couldn’t look more innocent.” You laugh.

“She just wanted to fuck with us,” Patrick unlocks the door and ushers you into the room.

The room was a little smaller than you expected. Fit for two people and no more than that. The curtains draping the windows had a few cigarette burns along with a mysterious yellow-ish stain. And the bed? The bed didn’t look comfortable at all. Just a mattress with a thin cover and a blanket folded in half, at the foot of it. Your head snaps to the wall across from the door when you hear the plumbing creak when someone flushed next door. You weren’t expecting the Ritz or anything but come on!

“Home sweet home,” Patrick drops his bag and walks over to the bathroom, opening the door.

You grin and go to sit on the edge of the bed. Hands clasped in your lap, like you were getting ready to pray.

Your eyes wander to Patrick’s bag on the floor and a question crosses your mind.

Just then, Patrick opens the door and begins washing his hands.

“Patrick?” You call out as you stared at the bag.

“Mhm?” He turns off the tap and dries his hand on the beige hand towels.

“You still deal, right?”

He walks back into the room and finds you staring at his bag.

“I do. But it’s mostly a side thing now. Just until I start saving enough from bartending.”

You turn your head slowly to face him, “what do you have on you right now?”

He freezes not expecting you to bring any of this up. Were you asking just out of curiosity? Or because you wanted to get high? He really hoped the latter wasn’t true. He wanted you. He wanted you to be fully there and to remember tonight. Patrick had slept with many people under the influence, and as fun as it was then, he didn’t want that anymore. He wanted real connection— real emotion.

He shrugs, trying to be nonchalant, “I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

"I was thinking," you turn to look at him, "maybe you could give me something. I'll pay, of course."

Patrick resists the urge to roll his eyes. Is that really all you saw him as? Even after the conversation back at the bar?

"I uh... I don't know, Y/N." He chokes out a chuckle, feeling a little nervous.

You furrow your eyebrows and stand up, "what? Why? I told you I'd pay."

"I heard you," He snaps.

Taking matters into your own hands, you stride over to his bag and pick it up. You didn't understand why you were being so stubborn. But the tipsy effect of the beer was wearing off and you could feel yourself reverting back to your miserable self.

You'd never tried anything before— besides an edible once, but it just made you anxious because, well, of course it did. You wanted something stronger, but didn't know where to find it. Now that Patrick was in front of you, you knew you should at least try.

His eyes widen as you pick up his bag so he crosses the room and yanks it out of your grip.

"What the fuck, Y/N?" His knuckles turned white as his tightened his grasp on the bag.

You scoff, "what? What’s the big deal?"

Patrick doesn't respond right away and just stares at you in disapproval. As if you weren't aware of how pathetic you were being.

You really didn't have anything to lose though. So you reached out for his bag again and wrapped your hand around of the of the straps. Frustration clouds his mind and, without thinking, he shoves you away. It catches you off guard and you trip over your foot and your rear lands on floor with a thud.

You were shocked and stared at the floor as tears brimmed your eyes. Humiliation creeps under every inch of your skin. You wished you'd never gotten off the bus.

Patrick gasps and drops the bag, quickly making his way over to you. He squats next to you.

"Fuck, are you okay? I didn't mean to do that— I'm so sorry." He brings his hand up to your cheek to brush the hair out of your eyes, but you swat it away.

He backs off for now. But when he notices the drops of tears streaming down your face, he reaches out and wipes them with his thumb without hesitation. You let him.

A few seconds passed and you only cried harder. Your body trembled and Patrick wrapped both his arms around you, rubbing your back and kissing the top of your head.

Your hand claps around his forearm and he can feel your fingers digging into his flesh. He didn't mind.

After a few moments, you felt that your sorrow was enough. You pull away from him and wipe your face on your sleeve. You take deep breaths trying to calm your racing heart and Patrick continues rubbing your back.

“I wasn’t always like this, you know?" You choke out. Your voice was hoarse and your throat stung as you spoke, "I used to be a whole- a whole person. I was so full. My mom told me the other day, that I was a very happy kid,” Your hands were shaking and Patrick brings them hands into his. He leans down and places soft kisses on your knuckles. “I don't know what happened. I mean, I can’t remember the last time I felt even like a sliver— a fucking lick of satisfaction.”

His heart was breaking at the sight. He wanted to make you laugh again, like he did before. He wanted to make you feel better. Maybe, give you a taste of that satisfaction you craved.

"This is just a rough patch, Y/N. Soon, it'll be a blurry memory." Patrick's words did a good job soothing you.

You nod and slowly pick yourself up off the floor. Patrick's hands instantly fly up to your hips to help you.

"I should- I think I should go."

Patrick quickly stands up and shakes his head, "no- no. Stay, come on." He places his hands on your waist, gently. He'd do anything to make you stay.

You blow out a huff of air, “I just- I made things so fucking weird.”

“No, no you didn’t.” He pulls you closer until both of you were against each other. You had to tilt your head quite far back to see him. He brings one of his hands up to caress your cheek.

After a moment of thinking he gathers the courage to say, “I want to help you. But— not by giving you something— I… I want to make you feel good.” You could feel his breath on the tip of your nose.

Your eyes were filled with tears and desperation. Patrick notices your bottom lip quiver and brings his thumb to brush it.

You gulp and nod slowly, "make me feel like I'm human."

That's all he needed to hear. Patrick's hands drop to your face and grasp your wrists, pulling you towards the bed. Your feet drag on the floor and your eyes stayed lost in his. You were entranced. The vulnerability you showed him didn't scare him away. If anything, it only made him want you more. He could handle you.

"Lay down for me." He says lowly.

The motel room didn't seem all that dingy anymore. It felt comfortable, and you didn't want to be anywhere else. You don't know how you'd return to your dull life after tonight.

You did as you were told. No thoughts in your mind because this was something you were sure you wanted. There was no doubt in your mind, for the first time... ever. You crawl onto the bed and lay down with your head on the pillow, staring up at the popcorn ceiling.

Patrick walks to the foot of the bed and reaches forward to take your shoes off. You look down, surprised at his action. It felt too domestic, like you guys had been together for years and he'd done it many times before. When he finishes untying your sneakers, he pulls them off your feet and tosses them onto the floor.

Patrick, then, kicks off his own shoes and finally climbs onto the bed. He crawls on to and hovers over you, staring at your lips. This time, you took the lead and pulled him down by his collar into a kiss. He immediately kisses back and you both fall back into the rhythm that you had perfected earlier. Your back was beginning to arch and your pelvis rubbed against his growing erection. Patrick pulled away to exhale shakily into your neck. He needed to calm down because tonight was about you. Not him.

He backs off and you try to pull him back against you. But he was stronger and moves down until he comes face to face with the hem of your jeans. Without wasting time, he unbuttons them and impatiently pulls them off. You lift your hips to assist him for which he shoots you a small smile. You blush and let your head fall back on the pillow.

Patrick tosses the jeans onto the floor too and licks his lips at the sight of your panties. They were simple, dark blue. No bows, no lace, just plain cotton. But right now, he couldn't imagine anything hotter.

He tests the waters and brings his thumb up to rub you through the thin fabric. You instantly gasp and push yourself against him, chasing the friction. Patrick loved how reactive you were.

He didn't want to tease you; he was here to give you exactly what you wanted. He hooks his fingers on the hem of your panties and tugs them off too.

You inhaled deeply, a little embarrassed for when he sees how wet you are. You could even feel a drop of your arousal dribble down your pussy.

Without hesitation, Patrick dives in and buries his face in you. He wanted to be covered in your wetness. You gasp and almost clamp your legs shut but he stops you by gripping your thighs to keep them apart. He was freakishly strong, and you had to stop struggling.

He lapped up all your juices and his nose brushed against your clit as he did. You had your eyes shut tight and your back arched as you moaned a string of curses that you would never say out loud. Your hands busied themselves by clutching the bedsheets so tightly, the wrinkles would never come out. Patrick let go of your thighs and reached up to your sides to interlock his fingers with yours. It was so intimate you realized you'd never felt this close with anyone before.

"Oh my God, Patrick- fuck!" your fingernails dug into the back of his hands and he hoped there would be crescent shaped marks left behind. Proof that tonight wasn't a dream.

His tongue worked skillfully as he fucked your core. Patrick was confident. He'd made plenty of girls cum by just his mouth or fingers.

He pulls back and you let out a cry missing the stimulation.

"Look at me, Y/N."

Your eyes were half closed and your body was exhausted. You try to raise your head to look at him. Patrick's hands let go of yours and places them under your thighs. He, then, lifts them up so they rest on his shoulders. You gasp and prop yourself up on your elbows to stare down at him.

"Please," you say, breathlessly.

He obeys and, this time, goes after your clit. Licking and biting like a starved man. Your response was a lot more intense this time. Your head falls back with a whimper from the built up pleasure. Patrick looks up through his eyebrows and slaps your thigh, leaving a red mark. Your eyes shoot open and you face him with shock etched on your face.

"I told you to look at me. I wanna see your face when I make you cum."

You nod quickly like you were apologizing and assuring him you'd never make the mistake again. He returns his attention back to your pussy and spits on it. His tongue was back and swirling around your clit like he was memorizing your taste. Your legs twitched.

The small room was filled with sounds of your mewls and the squelching of your pussy against Patrick's tongue. You worried that maybe you were being too loud but Patrick didn't seem to mind. You didn't notice your noises alone had given him a hard-on. He wanted to ignore it but then his hips started rubbing against the mattress.

Patrick's tongue moves quicker, flicking your clit and making your legs twitch out of control.

"I'm gonna- Patrick, I'm gonna cum," you could barely finish your sentence before the knot in your stomach bursts and you feel yourself release on his lips. You cry and your elbows give out. Your heads hits the pillow and you close your eyes because the room was spinning.

Patrick groans when he reaches his finish too. He pushes himself against the mattress one last time and then licks your pussy clean.

You both pant after the euphoric orgasms you shared. A few seconds pass, and Patrick climbs onto the bed and drops down next to you.

Neither of you say anything. But you knew he didn't regret it because you didn't either. If you went back in time and told your high-school self that you'd one day hook up with Patrick Zweig, would she believe you?

Something told you that this wasn't just a hook up, though. You saw Patrick for who he was now, and you liked it. He was a good person and he made you feel alive.

You were so glad you got off the bus.

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

Thank you for being patient with me!

This is now the longest fic I’ve written so far!!

Thank you for reading, as always <33

[kanmom51]

Are you sure?

(that Tae is not third wheeling in Jeju, that is)

Lately I've been noticing that I love to start my posts with "So". And this one will be no different, lol.

So...

This dropped.

Notice, btw, how this one is called "Are you sure?! Announcement (from Jeju)"? Both 'announcements' filmed in Jeju, so why the difference then?

Maybe this:

Again, if they would have used the word "for USA" and "for Jeju" that would make sense as there being an announcement for each 'chapter' in their travel vlogs. But they clearly used the word "from" and that makes me stop and wonder why they did that, kind of make me think that maybe I wasn't too delusional with that post of mine.

People were all up in arms for Tae calling it "our" show only for it not to be the actual true translation.

Once again, thanks to @haedalkoo for setting things straight.💜

Others upset for this being exactly the same as the teaser clip we got from Jikook telling about their upcoming show.

And I beg to disagree with them on that.

This was them in the announcement 'from the USA":

JK is literally wearing the same outfit, JM changed and with glasses on. So I will risk and say, same day?

And yet, so so different.

It's not about them standing in the one and sitting in the other. Possibly a decision made to make them feel more comfortable in the situation seeing that it appeared to me they weren't so much.

But even when it's evident in the first announcement there is a script to follow you see their characters shine through, the playfulness between them, the dynamics, the chemistry, the electricity in the air.

While in the second announcement their demeanor is just totally different. STIFF.

Clearly running through the script. No extra them being them.

And that's how you have basically the two saying the same thing in both of these announcement only the first one ending up 1:23 minutes long while the second being 1:03 minutes long.

And do we talk about this?

JK and JM clearly closer to each other.

Is this JK's doing? Pulling JM just a little bit closer to him? Or Tae being put in the corner for "insisting" to join? Just joking. Or not. Lmao.

I know that there are those that are angry or frustrated about Tae joining, and although I do get you, seeing that we were basically sold the idea of this being just a Jikook show, then being showcased throughout Summer, Autumn and Winter. I too am struggling to understand why this wasn't part of the initial promotions. Why not tell us Tae is joining for the Jeju trip? Wouldn't have made Jikookers any less excited I would think. Why shoot those two announcements both from Jeju? That snippet we got with the two excited:

This is literally the two of them sitting on those chairs with Tae most likely by their side, Tae cut out.

So why?

I still don't get it. Not fully. I don't think it's about money or streaming. I actually am leaning towards thinking this was what the two of them wanted. In order to cement the fact that this is THEIR SHOW. Their idea. Their execution. Tae is a visitor, a guest, but it's THEIRS.

Anyway, Tae will be with them in Jeju. And it will be VERY interesting to see how this goes down. JK did not seem to be a happy camper in the teaser. Could be a mood. Could be in reaction to something that went down. We do know that he and Tae have that passive-aggressive energy to their interactions at times. JM's eyeroll in that moment was everything to me, lol.

We got these just now too:

and

You know I am always honest with you guys. And this is not going to be any different. At the end of the day, yes, I might have been disappointed that this isn't only theirs, that we weren't going to get to see them together, just the two of them in Jeju, a place we know they are so familiar with and that they both love so much. You know, without a buffer. But then, we are still getting Jikook. And I do believe that even with that buffer, or perhaps maybe because of said buffer, we might get some very interesting and insightful moments from this joint trip to Jeju. Eye opening to some (those that have had problems reading the room since forever).

[catwithpartyhat]

What is THE scene you think when you think of daryl?

aaa my very first ask!! and what a great one too!!! thank you anon!! (:

I’m currently rewatching the show and i’m on season three, so i’m definitely talking about this through those goggles, but man--there are a few scenes that come to mind...

One I really love is the moment where the group makes fun of Daryl over the chupacabra thing. We reference it a lot in fandom as just some oddball redneck flavor--and it is that--but there’s so much more to it for me!!! sorry, i might go a little insane about it now.

First off: it’s such a small thing, but when he rocks up putting on his shirt, it’s the first time we see what might be scars on his chest? I remember rewatching it and thinking, “oh. i know where that’s going.” the way he’s so fidgety about getting the shirt back on is such a sad detail in hindsight. And even though the others clearly see it, no one says anything. (Same thing later when Hershel patches him up, though that has more of a “professional distance” to it, maybe.)

Then there’s the part where they discuss the search for Sophia, where Daryl explains his plan and even defends it to shane, who’s starting to give up. When he says “whoever slept in that cupboard was no bigger than yay-high”--idk, as a non-native english speaker i think that expression is so cute--but also? It’s a rare glimpse of Daryl being confident in his knowledge and instincts. And the way rick just trusts him implicitly…(!!!) the way Daryl responds to being trusted and respected… ughdkdj it just hits so hard.

And then Dale brings up the chupacabra story, “the first night at camp, daryl tells us the whole thing reminds him of a time he went squirrel hunting and saw a chupacabra”, and like??? the implication there is so much!! That he actually tried to talk to these people. That he tried to make a connection when everything was falling apart. That he was sitting with them at the fire even with Merle around too (or maybe he wasn’t there (yet)?). It says so much to me about who this guy is at his core.

Especially when we learn later (when he hallucinates Merle) that he used to do a bunch of shrooms and then got made fun of for it-- he still chose to tell these strangers his weird little story.His instinct was to connect, but he’s never really been granted that connection in return. He’s so closed off, but not because he wants to be--it’s just the only thing he knows. and also, honestly? I do love that he’s a greasy feral man who has that crazy uncle vibe as he brings up the chupacabra. it’s flavor!! But it also emulates his whole character so well.

And then of course he retaliates with “people in hell want slurpees,” which is the funniest most insane thing to say. I read somewhere (maybe an interview with Norman reedus?) that he imagines Daryl watched a lot of TV growing up, and that it really shaped the way he talks and interacts--because real emotional modeling wasn’t available in his home. This awkward one-liner doesn't reallyy feel like it's just for flavor, it's more like a coping mechanism. It's this nonsense phrase that feels like a tough-guy line, even if it means nothing. That’s Daryl in a nutshell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway, if you read through all of that: I love this emotionally stunted possum man so bad it makes me sick. Thank you for asking!!! Feel free to let me know what you think!! :D

Other contenders for the scene were definitely when he talks about his mom with Carl, or when he holds baby Judith in Season 3. And of course: the entire buddy-cop episode with Rick and their scuffle over the truck with Jesus (I very much include his moment prior to that with Denise and the soda in there too).

[yuki2sksksk]

Another KNY drabble with Obanai but it just came across my mind that some people might think Obanai hates all women and is misogynist -- SHUT UPPP IT'S CALLED TRAUMA FOR A REASON.

I think the correct way to describe how Obanai acts around women would be more 'uncomfortable'. He doesn't dislike them because he thinks men are superior and women are less than men yada yada -- he dislikes women because he was raised in an all women family and treated like a sacrifice for a snake demon.

Hello?? Is that not traumatizing then idk what is. He was a baby even then and grew up in a cage with no contact of outside world! Obviously this caused him to be uncomfortable around women and tends to be awkward.

You know, actually, i really REALLY like that Obanai was saved by Shinjuro and this led him possibly to know Kyoujuro since they were young. Something about a boy that was so used to hypocrite people and then met someone that radiates genuine honesty so much it's baffling. I think that's why Obanai likes Kyoujuro, because everything about him is real and truthful.

The same applies with his attraction to Mitsuri, who has an easily readable expression so lying is not her best forte. Also with Sanemi, due to his unfiltered words.

(oh god Obanai saying Giyuu's face looks like a rat and that's why he doesn't like him is probably because it's hard to know what Giyuu is thinking, so automatically Obanai hates him)

Ah I just thought of Shinobu with her emotions masking! Obanai probably hates her at first, feeling SUPER wary of her cause she's all smiles and sweet and he just has instant flashback AKDNSKSN.

Oh my god. Enemies to besties with Obanai and Shinobu. Besties that talk about swords cause their sword structures are unique. Obanai allowing Shinobu to extract Kaburamaru's poison for test. Shinobu giving special permission for Obanai bringing in Kaburamaru into the butterfly estate cause she knows he keeps his snake friend clean and healthy.

Shinobu, without realising it, helps Obanai to interact with girls more after spending time with each other. Obanai, offering support and encouragement for Shinobu when she feels insecure of her lack of physical strength.

(I'd say enemies to besties cause Obanai hates people that masked their intentions with sweet words and would word something like 'I hate fake women like you: and Shinobu misunderstood his hostility as a superior feeling against women then the aggressive tension between them is WILD until maybe they had a talk about their pasts)

Obanai appreciates honest people y'all, in a nutshell.

[levshany]

Hamayun Masterpost 🦅

Concept and introducing

storybooks, updates, asks, fanarts:

Storybooks and updates

The concepts (not translated)

1th update. About fanarts for the au

Luz and Phillip's first meeting [storybook]

2th update. The biggest bird research

"You would not be-leaf" art with Caleb

Caleb and Evelyn's first meeting in a nutshell /j

You have unlocked: cuddles [animation test]

Caleb and Evelyn's first meeting [storybook]

Phillip sees Luz approaching him

Evelyn and Pip's first interactions

"So this is your choice" animation

Asks

Looks like Phillip could pick up a whole cow

Does Phillip have any powers/abilities?

Does Phillip have any gold in his nest to give it to Luz?

Is Camilla alive in Hamayun AU?

How vulnerable are hamayuns to chancla?

Is Caleb also a bird?

Could Phillip carry Luz to her mom?

Does Hunter exist in the Hamayun AU?

Would Camilla hit Phillip with the chancla? (part 1)

Would Camilla hit Phillip with the chancla? (part 2)

Hamayun AU in Tangled style

Новый питомец Луз

Is Eda still Luz's mentor here?

So Papa Titan is the king?

Phillip is just playful

Where did you get the name Hamayun?

How friendly is Hamayun Phillip?

Would Hamayun Phillip get offended if someone ate chicken wings in front of him?

Did Hamayun Phillip have a beard phase?

About Kikimora

В каких отношениях состоят Калеб с Эвелин и можно ли романсить Филипа?

Is hunter Caleb and Evelyn's son?

I am going to preen Caleb

it would be funny if kikimora turned out to be an actual kikimora from folklore

IS HUNTER FLUFFY??

titans and collector's role in Hamayun AU?

в Гамаюн АУ единственные магические существа это Гамаюны?

Is hamayuan birb belos also infected with the curse?

what if i threw bread crumbs at hamayun Philip

Fanarts

Hama Phillip art by Kaadaart

More Hama Phillip art by Kaadaart! :D

Little Pip art by Pinksilvace

Hama Phillip arts by Ruzhuzhu

And now Hama Caleb and Pip arts by Ruzhuzhu! :>

Caleb's death art by Pinksilvace

Hama Phillip art by sam1602y

One more Hama Phillip art by sam1602y! :3

Hama Phillip by CreadorKara UwU

Hama Phillip by Chortttttt

(I hope it's okay that I linked you. if you don't wanna be, chat me please!)

the masterpost will be updating during the progress

[pachimation]

redrawing my very first chiscara comic/art i ever did for chscr day!!

old comic under the cut!!

lol a bunch of sappy semi serious stuff below bc i cant help but be a bit genuine about this ship today :’3

i cant possibly put into words how important this silly little ship and its community mean to me haha,,,, this comic was made in 2021 but i didnt really get serious about chscr until late 2022 after a bunch of pretty bad interpersonal stuff happened and i needed an outlet,, COINCIDENTALLY a certain someone was announced to be playable around then and i was already thought chscr was Pretty Neat™️ so i ended up diving headfirst into the ship. it also gave me a good excuse to work on more comics too!! i’d done a pretty big zhongven comic earlier that year in the summer, but in terms of lore there was only so much i could have worked with at the moment.

childe and scaramouche have that perfect combination of silliness and angst and violence that could be explored or expanded in so many ways and i love love love seeing other people’s interpretations of their dynamic and relationship. they’re so complex,,,,they’re narrative foils,,,they’re narrative parallels,,,they’re trans allegories,,,they’re flies in the spiderweb of the games lore,,,they’re my stupid little meow meows,,, they’re just two losers i want to see make out,,,

in a nutshell, they’re everything to me. well, i hope i get that kind of sentiment across in my own comics,,,,

and i cant get started on all the people ive met through chiscara or the way that having something i can call “my thing”, as in, the thing that i like and that i will spend a lot of time and effort (and money, but lets not talk about that) to surround myself with because it makes me smile. its stupid to say, but being a nerd about these two stupid guys who have never had a single canon onscreen interaction in some random game has made me a much happier and confident person that i could have ever imagined back in my freshman year of college,,, when i say i dont know who i’d be if i hadnt gotten into chiscara, i really do mean it lol

i’m actually surprised i’m making it to over a full year of regular-ishly making art, especially for the same game and ship! thats never happened before and my art has improved so much over this past year!! more than anything else, i’m happy! i get to be excited talking about these characters with my friends and i love to see art of them pop up on the tl. i make stickers of them and decorate my phonecase with them and have little figures of them in my room that i look at when im up late at night working on schoolwork. sometimes just the thought of finishing a comic or daydreaming about a scenario or seeing what my mutuals are up to are some of the few things getting me through a tough day.

,,,,so believe me when i say, to both childe and scara and to everyone else as obsessed with these pathic losers as i am, thank you! i’m having a lot of fun!!!

(also i just found out tumblrs copy/paste doesnt work on my ipad??? idk if this ends up legible i may or may not have deleted smth by accident and im not in a mood to proofread haha)

[bomber-grl]

hiro hamada x tarot reader! reader? :)

Pairing(s): Hiro Hamada x Gn!Reader

Hiro’s initial reaction to discovering that you read tarot cards is pure skepticism. He’s intrigued, sure, but also very hesitant.

Pretty much his interactions with things/concepts that can’t be scientifically explained in a nutshell. His mind works in logical ways, and tarot doesn’t fit into any of his boxes of reasoning or possibility.

At first, Hiro might question your practices—probably under the guise of just being curious. He'd ask how it worked, if it was just random cards being pulled, if it actually predicted stuff, etc etc. He probably spends some time researching tarot on his own, looking up the symbolism behind each card, trying to make sense of it, and maybe even trying to debunk it.

He won’t outwardly be this way with you though, I mean he can be dense but he isn’t too dense. I see him falling down those rabbit holes talking about tarot and how it opens to evil or whatever.

Finds himself falling for it then realizes how stupid it is and clicks off.

Then enters Cass.

Cass, on the other hand, is completely fascinated by the idea of tarot, and while Hiro puts his bags away in his room, she’s already chatting with you about it in the living room. The more you explain it, the more into she seems to be.

Cass has an affinity for anything a little out of the ordinary and has always been someone who likes trying out new things. A bit more open-minded out of the two for sure.

She finds it fascinating that you can “read” people through tarot, and she’s the type to be pretty open to it– a huge contrast to Hiro. Honestly might not believe that it actually can predict the future of giving messages, and even then she still thinks it’s a fun thing for someone to do.

No hater here.

At some point, Hiro comes out of his room to see you and Cass discussing tarot in the living room. He can’t say that he's surprised that you two are getting along over this topic, you two get along over anything.

He personally doesn’t really get the hype but seeing how you two are bonding over it, he chooses to let you guys be.

Eventually, he allows you to do a reading for him, and there’s this mix of apprehension. Took you begging for weeks just for him to let up. He might joke about it first, like saying that if you pull a “bad” card out then he’s leaving (after having had you explain each to him). He’s pretty attentive as you place the cards down, tell them what they mean, etc.

Hiro is still skeptical, don't get him wrong. But he does feel like something in the reading really resonated with him and will think about it for a while. Even use what you told him to guide his decisions.

He isn’t converted but he does think there is a benefit to tarot. Like people having their feelings or experiences validated by these cards or even helping make a good decision.

Also, just because he’s skeptical, it doesn’t mean he’ll be a dick about it. Especially if Cass is really into the reading you’re giving her. Or you being really into it alone is reason enough.

[purpledemonlilyposting]

Oh good the Lorch is sending herself asks about me again.

[Lily's Post]

Oh yeah Lily calling marginalized people a "pick me" for not having the same exact opinions as you doesn't make you look bigoted at all.

Unlike you I don't think children's cartoons are activism. And my pointing at that some people like to try to downplay the lesbian themes in Steven Universe, or at least the way lesbians interact with the themes of the show, actually has nothing to do with the show itself.

Hey Lily did you know I also really don't like the word queer being thrown around, refuse to call myself that because it means strange and also dislike "anti-assimilationist" types?

Speaking of which:

[Lily's Post]

Yeah I say that about the kids telling me queer has been "reclaimed" for me. I would think you'd agree, Lily.

Those are two completely different concepts you dumbass. We can have gay content in mainstream media without it being insulting dreck driven by rainbow capitalism.

Lily is the one who basically wants the Hayes Code back. She wants every show and movie to tell her who is good, who is bad, what to think and for the bad guy to get thrown off a cliff at the end.

Lily just because those are the only two pieces of media YOU know I like doesn't mean that's all I like or have ever seen. Have you seen But I'm a Cheerleader? How about Saving Face?

Hey Lily if you'd actually watch my responses to you:

No I sneer at shows with bad depictions of gay characters when they have bad depictions of gay characters. Especially when they break their own spines patting themselves on the back for it.

Are you trying to get ahead of my VOD you falsely struck going back up on Thursday? You know the one where you said an early 2000's flaming queen stereotype in some shitty Alicia Silverstone vehicle was super good "gay rep" because you had some retarded need to paint a narrative that Canadian cartoons "did it first"?

The whole "she's just mad other shows are outpacing things she likes" lol it isn't a competition, dawg. That's you, Lily. That's how you think.

This is how I know its a self ask.

Yeah that's why in my reaction to James Somerton's somehow EVEN WORSE takes on Utena than yours I kept saying things like "Utena isn't really that hard to understand it just tells it's story in a very abstract way".

Also if you think the Sword of Dios is "the sword of patriarchy" you really didn't get it but much like James here I doubt you ever even watched it, Lily. I look forward to your "In a Nutshell" video where you will read out TVTropes with zero context and get everything wrong.

Lily I hadn't watched the show fully in over 15 years when I made my very first video on you. I wasn't even expecting to talk about Utena you just went on a tirade about it in the middle of your 2023 Steven Universe video.

In fact, the reason I even cut that video in the first place is I was so impressed with my own recall of the show. And then it got 5k hits out of nowhere on my then completely unestablished channel because people just hate your takes that much.

And now making fun of you has paid for my new GPU and CPU. No Man's Sky is running great and I'm ready for Dragon Age Veilguard so cheers!

[sir-kettle-of-countertop]

Hey! I just wanted to say that I can't wait to learn more about Kurt and Stein's deal, because I got a song stuck ony head that reminds me SO MUCH of the comic you drew, but I feel it's still too soon to say if the song fits the characters or not (that doesn't stop me from rattling the bars of me enclosure every time I hear the song)

In any case, have a wonderful day!!! ✨✨

YOU. SHARE THE SONG. I'M SO CURIOUS NOW

And aaaaaaaa I'm working on it! It's just that with ref making and exam prep I haven't been able to work on p2 yet ;-; it WILL happen tho 100% and goddamn I'm also so excited to do it! I think I have such a GOOD scene in mind- I can barely contain myself from spoiling it early ;-;

I'm also. So excited to show Kurt's perspective on things in general cause that man has it ROUGH and imo pretty damn interesting. I wish I could try to illustrate in drawing what his life feels like to him, but that's above my pay grade I'd say.

In nutshell Kurt on bad days feels like he's stuck in his personal time loop. Still stuck in the day he got shot while his life moves on forward around him.

Before his ability to form new memories started somewhat recovering he felt like he's always dreaming - one moment he was talking with a Storch outside, he turns around, now he's in his office. No recall on when and how he got there... did he even talk with a Storch?.. who was she? It must be Mei, he saw her just yesterday... Wait, now he was told that she died months ago... Then, repeat the whole interaction with no memory of it happening before.

And it's this with everything. A deeply confusing, hellish existence, mess of garbled thoughts, intact old memories and half-formed new memories. That man had to put himself back together from ground up. That is also why he decided on naming himself Kurt once he got a firmer grip on his consciousness - first to orient himself in time better, then to separate the old, dead, self - Adler, and the new self that stubbornly keeps on living - Kurt. Now on good days he simply appears a bit forgetful - one wouldn't even guess that there was something wrong with him if not for the metallic plate.

Stein played a big role in his recovery - at first unintentionally. He was a person Kurt never knew before his head trauma, so no old memories to rely on. Stein's plan to get some company consequence-free actually worked, as Kurt couldn't remember him as soon as he left. But as they met and talked daily, and Kurt's health started recovering he was able piece together more and more of new events in his life - and be able to do so easily as it became routine.

To explain the ending of part 1 of the comic better - with time he remembered Stein... and hid it from him for a while, for multiple reasons you can probably already guess but which I'll layout in part 2 :)

And just. A THEIR RELATIONSHIP-

me @ Stein: hey isn't it messed up that you deliberately exploited his disability to find out a lot about him - things he would never share normally - through fucking trial and error? Know exactly what to say, what to do, how to get his favour and trust as quickly as possible? That besides that you're also way, way stronger than him physically?

me @ Kurt: hey isn't it messed up that he is your subordinate and that you have direct control over most of his life? That you can, at will, order almost anything to change it to your whim and that he will have no say to protest it? That he is an outcast and really doesn't have anyone to rely on besides you - including relying on you lying and faking documents for him to not get decommissioned?

There's a lot of dancing around power dynamics on both sides there.

Both trust each other deeply NOT to abuse that power.

And they do have a lot of reasons to like each other (hopefully I can explain it...). Both are deeply passionate about things they like, and are eager to share it with each other. They appreciate both being able to connect and agree on lots of things, and to hear each other's different perspectives. The kindness and care - Stein doing his best to help Kurt with his memory, checking in with his state, writing down reminders for him, accompanying him to where he needs to be at just to be sure that he won't get lost, smuggling him drawing supplies (Kurt picked on drawing as it helps him with recall. And he just likes it); Kurt trying to make Stein's life less miserable overall, introduce him to new people (such as Myoti), buying him nature documentaries to watch, taking him out to the (out of access for most Replikas without official permission) facility's botanical garden, making sure he feels appreciated. They simply enjoy being with each other!

I can talk about it so much I feel exactly like fuckin Kurt just going on an insane breathless rant whenever somebody shows the slightest hint of an interest I'm so sorry

I'll only for now add 1 detail that I found amusing - Kurt for a while had NO IDEA that Geiers are not like Mynahs and that they could remove their chestplate and protective clothing. He just went. Well that's fine. We'll figure it out...

And then when the topic finally came up and Stein was like oh no I can put it off, wanna see?

And he saw. And his OS crashed. And he went through at least 3 separate internal crisises:

oh FUCK. YEAH, I'M DEFINITELY BI

oh FUCK. SO THEY WEAR PROPER CLOTHES. WHY DON'T I

oh FUCK. I'M ALWAYS ESSENTIALLY HALF-NAKED. THAT'S EMBARRASSING

And while he stood there completely dumbfounded, Stein is just: "am i this ugly? :( "

[waywardmillennial]

Puppet History Trailer Breakdown

The PH season seven trailer dropped on Watcher TV today and I'm going to try to break it down New Rockstars style - so settle in because this is a long one!

disclaimer: I am an oxymoron of a human who notices lots of details and misses other clues - so I might not have caught everything but I tried!

[s7 trailer easter eggs and spoiler-y thoughts under the cut]

The trailer opens with the Professor looking at the billboard for Phorgedytol, the tagline of which reads "(something) WITH YOUR BRAIN"

[note: this is different to the Phorgedytol billboard we see at the end of the trailer that reads "FRENCH THE VOID!"]

the first shot of Ryan in the trailer is from the episode with Aria Inthavong

behind them on the bookshelf you can see what I think is a brachiosaurus (from the late Jurassic era), a pair of alpacas, and the Genie lamp very prominently displayed!

then we cut to this interaction Ryan: How long has it been since we've been in class? to which the Professor gives a very non-committal "Uhhhh...."

[Interesting, no? Possible side-effect of the Professor taking Phorgedytol maybe?]

then we cut to guest Alex Song-Xia with a possibly foreboding comment

[this probably has no lore implications but I like that there's a framed copy of this photo that Ryan tweeted in 2021 on the set]

the trailer continues with the Professor talking to the guests

then the trailer cuts to what could be a major lore drop with Ryan saying, "You keep my wife's name out of your god damn mouth!" as he marches to the theater to slap the Professor

[notice how this is in black and white -that's the trailer edit not mine- so perhaps this is a flashback of some kind? Maybe to something that happened to make the Professor want to take Phorgedytol?]

Remember in s6 Ryan and the Professor were friends (see: the JC Penney photoshoot) so seeing a moment like this in the trailer is, for lack of a better phrase, a slap in the face

Based on what all the guests are wearing in the trailer it looks like The Slap will happen in Claudia's episode, based on the shot right before Ryan gets out of the chair (their reaction face is gorgeous btw)

we get a great out of context line from Sara Rubin

and the Professor talking about his anatomy with Brennan

Then the Lore Drop Hits

[yeah the rest of this was just a drop in the bucket in this trailer tbh]

The cuts happen fairly fast with overlapping VO - I posted most of the main shots earlier and there are some shots of the history skits that I skipped to focus on the Lore. These shots also have some alt descriptions in this post of things I noticed on the rewatch

VO Script Mysterious Puppet: No, you louse. You sops. You absolute men. Ryan: Well, this is collusion. They clearly- Professor: That's not collusion. Ryan: It's collusion! You guys fucking figured it out before this. Brennan: Just get on his wavelength, man. Professor: Get on my level! Ryan: You're just not ready for the truth!

[First reactions: The Professor is wearing a party hat for a lot of this trailer, and so is the new puppet. So they must have been at the same party. Also, the Professor is standing in front of a sign that reads "Six Nasty Seasons" even though this is the trailer for season seven. Is that from the season six wrap party? Could it also point to Phorgedytol symptoms that we're 'missing' a season?

The horse puppet looking through the door has a moustache, so is very likely not Dorothy Ruth or Stanley Melvin Murphy. Maybe DR's fiancé? This same moustachio'd horse is in the pasta scene

Hard to say which horse is walking towards The Brown Derby but fun to note that was a real chain of restaurants in LA starting in 1926]

Then the Professor meets with the new Shane character - shall we call them Patch for now?

and that's the trailer in a nutshell!

*Roll End Credits*

Other reactions:

Delighted that we get canon confirmation that the Professor goes by Connie McNasty, at least some of the time

Love that Joyce and Garrett are back this season!

The noir, old Hollywood vibes of this trailer are gorgeous and overall it looks really well-made!

I hope we get some explanation for the slap that's not Ryan and the Professor becoming enemies again

the Liza Minelli* of it all

Not too sure on many theories at this point, but I'm sure it's going to be a great (but maybe nail-biting) season!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

With the Stitch event encore currently running on the English server, I've been wondering how would Miss Raven fare if she were stuck on the island with the boys? Would she get along with Stitch?

First thing’s first, she’d be shocked to discover her new outfit, assuming the book gives her something beachy to wear (no doodle, sorry; I’m not so good at designing this kind of look) 💀 By her understanding, clothes are basically a human’s equivalent to feathers, so if you’re wearing less clothes (ie less feathers), you must be unwell (adult birds only lose a ton of feathers/have bald patches if they are sick or stressed out to the point of plucking to cope). Maybe Lilia would have to step in and calm her down by letting her know it’s okay, these clothes make them all look super cute, right? ^^ Floyd and Ace kinda point and laugh 💦 while Jack, Riddle, and Azul scold them.

I think the boys would be surprised to see that Raven is an asset to have in the wilderness. Since she originates from a forest, she has plenty of knowledge about how to survive out in nature. For example, Raven can help them forage for safe nuts, berries, and fruits to eat or which are the best fishing spots. She’s not all-knowing though; Raven has no knowledge of how to start or maintain a fire (since birds don’t make those) or how to build a suitable human shelter (only nests). That’s where the other characters could pitch in. It really becomes a matter of if they can cooperate and coordinate information effectively.

Of the group, she gets along with Riddle and Jack the best. That’s because both of them are serious, goal-oriented, and trustworthy. I can see Raven making plans with Riddle, using a stick and drawing out diagrams in the sand. As for Jack, I think he and Raven would make a good team for collecting whatever items they need. If Raven can’t reach a fruit, Jack can grab it for her or lift her up to yoink it. If Raven’s having a hard time finding more of a particular fruit, Jack can sniff it out. (I base their relationship off the mutualistic one between irl wolves and ravens!)

Raven wouldn’t want to work with Azul. She’s wary of him since she knows he’ll demand payment somewhere down the line for anything he says or does to assist her. Raven will only give him what he needs and interact with him when necessary. Otherwise, she’ll avoid him, especially if it’s a circumstance where they’d be alone.

Floyd and Ace are the real thorns in her side. They pretty frequently pick on her at NRC, and it’s really no different on a deserted island. If anything, it’s worse because they have fewer targets and now they’re focusing their efforts on her, the weakest and smallest of the group. They’d still help, but it might be conditional (“Only if ya ask me REAL nicely!”) or it might come with a rude remark (“What, can’t do it yourself? How lame can you be?”), which sours the interactions. It’s mostly Ace who does the mean-spirited teasing; Floyd’s kindness fluctuates depending on his mood.

Lilia is the person Raven considers to be the “adult” of the group, almost like an instructor leading a field trip. She defers to him for advice on what to do next and takes his word seriously (even if Lilia says they should, like, slack off or something to that effect). Lilia calls her a “good girl” in the way that a grandpa might their grandkid, praising how she respects her elders.

I definitely don’t think Raven would get along with Stitch at first. He’s chaotic and full of energy, reminding her of a smaller, fuzzier Floyd. Once Stitch begins to cozy up to the group and showing his softer side, Raven may see bits of herself in him. Someone lost in the world and seeking a place to belong… Isn’t that just her in a nutshell? She might snuggle up with Stitch by the fire they’ve made and tell him stories—like that of the Ugly Duckling, who eventually found his ohana. “… I’m sure you will too, Stitch.”

djsbskskwkw I know Gantu wasn’t mentioned in the ask, but I still want to talk about him!! His size would scare the feathers off of Raven 💀 She had no idea “land sharks” could grow to this size?!?!? (Now she’s scared of how tall Floyd can get.) Probably ducks behind her peers for protection. Theoretically, she could fight, but she tends to freeze up and not know how to deal with things way bigger than her. I guess it’s a defeatist mindset when faced with a predator that clearly outmatches you 🙂‍↕️

[nctangelz]

MONIQUE & HER LOVES.

tw: mentions of heartbreak, drug abuse

nam joohyuck [ 2016 - 2018 ]

relationship in a nutshell: wanted each other to be someone they weren't.

nam joohyuck was monique's first relationship - her first love. the pair originally met in 2014 through mutual friends, monique was hanging out with her close friends who had made it into the industry, and her friend invited her boyfriend and a few of her friends. joohyuck was one of them. after that, monique kept seeing him around. at events SM took her to, to get her name out there, on the streets, and even at coffee shops. joohyuck always caught her eye. they became close friends, monique had a blossoming crush on him for a whole year before she gained the courage to make moves.

when they finally got together - monique swore she found the person she was going to spend the rest of her life with. joohyuck and monique were the happiest couple around, all their peers agreed. constantly smiling and laughing. monique was very busy after debuting, but joohyuck understood all too well. he brought her flowers, coffee, and had snacks delivered when she was at the company late. he'd sneak out with her, take her on dates, and love her like she was the most perfect girl in the world. it was all monique could ever dream of.

she didn't imagine herself with anyone else, joohyuck agreed. but after a year and a half, the couple found it hard to keep saying that. they had a hard time seeing eye to eye. minuscule arguments turned into heated arguments. nights where they would stay up staring in each others eyes, turned into nights with slamming of car doors and tearful eyes. monique called it off, tired of the arguing. the breakup made her lose her soul, it took her a whole year to move on. she wishes joohyuck the best always, and for years she would find herself wondering how things would be if they were still together.

this relationship remained private, and the public never knew anything about it. there was a few speculations about it after monique released her solo album, but nothing huge ever resulted from it.

kim yugyeom [ 2019 — 2021 ]

relationship in a nutshell: one night stand turned into taking you to dinner with my parents

yugyeom and monique both knew of each other fairly well, due to a handful of interactions between got7 and nct 127. at the time, monique still couldn't imagine herself with anyone that wasn't joohyuck. but she hated to admit that she was starting to get lonely. as bad as it sounded at the time, she knew she needed to find someone who could cure her loneliness, just for a little bit. just for a night.

so, monique went out with a few of her friends, hoping to find someone that made her feeling something, made her feel anything. after a few shots, she accidently bumped into yugyeom. yugyeom was shocked to see her there - got7 had invited 127 for dinner a couple times, but monique never joined. the pair got along fairly well, and eventually, one thing led to another, and monique woke up to him the next morning.

monique wanted it to be a one night thing only, but the frequent texts from yugyeom and the aching in her heart didn't help to keep her strong - so she visted yugyeom, again. and again, and again, and eventually, she was spending the night at yugyeom's house every other night. he made her feel something, and helped her ignore the pit of loneliness in her gut too, but monique started to realize she was starting to enjoy yugyeom's company, instead of just the nights in bed. she found herself going over to the apartment just to talk to him, and she found comfort in simply sitting on his couch and watching a movie with him. she realized after a month of them hanging out together, that he brought her peace. he took her out to dinner, and then monique really had to stop lying to herself. she was falling in love, again.

monique was scared to fall in love again, and she was very hesistant to let down her walls again, to get attached too quickly. but it was hard to resist yugyeom, with his gentle smile and his gentle hands. even though she got constant teasing from 127 due to her being older than yugyeom, they couldn't deny that the man made her happy.

after a year of dating, monique and yugyeom moved in together. their apartment became the apartment, they had friends over almost every weekend, and they spent so much time decorating it. it was beautiful, and their relationship was almost perfect. but, monique wanted a family. yugyeom didn't, and he didn't want to hold monique back. so he left, he left her and the apartment, alone.

this relationship went public after the couple had dated for a year (2020), and when they spilt, the companies released information about it on the same day, describing the breakup as "mutual", and due to "personal reasons".

ahn bohyun [ 2021 — 2022 ]

relationship in a nutshell: lots of sexual tension turned into fake dating turned into lovers…scandalous due to age gap.

bohyun and monique met on the set of my name - and monique couldn't help but build a little crush with her costar during filming (can we blame her). bohyun had this charm, that seemed to almost instantly make monique's knees buckle. everyone could sense the tension between bohyun and monique during filiming, they would make small fliratous jokes or perhaps be a little bit too touchy, and it seemed as if they were playing a game with each other.

after filiming was wrapped up, the team had a celebratory dinner, and this was were monique and bohyun truly let themselves go. they had a couple drinks, and they sat next to each other the whole night. they couldn't stop whispering in each other's ears, and bohyun couldn't help himself from putting his hands on monique. there was no hiding their desire.

they had a fling, but they didn't really have any intentions of having anything serious. but, monique was facing a lot of hate, for two main reasons. one was for her last relationship, netizens were tearing her up over the fact that yugyeom left her. and another reason, netizen's also got ahold of the news from lyon, france, where they found out that monique's dad had gotten arrested for participating in various drug trades. the makers of my name were worried that the show wouldn't do good - and seeing how much chemistry there was between monique and bohyun, they proposed the pair to fake date to get interest in the show. and it worked, monique and bohyun had rules, where they only did couple things in public, and then went on their own ways after. but, sometimes, it was hard to distinguish between what was real and what was fake.

eventually, monique and bohyun realized that they had actually fallen for each other. they had a good relationship, but it didn't last long. the pressure was too much for the two of them, especially since the public thought they were in love for so long. the public was devastated, but for once, monique found herself to be okay.

this relationship was public, obviously, but the public doesn't know that it was a fake relationship for the first half of the relationship. when they split, the companies released a statement that the couples had conflicting schedules, as well as that they decided they'd be better off as friends. which, monique and bohyun still talk occansionly, purely platonic!

jeon wonwoo [ 2022 — present ]

relationship in a nutshell: you were all i ever needed, why didnt i see it sooner?

wonwoo and monique had been best friends for so long, they had been friends for seven years before they started dating. wonwoo was there for monique through all of the heart break, and never once left her side. he was someone she could always trust, someone that could always bring a smile to her face. same for him. they always had each other when they needed somebody.

when wonwoo realized he had feelings for his best friend, he hated himself for it. he didnt want to ruin the friendship, and he didn't want to put through monique through pain. so he held it down, he held down his feelings for three years, and then he realized that he could not longer bite his tongue. he confessed to her - and like he expected, monique was shocked. she didn't know what to say or how to react. so, wonwoo gave her space.

a few weeks later, she came around. and she realized, that she had some feelings too. she knew too well that she loved him stronger than a best friend, but she never thought that wonwoo would ever feel the same.

they took time getting into their relationship, and now, they are stronger than ever, and so in love. wonwoo was the man monique needed, and monique is the woman wonwoo needed. they are set to marry soon, and they are so filled with love and joy. it's the happy ending they both deserve!!

the couple went public in 2023, and announced their engagement in the spring of 2024!