#I do know people who work with it but they’re acquaintances and it’ll be weird if I ask for help out of the blue

[iishmael]

ok im back to hating everything. My prof really did NOT do a good job this semester I feel completely unprepared and… I’m aware that what I’m trying to do is so much more complex than what we covered in class but normally I don’t have problems to scale things up like this but I think I severely underestimated the complexity of what I’m trying to model. Lol. god I’m so scared bc a huge part of my research hinges on me figuring this out and I have NO ONE I can ask bc no one works with QGIS on this scale so help me fucking g-d lmaoooo 😭

[minseologs]

Perspective Compliance pt.2

@051688 @shelikeswongkarwai

It was rather tense in the lift ride with Elena’s purse in Minseo’s hand. It took heavy convincing and negotiation for her not to call the cops. To explain everything to someone who had barely known her. The younger’s arm comfort her own self after witnessing the traumatic thing she’s seen, while Minseo was nonchalant about the situation, and even cleaning up her bloody self to the best of her abilities like it’s in the norm.

Elena follows her through the office, the grandeur was being experienced for the first time as it was her first ever being there in CRM’s grounds. It was quiet due to the late hours of the night, and she was already packing her questions to Minseo. They enter a wing with prepared items to clean up herself, including water bottles and sanitary wipes of all kinds. It appeared this wasn’t the first it’s happened. An internal monologue was running in her mind, she doesn’t even know where to begin. Am I gonna die? Who is she, really—? I should call the cops— wait what if I die before they get he—

“Sit.” She jolts, and sit’s to the closest couch by the door. the older notices this wile washing her hands in a makeshift sink with the trash bin. “I don’t mean to threaten you, but I’ll have people catch you if you try to run from me at this moment.”

“I won’t.” She assures. But she was still tense. The terror in her voice pipes from her through and she had trouble getting her words out. How does one react to that? “You’re gonna get arrested— you’re leaving evidence just like that?”

“I can’t be arrested if nothing is there. I already messaged my team, they’re taking care of it at this moment. I know because the garage has been closed. No one gets in, or gets out until it’s done.”

“—and what about the body?”

“They usually burn it.”

Elena’s face was stunned with the way Minseo just says it so casually. Her mind puts out questions after questions that Minseo probably has an answer to. She was unsure what’s gonna happen now, but her perception had changed. Seeing her as a comedic and soft relief has now shifted to someone headstrong and to be feared. Despite this, she felt as though she knows to lay everything out.

“I heard you know a little— from Bohyun. I could only assume not this much.” She speaks gently, for a moment there, the person she knew returns."

“Yeah— but— not like this,” her shoulder shrugs. She still felt uncomfortable. “I didn’t know about killing or whatever…” her eyes gaze cautiously. “Does Bohyun— do this, too?”

“No— his family just deals with the tech things and what not— nothing illegal. Nothing about killing. They operate overseas, our family acquainted with each other here in Korea. We’ve had a long history so…” she hands back her purse as some sort of peace offering. “I promise, Bohyun didn’t keep anything a secret from you. This— what I do, I told him a long time ago even before you were around. So it’s between us. At least, as far as I know.”

hm… Elena mutters in a weary tone, watching Minseo finish up her dues. It was weird. All to weird for her.

“Why were you here anyway…?”

-

“Have you lost your fucking mind—?” Bohyun storms in to the CRM office, with Minseo just as surprised they weren’t able to stop him. “Let’s talk, about what Elena saw—“

Her eyes look over at the apologetic guards bowing their heads, excusing them gently so not to make them feel even worse as they are left alone. “Goddamn you’re worst than Wenhan— he shows up undetected sometimes.” He huffs, pacing around her office floor. “You know you can’t just come in here and start screaming at me— let alone make the poor security chase after you.”

“How much did she see—“

“Everything, including the dead body. And my hand is injured aren’t you gonna ask about that?” She responds nonchalant, eyes still on her work. Bohyun wants to snap her hands in half, only to retract the thoughts after seeing it bandaged. “It’s been less than a week… it’ll take time to get used to— I told her what your family does as a pre-requisite, you know. Everything else that is your personal history with relationships, including that awful bitch you had previously, no. She told me she knew a little but not all of it. You should thank me, I made you look like a saint—“

“Fuck off, Minseo—“ she was about to say something sarcastic but was cut off by his frustration. “How would you like it if I told everything to Wenhan??”

She chuckles, amused at the thought. “He knows everything about me. Which reminds me, you should go before he gets here—“

“I don’t care, I have your time, he can wait.” Bohyun was stressed. He wasn’t sure how to come to terms with it all. “I just don’t understand how you’d be swayed so easily.“

“Excuse me, she’s the one who showed up unannounced and somehow got lost at a security area. Don’t blame me,” she rolls her eyes at the thought. Of course you’re going to choose someone you deeply care for. “It’s either I call the cops or kill her—“

“That’s not funny—“

“Yes but you know you would’ve done the same thing if our lives are breached by an outsider.”

“How long will you keep thinking she’s an outsider??” He argues, slamming a hand on her desk. Minseo doesn’t budge but she does stop her work to pay full attention. It’s rare to see Bohyun in such an agitated state. “Can’t you just trust her? I don’t understand why you’re adamant of our relationship. It’s not very nice.”

“You already know how I feel about Elena, that was never a secret between us.” She prompts a hand on her cheek, trying to be of comfort some way. “She’s a lovely girl. but you know she was going to find out one way or another and her curiosity got the best of her. Did you think I want that? Did you know why she was there in the first place? She wanted to surprise me and give a lunch box for the book party next week. In the right place at the wrong time, she … found out.”

Bohyun’s annoyance falls through, his palms cover his face and slides it down in annoyance. “I’m sorry for yelling.”

“You’re frustrated. I get it. I’m sorry you had to find out this way though.”

Minseo sits in silence with a thin-lipped smile, waiting for him to say something else. She lets him be for awhile before he decides to figure it out on his own. they escort each other to the lobby, with their stance holding power over each of their perspective specialties. Both were children of the rich and powerful.

“I can’t believe she saw you… Id feel less bad if it was me.” His hands dig in his pocket with a huff. “I’m still glad you’re both okay.”

“She won’t talk. I know that for a fact.” She looks up to him with a smile as they leave the elevator. “Can’t wait for next week though.”

Bohyun rolls his eyes, seeing how out of touch this reality was for someone not in their world. He was looking at his watch to kill time and finding ways to make amends with Elena. Minseo smiles for show again and himself— well— in a civil smile.

“I promise not to get Elena in any trouble. So long as she doesn’t do anything…” She holds out her pinky for him to take, and he links his with it. “I promise.”

“Yeah yeah, just— just at the party, please be nice… you can get a bit scary with that…”

“That— I can’t promise compliance.”

[strangelysamantha]

hi can i request a blurb or a whole imagine where jj rlly likes reader but she’s a kook and his friends don’t like her that much, 💗 thank u

hatred runs out ❀

jj maybank x kook!reader.

warnings: swearing, hateful feelings, that’s all.

words: 2,015.

summary: you are a kook, you were trying to befriend the pogues as they made you happier than you had been in months. the only downside, none of them were quite welcoming, besides jj.

request? yes!

a/n: my ask box is open, send away! i’m working on multiple imagines that should come later! like and comment if you enjoy this. thanks for the request! <3

my masterlist

——————————————————————————

“she’s a kook jj, i mean, you aren’t seriously crushing on her? are you?” john b looked up at jj, and frowned when he saw he wasn’t laughing. “john b, i don’t know what it is man, but she’s different. i just know it.” john b cackled, “she’s not different. she’s a kook, i mean come on… she hangs out with topper. that says enough.” jj rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed. “you just don’t like her because she associates with sarah’s ex.” he shakes his head. “no, that’s not the reason jj. your mind is just fogged up, because you clearly aren’t thinking straight.” jjs anger was boiling up, and before he did something he would regret, he decided to just walk off.

jj stormed away. he continued walking despite john bs attempt of calling out to him to stop. he was trying to clear his mind, he genuinely liked you, so much that he felt the need to tell john b. jj wouldn’t usually be this upset, but when john b of all people disapproves because you are a kook, when the girl he is dating is sarah, it angers him. after ten minutes of air, and chilling out, he returns to john bs house.

once inside he sees you and kie. he was completely caught off guard. “oh? you’re here.” jj spoke to you, causing you to look up. “hey jj. yeah, i decided to stop by before my shift. do you want to join us? we’re playing uno.” your smile immediately lifts a smile to jj's face. “sure i’ll play some uno.” he approaches the table, and you deal him seven cards.

kie was the only one who semi liked you. obviously she wasn't ecstatic about you, but she was open to tolerating you. as time went on, she started to enjoy your company, she realized you weren’t that bad, and despite being a kook, the two of you related on many things.

“first card is a yellow two. jj can go first.” you stare at him, waiting patiently for his move. his heart was beating fast, as he tried to pick a card. as he placed a yellow seven, john b walked in. “why is she here?” you didn’t miss the sharp tone that lingered in john bs voice. “oh, i decided to stop by. i’m sorry, i should have asked.” you stand up, reaching for your jacket. “that’s right. you should have asked. you can’t just show up to someone’s house randomly. it’s weird.” you frown, not realizing until now that he didn’t trust you enough to even be considered an acquaintance.

“she’s welcomed here whenever she wants to be, john b.” jj spoke up for you. kie backing him up by softly saying yeah. “no. she’s not. it’s my house jj, and i don’t appreciate you inviting random kook strangers over. she’s not a pogue. she’s not like us. meaning; she’s not welcomed here.” you frown at his words. you quickly feel out of place and you rush to the door, pulling your shoes on. “i’m going to go.” you spoke up, grabbing your purse. “good. see you!” john b exclaimed, watching you walk out the front door and down the steps.

“what the fuck bro?” jj stared at john b waiting for an explanation. “what?” jjs eyes narrowed on his, he couldn’t be serious could he? “why do you always do that shit bro? i mean honestly. what makes her any different from sarah?” john b shakes his head. “don’t even compare them. they aren't similar.”

jj scoffs, “oh they’re not?” jj begins to expose the similarities but john b shuts it down immediately. “jj i’m not going to explain myself to you anymore. i don’t like her, and i don’t want her over here.” jj groans in frustration. “if only you got to know her man, then you’d know how amazing she is. i mean ask kie. kie thought she was annoying at first and now they can be in the same room without being in a yelling match.” kie nodded, listening in but staying mostly silent.

“fine. the only reason i’m agreeing is because you hate kooks too, which means you might be right. about her.” john b sighs, giving up. “thank you. please, even if you decide you still don’t like her, please just consider getting to know her.” he pleads, “i already said i will.” john b rolled his eyes, jj smiles, “okay. we should invite her to hang out with us after pope gets off work.” they all nod in agreement, planning something so they could see if they wanted you to join their party.

the pogues had planned on inviting you to the wreck, and then to a mini trip on the hms pogue, for a boat ride. you were ecstatic, excited that they wanted to actually hang out with you. you think hard, trying to find a perfect outfit. you didn’t want to overdress, or underdress, and you didn’t want to look bad. after deciding on a simple outfit and swimsuit, you head to the wreck.

you see the group in the back corner. when you walk inside, jj is the first to spot you. a smile spreads to his lips, as he waves you over to join them. you sit down by john b, jj sitting on the other side of you. “hey.” you say shyly, not entirely sure if this whole thing was a set up. you were hopeful it wasn’t, but you could never be too sure.

“hey, thanks for coming.” pope said. you smile brightly at him, “thanks for inviting me.” pope nods. your stomach was hurting by how nervous you were. jj made small talk with you, as you guys were waiting for kiara. you weren’t entirely sure what they were planning, you were just glad to be a part of it.

“alright guys. here’s the scraps.” kiara walked to your table, setting down a bowl of fries, and then a plaster of burgers. you smile softly, jj and john b immediately grabbing the food. you wait, not entirely hungry since you ate before you left. jj offered you a bite of his burger, “oh thanks!” you laugh slightly as you bite from where he had bitten, enjoying the taste, “hey you actually have mustard right there.” you smiled as you spread mustard on jj’s face. you couldn’t help the giggles erupting from you, as jj’s mouth opened wide in shock. “oh really? well you seem to have some ketchup-” his finger rubbed ketchup on your cheek. “all over…” he gestured to your face. “hey! give me a napkin.” you ask for a napkin and jj laughs. “no.” you immediately look over to pope, giving him a smile. “may i have a napkin?” you ask. he smiles, “sorry jay.” he hands you a napkin and you wipe the ketchup off your face.

“thank you pope. i like you. unlike some people at this table…” you look at jj and he’s just smiling like a maniac. pope laughs. “glad that you think so highly of me just because i handed you a napkin.” you nod, eating a french fry before glancing at john b. he was awfully quiet. “john b?” you question. he looks up at you. “yes?” annoyance already rolling off his tongue. “are you okay?” he rolled his eyes. “yes. even if i wasn’t, i wouldn’t confide in you about it.” you frown.

you wait a second, trying to think of how to lighten the mood. “you know what we need to do?” you look from pope to jj, to finally john b, poking at his arm. “what?” john b looks up at you. you tap jj’s stomach, indicating to him to stand up. he stands up, making room for you to be able to move out of the booth. you poke john bs side. “we need to dance.” you grab john b's hand, doing anything possible to lighten his mood. his frown was still hung on his lips. he hesitated and followed you to the middle of the restaurant. jj and pope stay back at the booth.

you lean over the counter, asking kie to play a song she knows john b would enjoy. “john b. you just need to calm down, and relax. you just need to dance like nobody's watching.” he stares at you, shocked. “it’s okay. i’ll do it with you.” his favorite song started playing, and you began to awkwardly dance. he laughed at your ridiculous moves. he held back from joining in, he didn’t want you to win. you began to break out dancing, and he can’t help but laugh. you look up as someone enters the restaurant. a smile flies to your face. “sarah!!!” she runs up to you.

“hey!!! i didn’t know you guys would be here.” you smile, still swaying slightly to the music. “sarah i would have definitely invited you if i knew you were free.” she nodded at your words. “all good girly, we still good for monday?” you smile, “of course.” john b stared, confused by this whole interaction. not only did you know sarah, you were actually friends with her. you had plans to hang out with her. maybe he was wrong, maybe jj was the one who was right. maybe, you actually were similar to sarah.

“do you want to join us?” you ask, sarah grabbed your hand spinning you around before breaking out in a fit of laughter. “stay another minute here with you losers… i’ll pass.” you jokingly act offended, “hey!” she shakes her head. “only kidding. i definitely would, but my dad wants me home. he claims he has a fun night planned but it’ll probably just consist of watching a movie and eating from here.” you nod. “well have fun with that.” you spoke, she smiles, “you know i always do.” you roll your eyes at her joke, she walks away grabbing her to go food before she disappears from the restaurant. “hey i’m gonna go take a sip of water.” you move back to the booth, jj refusing to move so you end up sitting on his lap. you sip water as you catch your breath from dancing.

john b heads straight to kiara. “how long have they been friends?” he asked abruptly. “her and sarah?” kie questions, pointing at you. he nods, “yeah.” kiara laughs, “they’ve been buddies for years. they didn’t get super close until a month or two ago.” he nods at her words. he was still shocked. he looked back at the booth, seeing you sat on jjs lap, his hands held firmly around your waist. you were speaking to pope, and he actually looked interested in what you were saying.

john b had just realized that he had the wrong idea of who you were. whether sarah made him realize that or not, he definitely didn’t want to hold a grudge with you, especially if sarah was your friend. john b walked back to the table, his attention on you. kiara had followed swiftly behind him. “let’s raise a toast.” the group was confused but they lifted their cups of water anyway. “to the newest member of our club.” his glass pointed in your way, his cup clashing with yours. you smile. john b was the only one you were worried about, and now he was saying he welcomes you.

the group cheers as you smile brightly. “thank you guys! i’m so excited for our future adventures.” you drink from your glass. the group waited for kiara’s shift to end before taking the hms pogue for a ride. you were sat by jj, pope to your left. kiara and john b talking as they directed the boat.

“well, welcome. you made it.” pope smiles, laughing slightly. “i did, isn’t that crazy. john b hated me like 6 hours ago.” jj laughs, “classic john b for you.” you nod at his words. pope, jj, john b, kiara, and you, talked all night, watching the stars as you guys got closer. it was so much fun, and today’s events allowed you to become a permanent group member.

<3

[harrowharkboygf]

rating the locked tomb characters by how good their met gala outfits would be

gideon nav

we can surmise from the “rapier with skulls puking other skulls” quote that gideon’s personal style, if she wasn’t beholden to the ninth house dress code, would be Loud and Tacky and A Lot. therefore, i think she’ll go all out with the theme. her outfit might not look objectively good per se — it will probably be a little too excessive and not super classy — but she will absolutely fulfill the theme and she will have fun, and that’s the most important part! 9/10

harrowhark nonagesimus

oh harrow will go all in on this. she will definitely be of the opinion that all guests should have to submit an essay explaining exactly how their outfit fits the theme, and she absolutely will get annoyed at the people who just wore simple black tuxes and dresses. she‘ll start planning her outfit months in advance, and it’s going to be incredibly complicated and very symbolic. her outfit is probably be a lot creepier and more goth than the rest of the guests, but it’ll still go perfectly with the theme anyways. 10/10

ortus nigenad

how much effort ortus puts into his outfit will depend SOLELY on what the theme was. if he thinks it’s a stupid theme he’ll put in zero energy whatsoever, and if he thinks it’s a good theme he will put in the work and come out with an outfit that’s definitely creative, even if it doesn’t look super great and is a little bit of a stretch on the theme. 7/10

judith deuteros

judith definitely does not care. she does not care at all, and if you asked her what the theme was, she couldn’t even tell you. she wears a simple black tux or black dress every year, and yes she looks hot as fuck and very classy and all of the gay girls on twitter go wild over it, but it’s not particularly creative or befitting of the theme. 3/10

marta dyas

marta cares a lot more than judith does, but she still focuses more on the event itself than the outfit; she’s more excited to dance, talk with her friends and acquaintances, and see other people’s outfits. if the met gala didn’t have a theme, she’d still be happy, but since it does, she’ll try to fit the theme as best she can! she refuses to sacrifice her own comfort or ability to dance in favor of an outfit though, which is very fair of her. no matter what, though, she looks good! 6/10

coronabeth tridentarius

oh you KNOW corona is acing this. she starts planning for her outfit a year in advance, but unlike harrow, she’s way less pretentious about it and willing to do something that might make fun of herself a little or make others laugh. she makes sure to call everyone she knows who’s going to make sure that their outfits won’t be too similar. she also makes sure that ianthe and babs’ outfits go good with hers. it’s the bane of her existence that judith won’t go to the lengths that she does. she fits the theme perfectly, she’s creative about it, and she looks hot as fuck. 100/10

ianthe tridentarius

as mentioned above, ianthe’s outfit is always designed to fit with coronabeth’s. it’s always very similar — not quite the same, but very close. same idea, slightly different execution. it’s always fitting with the theme, and looks really good objectively, but there’s a lack of investment and heart that ruins it a bit, especially next to corona’s extravaganza. still, when she’s next to the other guests, she definitely wins. 8/10

naberius tern

babs cares WAY more about looking good than he does about fitting the theme. his outfit is always a lot less creative than and themed than ianthe’s and corona’s. he never sidesteps the theme entirely, but he often refuses to go all the way in favor of not looking too weird. this is kind of a moot point, since he always looks a little weird anyway. 5.5/10

isaac tettares & jeannemary chatur

the awful teens were coordinating outfits each year, and each year they desperately want to fit the theme and do something cool, but they’re a little TOO eager about it. there’s always either a little bit too much going on with their outfits for the message to be fully cohesive, OR they didn’t go all the way because they were too embarrassed to do so. however, they definitely try their best and that’s what matters! 7.5/10

abigail pent & magnus quinn

abigail and magnus treat the met gala like a halloween party. they’re committed to the theme, but not in the militant, obsessive way that harrow and coronabeth are — it’s more that they have fun planning their coordinating outfits because costumes are fun! often their take on the theme is very nerdy and sweet, but maybe not super well done. still, they compliment everyone on their outfits and are so genuine about it that they get points anyway. 7/10

palamedes sextus

pal could honestly care less about the met gala, but he attends anyway and spends the whole night deep in conversation with anyone who will talk science with him. as such, his outfit is. Very Lacking. cam usually designs it for him and it fits the theme pretty well and looks objectively good, but he gets points off for not coming up with it himself. 5/10

camilla hect

pal and cam don’t wear coordinated outfits, but they are still somewhat cohesive, as cam plans them both. camilla’s outfit is definitely much better than palamedes’ is — it fits the theme and is more creative and she just generally looks hotter. however, she’s not putting the same level of energy most of the people listed above. but it’s fun, it looks good, and she passes the test. 7/10

dulcinea septimus

dulcie’s attitude towards the met gala would be very similar to magnus and abigail’s in that she treats it like a fun opportunity rather than a life-or-death situation, but she definitely leans more “tasteful” over magnus and abigail’s typical style of “dorky”. she follows the theme closely and she looks good! 8/10

protesilaus ebdoma

pro always goes with dulcie, and he just dresses in an outfit that she’s planned to be coordinated with hers. he’s a little bemused at the intensity of some of the others, but he goes along with the whole thing because it makes dulcie happy. points off for not coming up with his own idea, points added for looking very dashing regardless. ortus is fuming at how well-put-together his outfit is. 5/10

silas octakiseron

silas shares the same all-or-nothing attitude that ortus has towards the theme, but when he approves of the theme, his execution comes very close to beating out harrow’s outfit in terms of Drama and Sophistication. his outfits are often a little impractical — they’re hard to walk in or require elaborate props to be transported alongside him — but they’re worth it. 9/10

colum asht

colum just wears a suit the same color as whatever silas’ outfit is that year. boring! 2/10

augustine the first

augustine tries his hardest, but he never quite nails the theme. somehow, it always goes straight over his head, so when he explains it to people, they’re always like “*confused head tilt* hmmm, okay now i think i get it! huh!” he looks,,, fine in it, and he tries. he tries! 4/10

mercymorn the first

mercy’s sense of style in general is very good, so she always comes in a dress that’s fashionable and well-designed. the problem is that she actively abhors the idea of a themed party; she actively campaigns to the organizers each year to not do a theme. she thinks that everyone who does the theme is ridiculous. as such, she ends up with a low 3/10

cytherea the first

cytherea has a good Idea for the met gala every year, but for some reason — she bites off more than she can chew or she fails to accurately articulate her vision or she procrastinates until the last minute — that idea never translates into an actual outfit, so she always falls back on a simple, soft clinging dress. fashionable, but unfortunately not very standout-ish. 3.5/10

gideon the first

gideon (original flavor) just wears a boring black suit every year. THE most boring black suit ever. 1/10

pyrrha dve

okay, admittedly we haven’t seen that much of pyrrha in canon, but from what we do know, she is smart and talented and funny and good at everything and has a dramatic streak and is incredibly hot. therefore, i think we can surmise that she’ll absolutely nail her met gala outfit. it’ll fit the theme, it’ll be very original and very well-done, and she’ll be sexy as fuck! good for her! 15/10

john gaius

he wears the exact same black tux every year. the same one. he pays no attention to the theme whatsoever. this is very confusing, since HE is the one who organizes the met gala and picks the theme! weirdo! even worse, john makes a point to give backhanded compliments to people he thinks don’t fit the theme or don’t look good. bitch! -10/10

[jungshookz]

omg cee for a holiday drabble request can we get some shy!jungkook who’s had yn in his class all semester and is partnered up with her for a final project and he’s like !!!!!!!! AAAA!!!!!!!!!

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; sfw!! university!au!! fluff!! jungkook is shy!! y/n is friendly!! pocky sticks and goldfish crackers are exchanged!!

➺ wordcount; 4.9k

➺ what to expect; if he thought the back of your head was pretty... did that mean that he thought the rest of you was pretty as well?

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

jungkook doesn’t like to say that he hates people because saying that makes him sound obnoxious and a little overdramatic, but if given the choice, he would 100% choose to be alone

and he doesn’t think that it’s a problem that he prefers his own company over the company of other people

it’s literally just a personal preference!

he likes to keep to himself mainly because he.,.,

well

to be honest, he just doesn’t like talking to people?? which he thinks is a pretty valid reason to roam campus as a lone wolf

it just takes so much effort maintaining a conversation and at the end of the day, he’s just here to learn and get his degree, you know?

and it’s not like he flat-out refuses to talk to people like a weirdo

he can talk to people, he just chooses not to initiate or engage in any type of conversation whatsoever unless he really has to

and don’t even get him started on those damn ice breakers that professors make everyone do at the beginning of every semester

it’s why he always sits in the very back of the auditorium where all the quiet people are

because quiet people understand each other and quiet people will nevER turn to start talking to each other when the professor tells the class to share two truths and a lie about yourself to the person sitting next to you!

there’s just a mutual understanding that everyone in the back of the room will sit in silence and keep to themselves all semester long which is very pleasant

not to mention, he hates having to deal with ‘semester friends’ aka the one friend that you make for the sake and convenience of having someone you know in the same class as you

you guys really don’t have that much in common and you can tell that they’re in a completely different social circle than you are (aka when you inevitably do a social media handle exchange you see that they have more than a thousand followers and you can immediately tell they were super popular in high school which intimidates you and your puny 250 follower count but you can’t back out of this friendship now without looking like a jerk) but the person is friendly enough that you can get along and kind of keep a conversation going

and then once the semester ends the two of you promise to keep in touch next semester even though both parties are fully intending to not stay in touch at all

and then when next semester rolls around no one makes any effort to reach out and be like hey, should we get coffee this week?? because you have conflicting schedules that would take so much reshuffling just to accommodate this acquaintance that you really don’t care that much about so then you end up hitting them with an ooh, i can’t make it this week! what about next week??

and then it just turns into a cycle of ugh, i’m swamped this week! next week? and can’t, sorry! next week?

and then you’ll see each other at the library one day and it’ll be a little bit awkward because you’ll do that awkward half-hug and your voice will go up like ten octaves when you greet them with that overly polite heyyyyyy!

and more promises will be made to get coffee and hang out soon even though everyone knows absolutely no coffee will be gotten

the point is: in the four years that jungkook’s been a university student, not onCe has he made a steady friend and not once has he been remotely interested in making a steady friend

and he doesn’t think that’s sad or anything - again, he prefers it that way!

...but you just had to come along and completely throw his plans out of whack, didn’t you??

unsurprisingly, you were the one who spoke to him at the beginning of the semester but he didn’t think too much of it because it wasn’t like the conversation the two of you had was very riveting

“hi, i’m sorry-” jungkook looks up from his notebook when you twist around in your seat to face him, “this is psychology 400, right? i lost a copy of my schedule and i think this is the lecture hall i’m supposed to be in but i can’t remember if it said auditorium 200 or 201-”

“yeah, you’re in the right place.” jungkook interrupts, offering you a stiff smile before looking back down at his planner

he was in the middle of compiling a grocery list for himself and now he doesn’t remember what that one thing he needed was…

…

ah!

chocolate pocky sticks

there we go

jungkook clicks his pen before tucking it back into his pencil case and shutting his planner

and… yeah!

that was the first conversation the two of you ever had

he doesn’t think he can really count it as a conversation because it lasted less than three seconds

the first exchange the two of you ever had?

the second exchange he had with you was actually the next class that same week

he was genuinely surprised that you sat in the same spot again because usually when someone realises that he isn’t willing to be their semester-friend, they move to another section of the auditorium the next time

but no

there you were in all your glory

“when’s the first assignment due?”

jungkook’s eyes flicker up from his laptop first before he looks up at you

“uh, in two weeks...?” he trails off, pulling up the calendar app on his screen before nodding affirmatively, “yeah, in two weeks. september sixteenth at midnight.”

“okay, sweet! and that’s a... thursday?”

“wednesday.”

“ah, okay. got it. thanks!

“mhm.”

the weird thing was the fact that you never pulled out the “i don’t think i ever got your name! i’m ___” card because you just seemed like a very ‘i wanna be your friend!!!!!’ person

and he doesn’t know how you made him do it but one day he found himself asking for your name which he didn’t think he’d ever do

(admittedly, he was a little klutzy in doing so because he’d never willingly introduced himself to someone and asked for their name all in one go before)

“are you eating goldfish crackers and... chocolate chips?” jungkook blurts out, leaning forward a little to peer into the little snack box you’re holding in your hand

you pause and look down into the container before twisting around to look at him, “mhm! you know, you wouldn’t think the combination would work, but it totally does,” you smile, holding your box up, “wanna try?”

jungkook immediately shakes his head, “oh, no, that’s oka-”

“no, c’mon-” you pluck out a cracker and a chocolate chip and set your box down on your lap, “hold your hand out!”

jungkook hesitates for a second before holding his hand out and letting you plop the treats in his palm, “and you... eat them together?”

“uh-huh!” you nod, popping a cracker into your mouth before gesturing for him to eat, “don’t worry - if you don’t like it, i promise i won’t cry.”

jungkook brings his palm up and tosses them back into his mouth

...

...

...

huh

that’s actually... not half-bad?

“see? what’d i tell you?” you beam, giving your box a little shake, “good, right?”

“yeah, i mean, i would never think to put the two together...” jungkook trails off, dusting the crumbs off his hands, “oh, um, by the way-” he clears his throat before swallowing nervously, “i, uh, i’m jungkook. by the way. yeah.”

“jungkook?” you say out loud, jungkook nodding in confirmation, “i will try to remember that. i’m pretty bad with names, so if i end up calling you, like, robert next week, don’t hate me.”

“i will try not to hold it against you if you call me robert next week,” jungkook laughs lightly before reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, “and you... um, your name is...?”

“i’m y/n! by the way.” you tease lightly, the apples of jungkook’s cheeks turning a little pink, “it’s nice to meet you! ...even though we met, like, a month ago.”

“touché.”

“jungkook, you dog-” you gasp lightly, and for a second jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach because he thinks he’s said something wrong- “at least take me out to dinner first before touchéing me.”

jungkook immediately snorts and shakes his head lightly as you giggle to yourself

with that being said, even after that exchange he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay friends with you or not

yeah, you were nice and kind of charming in your own way, but...

(he couldn’t come up with a reason as to why he shouldn’t be friends with you, so that train of thought is still chug-chug-chugging along.)

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

“are those pocky sticks?”

jungkook stops typing, his eyes flickering up from his screen to see you looking at him with a soft little smile, your arms folded over the top of your seat and your chin propped up on them

he looks down at the open package of pocky sticks sitting on top of his backpack next to him before looking over at you and nodding, “uh, yeah. do you... want one?”

“are they the chocolate ones?”

“obviously.” jungkook snorts, pulling one out of the plastic bag before holding it out for you, “nothing beats the original flavour.”

you pluck it from his fingers, inspecting it for a second before biting into it with a crisp snap!, “i personally like the strawberry ones better-”

“what??” jungkook gawks, “i mean, yeah, the strawberry ones are fine, but the chocolate ones-”

“the strawberry ones have a thicker coating! the chocolate coating is so thin and barely-there!” you hold the bottom half of your pocky out so that jungkook can look at the cross-section of it, “see?? barely any chocolate-”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about!” jungkook scoffs playfully, slapping his laptop shut before crossing his arms on his desk and leaning forward, “chocolate pocky sticks are clearly superior to the strawberry ones-”

“alright, robert, whatever helps you sleep at night-”

“wha-” jungkook gawks in mock offence, too distracted by the fact that you like the strawberry pocky sticks over the classic chocolate ones to notice the feeling of his heart skipping a beat at the sound of your laugh

strawberry over chocolate

...

ridiculous!

                                    »»————-　❅　————-««

now, jungkook isn’t particularly sure when it was that he started to notice how twinkly your eyes were or how sweet your voice sounded or how pretty your smile was or how nice your hair smelled

it kind of just dawned on him one morning??

he was just staring at the back of your head and found himself wondering how it was possible for the back of one’s head to be so pretty (you had your hair down that day and it just looked so soft and clean)

and then he thought to himself how weird it was that he just called the back of your head pretty

and then he thought to himself that if he thought the back of your head was pretty... did that mean that he thought the rest of you was pretty as well?

and then he thought to himself that yes, i suppose i would consider y/n to be pretty if i was ever asked for a list of people i considered to be pretty

and then he realized that oh, god. do i think that y/n’s pretty because i like y/n?!

and now it’s december meaning that it’s almost the end of the semester and he still hasn’t done anything about his crush on you because he?? literally has no idea how to handle it

his plan was to just ask you for your instagram and if you wanted to keep hanging out next semester and hope that it didn’t turn into a can’t what about next week can’t what about next week situation

and the fact that you guys are working together for the final project certainly doesn’t help with him suppressing his feelings at all

because you two have gone from spending time like three times a week in class to five or six times a week in and out of class

it was at the beginning of november that he discovered that you both had an hour and a half break after this class

so you guys usually go for lunch together (obviously, you were the one who asked first) and then go your separate ways

and then it was the second week of november that jungkook started walking you to your next class even though hiS next class is located at the opposite end of campus

he just????

literally has no idea how any of this happened

one minute he’s perfectly fine with being alone and the next minute he finds himself glancing towards the door every three seconds waiting for you to walk in because the best part of his morning is seeing you

because every time you walk in and see him in his usual spot your entire face lights up and your pace quickens and he just thinks it’s really cute how excited you are to see him even though you guys literally see each other so often

he always looks forward to hearing about what you did over the weekend even though he usually doesn’t care less about what anyone did over their weekend

he always looks forward to you bringing out your little snack box and offering him a couple pieces of whatever you have (you brought these sesame-glazed cashews the other day and they were really good)

he always looks forward to sharing his pocky sticks with you even though he’s usually very greedy with his pocky sticks

last week he let you eat like half the box and he wasn’t even mad

and yeah, he finds himself tossing a couple of the strawberry pocky sticks into his basket whenever he goes grocery shopping, but that doesn’t mean anything!

...

right???

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

jungkook glances back towards the door as he taps his foot against the ground anxiously before checking his phone for the time or any texts from you  

where are you??

he booked one of the conference rooms in the library so that you guys could work on your project in peace

it’s much more quiet working here than in the general studying area because there’s always that one person who’s sniffling and coughing like a maniac

and you can speak at a normal volume in here which is good

you guys agreed to work on the project together at the end of the day and then you’d grab dinner together

and jungkook hasn’t been classifying these hangout working sessions as dates or anything but for some reason, this feels like a study date AND a dinner date rolled into one which is why his hands are so clammy right now

and on top of thAT he actually has a christmas present that he’s planning to give you but now he’s wondering if it’s too late to back out

you’re already like twenty minutes late

did you forget about him??

did you purposely bail on him??

is this your way of telling him that this friendship is over???

maybe he can text you and tell you that he had to go home because he has food poisoning or something

...but the image of him hunched over the toilet probably isn’t a very attractive one

is there like a.,., like a sexy way to talk about food poisoning?

jungkook paces back and forth as he looks down at his phone, typing a message to you and then immediately deleting it and retyping

hey! i’m gonna have to reschedule. i had a funky ass burrito for lu-

okay so there’s definitely no way to make food poisoning sound sexy

maybe he can come up with a... cool excuse of some kind?  

hey! can we reschedule? i have to save a baby from a burning building because i’m also a firefigh-

nope

he’s terrified of heights and also he hates babies so that excuse would never work

hey! let’s reschedule! i have feelings for you and it’s overwhelming me and also i feel like maybe you kind of bailed on m-

“hey!”

jungkook jumps in his seat before whipping around to look at the door, feeling a sense of relief washing over him when he sees that it’s you

okay

well noW he knows that you didn’t forget about him and that you definitely didn’t bail on him

“he-” his voice gives out halfway and he clears his throat quickly, “hey! i was, uh, i was wondering when you’d show up.”

“i know, sorry i’m late-” you smile sheepishly, shutting the door behind you with a gentle click, “it’s for a good reason, though! i got us hot chocolates!”

you raise the takeout tray in your hand before setting it down on the table, “i was going to get you a peppermint mocha because ‘tis the season and all of that, but i didn’t know if you would like it or not so hot chocolate was the safer option.”

“i like hot chocolate!” jungkook coughs, “peppermint mochas- i mean, i would’ve been fine with a peppermint mocha too, but i- i still appreciate the hot chocolate-” he rambles, nervously flipping his pen back and forth in between his fingers, “i mean, i, like, what i’m trying to say is that i would like anything you brought for me, you know?”

okay

he’s spiralling

whY is this happening to him??

jungkook doesn’t know if he’s ever been this nervous for anything before

he wasn’t even this nervous when he had to do a solo presentation in front of two hundred people in his history course last semester and thaT was terrifying

“alright, well, i’ll definitely keep that in mind for next time!” you chirp, pulling out one of the wheely chairs before plopping down and turning to face him, “what else do we have to do for our report?”

jungkook feels his heart skip a beat when your knee bumps against his

oh god

okay

he has to get it together  

just relax!

“oh, uh-” he turns to look through the checklist on his notebook, “we have to write up the conclusion... and also the annotated bibliography.”

“annotated bibliography?” you huff, scrolling through yours guys’ twenty page report, “oh, god... that’s going to take forever- we used, like, thirty different sources...”

“i told you not to go crazy with the scholarly articles...” jungkook teases lightly before taking a sip of his hot chocolate

ooH

there’s whipped cream on this as well!

“i just thought that it would make us look smarter if we used more sources-” you grumble, pushing your bottom lip out in a pathetic little pout, “and now we have to go through and annotate every single one...”

“hey, if it motivates you to work faster, i’ll get you an extra order of onion rings for dinner tonight.” jungkook hums, smiling fondly when you gasp excitedly and turn to face him

one thing that he’s learned about you is the fact that you are verY food motivated

one time you told him that you would be willing to rob a bank for a pack of oreos

...and he wholeheartedly believes that.

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

you try your hardest to hold back a grin when you notice that jungkook still hasn’t moved his leg from yours

the side of your thigh has been pressed right up against his for a good twenty minutes now and it seems like he doesn’t mind it at all

if anything, it’s safe to say that he’s comfortable being this close to you

that must mean that he likes you back, right?

because you know for a fact that he isn’t normally a touchy-feely person and you were fully expecting him to pull back the moment your leg touched his

this is!!!!

exciting!!!!

you don’t know when you started liking jungkook but the details really aren’t that important

you just know that you like him now and you’re like 80% sure that maybe he might?? like you back??

if he didn’t like you, why would he be willing to get coffee with you during your breaks and walk you to class?

you were actually a little put off by him the first time you spoke to him mainly because he seemed like he didn’t really want to talk to you

and usually you don’t do well with people who don’t want to talk to you because.,., you personally think you’re a greaT person to talk to and if the same vibes aren’t reciprocated then you immediately hightail it out of there

and you were actually going to switch seats the next class but it was pretty cozy in the back of the auditorium and you liked that your seat was near the exit so that you could be the first one out without getting trampled over by everyone else  

so you figured you’d just swallow your pride and try to work it out with mr. pretty boy (yes, part of the reason as to why you stayed was because of how handsome he is.,., you’re only human!!!)

and it looks like it worked out in your favour because here you are!! hanging out with him outside of class!!

with that being said, you haven’t really thought about what your next move is going to be because you’re..., not entirely sure how to ask him out without potentially freaking him out or something

because if on the off-chance that he tells you that he actually doesn’t like you back after you ask him out with full confidence,,..,

ugh

you don’t even want to think about how awkward that’s going to be

and you don’t even knoW how you’d play it off casually without letting your disappointment show (“oh! well, that’s- pft- that’s totally fine, it’s whatever- like, i’m so... like, i’m so cool. it’s totally fine! dates are- dates are so overrated, anyway- romance is so lame-”)

you were thinking of maybe asking him out after the final project because if he says no then you’ll never have to see him again!

that’s the beautiful part of being on such a big campus

it’s fine

you’ll figure something out

just focus on this damn bibliography and try not to think about how good jungkook smells and how pretty his hands look when he’s typing

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

it’s about an hour and a half into the session that jungkook suddenly remembers that he has a present for you

he turns his head slightly to look at you

there’s a divot in between your brows as your fingers practically fly across your keyboard

wow

you must really want those onion rings

jungkook glances down at his backpack before pressing his lips together tightly

when would be a good time to give it to you without it being like.,,. awkward?

maybe after you guys are done?

or during dinner?

or after dinner?

or after he drives you hom-

“i have a present for you, by the way-!” jungkook blurts out a little louder than intended, shattering the serene silence of the atmosphere

okay never mind

“you do??” you ask, jungkook nodding quickly

“i... yeah. a christmas present! for you.” he clears his throat, leaning down to pull the neatly wrapped package out of his backpack, “it’s just a little something, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“aw, that’s so nice of you... i didn’t know we were doing presents otherwise i totally would’ve gotten something for you...” you trail off, pursing your lips in disappointment

damnit

you weRE going to get jungkook something but you didn’t know if he’d find it weird or anything

and now you must look like a complete jerk!

“oh my god, don’t even worry about it-” jungkook flicks his wrist to dismiss your concerns, “you can count the hot chocolate as your gift to me! plus, you splurged on a venti just for me-”

“i did splurge on a venti just for you...” you joke along, instantly feeling a little better about the situation, “and i usually only treat people to tiny little talls!”

(for the record, you’re definitely going to get him a proper present over the weekend)

“also, it’s totally fine if you don’t like it-” jungkook swallows thickly when you start to rip open the packaging, “i can return it and get you something else-”

!!!!!!!!

“oH MY GOD i love it!” you exclaim, feeling your serotonin levels shoot straight through the ceiling when you pull out a heart shaped snack box, “i don’t even know what to say, this is literally the greatest present i’ve ever received in my entire life-”

“oh, thank god-” jungkook flops back in his seat before placing his hand on his chest, “i was worried that maybe you wouldn’t like it because you already have a pretty extensive collection of snack boxes- oh, and!” he perks up, spinning around to pull something else out of his bag, “i also got you a box of strawberry pocky sticks even though i still think your opinion about them being better than the chocolate flavour is very wrong.”

wow

he really knows the way to your heart :’)

“i don’t even know what to say, kook...” you smile, “thank you so much...”

jungkook beams, giving himself a mental pat on the back for a job well done, “ah, don’t worry about it. i’m just glad that you like your gifts...”

...

okay, you don’t have a gift for him so this is the next best thing

“can i-” you pause, trying to think of how to handle this, “can i- sorry, can you just close your eyes for a second?” you clear your throat

you’re suddenly feeling a lot more confident about jungkook’s feelings towards you than you were half an hour ago

(aka you are now 98% sure that he likes you back and if you’re wrong about this assumption then you’re definitely going to regret the thing that you’re about to do)  

“close my eyes?” jungkook snorts, “why?”

“it’ll make sense in a second. just close them!”

“this is the part of our friendship where you kill me, isn’t it?” he jokes, setting his laptop aside before turning his chair so he can fully face you

ha hA

very funny

“if i was planning to kill you, i would’ve poisoned your precious pocky sticks a long time ago-” you laugh lightly, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans before turning to face him as well

“speaking of pocky sticks, have you ever tried the cookies and creme flavoured ones?” jungkook hums, jolting in surprise when he feels you place your hands on his knees, “because i was thinking we could just buy a bunch of flavours and try them toge-”

smak!

jungkook’s eyes immediately pop open the moment he feels you kiss his cheek, his entire face going beet red and his mouth going dry

you smile innocently as you pull back, jungkook trying his best to noT melt into a giant puddle of goo

you-

you just...

you kissed his cheek?

you kissed him?

maybe it was an accident??

maybe there was a bug on his cheek and you were just trying to kill it with your mouth

“you- i- heh-” he reaches up to scratch the back of his head, quickly averting his gaze when he notices you looking directly at him, “um, why... uh, what did you do that for?”

“to say thank you...” you shrug, biting back a smile, “and i guess it’s me trying to tell you that i... i like you too, by the way.”

jungkook feels his heart stop beating in his chest and his fingers dig into his thigh

too?

you like him?

too????

jungkook blinks owlishly at you, “you like me... too? r-really?”

“of course i do.” you hum, admiring your brand new snack box before looking back at him, “how could i not?”

(judging by his reaction, you are now 100% sure that jungkook likes you back so you now have nothing to worry about.)

“but how’d you know that i even liked you in the first place?” jungkook asks dumbly, still a little dazed from that kiss on the cheek

he can’t even think about how his body is going to react when he eventually gets to kiss you properly

“i mean...” you let out a little laugh before tilting your head slightly, “if the in-between class coffee runs and the walking me to class even though we both know it’d make you late for your class didn’t give it away, the fact that you let me eat half a box of pocky sticks without slicing my hands off certainly did.”

oh

yeah

that’s fair

“you make a good point.” jungkook nods slowly, “touché-”

“-”

“-!” jungkook holds a finger out before the corners of his mouth tug up in a wide grin, “and i will definitely be taking you out to dinner first before even thinking about touchéing you. don’t worry.”

christmas with cee 2020 masterlist

🎁what would you like from ceenta this year? 🎁

[odos-bucket]

Protective Batbros, a subsidiary of my Protective Batdad series

Tim is sitting alone.

It was something Dick had made note of shortly after arriving at the gala. There are people scattered around at various tables, but even more people milling about and socializing. Before he can do more than smile and nod to the newest Robin, a small group of WE investors draw his attention into a dull conversation.

Dick talks with them for a little while, then makes his rounds throughout the big hall, mingling with various acquaintances, and sampling some hors d’oeuvres. By the time he’s back to where he began, he notices that Tim is still sitting by himself. Or, he amends, maybe someone else has been by and gone again?

Tim ’s posture is perfectly straight, and he isn’t looking around. His expression is neutral, but not blank like he’s spacing out. There are appetizers on his plate that he clearly hasn’t touched. One of his hands is folded in his lap, the thumb of the other hand is rubbing methodically at the polished handle of a decorative spoon. Dick makes his way over to take the seat beside him.

“Heya, kiddo.”

“Dick!” Tim’s face lights up when he sees him, if only for a moment, which makes Dick’s heart light up as well, as he pulls the kid into a one armed hug.

He makes a brief mental note of how tightly Tim clings to him in return, then files the observation away to analyze later.

He doesn’t like how little they’ve seen Tim around the manor recently. His parents have been in town for the past week and a half, which throws a bit of a wrench into their nighttime escapades.

But it’s a good thing, he reminds himself. Tim doesn’t get to spend nearly enough time with his parents; it’s good that they’re around. Dick feels a little guilty for thinking of them as an inconvenience, even though he’s pretty sure Bruce does too.

Dick leans back into his own seat, but keeps an arm resting on the back of Tim’s.

“How’s it going?” He asks.

“Okay,” Tim says with a shrug, expression and posture already returned to their neutral state.

“Been kinda boring without you around this past week.”

“Yeah, sorry. My dad likes to know where I am.” He begins to rub his hands together, then seems to realize what he’s doing, and forces himself to return to the subtler motion of worrying at the silverware.

Dick nods, watching his hand.

“Must be nice having them around for a while.” He is being supportive. He needs to be supportive.

“I- yeah. It’s great…”

Dick looks at him with an open expression, waiting for some clarification.

“They’re not like around around,” Tim says. “They still work. But it’s nice when we get to have dinner together. And Mom says that maybe we can try to have a family game night before they have to leave again, if there’s time…”

Dick resists the urge to ask when that will be. Tim sees right through him.

“They’ll be leaving for Norway before the end of the month.”

Dick isn’t sure what the appropriate reaction to that is, and his expression sort of ends up stumbling into a grimace. He glances down to keep it concealed, and Tim is kind enough not to draw attention to it.

“I’m sorry they’re not staying longer. But it’ll be good to have you around again.”

Tim nods absently. An uncomfortable expression flits across his face, but vanishes quickly.

“Tim, are you feeling okay?”

At first he just gets a noncommittal noise in response to the question, then after a minute Tim wrinkles his nose, and glances around the room.

“It’s loud.”

Dick nods. He hadn’t really been attuned to the noise level himself. It wasn’t especially loud by Gotham aristocracy standards, but he could see how it might be annoying to someone who was bothered by that type of thing, or just wasn’t particularly used to it. Of course, Time would be used to it though, so that didn’t really factor in here.

“I might have some headphones in the car,” he offers. “They’re not noise cancelling, but they might help. Do you want me to go gram ‘em?”

Tim’s expression shifts, and he eyes Dick, like he’s trying to decipher something about him.

“This isn’t exactly an appropriate setting for headphone,” he says after a minute. “I don’t want to be disrespectful.”

“I don’t think anyone here who’s sober enough to notice whether or not you’re wearing headphones is going to feel slighted if you are.”

Tim shrugs stiffly. Dick glances to where his hand is still fidgeting with the flatware, and feels a spark of concern that he might just rub a hole into the pad of his thumb.

“Why don’t we step out for a sec?” He suggests.

“Because it would be rude?” Tim offers uncertainly, not picking up on the rhetorical nature of the question.

“Just for a minute,” Dick insists. He doesn’t like how uneasy Tim is here.

Tim glances around them cautiously, twitching slightly as the band hits a particularly high note, then turns his attention back to Dick and nods.

They head out through the front doors. And while a few people glance at them as they leave, no one hinders their exit.

Outside, Tim seems to finally notice the blister he’s been wearing into his thumb all evening.

“Does that hurt?” Dick asks.

He doesn’t get a response at first, as Tim is frowning down at the finger with apparently intense concentration.

“It’s ugly,” he says after a minute. “I used to pull at the skin around my nails. It never hurt badly, just looked weird.”

“I think Bruce keeps bandaids in the car. I’ll go grab you one.”

“That’s-“ Tim begins.

But Dick is already halfway down the wide outdoor staircase. He doesn’t want to leave Tim along for long if he’s been by himself all night, but figures he probably won’t miss much in the forty five seconds it should take him to get to the car and back.

He finds bandaids, and a set of earplugs in the glove compartment. As he dashes back to the main entrance, he acknowledging that the round trip may have taken closer to sixty five seconds, but figures that’s still pretty good.

When he gets to the top of the stairs Tim’s talking with a woman. Or rather, he’s holding very still and being talked at, by a very unhappy woman, who it takes Dick a moment to recognize as Janet Drake.

“-Don’t know what could possibly have made you think it was appropriate to come out here in the middle of a party. We came back to the table and you were gone! People were asking about you too, and what were we supposed to tell them?”

“Hi,” Dick interrupts, as loudly as he thinks he can get away with, and in a deliberately upbeat voice. “I’m so sorry! I had to get something from my car, and asked Tim to come keep me company. I thought we’d be back in before anyone had a chance to miss us.” He dips his head apologetically, and looks back up with a bashful grin.

Mrs. Drake seems completely caught off guard, looking rapidly between Dick and her son, whose gaze has been mostly focused on a spot behind her right ear. After a minute she manages to force some composure into her expression.

“It’s not that we mind you borrowing him, Mr. Grayson-Wayne. It’s just coming back to the table to find that he’s not there, you understand-“

Dick waves off the rushed explanation of her concern.

“I’m sorry to have worried you.”

She studies him for a minute. Dick isn’t sure what she’s looking for, or what she thinks she’s seeing. But he matches her scrutiny, and forces down the thought that he does not like this woman.

She looks away from him quickly enough, clearing her throat.

“Come, Timothy.”

Dick slips the bandaid and earplugs into Tim’s suit pocket as he follows them back inside, and squeezes his shoulder once there’s no longer a plausible reason for them to be going in the same direction.

He then proceeds to spend the rest of the evening maneuvering himself to keep the Drakes in the periphery of his line of sight, keeping an eye on his little brother. Because Tim can handle himself in this environment, but Dick knows he doesn’t like it, knows that all the sound and bright light gives him a headache. And they’re all a little nervous in crowds. And he knows intellectually that the chances of anything really bad happening tonight aren’t actually all that high. Even so, he needs to look out for Tim, because what if no one else is?

It’s almost too hard to think about. Dick has given himself permission to be a little overprotective, feeling like he has a pretty damn good reason to be. But the thing is, Tim’s not really supposed to need it. Not all the time. Not here. He has a family. Dick has always felt a little guilty for resenting them, but watching the Drake’s go the rest of the night without saying more than a stray word or two to their son makes him wonder if maybe he has the right.

He doesn’t know their situation, not really. But he knows what he sees and he doesn’t like it.

“Can we make sure Tim’s family’s at the same table as us the next time we have to go to one of these?” He asks Bruce later that night, asks as if they themselves aren’t already Tim’s family, even if it feels wrong to imply.

Bruce hums a distracted agreement, and Dick thinks he must see it too.

-

Not that it matters especially, but I kind of picture this happening in the same continuity as this story, but maybe a couple months beforehand (or maybe just a couple of weeks if you want the Drakes to be on the same visit).

Hope you enjoy!

[saphirered]

Heyyy! Long time to talk. I hope you’re enjoying your summer. I have a question about how you take requests: how specific do you like them? I saw you’re writing for EXU and I already live Orym. I would just like something soft yet funny, but I can request something specific if you’d like? Lmk 💜 thanks

-🐋

Heya! Summer's great. Hope you're enjoying yours. Requests can be as specific or nonspecific as you want them to be. As long as I know which character(s) I'm writing for and have an outline of what you want like you've done here I'm all good! Thank you for requesting and I hope this one's to your liking! 😘

Word had reached you a group of strangers had made it to the settlement of the Fire Ashari outside of Emon, among them the Air Ashari you’d been waiting for. He may have never been to Emon before but you’d met the halfling many times before in Zephrah. You’d spent plenty of time with the Air Ashari in your years but now finally, Orym got the pleasure of experiencing your humble outpost life out here himself. Well, that was the plan anyway. Sometimes plans go down the drain.

When Orym finds out several firetamers were absolutely obliterated leaving only two survivors; clearly not counting you among those two he feared for your wellbeing but much like the Ashari training provided and interactions, one must be in control of their emotions especially in these dire times. Someone would have informed him if you’d suffered an ill fate, right? He hopes so. You had been called back to the Flamereach Outpost months ago because things were spiking up and that did mean you’d be in the thick of it. All hands on deck, hence your premature separation back in Zephrah. 

Orym feels wrong to say but he couldn’t be more thankful for that earthquake. Seeing you running head first into unknown danger might not do good on his stress levels but knowing you’re alive, that’s all he needs for now. Not like he and his friends don’t run into danger straight after you. On to the Oh No Plateau.

In the aftermath you were the one to escort this little group of strangers plus Orym back to the outpost. They were already a little worse for wear not used to, deal with or resistant to the ash, dust and poisonous gases, the firetamers unanimously decided it’s best to help these folks down instead of letting them find their own way. You of course volunteered to take on this task and no one was going to object as they got enough from this group to know they’re trouble. Rather you than them.

Taking the lead you answered some of their questions. You have to admit the mentions of the ‘ash-hole’ broke you enough to send you into a laughing fit. The dwarf, Dariax felt quite accomplished as these folks, your folks seem a bit more rigid and reserved, much like Orym in his opinion so it’s good to see not all of them are stuck ups.

Fearne nudged Orym on with a little push in your direction causing him to stumble. You’re dextrous enough to prevent the halfling from bumping into you possibly causing you to fall with him. Instead you catch him before he falls flat on his face. The look the two of you share does not go unnoticed by the faun and is very much revealing in the closer-than-friends kind of way.

Once conferred with Lorkathar they’re left to their own devices and the shitstorm of questions thrown at Orym to figure out who you are; or to some of them more importantly; who you are to him specifically. Orym tries to answer without giving too much of your own personal life away. It’s your life, not his and he doesn’t feel like he that’s his to share with others.

You met him in Zephrah on your journey to learn more, better your druidic skills. Part of this training was physical combat and weapons training. That’s where you grew closer. You weren’t exactly the greatest with a sword and Orym helped you go through training to where you could settle on a spear. Cue the questions about what other physical training you shared with him. Orym did not dignify that with a response. Really any question answered that lead to yet another innuendo made he did not dignify with a response.

There’s a knock on the door the group had been given to recover from the day’s events. The conversation falls silent as another knock raps lightly on the door. Dariax and Opal make eye contact before both rushing towards the door, the pleasure of answering going to whomever gets there first. They’re not sure but they hope its you. They have so little insight in the details of Orym’s life and they’re not going to let the chance fly to get some leverage on the halfling should they need to bring it up in the future if they want to commit another definitely-not-a-crime.

A white haired human dressed in pinks opens the door with a wide smile radiating mischief. You smile back although a little forced, to cover the confusion trying to peak through.

“Hi! You must be the firetamer Orym has told us all about. It’s so nice to meet you. I am Opal.” She grabs your hand and shakes it and you just let it happen. How the hell did Orym get sucked up in this group? They’re worse than you’d thought over your initial encounter. Not in a bad way just a… different one.

“Likewise. It seems like you have me at a disadvantage. You appear to know about me yet I do not know much about you. I don’t mean to be rude but I am looking for Orym, of the Air Ashari…” You exchange pleasantries but are cut off as the woman looks over her shoulder.

“Orym! Orym! Your lover is here to see you!” She screeches for the halfling who was already a few feet behind her, embarrassed this is how you’re properly reunited without the pressure of your respective lives.

“Hey.” Orym smiles through the embarrassment caused by his friends watching the two of you like some sort of play waiting what the characters will do next.

“Hey.” You smile back trying to not put too much mind to the curious company Orym had found himself in. You feel like the more attention you give them, the slimmer your chances at a calm and quiet moment with Orym will become.

“Well, don’t be rude, Orym. Invite your friend in.” Dorian perks up trying to keep the obvious ulterior motives of Opal and Dariax at bay but you weren’t born yesterday.

“I was thinking maybe we could step outside instead? I wouldn’t want to disturb your friends’ evening.” Orym catches on to your intent.

“Yeah. Yeah of course.” He brushes past Opal outside and grabs your hand practically begging you to lead the way before the others decide to keep you here.

“Enjoy your evening.” Fearne, saves your asses before the others can protests. Orym is glad to have the faun on his side and he’s pretty sure this favour granted puts him in her debt but it’ll have been worth it.

“It was nice seeing you all. I’m sure we’ll have more time to grow better acquainted in the future.”

“Have fun on your evening stroll, Orym!” Dariax wiggles his eyebrows and the halfling sends him a look to shut him up as you begin leading him away.

The sun is not yet set casting the outpost and mesa in an orange glow with the view of the city west of you. It’s a beautiful evening. Orym understands why you like sunsets so much. You bask in the rays of ember, a sight Orym hadn’t seen in too long. He hadn’t realised how much he missed this, how much he missed you. You stop at the side of a stone ruined building. You let go of Orym’s hand as you grab onto any footing you can and scale the building onto the roof. It’s only two floors tall so you lean over the edge and look down at Orym.

Getting the memo Orym climbs up following a similar path you had to reach the top. You lay down on the rooftop with a familiar comfort, as if the world’s concerns were left below. Orym had always admired this about you. It’s something he could never do himself. You turn over on your stomach, lean your elbows on the rooftop, head on your hands with a grin as you cross your legs behind you. He knows that look.

“So how does it feel being the most responsible individual among the chaos?” Orym pulls himself onto the rooftop and gives you a look. As he walks over to you he hooks his leg around your elbow and yanks making you lose your balance. You gasp and roll back over to your back supporting yourself on your elbows.

“Rude!” You laugh as Orym sits down next to you. Shoulders leaning against each other you watch the sunset. It’s a habit you had fallen into in Zephrah and it’s a habit picked back up again even after many months apart.

“I missed you.” Orym presses a kiss to the top of your shoulder.

“Missed you too.” You sigh content you’re back together once more, no matter how brief that might be as Orym and his little group of adventurers has been sent on another task to find Gilmore. You’d join if you could but you have your responsibilities here and Orym knows that like no other. Once this is all behind you things can finally go back to normal and you actually get to spend more time together without the world burning down whenever you turn your back.

“So how is it you of all people end up with this bunch of chaos bringers?” You laugh. You may not know his friends personally nor did you have much to go off in your brief interactions with them but you know well enough they’re trouble and chaos magnets. Orym, having an air of peace and calm around him shifts quickly to panic in stressful situations he doesn’t know how to navigate based on instinct and here he is navigating Emon of all places with them, getting involved in all sorts of conflict.

“Me of all people?” Orym feigns offence but he’s well aware you’re right. He’s not even sure himself how this weird little dynamic they have going works. He gives it a thought.

“Maybe I just naturally gravitate towards chaos. You are a testament of that.” Your jaw drops. Your halfling’s found himself with a new kind of boldness to him previously hidden beneath layers of Ashari customs. He may not realise it just yet himself but these people have a good effect on him.

“Are you calling me chaotic, Orym of the Air Ashari?”

“I’m sorry, but you really expect me to answer that question? You are chaos incarnate.” He laughs and you let yourself drop back, the halfling previously leaning his weight against you loses his balance and falls onto your stomach. You put your hands beneath your head watching the orange glow reflected off the clouds with a smile.

“You know what, I will take that as a compliment. Someone needs to bring a little chaos into your life. I’m glad I’m not the only one able to fulfil that task. They seem like good people.”

“They stole a vestige, broke into places and killed the henchmen of some criminal organisation all within the past twenty four hours.” Orym deadpans. He’s still a tad unsure how to feel about it.

“And you went along with it. Maybe one day you’ll be as much as a chaos incarnate as the rest of us.” Orym’s fingers lace with yours as he holds onto your hand.

“It’ll be the day the elemental chaos seeps through into this world.”

“Who says it doesn’t already. Embrace the chaos, Orym.” You wave your free hand making a cloud of embers appear above you like fireflies and make them dance in the wind. He’s already embraced the chaos and he knows it. It started with you but has extended to his new friends as well. Though, he’ll have to admit, he’ll take your chaos over theirs any day if presented with the choice. No matter. He’ll take any moment with you he can get now and be patient until you’re reunited in the future. There’s still adventures to be had, just for now your paths diverge. They’ll reconnect in the nearby future. He’s sure of it. You’re sure of it.

[notmrskennedy]

Professor, pt2

A/N - here’s part two to my little prequels - it’s the last one I’ve got written, but just know that they definitely fall in love later in my head. It’s just that the ‘in love’ part turned into Friendliness so there’s that. Thanks for sticking around bc y’all make my days

Summary - A certain professor makes another unexpected appearance and friend? 

W/C - 2.6k 

Warnings - there’s a brief stint of depression and a bit of swearing i’m sure (but what’s new)

----

Nearly 50 hours of no sleep later and Spencer Reid is sure he’s hallucinating. He knows that the hallucinations come later, that it takes more like seven or eight days to get that bad. But he’s tired and hadn’t slept on the plane and there’s no amount of coffee that’ll convince him he’s awake enough to think the scene in front of him is real. 

Because there you are, arguing with an FBI agent. While in handcuffs. He notes the darker hair and the new style and the impossible amount of dirt you’re covered in. What a weird thing to hallucinate after a bone chilling case. He hasn’t seen you in three years—by all accounts, he should’ve forgotten your face already. 

“I heard she got caught shipping body parts,” Emily says, appearing next to Spencer. She’s more put together, having passed out for the four hour flight. Her hair’s tied up and she’s got airplane coffee in her hands. He wonders if this is any more real before he hears you shouting from him. 

“Thank God,” you call, trying to wiggle out of the man’s hold, “Dr. Reid! Tell them I’m not crazy.”

He hesitantly leans over to Emily. “This is real, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’m not going to sleep tonight, am I?”

“Nope.”

“See you on Monday, Emily.”

“See you then, Reid.”

And he’s trudging forward, waving at the other agent while stifling a yawn. He forces his eyes open and checks his watch. 2:37 AM. Is he going to catch the Metro? Or is he sleeping on Hotch’s couch again? 

The pleading in your eyes says Hotch’s couch and he doesn’t argue.

“Hey, Kazinsky,” he yawns, stopping a full two feet from you and your inhumanly large captor. “What’s the—what’s the charge?”

Kazinsky shakes his head, not daring to let you any slack. You’re bouncing on your toes, trying to contain yourself. He gets it. It’s not everyday you get arrested. He hopes. But ever forgetful of the whole being arrested bit, you keep jerking to move the hair out of your face. Kazinsky takes it as trying to escape and jerks back harder. 

“We picked this one up for transporting illegal…stuff, Doc,” Kazinsky mutters with half a shiver. “Thought I signed up for white collar, mail fraud type stuff. Not unpacking human remains type stuff.” 

Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose. Scrubs his hands over his face. Takes one more long look at you, obviously losing your mind. He knows a lot can change over three years, but you never seemed the ‘illegally transporting dead people’ type. Until he remembers your fun fact from that lecture all those years ago. 

“What happened?” he sighs.

All too tired for this bullshit, he wishes he could force the story out faster, but your face just keeps contorting with the story you’re so obviously trying to spin for both of them. You try to pull out of Kazinsky’s gorilla grip again, and Spencer notices the way Kazinsky winces every time you pull. Something wrong with his wrist?

“Dr. Reid,” you finally begin, “I was in Guatemala, studying these mummies we found in a cave. One of the bodies just needed further examining and so I was just shipping it back because it’s not like I can stuff a two thousand year old body in my carryon.”

All Spencer can do is raise half an exhausted eyebrow that prompts you further, red tinting your cheeks. 

“Look, I’ve been trying to tell Mr. Man Hands over here that I’ve got the paperwork in my bag, but after our little disagreement, I’ve been arrested.”

“Disagreement?” Kazinsky snorts. “You tried to dislocate my wrist!”

“Well, I can’t help it if you don’t announce yourself before grabbing me.”

Whatever desperation and pleading you’ve had, you’ve thrown out the window to stare down Kazinsky. Spencer has a new appreciation for the fact that he’d been wrong all those years ago. You aren’t fragile. You’re as strong as a femur bone with all of the—probably justified—anger of a bull towards a matador. 

But you turn back to Spencer and your gaze softens. Melts into the young professor he met all those years ago. He’s gotten over his crush—he’s definitely in love with Maeve—but you’re objectively beautiful. Despite the self-cut, terribly choppy bangs, or the light dusting of brown dirt that you’ve covered in. You’re pleading for his help, he knows it, but he just wants to go home. 

He’s reminded he’s better than walking away and ends up giving Kazinsky a tired sigh. “I’ll take her off your hands for you, Kazinsky.”

He wonders vaguely what Maeve will think of this when he calls her in 24 hours. He wonders if she’ll appreciate the gesture he’s made for an old acquaintance. No matter what though, he knows she’ll gasp and giggle and say something like ‘oh those anthropologists! Such a funny sort. At least it’s a better science than geology!’ and they’ll laugh together like old lovers. 

Kazinsky drops you in Spencer’s lap and runs. Human remains could be the BAU’s problem for all he cared. He liked mail fraud. 

Once Kazinsky’s out of sight, Spencer pulls the handcuff keys from his pockets and pulls the cuffs off of you. You breathe out a thankful sigh, trying to rub the future bruises away. You turn back to face him, tucking your hair back behind your ear, studying him through your lashes. He can’t be bothered to notice anything much more about you. He’s dead on his feet. 

The hand you place on his elbow jolts him away. Your eyebrows scrunch and he swallows at the concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’m just—we’ve been working an abduction case. 48 hours non-stop—“

He yawns again and you can’t help but mirror. “Did you know that chimpanzees and dogs are also empathetic yawners?” 

He smirks. “I did know that. Seriously though y/n, what’s up with the body?”

“I promise it isn’t illegal,” you rush out, just to receive a raised eyebrow. “The Institute I’m working for made some kind of deal with the Guatemalan government that I’m not really privy to, but I’m the only one qualified to handle the remains. Plus, I’ve got a reputation for being found with body parts so its—it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

He sighs again. He wants to tell you it sounds worse. That it sounds like you’re stealing on behalf of the Institute. That they’re doing what museums always do—pilfer and loot. But you sigh and hang your head and don’t exhibit one sign that you’re trying to trick him. Sure, you might’ve lied a bit about manhandling Kazinsky, but you sure as hell seem like a doctor just trying to do her job. 

“Look, call my boss. He’s waiting for me anyway. I’m sure the paperwork just got lost or customs is just as stupid as I think they are.”

Spencer nods. He pulls his phone out and punches in the number you rattle off. In ten seconds he’s speaking with Dr. Russel Bailey, head of the anthropology department at the Institute. There’s a quick relay of ‘yes, she’s authorised to have the body’ and ‘no, please don’t arrest her’ and ‘we’ll sort this out in the morning’. 

And once he’s hung up, you’ve already got your car keys out. “Do you need a ride home or anything?” you ask and quickly tack on, “I’m just trying to say thank you. Promise I’m not creepy.”

Spencer laughs and nods and drags his feet after you. He does need a ride home because he knows he’ll fall asleep on the metro. You talk incessantly about your trip to Guatemala on the walk down to your car, and he knows he should be listening. But he can’t. He’s too busy moving one foot in front of the other. 

And by the time you’ve punched his address into the GPS, he’s fast asleep, softly snoring. 

#

Maeve was dead. Maeve was dead. Maeve was dead. 

Nothing else really matters now, Spencer thinks on repeat. She was the only good thing I had and now she’s gone. Maybe I don’t even matter. 

There’s brief moments between this line of thinking where he can listen to the three dozen voicemails he gets left everyday. Telling him that they’re there for him. Telling him it’ll be okay. Telling him it was okay to grieve. 

Was it grieving if he just wants to melt into nothingness? To die without actually killing himself?

It’s during one of these brief moments that he gets the voicemail he’s accidentally been craving. He doesn’t want to want it. He doesn’t want to want anything. He wants to melt and starve and wither until no one thinks about him ever again. Because she’s not here and he can’t for the life of him figure out why he wants you. 

You’ve been gone. Researching your way through the Sacred Valley in Peru, making nice with the locals and scavenging bones like an angelic vulture. You’ve been there for the last month and can’t possibly know about Maeve’s death—it takes him another hour to get back to thinking about you. It’s still September, he thinks, and you’re supposed to come back around now. At the end of the month, he’s supposed to pick you up from the airport. 

Because after saving you from an arrest, you’ve been exchanging noncommittal letters and phone calls. He’s got a thin stack of photos that you’ve sent from your trip. But you aren’t Maeve. You never were. You never will be. 

He doesn’t know why he wants you to call him, but he does. 

Maybe it’s because you’re new, you aren’t tarnished by the history of Spencer Reid. Maybe it’s because you’re the only one who doesn’t treat him like he’s labelled: fragile, handle with care!

He listens and your voicemail is a sort of sing song. “Hola Spencer! I’m calling from some Peruvian payphone. I should be in the states in a little over 24 hours. I’ll call when I land. Hasta mañana.” 

 The next voicemail comes with: “Finally got back to the apartment. I didn’t think I’d miss the sound of guinea pigs running around. Weird. Anyway, call me when you can.”

And the third: “Spencer, seriously, why aren’t you picking up? I’m not going to have to break in, am I? Call me back.”

Culminating with: “Reid, I swear to fucking god. If I find you dead in that goddamn apartment, I’ll beat your body so bad you won’t make it the fucking afterlife.”

There’s a knock. One he won’t answer. One he doesn’t want to answer. He doesn’t want the pity or the advice or the dejectedness. He wants to float down a river and drown. 

The knock becomes a little more insistent. And now there’s voices attached. He can make out JJ’s voice, “He’s—he’s going to be okay. He’ll come back out when he’s ready.” Following is who he thinks is Penelope, though if it is, she’s far too quiet. One set of feet retreat. He can see the shadow from a pair of shoes and he wonders why Penelope is staying so long. Maybe she’s brought another basket. 

There’s one more knock—probably to ensure he’s not coming to the door—before a jiggle to the knob. And swearing. And jostling. And squirming. And pop. There’s a distinct swinging open of the door and a pair of boots tapping over his hardwood. 

Maybe this is how he dies. Miserable. Covered in snot and tears. Slippers half on. Depressed on the couch. 

“God, you idiot,” a voice breathes, pausing to take in the disarray. He vaguely remembers redecorating—throwing everything everywhere. The feet become more impatient and frantic and heavier. His doors all open and close and he can’t bother to correct the burglar. He’s right here, waiting, patiently waiting, for this intruder to kill him. 

A fantastic way to die. He wonders if you’ll want to look at his bones. You’ve mentioned wanting to. 

“Sound off, Reid,” you command. He knows its you. No one else could replicate that tremble in your lips, the break rolling off your tongue. 

“Y/n,” he croaks and he wonders how long ago was the last time he spoke. 

Light streams in as you flick open the curtains, bites into his skin with a hiss. You take in his disheveled state with no apprehension. Like you’ve expected this. Like you have no pity to give him. Maybe this is why he wanted you to call. 

“You broke in,” he mumbles and you shake your head. 

“I wouldn’t have to,” you begin to yell, just to lower your voice and grit your teeth, “if you would’ve fucking answered the door.” 

You always say there’s a time and place for everything. There’s nothing to top the word ‘fuck’ and he knows that you’re beyond angry. Beyond concerned. Beyond terrified for him. 

“What happened, Spencer?” you whisper, moving to sit down on the floor in front of him. You’re close enough he can smell your perfume, see the pleading look in your eyes. There’s no pity. If he could find the words, he couldn’t thank you enough. 

He could reach out and hold your hand, but that seems too far. Too much. So he swallows down the tears and whispers back, “Maeve died, y/n. She died because I let her.”

“Stop it,” you order. You’ve got a hard set in your eyes, the kind that he last saw when you stared down Kazinsky. “Stop that right now. You can’t stop the world from spinning, Spencer. You can’t stop the sun from coming up. You can’t stop what you don’t know to. I might not know all the details, but I know you. You’re a diligent man and I wouldn’t expect you to do anything less than everything for the woman you love.”

You place a delicate hand on the couch next to his and you sum everything up very gracefully. “Hindsight is a bitch, don’t let it make you hers.”

He can’t stop the twitch of a smile. Can’t stop the crack of happiness that bleeds out because you’ve decided to be so ridiculously you. No one’s ever called him diligent before and seems more fitting than fragile.

“She’s still dead,” he settles on and makes the bold move to slide his fingers under yours. It feels like such a betrayal to Maeve—is he supposed to touch another woman when he couldn’t even touch the love of his life?

You just squeeze his fingers, warm and present and decidedly alive. “Yeah. She is. You’re welcome to wallow for as long as you want, but you need to eat. We’ll see if I can remember how to cook with modern appliances.”

Your smile is contagious enough that a fleeting smile reaches his eyes. You pat his hand and stand. “I’m going to the store, and taking a key this time. I promise I’ll be back. I’m stickier than a public indecency charge.”

You chuckle for the both of them and carefully make your way out of the apartment. He listens as you take a key and tries his best to psych himself into a fit of hunger. It isn’t until you’re singing in Spanish, something sizzling on the stove, that he realises that the pain in his gut is the hunger, and not just misery. That he should probably get up for at least a minute. Just to satisfy the curiosity of what that smell is. 

Maeve would’ve liked you, he decides. Maeve would’ve really liked you. 

And it’s the first peaceful thought he’s had in weeks. 

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [19]

Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20

➜ Words: 4.6k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

“You guys are together now?!”   There’s a high-pitched, deafening shout that has you flinching. On sheer instinct, you’re about to let go of his hand, but you feel Jungkook’s grip tighten on yours instead, squeezing your palm securely. You glance at him with your brows raised and he merely shrugs.    “What? This?” Jungkook lifts your interlaced hands up to your shoulders, showing it off right in front of Taehyung’s face. He teases, “Friends can hold each other’s hands.”   “You don’t let me hold your hand when I ask,” Taehyung argues with a scoff.    The tall brunette is left utterly confused and soon, Jimin is joining the trio. He greets all of you with a bright smile but almost immediately, his eyes stray downwards to your interlocked hands as well. Yet Jungkook shamelessly maintains it in spite of the obvious attention it's bringing, even to your classmates and acquaintances passing by the hallway.   Jimin’s grin widens. “Are you guys datin—”   “I already asked.” Taehyung cuts off. “They’re just being weird.”   “Oh.” The shorter man’s lips become lopsided with his frown and he sends an incredulous expression to Jungkook that only makes said man laugh. Jimin turns around anyhow. “Yoongi and Hoseok are already in the dining center. Do you guys have any classes today?”   “No, I think they’re just doing orientation for the newbies.”   “You weren’t this excited to tell your parents,” you lean over to whisper into Jungkook’s ear when the pair of you naturally fall behind the two boys.   “Well, they’re my parents. I’d rather spare the both of us from….that,” he explains and then smiles. “But is it such a bad thing if everyone here knows? It’ll stop people from making moves on you.”   “Moves on me?” You scoff. If anything, it should be the opposite. Jungkook’s always been popular with everyone without even having to try. But you suppose it would be rather helpful if everyone knew that he was taken. It might just save you from a lot of headaches. So you don’t protest further.   Yoongi and Hoseok are easy to find in the dining center. They’re at the usual table and it’s like time hasn’t passed whatsoever. Yoongi is picking at his food and chewing gingerly as if it's exhausting for him to do so while Hoseok is tapping on his phone.    They look up when you approach.   “Long time, no see.” Hoseok grins as Jimin settles beside him with an equally warm smile.   “What are you talking about? The group chat has been blowing up because of this guy.” He hitches his thumb to Taehyung who is wholly offended.   “It’s not my fault I want to share the cute dogs I come across with everyone.”   “Haven’t you muted the chat?” Jimin asks Yoongi with a small laugh, not expecting an answer when he already knows it.    Taehyung is exasperated that no one answered his messages during the last week of the break and that Yoongi could possibly have the heart to ghost everyone — accusations the sleepy man doesn’t even respond to. In the meanwhile, Jungkook sighs at how his friends are already making a loud ruckus and ruffles your hair as he gets up from the table. He asks what you want for breakfast and then returns shortly with two trays of food.   It’s when he sits down that Yoongi raises his head again.   “So, how long have you guys been together?”   “We’re not together—” Jungkook answers without missing a single beat.   “Cut the crap,” Yoongi deadpans, halting his chewing. “It’s too goddamn early for this bullshit.”   “What?” Jungkook’s grin is swelled across his face. “Can’t best friends kiss each other sometimes?”   Hoseok’s eyes are enormous, having no idea where this is coming from. Jimin is sitting on the edge of his seat, anxious for the transpiring events. Taehyung is utterly befuddled but Yoongi, on the other hand, wears a completely blank expression. The lethargic man is wholly unimpressed.   Jungkook bursts out laughing. “Okay, okay. It’s true. We’re dating.”   Immediately, there’s an uproar. But it’s mostly from Taehyung. “I knew it! I knew it!”    Jungkook laughs and argues back with a ‘no, you didn’t’.    At the same time, Jimin is smiling tenderly and giggling at his friend’s reaction. Hoseok is grinning as well and even the corner of Yoongi’s mouth quirks. The latter man mumbles that it’s about damn time and you’re sheepishly smiling as your face heats under the attention.   Jimin curiously asks, “When did this happen?”   “In Tahiti,” you answer. “Somewhere along there…”   “So it’s been like two months and you never thought to tell us?!” Taehyung is once again exasperated, shaking his head like he can’t believe it.   “It’s only been a month and a half,” Jungkook says as he throws a fry into his mouth, chewing in his cheek. “We wanted to see where it would go and stuff…”   “Obviously it went well enough that you two are still together,” Yoongi points out.   “I think it’s going well.” You turn to Jungkook. “Don’t you?”   “It’s been going awfully,” he remarks in sarcasm, making you scoff. Laughter bubbles out of his chest and he leans over to gently knock his head against yours. “I’m kidding. Kidding.”   “Wait, does this mean you two are going to be cute and gross together now?” Taehyung’s face wrinkles into a frown.    “Of course they are,” Hoseok laughs. “It’s a requirement.”   “No, we won’t make things weird,” you protest. “Promise.”   “They’ve always been gross together,” Yoongi mutters with his mouth-full, pointing his wooden chopsticks at him and completely ignoring what you’ve said. “Haven’t you noticed?”   “Congratulations, you two,” Jimin speaks sincerely with his eyes crinkled into half-moons.   “Thanks.” You laugh, leaning into Jungkook. “I lucked out, really.”   Your boyfriend clicks his tongue in annoyance. “I’m the one who lucked out.”   “Ugh.” Taehyung’s nose wrinkles and he feigns disgust. If anyone looked any more satisfied right now, it was him. You suppose to outsiders, your relationship with Jungkook was a long time coming. “They’re being gross already. Go get a room.”   You scoff at him and turn to Hoseok. “Is Aeri coming?”   “She isn’t,” he says simply without looking you in the eye, “She and I broke up.”   “What?” Several heads whirl over, the focus now brought onto him.    This was new news too — information that was much more bitter.   “Yeah, it happened during the summer.” Hoseok offers a tiny, reserved smile. He keeps his head down low and that’s only when you notice the darkened circle underneath his eyes, the sickly colour of his skin and his disheveled hair. “It just….didn’t really end up working out.”   “Oh.”   “Why didn’t you tell us?” Jimin asks gently as Taehyung automatically puts his brownie onto Hoseok’s food tray in an attempt to make him feel better.   “It just happened a week ago. Honestly—” He sits back. “—I’m still trying to process it, so yeah.”   Yoongi reaches over, stiffly patting him on the back. “It’s going to be alright, dude.”   The corners of his lips pull a bit. “Thanks.”   You could’ve never fathomed it. They got together long before you and Jungkook did, but you always thought that they would work out. Someone as bubbly as Hoseok with someone as kind and timid as Aeri, it seemed like a match that you wouldn’t think twice about.   To hear that they’ve split is shocking. But you don’t pry for details when it’s their personal business. You don’t try to figure out what exactly happened when it was the last thing you wanted to talk about when you experienced it yourself. But you’re also not sure how to feel.   And Jungkook picks up on it when you’re quiet for some time.   “Are you alright?” He syncs his slow steps into yours as the pair of you head back to your dorms together.   “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.” After a beat, you turn to look at your boyfriend. Your eyes meet one another’s. “What happens if we break up, Jungkook?”   “Then we break up.” Jungkook takes your hand. “But we’d still be okay.”   “You think so?”   “I didn’t start off this relationship with being your boyfriend. Frankly, I didn’t want to be your friend at all—”   “Hey.”   “—but we were friends, so it’ll stay that way.”   You sigh, keeping your eyes trained forward. You squeeze his hand securely. “You make it sound so easy. It isn’t.”   “I know, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try to make things work.” He moves his fingers to interlace with yours and comforts your worries, “So you don’t have to worry. Every relationship is different, right? Ours is unlike anyone else's as theirs are not like ours...if that makes any sense.”   “No, it does.” You share a smile with him.   You don’t know if it’ll last — but at this moment, you want to savour every second with Jungkook.   //   You catch sight of a familiar girl across the dining hall during dinner, and with one glance given to your boyfriend, he responds with a reassuring nod, having already followed your line of sight.   So instead of sitting at the usual table, you confidently beeline straight for her. And you take your place across from the girl.   Aeri lifts her chin, surprise written across her expression. “Y/N?”   “Hey, how’s it going?” You smile, taking your utensils and beginning to eat. “I hope this seat isn’t taken.”   “N-No, it isn't.” She peeks over her shoulder for a second and then looks back at you, blinking several times. “It’s going well. How about you?”   “Same old, nothing really ever changes.” You backtrack when Jungkook sticks out in your mind. “Well….a few things, but anyway, how was your internship?”   “It was good. Great.” Aeri gives a softened smile that’s sad around the edges. She’s playing with her food without eating it. Her voice sounds thick like she’s been crying. “I learned a lot and the people there were pretty nice.”   “You worked at a restaurant, right?”   “Yeah.” She names it and some small talk is made about internships. Afterwards, you discuss your summers and how traveling went.    With time, Aeri seems to ease up again.   And when there’s a few seconds of silence, you decide to address the elephant in the room. “I heard you and Hoseok broke up….”   “Yeah, it was mutual.” The corners of her mouth move stiffly like she’s been training to smile naturally. Her eyes meet yours. “Thank you for sitting with me and keeping me company.”   “Of course I would. You’re my friend,” you reply earnestly. “Why wouldn’t I?”   “It’s just…” The girl shifts uncomfortably in her seat, not sure if she should utter the truth. “You’re friends with Hoseok too, so I thought you would side with him.”   You adamantly shake your head. “I don’t side with anyone. It’s not fair to leave someone out because of another relationship and plus, you were my friend first.” You place your foot down, fist slamming on the table and while it startles the girl, genuine laughter streams from her. “I know what it feels like too, so I would never do that to someone else.”   Aeri nods, eyes glossy. “Thank you.”   “It’s not a problem.” Your arm stretches over the table, hand placed on top of her’s. “If you ever need me, I’ll be here.”   It’s déjà vu. An out-of-body experience. To be sitting across from someone who’s gone through something akin to what you have, it feels like you’re looking at your past self. A reflection of you more than half a year ago. And you reach out to her as you wished someone did to you. As Jungkook had done to you.   You realize that he was there when you needed someone most and it makes you glad he became a part of your life when he did.

It’s another one of those days — of you and Jungkook lying on his bed, tapping away on your phones. The pair of you were cuddling until you each got bored and reached for your phones. And Jungkook got uncomfortable in his position and rolled over, so you’re both squished on his tiny bed, laughing every once in a while and showing one another funny memes or videos.   It’s a luxury that won’t last for long. Once you’re both into the semester, it’ll be textbooks in your hands instead of phones and you’ll be sitting up, scratching your heads, being driven crazy with theories that don’t make sense and forced to memorize countless recipes.   So you enjoy this sleepy relaxation while you can.   “Hey.” Your eyes stray away from your screen to his walls and your brows furrow as a question comes to mind. “Who do you like more? IU or me?”   There’s a long silence.   The silence draws on.   Your arm lowers and your head shifts onto the pillow to look at him. Jungkook is staring at the ceiling. And the silence continues. One second — ten seconds — thirty seconds...   Your brows lift. “Seriously?”   “What? It’s like asking me to choose between my mom and dad.”   “Did you just compare me to your mom?”   Jungkook laughs too loudly, too stiffly. “I-I’m kidding. Of course I would choose you.”   He reaches over to plant a kiss on your cheek, but you dodge, sitting up. You give him an incredulous expression, hovering over your boyfriend. “You’re a terrible liar.”   He grins, sitting up as well. “Are you jealous?”   “That my boyfriend would rather get together with a celebrity than me? Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ harshly, making him giggle. “Not at all. Why would I be?”   “Jieun’s been a part of my life for longer…..” Jungkook says, then laughs again and tries to backtrack. “But obviously I still love you more because you’re actually here.”   “But if she were here..?” you ask him and when it gets quiet again, you reach out to pinch and tickle his side. Jungkook squirms, laughing even harder while you grin.    It’s not like you were actually upset or irrational enough to be jealous over a celebrity crush. You’ve long known about his fanboying hobby and love for IU after all. It’s just fun to tease him. “You gonna ditch me for Lee Jieun, huh? You think she can put up with your shit like I do?!”   “Course not!” He grips your wrists so you can stop tickling him. “I love you. But if she were to kick down the door when we’re getting married, I might just have to go with her. Might.”   “Okay.” You relent. “Fine. I’ll admit, if she asked me to go with her, I’d go too, so she can be your hall pass.”   “Hall pass?” Jungkook grins. “Who’s yours?”   You hum, tapping your chin in contemplation. But it doesn’t take you long to choose. “Song Joongki. He’s handsome, he’s kind, he’s rich.”   “And how does that help?”   “Well, maybe he’ll fall in love with me and want to get married — then I’d get rich.” It’s his turn to be put in disbelief, but you have no reservations. “Song Joongki has great proportions too. Have you seen his legs? And have you seen his face? I wouldn’t be surprised if he was an angel who descended down on this planet to bless us all. He’s just so boy-next-door one second and then like handsome-handsome the next. I wouldn’t mind if he wanted to sweep me off my feet. He’s just so charming in everything he does, like—”   “Alright, Alright.” Jungkook puts his hand on your face. “I get it.”   You peel his palm off with a pout. “Hey, you get your crushes and I get mine.”   “I know.” He pushes your shoulder lightly and you let yourself fall back onto his mattress. Jungkook moves to hover over you, smiling at your quiet obedience in spite of your defiant exterior. You’re all bark, but no bite.    “Jealous?” You cock your head to the side, lip pulling up to a smirk.   Jungkook scoffs. “It’s not like you’ll ever get to meet him.”   “Don’t ruin my dreams.”   Jungkook smiles, unaware of how wrong he would soon be. But for now, there’s not a single ounce of worry or concern in him. He knows Song-fucking-Joongki would never know how amazing you are. And it’s unfortunate since you might actually blow the actor away.    He’ll never have you smiling at him, pouting at him, underneath him and crying out his name. But it’s okay — Jungkook doesn’t mind taking one for the team and having you all to himself.   //   There’s a loud ruckus and it’s early too.    Jungkook has never felt more like Yoongi. He wonders if this is how the man feels every single morning. Tired and exhausted and having to hear high-pitched screeches only irks him even more and unintentionally puts him in a sour mood. It was just too loud and too much of everything.   “What’s going on?”   Taehyung turns to him, arms crossed. For once, the brunette is wholly unenthusiastic. “Dude, I was texting you all morning. Did you not check your messages?”   “I might or might not have muted you like Yoongi did.” There are girls gathered and a few boys as well, a whole crowd of people standing together and blocking the way to the dining hall. The sound of murmuring fills the corridor. “Is someone giving out something for free?”   “No.” Taehyung sighs. “You know the actor, Song Joongki? He’s here.”   “What?”   “Beats me.” The tall brunette shrugs. “Apparently he’s sponsoring the university and making a donation to promote culinary arts. It probably has something to do with the commercials he’s been doing. I don’t know. They were trying to keep it on the down low but someone leaked it over Twitter that he was visiting and now everyone knows.”   Jungkook is stunned.   For a moment, he wonders if you’re actually a witch. It was just too convenient considering the jesting conversation he had with you nights ago. Or perhaps it was the damned world wanting him to eat his own words. But whatever the case is, Jungkook isn’t able to dwell for long.   Suddenly, the sea of students split, gasps and screams echoing down the hall. There are professors leading the way with the Dean, ushering students to move aside. There’s one or two bodyguards as well, their arms stretched to keep the actor safe. But as Jungkook stands there at a distance with his friend, he manages a far away peek at the dark-haired actor in his black suit as he passes with a small, polite smile and his head dipped.    Holy shit. You were right.   He’s handsome — but even more so in real life.   “Oh my god. Was that him?! I didn’t get a good look.” — “That was him!” — “He’s so cute!”   Everyone is fawning over Song Joongki. And even Jungkook, who doesn’t have a particular taste for men, can appreciate the actor.    “My mom loves him. Maybe I should get her an autograph.” Taehyung thinks about it for a second and then shakes his head. “Nah. That’s too much work. Let’s just go eat.”   The crowd moves past and Jungkook catches sight of a very familiar mop of head in the midst of the horde of people — a girl whose eyes are wide and excited.    But his own damn girlfriend doesn’t even notice him.    Instead, you’re holding Aeri’s hand and hopping up and down. “C’mon, Aeri! We’ll get a better look up front.”   Taehyung bursts out laughing as the corridor finally clears. “Was that just Y/N?”   Jungkook sighs lightly with a sheepish smile. “Yep.”   The dining hall has never been so quiet and empty. It’s eerie, almost like someone bought the place out to have a private buffet of sorts.   Jungkook finds Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi already seated at the table — somehow they had squeezed themselves through the crowd. Everyone greets each other with raised brows, silence desirable after the whole commotion. But Taehyung, on the other hand, is enjoying Jungkook’s astonishment too much.   “Looks like Song Joongki is also Mr. Steal Your Girl. Guess where Y/N is.”   “She left you?” Yoongi is stunned and then starts chuckling.   “She didn’t leave me.”   “Well can you blame her?” Hoseok pipes up. “He’s pretty handsome. My sister was a fan of him in Descendants of the Sun.”   “Really?” Jimin nods. “I liked him more in Innocent Man.”   “I said she didn’t leave me,” Jungkook repeats in exasperation. “And it’s whatever, he’s her hall pass anyway.”   That remark surprises all his friends. “So you don’t care?”   Jungkook shrugs. The boy slurps up his noodles, not paying much mind. “It would be fucking impressive.” And he means it. If his girl can charm on Song-fucking-Joongki, he’d be impressed.   You should do whatever it takes to live your best life and he’ll always root for you. Meeting Song Joongki is probably your dream come true anyway, so he has no reason to stop you and doesn’t want to. “It would be a one in a lifetime chance, so why not?”   “Wow.” Hoseok nods, impressed at the carefree attitude and how secure Jungkook is.   “Speak of the devil….”   You appear in the dining center, running at full speed, grabbing some toast. At the last second, you spot Jungkook and your eyes light up. You sprint over. “Hey!” You plop a kiss at the top of your boyfriend’s head, making him grin. “Did you guys see him?!”

“Sure did.”   “We saw him alright.”   “I’m just grabbing some food for Aeri and I but he’s going to the kitchens later and Miss. Kang says she’s going to introduce a group of us as the baking students!” You’re shrieking for joy, jumping up and down. Yoongi winces at the noise and gives you a dirty look, but it makes Jungkook giggle. You turn to him. “You don’t mind, do you?”   “Why would I?” He grins and encourages, “Go get it! I believe in you.”   You nod, running along and he watches your backside with a softened smile.   Out of nowhere, Taehyung snickers. “You are so whipped.”   “Fuck off.” He continues to slurp down his noodles.   //   Song Joongki doesn’t stay for long — but it sure feels like it. All of his social media is flooded with pictures and clips of the actor being taken on a tour around campus, snapping a few selfies with fans, and real life updates every twenty seconds. Jungkook even gets a call from his aunt who caught wind of what was happening.   Jungkook, himself, is kind of over it. He’s not so starstruck and dazzled like he was earlier, but he still checks his phone every so often for your texts. It’s been silent for the entire day and he can only wonder what ended up happening.   Luckily, he doesn’t need to wait for long when nearing his bedtime, there’s a knock at his door. Jungkook opens it to see your sheepish expression and your body clad in your cotton pajamas.   “Hey, thought I would stop by.”   “Did you sneak in again?”   “It’s not sneaking when no one notices in the first place.”    He notices that you’re shivering from the chilly air outside and quickly ushers you into his small dorm room. The corner of his mouth pulls when you automatically crawl into his bed and pull the toasty covers up to your chin like you were always supposed to be there.   “So…” Jungkook turns around after shutting the door, curiosity ebbing away at him. “What ended up happening?”   “What do you mean?” You blink at him.   “Did you end up….you know….”   “No.” Your expression is blank. “I really don’t know.”   He sighs, having to explicitly word it. “Did you bed Joongki?”   There’s a long silence.    The silence draws on.    You snort. “What? You thought I was gone all this time cause I was fucking Song Joongki?”   “Listen, we agreed on each other’s hall passes. I won’t get mad. Trust me, I’d be pretty impressed, but I want to hear all the details.”   “Well, sorry to say, captain, but there isn’t any.” You pull back the corner of the covers, patting the empty spot beside you.    Jungkook doesn’t hesitate slipping into his small bed with you and he finds a comfortable position. His arm drapes over your waist, allowing the soft yellow glow of his bedside lamp to cast your shadows on his wall. There’s a beat of quietness and then you’re laughing again.   “What?”   “I can’t believe you thought I slept with Joongki.”   “So you didn’t?”   “No.” You give an incredulous look, exasperated at how dumb your boyfriend can be at times. It’s not like you were any better, but still. “You really thought I could get close enough to sleep with him? He’s an actor! He practically had twenty bodyguards around. I barely got an autograph in — which I’m framing on my wall, by the way.”   “Oh.”   “Sorry that a famous actor didn’t fuck your girlfriend,” your voice drips of sarcasm. “I didn’t mean to be such a disappointment.”   Jungkook scoffs. “Why would I be disappointed?”   “Well, you’re acting like you’re let down that I didn’t get to use my hall pass.” You’re fiddling with a loose thread at the neckline of his cotton shirt while your other arm is folded underneath your head. He stares at you. “I wouldn’t want to anyway, by the way. Thought I would just mention that. Some things are better left for fantasy. And I have you. Why would I want someone else?”   His arms curl around you, pulling you into his body. Jungkook cuddles your frame and you melt against him, smiling. “I’m not disappointed,” he teases. “He could never treat you as well as I do.”   “I don’t know about that,” you chime. “He was really handsome though.”   “Was he nice too?”   “Super. I didn’t really get to talk to him, but he listened to Miss. Kang’s entire spiel about ovens.” You pull apart a little to see him, eyes meeting. “Apparently there are rumours Joongki might come back. Who knows, he might fall in love with me this time and we might get married. You’re not invited to the wedding, by the way.”   The boy feigns offence, eyes glimmering in the low lights. “Why not?”

“It’s weird if my ex is there. I’m sure Joong-bear wouldn’t like it.”   “Joong-bear?” He raises his brows.   “It’s an inside joke,” you playfully taunt. “You wouldn’t get it.”   Jungkook scoffs, then laughs. “You best believe I would kick down the doors to the chapel and object to the marriage.”   “And what if IU showed up?”   He hums. “Polygamy is underrated.”   You giggle. “So all four of us in one marriage?”   “Sure.” Jungkook shrugs. “Even if it’s just Joongki, I wouldn’t mind if it was us three.”   “Me too. Joongki, Jieun, and me. It’s perfect.”   “I meant me.” He starts to tickle you, laughing when you do. “Did you forget about me?”   “What?” You squirm against him. “Can’t hear you.”   It’s an absolutely absurd scenario, completely unfounded and ludicrous. But Jungkook loves to be ridiculous with you.   He holds you and his eyes stray upwards onto his wall. Beside his IU’s posters are pictures of you and him — polaroids taken throughout the summer to the one bigger frame that holds the photograph at the wedding. The one where you and him are staring at each other mid-laugh after he caught you in his arms.

[dreamsurvivormultiplayer]

ive heard a lot of folks are moving from MCYTtwt to tumblr, so hello! Welcome! I am a tumblr boomer so let me teach you some things

number one: If you’re on browser, get the xkit extension. right now. literally first thing you should do it improves your experience on this website tenfold. [Here’s the xkit tumblr.] Do yourself a favor it has so many wonderful features, including blacklisting specific terms, blocking ads/recommended posts, or making tag groups. It’s a lifesaver. (Also definitely block terms related to your triggers/squicks/common gross things or anything you might be sensitive to. And NSFW, probably.)

Number two: Mobile tumblr and browser tumblr are very different in functionality. They have separate learning curves in terms of UI. You’ll get the hang of it, don’t worry, but know that both are kinda glitchy. Mobile tends to lag more and have more difficulty loading images (to the point where it’s a meme). Also on mobile you can’t see custom pages on people’s blogs.

Three: Tumblr has a very different comments language than other sites. Most people don’t actually comment on posts, but instead leave commentary in tags. You can’t put commas in tags but you can separate words and fill ‘em up a ton. You can also read tags on posts, so you can see what people are quietly saying or how they’re reacting to posts. There’s also a comments option, which doesn’t add on to the post but can be read as well. Actually adding an additional comment to reblogs is pretty uncommon unless you have something to add to the post. It’s highly recommended to read tags of posts on your dashboard.

Four: Tumblr is weird. If you’re making an original post that you want to be seen, the first five tags will be what your post shows under. Use those tags wisely. Also if you include any non-tumblr links in your post, your post won’t show up in tags, so be careful. Reblogs and additions to reblogs don’t show up in tags at all. Tags on reblogs or aside from the first five tags are mostly for personal blog organization or commentary. Also, you can add a maximum of 10 images to a post using the image function, and then paste as many more images as you want in the text portion. Images in photo posts can also be scooted around or reorganized (i.e. rows of four, two-by-five, etc etc. however you please). Tumblr won’t crop images images unless you put two images of different sizes in the same row/column. It also rarely cuts quality, and you can click on images to expand them. Also the search function is always broken literally everywhere all the time. if you’re looking for tags, just add “/tagged/[words]” to the end of the blog url and you should find it. put a - or + where any spaces should be. Also try to avoid using apostrophes in tags if you’re using them for categorization cause sometimes it breaks it. Also, don’t tag triggers/etc in the format of “tw: [x]”/“trigger warning: [x]” or “cw: [x]”/”content warning: [x]” - instead, tag it like “[x] //” or the word alone or similar. The tw:/cw: can glitch out tag blocks sometimes and render it useless. Putting the // after or just the word alone works better. Content warnings don’t need to be in the first five tags - tag/post blockers look at the post’s tags or the post itself as a whole, so it’ll just hide the entire post based on what you block. And for the love of fuck, don’t cross-tag.  [See #10 & “Cross-tagging”] The folks who use the Minecraft tag aren’t super fond of the tag being filled with only DSMP/MCYT content so be considerate of tagging MCYT content with just “Minecraft” as well.

Five: Tumblr is old. It has a lot of jokes and popular posts. You can acquaint yourself with a lot of them here: https://heritageposts.tumblr.com/

Six: You don’t need a carrd or whatever it is. Really. Trust me. Nobody will read it. All you need in your bio is like, what you want people to refer to you as (i dont suggest making this your actual name, but i can’t stop you i guess), your pronouns, maybe your fandoms, and maybe if you’re an adult or minor. Don’t put your exact age for the love of fuck. don’t do it. and don’t make your username anything including your real name. be dilfza69 or whatever, trust me, no one will care. just dont use your real name. trust us on this one. and probably not your discord tag. it’s not that tumblr is inherently any more dangerous than the rest of the internet, just that it’s one of the few places left where you can remain very private. utilize that. it’s very nice. Lots of people make an about page on their blog though, so you can include any other fun stuff you want to include there, like your zodiac signs or fandoms or other social media or whatever.

Seven: Don’t worry about how old posts are. nobody gives a shit nor can anyone tell. Also, you will find most people’s main blogs consist of mostly reblogged content unless they are specifically a content creator (usually an artist, musician, or voice actor). This is normal. Reblog a lot. ‘Tis our way. Also, you can’t see how many followers other people have unless they post it/tell you. Follower count is meaningless here. It doesn’t impact your posts at all even. Don’t worry about it. Everybody’s the same level here.

Eight: Go to your blog profile (top right icon of a lil person. it’ll open a drop-down menu. From there, click on the name of your blog.) Select “edit appearance” and scroll down. There is a section titled “Advertising” that says “On-blog advertising” with a little switch. Turn that off. You’re welcome.

Nine: You can make side-blogs. These are like normal blogs except you can co-own them with other people, you can’t like posts from it, and you can’t follow people from it. They’re connected to your main blog. You can make a lot of them. I legitimately have like 30 blogs.

Ten: Lil bit of tumblr lingo for ya. Not even close to the full list, but a good start.

Nightblogging - when someone is blogging a lot when they clearly should be asleep. Tends to include lots of existential/”shower” thoughts.

Shitposting - General memery and silliness. Usually to an absurdist amount.

Liveblogging - Just like livetweeting. Live reaction posts to something happening, be it watching a show or stream or anything really.

Askblog - A blog focused around a character or multiple characters who respond to questions asked to them. Usually art/comic-based, but also sometimes text or even audio based. If you find one of these, shoot them an ask or two. It’s nice and they’re fun and a dying breed. 

Mishapocolypse / Dashcon - Some highly iconic tumblr historical moments. You will learn of them in time.

Tumblr User [x] - How we politely refer to each other. You may hear about some very popular bloggers, many from days of olde - legends such as Pizza (rip) or Sixpenceee (don’t look there) or maybe even smaller known bloggers like Glumshoe (that one’s safe, unless you don’t like bugs or traditionally “gross” animals).

Bone Stealing Witches - There have been like three separate instances of this. This isn’t even a joke. Like, literal actual real people who practice witchcraft who stole or did something involving human skeletal remains. This is not the weirdest thing that has happened on this site. You will get used to that.

Inbox - If someone sends you an ask, this is where that will end up. This too tends to be broken, usually in the form of tumblr “eating” asks (they never appear in the inbox). Most common cause for this is allegedly links or things that tumblr thinks are links (basically anything in a [x].[x] format. Make sure to put spaces after your periods or your ask may be eaten.)

Cross-tagging - Tagging posts with tags that don’t or barely apply (i.e. tagging art of Bee Duo with “Bench trio”/”Tommyinnit” when Tommy isn’t in the image or referenced at all || tagging as many members of the dsmp as you can when the post is only about one singular content creator).

Hope this helps some of y’all new folks. If you have any questions, my inbox is open.

[orangerosebush]

Out in the fields

Wicklow has often been referred to as the garden of Ireland. The founder of St. Bartleby’s had assumed that the sprawling landscapes and fresh air would do the young gentlemen of Ireland’s high society some good — and he wasn’t wholly wrong. There was certainly a great deal less trouble to get into in the middle of a field than there was in the more populated towns.

However, those who are determined to find trouble will inevitably make do, and such is the case on this night, with the overcast spring sky providing ample opportunity to lurk if one so desires. And, let it be said, Jack Lovett was nothing if not a professional troublemaker, in the unfortunate way that sheltered rich teenagers are.

It is true that Wicklow is the garden of Ireland, but even so, there is a smattering of abandoned lots and crumbling alleys. Tonight, Jack had picked out one of the abandoned car parks that he’d evaluated to be the best of the lots, and he currently had parked himself on top of a stack of old wooden crates. His adventuring partner for the night, a first-year university student he’d met at a rather bad concert back in the autumn, was none too happy with their predicament.

However, they’d already argued about the risk factor of skulking about in empty lots on the way over, and both thought it best to save some energy for arguing about the activity later into the night.

There isn’t much to do in Wicklow if you’re a private school student.

***

Jack flicked his lighter on and off, admiring the way it spat out sparks.

“You’re going to break that,” his companion sighed, their mouth pulled into a disapproving, thin line.

Rolling his eyes, Jack made a show of flicking the lighter shut before shoving it in his blazer’s pocket.

Ozzy smiled, leaning their weight against the almost-slick bricks of the old building. “Thanks.”

Scoffing, Jack drummed his fingers against the box on which he was sitting, the noise making a slight echo. After a moment, he looked back at Ozzy. They raised an eyebrow, and he took that as an invitation.

“What do you want to do?”

“What do I want to do?” they snorted. “You’re the one who wanted to poke around weird holes in the wall.”

“It’s not like there would’ve been anything to do on campus,” he said, frowning defensively.

“So you should’ve come up to Dublin instead of making me take a taxi down here.”

“Yeah, true, Ozzy,” Jack admitted. “Ozzy — what’s your name from, anyway?” he asked, swinging his legs lazily from his perch.

Ozzy shrugged. “Poem.”

“What?” he furrowed his brow. “I thought the name was from that rocker bloke.”

“Why’d you even ask, then?”

“Dunno. Although I do admit it seemed like a weird choice and all, considering you don’t even listen to heavy metal. ”

“Well, there you go. That’s a bit stupid.”

“Eh, can’t win ‘em all.”

“Fair,” Ozzy exhaled, rolling their shoulders as they gazed out towards the empty car park. “The story I have isn’t that interesting, to be honest.”

Jack shot them a look. “We’re lurking in an abandoned lot so that I can smoke without one of the head boys giving me grief about cigs. Please, regale me with your poem.”

“Prick.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Fine. It’s basically about the narrator meeting a traveler from a faraway land, and they talk about there being this huge statue of the king Ozymandias out in the desert. The king had it engraved to say things such as that he was ‘the king of kings’ and that his enemies should fear even the sight of one of his monuments. All real braggadocio-type shit. But here’s the thing — the statue is the only thing that remains in that desert since his kingdom is now in ruins. It’s about arrogance and hubris. I can text it to you.”

“Huh,” Jack took a puff from what remained of his cigarette. At this point, the thing was almost only the orange filtration zone. Not that that gave him pause, though. “Cool.”

“I liked the themes,” they shrugged. “Nothing lasts forever, even the powerful die eventually, be careful with where you invest in real estate. Basic stuff.”

“Well, I’m gonna read it,” Jack declared, waving his hand. “So I don’t want any more spoilers.” Tiny trails of smoke formed as he gestured, with the mist making the lit end of the cigarette splutter and hiss intermittently.

“It is cool. Plus, my name makes whoever is talking to me sound like they’re buzzing.”

“The consonants are wicked, yeah,” Jack agreed, grinning. Ozzy grinned back.

Suddenly, Jack froze up. “Shit,” He hissed, flicking his cigarette to the ground and hurriedly grinding it into the wet dirt. Jack hopped off the empty boxes, fanning the air unsuccessfully in an attempt to disperse the smell of smoke.

“Do you have any Axe in your work bag?” he asked, cursing.

“It’s a research program. I’m not really doing any heavy physical labor,” Ozzy snorted. “I don’t bring stuff like Axe to work. That’d be weird.”

“Whatever,” Jack grimaced, and Ozzy craned their neck to see what he was looking at.

Across the gloom of the dusky car park, Ozzy could just about see the silhouette of a sleek, black Bentley. One of the older models, probably. They looked at Jack quizzically, taking a step back.

“Jack,” they began slowly. “There’s a car.”

“Yeah,” he said dismissively, still waving at the air. “Got any mints, at least?” he tried, hopeful.

“Dude, there’s a fecking car parked over there,” Ozzy stressed, eyes darting back to Jack. “No one ever comes out here. I think we should leg it. Now.”

“’S probably why he drove out here, the creep,” Jack muttered under his breath, moving to riffle through Ozzy’s bag anyway. They squawked, moving to kick his hand away from the bag, but he batted their boot away.

“Gross. Orange tic tacs?” he looked up, making a face.

Ozzy shoved their hands into their pockets. “They were out of the tea-flavored ones.”

Jack rolled his eyes as he crunched on the mints. “You should take one, too.”

“ I wasn’t smoking.”

“So? It’ll look weird if only one of us has mints. Take some!”

“What? No, it won’t. You’re mental — look, do you recognize that car?”

“Unfortunately. My classmate’s bodyguard has one just like it.”

Ozzy boggled. “Your classmate’s… bodyguard’s… car.”

Jack huffed. “Shut up. They’re practically inseparable. And my classmate is always blowing off school to do God knows what, so it adds up that he’d try to invade our car park behind the abandoned Foot Locker.”

“The Foot Locker lot isn’t really ours, though. It’s not really anybody’s. That’s a bit of the point of it being our haunt.”

“Yeah, technically — we still got here first, though,” Jack sent a glare off into the gloom. “If Butler comes over here and tells me to knock off smoking again, I’m fighting him.”

"His bodyguard's name is Butler — never mind.  Please don’t get into a fight with someone whose job is being able to fight.”

“Fight professionally, maybe. I never learned karate or that MMA type stuff. I learned to fight on the streets. We’ve the advantage here.”

“There… is nothing going on between your ears. Just empty air, blowing around your thick skull,” Ozzy decided, finally cautiously taking a step closer to look at the car.

“Piss off.”

“You piss off,” they muttered back, poking their head around the rusting dumpster.

That was apparently a mistake, as they found themselves making eye contact with the gigantic man stepping out of the driver’s seat of the Bentley. He was incredibly still, like the calm ocean — barely tamed strength that had been forced into a moment of inertia.

Slowly, they felt themself raise up a hand in a small wave.

“Why are you interacting with them?” they heard Jack splutter from behind them.

“They already saw us,” Ozzy said, voice low.

The passenger door to the car swung up and out stepped another figure. He was pale enough that he seemed to glow a bit under the busted streetlight, and he was dressed in a smart, black suit. He must be the classmate, then, Ozzy decided, gaze flickering between the two. He didn’t seem like any secondary schooler they’d ever seen — but money was wont to have a funny effect on teenagers who’d never known its absence. For Jack, it’d convinced him that the world was a lot smaller and a great deal more simple than it truly was. For this other fellow, Ozzy frowned, it had seemed to do the opposite. He had the gait and demeanor of someone who knew the world was all too willing to knock him down, and he had thus decided to steel himself against any future threats preemptively.

Jack had been exaggerating their rivalry. Ozzy was sure of that.

If his classmate had seen Jack as anything more aggravating than a nuisance, it was more than likely that one day, Jack would have simply stopped showing up at the lot to hang out. In fact, it was more than likely that Ozzy would have stopped seeing Jack altogether.

Feeling a presence at their side, Ozzy turned to face Jack, who was lingering nearby. He grimaced, slinging their bag over his shoulder.

“If they've already seen us, then sprinting off will look suspicious,” he explained, hoisting the bag higher. Ozzy shot him a withering look.

“I thought you wanted to fight his bodyguard, Jack. Are you telling me you’re afraid that what, we’ll get chased?”

“Uh, yes, actually?” Jack said slowly, as though explaining something to an infant. “Neither of them understand the concept of fun.”

Their petty squabbling petered out as the two people from the car made their way over.

“Artemis,” Jack said, pursing his lips at the dark-haired young man.

Ozzy made a note of that, furrowing their brow. Artemis. Interesting.

“Hello, Jack. I must say, it’s a bit of surprise to see you out here,” Artemis remarked, tone light. Turning to face Ozzy, he appraised them.

“I’m Ozzy,” they offered.

“I don’t believe I’ve met your acquaintance before, Ozzy,” Artemis quirked his head, extending a hand in greeting.

“You’ve definitely never met,” Jack confirmed, tone somewhat brusque. “They’re a fresher at Trinity.”

Shaking Artemis’ hand, Ozzy harrumphed. “I can introduce myself, thanks. But no, we wouldn’t have met before, I don’t think.”

“Trinity?” Artemis smiled, nodding approvingly. “I gave a lecture on Balkan politics there.”

“Really? Maybe one of my friends saw it. When was it?”

Artemis waved a hand. “I was thirteen. It was some time ago.”

“Oh,” Ozzy blinked. “Good for you.”

“Quite. I must say that you’ve piqued my interest with Trinity. If I might ask: what is your focus on?”

“Classics,” Jack interjected before Ozzy could respond, puffing up slightly with pride at the mention of his friend’s work. “They’re beyond smart. Actually, you should tell Artemis about some of your papers, Ozzy. Lethal stuff.”

“Maybe some other time,” Butler announced, his voice firm, and he looked at his employer pointedly. Artemis must have picked up on whatever he was implying, as the pale young man nodded apologetically.

“I’m afraid it is time for us to part ways with you two,” Artemis explained.

Jack crossed his arms.

Ozzy put a firm hand on his shoulder before he could say something. He scowled at the strange duo in front of them but turning to look at Ozzy, his face softened.

“Enjoy your stupid car park,” Jack muttered, allowing Ozzy to maneuver them both back towards the path that led to the main foot road. He was no doubt thinking he’d got the last word in, Ozzy sighed mentally.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you smoking when we pulled into the lot, Jack Lovett,” Ozzy heard Butler call after the two of them from out in the gloom. They winced, continuing to push Jack forward.

“He’s threatened to tell my mum a few times, “ Jack remarked miserably, no doubt disappointed at his grand exit being ruined. “He knows her from some damn book club group, apparently.”

Ozzy laughed, and he gave them a hurt look.

“I’m living like a hunted man, you know! It’s not funny, Ozzy,” he sulked, and they shook their head fondly.

“You really ought to quit, Jack,” they sighed, inhaling the cool night air. It smelled vaguely of roses, with the pungent smell of tobacco beginning to fade as they walked farther and farther from the lot. It was always worth coming down from Central Dublin to visit Jack in Wicklow, they shot him a glance. Despite how much Jack might complain that St. Bartleby’s was located in the middle of absolute nowhere, Ozzy knew that deep down, he liked being away from the city. Not that Dublin was in any way as busy as some of the cities they’d seen back in London, Ozzy conceded. But even Dublin was too much for someone like Jack. He needed growing room, even at the precipice of adulthood.

“Hm. I might,” Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Jack .”

“No, I really think I might! It’s getting to the point where my mum would realize when I come home for the holidays, and the last thing I want is to get chewed out for using ‘her money to buy cigs when I should be learning',” he pitched his voice into a breathy falsetto at the end.

Ozzy chuckled. “You’ve already gotten caught, then.”

“Mum found a few I’d stuffed in my bag when I came home for Christmas. You should’ve seen her — she was huffing and red in the face for about an hour. I really got the business for that.”

“Good. Your dumbass should have realized that bringing cigs home was a monumentally stupid idea.”

“You’re mean tonight, you know that, Ozzy?” Jack grinned widely, shaking his head and knocking his shoulder into theirs.

“Whatever,” Ozzy rolled their eyes. Slowing slightly in their stride, they glanced backward, eyes narrowing to try to make out the silhouettes of Artemis and Butler.

“It… is a bit weird, you know,” they began, voice faltering. “That those two were at the car park.”

Jack snorted. “Weird is on-brand for Artemis. Besides, he wasn’t there for the car park, probably.”

“What?”

“You’d never guess it if you’d just met him, but he’s bonkers for all that like….,” Jack made a vague gesture with his hands. “Ancient aliens type shite. At least, he used to be when we were roommates. He’s gotten more normal since he was 10, but you never know, y’know?”

Ozzy stared at him, stopping in their tracks. “So that’s… a haunted car park, then?”

“Good idea for a band name — ‘haunted car park’,” Jack extended his arm, pantomiming putting it up across a poster. “But no, more like haunted hillfort.”

“There are fairy mounds in the parking lot?”

“Sometimes I forget you’re painfully British. Yeah, there are a bunch all over Wicklow. There’s one in the field behind the car park, but it’s so small you’d never see it on a touristy type guide.”

“Huh,” Ozzy said thoughtfully, looking out at the dimly lit concrete island.

“Huh?”

“Just ‘huh’,” Ozzy confirmed, turning back to continue walking.

Jack shrugged. “Fine by me.”

[stormgardenscurse]

Childhood Best Friend AU - Leona Kingscholar (Part 1)

This is my attempt at the 7 Leaders, 7 Prompts challenge by @rainebowkitty - I’ve actually written a little more, so there’ll be another post with a second part of this AU. Thanks for reading!

In your youth you were noticed and recognized for your magical potential. Your family was also closely acquainted with the Kingscholars, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise when Leona’s family offered to host your early education to make the most of your abilities

Thing is, you knew that you’d never match up to royalty with talent and wit alone, so you’ve quickly developed the habit of studying as much as you could, and practicing whenever you had the time to do so

You’ve previously voiced that you weren’t hoping for much in terms of climbing the ranks, but you were determined to do the most with what you did have (and at the very least, stick it to the people that doubted the Kingscholars’ decision to support you) 

Leona eventually made his peace with your noble personality, but when he catches you staying up just to study and working yourself to the bone? He gets very annoyed, and marches into your room (or the library that you were slaving alone at) to drag you away for a break.

If it’s nighttime when this happens? He’ll either throw you into your room and take away your books or trap you in his own, where you’ll be left with no resources and won’t be able to practice magic since it’ll inhibit his sleep.

His bed is also huge, so it’s not that big of a deal to share it.

If you think it’d take some time to earn Leona’s trust, you’re right. The guy isn’t one to start placing such hopes on others, and it’s the same with you, even if for some reason you tend to visit him a lot, claiming that it’s fun to hang out with him.

He’s tried pushing you away a few times, thinking that you’re just playing with him because you had nothing better to do, or because others were too busy.

The day he finally comes to his senses and realizes that you were for real is when you’re both lounging around in one of the study rooms, reading your respective books of interest. A servant comes by to tell you both that it’s time for dinner, and after they’re dismissed you don’t move from your seat, instead continuing to read.

“Aren’t you going to go?” Leona asks disinterestedly. “Farena and our parents might be waiting.”

“But you’re not,” you reply, mouth curved in the smallest hint of a smile. “I can’t just leave you here alone.”

He scoffs. “I’m not a child.”

“No, but the sentiment still stands.”

“It’s fine, just go. They’ll get worried about you.”

You contemplate something for a moment, then nod to yourself, standing up and leaving the room.

Leona isn’t surprised by your actions and just goes back to his book. He can’t seem to concentrate, though, and instead goes to set up a game of chess - maybe playing will wake himself up, even if it’s one-man chess.

Just as he’s about to start a round, the door opens. He makes a move to tell the servant that he’s not going to dinner, but halts as he sees that it’s you, with two plates of food in your hands.

“I thought you left for dinner?”

“I brought it here instead.” You said, and before Leona needed to ask, you filled him in. “I told them I wasn’t feeling well so it’d be best if I dined alone, then I went to the kitchens to pick these up.”

Leona’s not sure what your intentions are, so he tests the waters. “Are you feeling unwell?”

You snorted at the thought. “Nah, I’m fine. It was just an excuse to escape.”

“Why did you want to escape?” Who are you trying to escape from; them, or me? Are you going to leave right after handing me that plate?

It’d make sense. Despite spending much of your life here, they still weren’t your family, and he wouldn’t blame you for wanting to get away from them once in a while.

You let out an exasperated huff. “God… Leona, do you even know what you are?”

“...A prince?”

“Well, yes, but that wasn’t what I was going for.” Your voice is determined, as if willing your next words to get through his thick skull. “You’re my friend, heck, probably my best friend, even.”

“That’s kind of sad,” he responds. In truth, he was trying to wrap his head around the idea; why’d someone like you consider him as a best friend?

You shrug. “It’s not like you were my last option or anything, I just like your company.”

“And you’ve decided that we’re best friends?” The term tastes weird in his mouth, it feels foreign.

“It’s just what I consider you as - you don’t need to force yourself to call me the same.”

Damn it, you were weird. You were so, so weird, and you made such questionable decisions.

“Okay, then.” Leona finally takes the plate from you. “Play chess with me after this, the board’s already set up.”

It was his way of accepting your words. Leona can’t promise that he’d be a good friend, but he’ll try. And he’ll do it in his own style; not anyone else’s.

[hermannsthumb]

Please do holiday prompt 85 (unexpected apology)!

85. we haven’t been friends for years but we both end up at a mutual friend’s holiday party and you apologize for how things went down between us (which I wasn’t expecting in a million years)

from winter writing prompts here

it’s that time of year again everyone.....ive been so busy with school and zine stuff that im taking a little break to write this today ☺️ set very late 2019, before the Events of 2020

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

It occurs to Hermann as he stands amongst a handful of society’s most monied and high-ranking—mulled wine in hand, stiff suit buttoned too-tight around his neck—that he is not only completely out of his element, but residing at a level of desperation that he cringes to even consider. Hermann does not schmooze; Hermann has never had the capacity to schmooze; in all of his previous attempts at schmoozing (typically at the bequest of his father, who would tote Hermann around as a conversation piece at fundraising events), Hermann would come across invariably as disingenuous, uptight, and arrogant, and certainly not someone with whom one would entrust large cheques made out to the PPDC for.

Yes; desperation. To borrow the cliché, desperate times call for desperate measures. To borrow another, war changes man. Robots wage war on monsters from another world, the UN wages war on the jaeger program’s budget, and Hermann must wage war on prospective PPDC donors if he wishes to still be employed by the New Year. He can’t decide which sounds more horrendous, really.

“Would you like more wine, Dr. Gottlieb?” a passing waiter asks Hermann, and Hermann shakes his head.

“No, thank you,” he says. Hermann has always been a maudlin drunk; he doesn’t fancy risking over-drinking tonight, and making an embarrassment of himself by confessing to perfect strangers that his parents never loved him or that he fears he’ll never make a true human connection.

“Dr. Gottlieb?” someone says, incredulously.

Oh, bugger. He’s been found out. Hermann sighs, flattens down his cowlick, and plasters on a fake smile: the time has come for him to, er, lie back and think of the PPDC, so to speak. Hopefully it’ll go fast.

But when Hermann turns, it’s not to find some acquaintance of his father, or a perfect stranger familiar with his work, or even a distant colleague; it’s to find one Newton Geiszler (who Hermann may have considered a colleague, once, but certainly not anymore), dressed in a horrendous eyesore of a gold (gold) suit, nursing a large red cocktail in each hand, and staring at Hermann like he can’t decide if he wants to say something or turn and run. Hermann mirrors his stare. A pin could drop between them, and Hermann reckons, despite the undercurrent of music and chatter, they would be able to hear it.

Hermann is the one to break it. “Newton,” he says. Then he amends, quickly, “Dr. Geiszler. I wasn’t aware…” He coughs. He suddenly wishes he took another mulled wine, and wonders if it’s too late to summon back the waiter. “You are…here.”

“Uh,” Newton says. “Yeah.”

The last time Hermann saw Newton Geiszler, they were standing under an awning outside a Starbucks while a torrential downpour of rain pounded against the sidewalk and soaked their shoes. Hermann was shouting. Newton was shouting, too, and he may have also been crying. They had been asked to leave the building on account of it. That was nearly three years ago. “Er,” Hermann says. “Business? Or pleasure?”

Newton has hardly changed in the almost-three years; his hair remains thick and unruly, his jaw in bad need of a shave, his glasses smudged and slightly crooked. The suit is a bloody eyesore, though. Hermann imagines Newton thought it was festive. “Business.” Newton snorts. “God, you think I’d come here for fun? I haven’t had the money for a new sample in months, it was either this or, I don’t know, sticking mutated fish under microscopes. Kaiju blue poisoning. Been there done that, and not what I need to be doing now, you know? And you can thank your dad for that too, not having any fucking samples to work with, I mean, and his stupid wall—but I guess that’s why you’re here too. I heard they’re talking about pulling the plug on the jaeger program.”

Newton speaks quickly, and with a bewildering tendency to leap between topics like a game of hopscotch, something Hermann had quite forgotten. (They’d only met the once, after all, and Newton disguises it better in writing.) He follows it nonetheless. “Yes, well, they’re still only just rumors,” Hermann says, though he knows (with a certainty) that one more major failing of a jaeger might spell the end of it, “and I certainly hope they stay as such. I take it you’re with the PPDC now, then?”

Newton jerks a thumb towards the waistband of his gold suit, spilling a bit of his cocktail on the floor; Hermann at last notices the PPDC badge clipped to it. Newton’s grin is identical to the one in his photograph. “Hell yeah, dude,” he says. “They finally hired me about a month after we—” The corners of his mouth twitch down, ever so slightly. “—uh, got coffee.”

It had been a long-standing complaint of Newton’s, back when they wrote each other, that the PPDC was perfectly happy to use his research but turned a blind eye whenever he submitted yet another application for their k-science research team. Personality conflicts, Hermann always presumed. He and Newton certainly had plenty. Perhaps Hermann’s not the only one who’s grown desperate—a thought he scolds himself for the unkindness of a moment later. Newton is a brilliant scientist despite his difficulties and their past. “Of course,” Hermann says. “Well, congratulations. I hadn’t heard.”

“Wine?” a passing waiter asks them.

Newton shakes his head. Hermann takes one this time, gratefully.

“It’s been alright,” Newton says. He downs the entirety of the red cocktail in his right hand. “Like I said. Not many samples to work with. They had me stationed over in Vladivostok, but I got leave for the holidays. And for this I guess.”

“I’ve been in Seattle,” Hermann says. “I reckon they’ll be transferring me soon, though I haven’t an idea where.” More rumors, of course.

For a moment he allows himself the brief fantasy of being transferred somewhere with Newton, or perhaps it’s more of a fear than a fantasy—year after year of this sort of insufferable awkwardness? Being forced to work together? It’s something Hermann had longed for in the past, spending every day with his marvelous penpal at his side. It instills a sort of nausea in him now. Newton touches his arm before Hermann has the chance to excuse himself hide in the loo. “Hey, dude, listen,” Newton says. “About us getting coffee. I feel like I owe you an apology.”

Hermann can’t help it; he snorts, though he immediately regrets it. Newton, at least, does not look offended. “Do you?” Hermann says. Two and a half bloody years too late.

“I mean it,” Newton says. He blinks earnestly at Hermann, and squeezes Hermann’s arm. “I screwed it all up that day, and I could’ve—I don’t know, written, or texted, or anything to apologize, but I didn’t. And that was shitty of me. So I’m sorry, I really am. And…yeah. That’s it, I guess.”

It’s the last thing Hermann expected to hear today. It’s the last thing he expected to hear from Newton. The radio silence following that disastrous day at the coffee shop had been awful—and it’d been infuriating, too. Where had they even gone wrong that day? Hermann can’t remember anymore. Probably a fight over something inconsequential. “I see,” Hermann says. “Well. Er. Thank you, Newton. Your apology is...appreciated.”

“Cool,” Newton says.

He stares at Hermann expectantly.

“Oh,” Hermann says. “And I’m sorry, too, I suppose.”

“Cool,” Newton repeats.

He smiles at Hermann, and Hermann is momentarily suffocated by it, and the sudden reemergence of feelings he thought he’d quashed years ago. Newton is still very attractive. Very, very attractive. Hermann’s arm is warm and tingly from where Newton touched him, and he realizes the warmth is spreading up to his neck and cheeks—he’s blushing. “Hey, wanna check out the snack table with me?” Newton says. “I love the rich people food at shit like this. The last one I went to had oysters, which is totally weird. Like, it’s a gala.”

Hermann decides to accept it as the strange peace offering it obviously is meant to be. “Alright,” he says. “Though, I insist you explain your monstrosity of a suit first.”

“It’s classy,” Newton says. “Anyway, you’re one to talk, buddy.”

[hopevalley]

Season 8, Episode 5: What the Heart Wants

I was going to try to follow my scene-by-scene format for the entire season, but I’ve been getting a lot of migraines recently, presumably from staring at the computer too long, so I don’t want to spend all morning working on typing up the play-by-play for this episode.

Also, for what it’s worth I think this episode lends itself to plot discussion better than some of the previous episodes...at least in some sense.

And as another head’s up, it’s back to being critical for me. ;P

Storylines:

School Ends/Graduation/Parent-Teacher Conferences

The Dress Shop/Rachel

Postal Service, Ned

Bill’s Uniform, Nathan’s Vacation

Carson and Faith

Henry

Elizabeth and Lucas

Clara’s Dilemma

--

School Ends/Graduation/Parent-Teacher Conferences

This plot felt a little scattered, but for once it wasn’t the kind of storyline they foisted too much drama upon. After years of every single function possible being besieged by bullshittery, it’s a relief to see one go off without a real hitch.

The beginning scene with Robert hugging Elizabeth was sweet. I enjoyed the Canfields immensely and am intrigued by Angela’s role in the story long-term (PLEASE let her befriend Allie!). Nathan...eh, I have thoughts—but I’ll talk about that a bit soon. The actual ceremony was cute and kind of fun with the kids singing. 

Neat Thing I Noticed:

Continuity? Cat Montgomery is still listed as Emily’s mother. ♥♥♥ I don’t know why but this made me really happy???

-

Complaint Corner:

Parent-teacher conferences should have been in this show from a much earlier point, and so should graduation have been. If there was a point to this celebration (the first year in a while anyone was old enough to graduate) that would have been a nice touch, too. It just managed to feel sliiiightly out of place.

I’ll forgive the “everyone in town goes to the graduation” thing because this is 1918...something like this would be a whole-town affair IMO. Invite everyone and have a nice get-together/party, probably on a Sunday afternoon after church but Hope Valley does whatever it wants, so...eh.

The threat of merging Hope Valley with other schools doesn’t fit in this scenario and it feels like they ripped it directly out of Tales from Avonlea which was almost rage-inducing to me.

Look, school mergers happened a lot in the early 1900s, especially around the WWI mark, but it wouldn’t be hitting a rural western town just yet. They don’t have any way of getting these kids to other towns for schooling. Where would the next closest school be? It would have to be pretty large and modern to merge multiple schools together.

*Adjusts nerd glasses* This felt forced and completely unnecessary. If anything this guy could be telling Elizabeth that they’re working on building a modern school somewhat close by, and could even have her involved in some decision-making regarding layout. Then they could bring in a “merger” storyline next season without it feeling out of place.

It mostly just felt dramatic for the hell of it, and it was boring, as was this man’s threat that Elizabeth had no right to teach a blind student. As if they’d accept Angela at a better school? As if her parents could afford top tier education for her? PLEASE.

Now it’s time for Nathan. The man chose to go fishing instead of to the parent-teacher conference? It makes him look like a tool. This isn’t about him or about Elizabeth; it’s about Allie. I understand why he didn’t want to go, but he should have done it anyway. It would have taken five minutes of his time. 

His flippant attitude annoyed me because it went completely against his character as we know it, but Elizabeth’s lecturing was irritating, too. For a moment I thought we had Lorigail back on the show...

I think Elizabeth was well within her rights to warn Nathan about the effect his work has on his ward, but that inquiry took like a week AT MOST. Heck, let’s be generous and say TWO WEEKS. Allie’s concentration suffered for two weeks. There was no need to say more than, “Hey she worries about you and her work suffered for a bit during that time frame, just so you’re aware.” 

I think what annoyed me about the math program thing is that...Elizabeth being a teacher would probably be VERY WELL AWARE that MOST of the parents to her students aren’t good enough at schooling to assist their kids with their homework. I dunno, it just feels out of place for her to tell Nathan that she wants to put Allie in an accelerated “program” and that Allie might need his help with her homework. It’s even more out of place when he admits he used to bribe his sister to do his work for him. Like. It’s very possible he’s not that good at math and isn’t capable of helping. (But maybe that will be a plot down the road...?)

“Or a tutor...” BITCH WHERE IS HE GONNA FIND A TUTOR IN THIS TOWN?! It’s super annoying to see dialogue like this that feels completely out of touch with the reality these people would be living in...lol. But also if she needs a tutor to stay caught up in an advanced program, she probably...shouldn’t be in the advanced program.

I don’t know how to feel about this whole thing here: “Nathan, you are Allie’s world. You’re the only father she’s ever known, and as she grows up you will always be the measure of the quality she’ll look for in a man as she chooses who to marry.” 

On one hand, it does fit the situation (he seems to think everything is behind him but Elizabeth’s words are kind of a caution that 1) his actions still have an effect on Allie, and 2) every day he’s teaching her by example). On the other hand, it seems almost wildly inappropriate to bring up? At the same time, it’s probably not wrong that Allie will measure other men (friends, acquaintances, potential future romantic interests) against Nathan’s example.

I dunno. The conversation felt disjointed. 

I think what they were going for was Nathan just feeling too awkward and weird about being with Elizabeth to want to be there for the conference, but...he interacted with her quite normally after the inquiry and stuff (even after she’d broken things off with him), so...it feels out of place. Like maybe this should have taken place right after the breakup and not weeks later?

Anyone else have thoughts on this and why it doesn’t feel quite right?

--

The Dress Shop/Rachel

This plot wasn’t what I would call a waste of time (rather, it’s worth having it mentioned now), but part of it was completely pointless and stupid. The whole Rachel getting lost thing was tacked into the promos to stir up drama, but nothing happened and there was nothing worrisome even going on. YAWN.

Rosemary’s desire to do something meaningful and different with her life is super interesting. I’m very curious to see what they decide to do with her if Dottie does sell the dress shop.

Also, Rosemary finding the book under Rachel’s bed was pretty funny.

But yeah, I didn’t really find much in this plotline to care deeply about. I guess I am pretty interested in knowing who might be purchasing the dress shop and/or if this decision is to bring someone else onto the show (a female love interest for the man who doesn’t win Elizabeth’s heart in the end, or even to bring back an old character*) or to take the dress shop out of the equation entirely... It’s also just as possible that Rosemary/Lee or Clara/Jesse end up buying it themselves down the line... Thoughts?

*I can’t begin to imagine who would be the best fit for this in this case, though. Who would have the money to buy her out?

--

Postal Service, Ned

Ned is just honestly so cute and fun. I love him. He’s really been doing well this season and seeing him wander around town delivering mail door to door was kind of nice.

Also, he’s one SMOOTH operator! Look at him, talking about putting a bell on the door so that he and Florence won’t be caught off-guard if they’re in the middle of...something. 

Oh my, Ned. What might customers be...interrupting? :3

Continuity? Not only was the ulcer from last season brought up, but the horrid cabbage juice was, too. :’) It was a nice touch. And these two had just enough screentime to be kind of fun/interesting without also taking up too much time.

--

Bill’s Uniform, Nathan’s Vacation

Nathan got his vacation and Bill is in charge...again. This happens an awful lot. I wonder if it’ll actually impact the next few episodes or if it’s just here for the hell of it.

I love Bill a lot and I want to brag up his character in this episode a bit. I’ve complained many times in the past about him being written like a Grumpy Old Man Yelling at Clouds but this episode was super respectful. He got his scene with his uniform. Nobody interrupted it. There weren’t even any words. I quite liked it.

But it also felt kind of...pointless? I don’t want to judge it too harshly yet. Like the dress shop plotline, this could actually be going somewhere in the next couple of episodes. 

Plus, unrelated to the uniform, it was nice to see Bill acting fatherly toward Clara. While it sort of came out of nowhere for the wedding, I appreciate the attempt at continuity there. Plus, so far this season, I’ve felt like Bill’s almost been a father-figure to Clara, Fiona, and even Nathan, so I’m enjoying that a lot.

--

Carson and Faith

CONTINUITY? The show finally remembered that not only is Carson actually a surgeon, but that was his original passion. It’s not that they completely forgot (S5 had him performing surgery on his sister-in-law, after all), but giving Carson a PASSION makes him a way more interesting character to me. 

And also, finally, this feels like a REAL high-stakes plotline for him and for Faith.

I really liked Faith’s take on things. I know, I know, I’ve been rooting at them to break up, but the reason is mostly because they’re just so BORING together. I’d rather watch Henry twirl around in a chair for an hour than suffer through date scenes with these two.

It’s not that I’m against a doctor wife/husband team. I’m not. I just think Faith was a much more interesting and cool character on the show before Carson showed up and usurped her place (and completely overshadowed her for literal seasons). This plotline for Carson might actually be interesting. Like, a fellowship? For modern surgery? IN BALTIMORE?!

I hope this is Faith’s way of saying she wants a break and/or a break would be good for them. I can’t picture her leaving Hope Valley without any trained medical staff, let alone long enough for a fellowship... 

But if this goes through, what will they do with it? Would they really write Carson off the show? To be perfectly honest with y’all, I’d be fine with that. At least it’s the type of write-off that makes a lot of good sense (unlike some of the other ones we got). I guess this is just another “wait and see” plotline which is uhh...the theme of this episode, huh? Anyone have thoughts on this?

--

Henry

Henry barely had any screentime, but I do want to say he is #relateable. The man is back at work for ten seconds and already exhausted. SAME.

Also, I appreciate that he’s ready to be back in the oil business. At what cost? I know people were worried they were gonna kill him off, and I really doubted it, but now I’m starting to wonder where they’re going with this exactly. Yet another wait and see moment LOL!

--

Elizabeth and Lucas

Some damn fine scenes for Lucas and Elizabeth in this episode. Mostly the scenic ones. :P

I enjoyed the agreement to a date. The horseback riding stuff was pretty cute. 

Complaint corner? I don’t know. I have petty complaints. Even though the celebration for the kids was a town-wide event, and therefore Lucas was invited, it still felt out of place to see it brought up. Maybe it should have been mentioned as a town celebration from the start?

Then Lucas’s comment about not wanting to make things awkward for Nathan (who is actually a parent and there) makes a liiiittle more sense. I do think it was good of him to not go, even though he wanted to spend more time with Elizabeth, but it gave off a weird vibe, like, “Look at how good and wholesome Lucas is!” Is that intentional? I’m not...sure...?

For what it’s worth I already felt like Lucas was an honorable person in this regard. He loaned Nathan money, after all. Maybe he should have told Elizabeth he views Nathan as a friend and doesn’t want to hurt his feelings unnecessarily and/or if he was there he’d want to hog her all to himself or something cheesy. Hm.

My other complaints are:

Elizabeth running to the saloon would be WAY faster than all this getting set up at her house...?? Who thought this made sense?

Elizabeth’s dress looked like a nightie she bought at Kohls.

Too many damn candles.

Characters Do What Plot Dictates Even Though Plot Makes No Sense. More at 11:00!!

I have no further comments on the dress. It needed sleeves or something so it looked more like a dress and not like a nightgown/piece of lingerie.

I think the candles might have been on purpose to parallel Jack...but I hated it lol. Fire hazard? HAVEN’T ENOUGH THINGS IN TOWN BURNED DOWN/EXPLODED?!

I didn’t hate the date scene! But I never feel like Elizabeth has any meaningful conversations with Lucas and it’s starting to drive me batty. 

Could we get uhhh something of substance please? It has to be surface-level nonsense on purpose. Right? RIGHT?

(And no, discussing a book for ten seconds on-screen is not “intelligent conversation” okay...?)

It’s really a shame because I’m starting to actually warm up to Lucas a little bit in this season but it feels like the conversations are just...kind of stilted and she’s not really into dating him—just agreeing to it because he’s the only option. 

And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but...he deserves better than that. 

Don’t get me wrong, by the way. If it’s part of the story and it’s revealed as such down the road, I’ll be fine with it...but I always worry they’ll just skip important relationship milestones and/or important conversations and expect us all to just accept it.

Kiiiiiind of looking forward to the rainy date scene in the next episode, though. I’m Team Nathan mostly but I’m keeping an open mind and I think I might actually enjoy it. Hopefully they’ll get some good scenes together that don’t feel like this one did.

--

Clara's Dilemma

Clara’s fears about running the salon without Fiona...are legit. LOL.

Also, this little bit was funny (between Mike and Jesse and Bill):

Anyway, if Clara was that worried about it, she should have just...told Fiona no? I hope it comes up down the road. Poor Molly??

I genuinely don’t know how I feel about Clara and Jesse’s involvement in this episode. I guess it was okay. I liked Clara’s scenes with Bill. I thought the idea of Clara and Jesse buying into the cafe was a nice one. Jesse having “invested” their money and lost it all, though... They did a similar plot with other people in what...Season 5 was it? Or was that the start of S6? He didn’t even say what he invested it in? But he admits the money is all gone? 

I think that’s what was missing from that scene. “I invested it in X, hoping to make us more money, but it didn’t work out and we lost everything.”

I’m not going to criticize Jesse’s characterization, only because sometimes character "growth” doesn’t happen for the better of anyone involved. My biggest worry here is that it’ll be solved by the end of next episode....but I hope that’s not it.

Like, I think they did better with Frank and Abigail if we’re going to talk about a man who didn’t know how to live like he was in a committed relationship. It made more sense with Frank, too, being older and single most of his life. His bouts of selfishness felt realistic.

Jesse feels like he’s somehow getting worse and worse as a person as the show goes on. I’m kind of at a point where I hope he and Clara divorce, because he’s so damn selfish it’s embarrassing. He’s off having a beer while his wife works multiple jobs? And then he has the audacity to act like they should save money when he just blew all their savings? 

I’m sure it’ll work out fine but I hope Clara puts herself in charge of the finances at the very least.

As to investing failures, I liked how they did that with Henry and Abigail. That was the kind of tension and worry that felt natural to me—like she trusted him with her money after he’d proven himself untrustworthy ten million times throughout the years, and he failed and had to uhh admit that. 

Jesse straight up betrayed Clara. Which, if it’s dealt with in a satisfying way...I think can be a good plotline. I just worry about it actually being dealt with properly. That’s a huge stumbling block in a relationship. And why is he continually getting worse as a person? There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. 

Gasp... it’s almost like it’s just plot because they feel like they have to give someone something every damn episode.

--

Which brings me to THE FINAL

COMPLAINT CORNER (The Big Boy™ Complaints)

The show has really struggled with finding its footing. I wish they’d take notes from better shows with ensemble casts (cough cough Road to Avonlea cough) without also ripping off their storylines (cough school merges cough).

My #1 complaint at this point in Season 8 is the SHEER AMOUNT OF THINGS GOING ON EVERY EPISODE.

I want continuity, so I want to see things happen naturally over a season, but my God do we not need to have mindless pointless crap in the episode. Rachel getting “lost” for ten seconds wasted literal MINUTES of screen time that would have been MUCH better allocated to basically anyone else in this episode.

And I don’t think it would bother me so much if it wasn’t also shoved into the promo like it was supposed to matter. It didn’t matter. Nobody cares. Why was it allowed to stay in the episode alongside stuff like Clara and Bill’s conversation?

Or Lucas and Carson’s?

I think they want to appease all the fans in every episode by giving them scenes of their favorites, but what did Henry sitting in his chair accomplish in this episode? Rachel getting lost? Jack not sleeping well/missing his mom? The school superintendent?

Did Bill trying on his uniform have to be in this episode? Did Jesse and Clara’s problems have to come fully to light right now?

When every episode is formatted like this, with 10 plotlines all interconnected slightly and going on at the same time, I feel like...nobody gets the spotlight they deserve when they deserve it.

I cANNOT believe I’m saying this, but this plotline for Carson, especially if it will end with him leaving the show for a while or permanently should get the focus it deserves. But it won’t if we get tiny snips of it here and there and then BOOM decision made because Reasons.

And again, I know I’ve said before that I want more continuity throughout the season, but... the best way to do that is to tighten up the plots. Have fewer of them per season and give more screentime to the ones you choose to pursue. 

--

Anyway, I’m still enjoying the season, but I hope they keep some of this kind of stuff in mind for next season. They don’t need plotlines for everyone in every episode. They need the plotlines they choose to write to be worth their screentime.

Sorry this was sloppily written and all that. Hopefully it makes sense. Very curious to see y’alls thoughts. Feel free to make your own posts and @ me, or reblog this or comment!

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 4 - The Track Meet (Part 4)

Merry Christmas guys

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. Not really a translation note but King calls Kakeru a “hentai” as in pervert here

Previous | Next

At the second TSU meet at the end of June, Prince finally got a time of 16:58:14. All of the members of Chikusei-sou had at last earned the right to participate in the Hakone Ekiden qualifiers.

After the race was over, the residents joined hands in a corner of the field and rejoiced. They danced in a circle with their hands still joined as their happiness intensified. They continued to turn around in their ring formation, which looked like a ceremony to summon a UFO, until a totally exhausted Prince sank down to the ground.

Kakeru didn’t join the circle, instead watching the residents from a short distance away. He did feel happy and relieved that they were able to participate in the qualifiers now, but he thought that it was too early to be that happy.

Seeing the excited members of Chikusei-sou, the runners from other universities started murmuring to each other.

“I heard that they can join the qualifiers now. That’s pretty good.”

“But there’s no way they’re going to pass the qualifiers, no matter how you look at it.”

“Well, it’ll be a nice memory, so isn’t it fine?”

They talked among themselves, laughing slightly. Kakeru could keenly sense the various implications in those laughs.

Spotting Kakeru standing a short distance away from the circle, TSU’s Sakaki approached him.

“I heard you guys are aiming for Hakone. Make sure not to embarrass yourselves at the qualifiers.”

Kakeru glared at him. He was frustrated, but couldn’t say anything back.

“Kakeru.”

Kiyose waved him over, and he left Sakaki to walk over to the circle.

“You all did a great job,” Kiyose said, showing his appreciation simply. “We’re a step closer to Hakone. From now on, we’ll train to increase our distances. But first, we’ll have a grand party tonight; after our evening jog, gather in the twins’ room.”

“Woohoo!” the twins cheered. Kakeru hid cool feelings beneath his smile. We have parties all the time, don’t we?

He called to mind each member’s best official records at this point in time.

Kakeru   14:09:95

Haiji                 14:20:24

Musa      14:49:46

Jouji                15:03:08

Jouta      15:04:58

Yuki        15:36:45

Shindou  15:39:23

Nico-chan       15:59:49

King                16:03:83

Prince             16:58:14

They were now able to participate in the qualifiers, but rather than being set free from his impatience, Kakeru’s mind was becoming increasingly filled with frustration. That was why the alcohol didn’t taste good at all even during the party in the twins’ room. Unable to join in with the rowdy atmosphere, Kakeru sat by the window.

Kiyose’s home cooking was almost entirely eaten up, and after taking a rest, the residents all began to praise Prince.

“I was afraid of what might happen, but Prince pulled through,” King said.

“Today’s last spurt was amazing. You made it to the finish line in just under seventeen minutes,” Shindou said.

“Yes. Prince’s gallant figure brought a few tears to my eyes,” Musa said.

As a reward for Prince, the twins presented him with the weekly manga magazine that had gone on sale early, which they had gone to buy from the shopping district. He immediately put aside his drink and started reading it at rapid speed. Nico-chan and Yuki laughed as they watched him.

Irritated, Kakeru muttered, “Is it that great?”

Startle gazes gathered and fell on Kakeru. Unable to stop now, he spoke again.

“Prince-san’s time is not something to be proud of.”

“Well, yeah, that’s true,” Prince agreed, nodding without lifting his eyes from his magazine.

“What do you mean by that, Kakeru?” Jouta stormed, turning on him. Even Jouji, who was always cheerful, protested with a forceful tone.

“Prince-san shortened his time a lot in three months, you know? If he keeps going at this rate, he’ll be able to run five-thousand meters in an instant by the time the qualifiers come around!”

“I highly doubt that,” Yuki quipped. Kakeru ignored him and turned to Prince again.

“Do you understand, Prince-san? This is no time to be reading manga.”

“Not at all.” Prince paid him no mind, but the twins stood up angrily.

“Stop it, Kakeru! You’ve been weird lately. It’s kinda scary.”

“He’s right. Quit blaming Prince-san. If you have something to say, say it to all of us!”

“I will!” Kakeru put down his cup and stood up, too. “We’ll never make it to Hakone if you guys keep running at a snail’s pace like this! Never! So I have no idea how you guys can drink so carefreely!”

“Kakeru, Kakeru. You’ve been drinking a lot too, haven’t you?” Shindou frantically gripped Kakeru’s ankle. “You’re drunk. Right? Just sit down.”

Musa tried to calm the twins as he held them back under his arms. However, the three first-years of Chikusei-sou shook off their seniors’ restraints and started grappling with each other.

“Don’t talk so high and mighty just ‘cause you can run a bit faster!”

“You told me to talk, so I did!”

“There’s things you can and can’t say, you know! Not everyone can run as easily as you!”

“You can say those kinds of things after you practice more! But it might be pointless no matter how much you practice!”

“That’s too far, Kakeru.” Nico-chan tried to sit up.

“Don’t get too full of yourself, you asshole!” King tried springing at Kakeru faster than the twins, but he didn’t make it.

Kiyose, who had been quiet until that point, ran up to Kakeru with a leopard-like agility and ferocity and grabbed him by the collar. “You idiot!” he yelled. “Wake the hell up! Why won’t you acknowledge that Prince and everyone else are trying their best! Why are you denying their sincere running! Is it because their times are slower than yours? Is speed the only thing you value? If that’s the case, then there’s no point in running. Ride the train! Take an airplane! Those are faster!”

“Haiji-san…”

Not just Kakeru, but everyone in the room was shocked still by Kiyose’s furious look.

“Know this, Kakeru. You can’t only pursue speed; that’s empty and pointless. You can figure that out by looking at me, right? It’ll be too much someday…”

Kiyose’s words were suddenly cut off. He staggered as the strength went out of his hands, which had been grabbing Kakeru’s shirt.

“Haiji-san!” Kakeru panicked, supporting Kiyose’s body. “Haiji-san, what’s wrong!”

Kiyose was pale, his eyes closing languidly.

“Hey, Haiji-san! Stay with me!”

He didn’t react even when Kakeru slapped his cheek.

“What do I do, he’s not conscious!”

“What!”

The room fell into panic. Yuki immediately took Kiyose’s wrist and checked his pulse.

“Twins, lay out a futon! Someone call an ambulance. Actually no, it’s faster to call a doctor. Tell the landlord to ask for a house call right away!”

Jouta and Jouji took out a futon from the closet, sobbing, “Haiji-san, don’t die!”

Shindou and Musa leaned out of the window and shouted towards the main house, “Sir, we need your help!”

A flustered Prince went down to the first floor to get water, and King, disconcerted, just wandered around aimlessly.

Kakeru, along with Nico-chan, laid Kiyose down on the futon. Even though Yuki told him not to worry so much, Kakeru refused to leave his bedside. Until the neighborhood family physician the landlord called arrived, Kakeru stayed next to Kiyose, his head hanging down.

Consultation hours had finished long ago, but the old physician was an acquaintance and immediately came running. The doctor pushed his way through the residents gathered around the futon and approached Kiyose. He checked under his eyelids, pressed a stethoscope against him, and checked for the presence of heat in his palms. Finally, he looked around at everyone and spoke a single word: “Overwork.”

“He seems to have anemia, but right now he’s more asleep than unconscious.”

“He’s…sleeping?”

The residents shifted their gazes from the doctor to Kiyose all at once. Certainly, Kiyose’s chest was peacefully rising and falling with regular breathing. It was good that he wasn’t seriously ill, but they felt drained, wondering why there was so much fuss over calling a doctor.

“I’d say he’s been accumulating fatigue from lack of sleep.” The doctor searched through his black bag and quickly prepared a syringe. “I’ll give him an injection with some nutrients. Let him rest tonight. If anything happens, you can call me again. Now, take care. Don’t let him work too hard.”

“Thank you very much.”

All of them said their thanks, and Yuki and Shindou accompanied the doctor to the front door. Kiyose had continued to sleep, even as he was being pricked with a needle, and the twins put the blanket over him again.

“It’s my fault. I made Haiji-san worry…”

Kakeru hung his head, watching Kiyose’s sleeping face. He felt frustrated and pathetic. Even Rokudou’s Fujioka had perceived that Kiyose was not in good shape, but Kakeru hadn’t noticed anything; he was so focused on running that he couldn’t even see the people he was living together with.

Prince, who was sitting across from him on the futon, weakly shook his head. “That’s not true. It’s my fault that I can’t run fast.”

Like the forest animals after learning of the Buddha’s death, Kakeru and the others solemnly gathered around the futon. Yuki and Shindou, who had returned from seeing off the doctor, recoiled at the wake-like atmosphere before they sat down on the tatami.

“If you think about it, we have been leaving everything up to Haiji-san,” Musa said.

“Yeah.” King crossed his arms. “Haiji was doing the administrative stuff like applying to meets and even cooking all the meals.”

“He worked like a coach-slash-manager-slash-dorm parent,” Jouta said.

“It’s partly because we’ve been so busy training and training, but we’ve been putting too much pressure on Haiji-san.” Shindou seemed to be chewing on bitter thoughts.

Jouji made a proposition with a purposely bright tone. “From now on, let’s at least take turns cooking. Let’s all work together.”

Sounds of agreement rose up here and there.

“If that’s the case, let’s make up,” Nico-chan said as he looked between Kakeru and Prince.

“Yes.” They both nodded, Prince readily and Kakeru timidly, embarrassed by his childish attitude.

“The twins should forgive Kakeru too,” Yuki said, and Jouji and Jouta glanced at Kakeru embarrassedly.

“Of course,” they said in unison.

“Come on, let’s all get along.” Nico-chan took the lead. “Don’t let Haiji’s dying wish go to waste. Let’s go to Hakone as one.”

“Yeah!”

The residents of Chikusei-sou gripped each other’s hands tightly over the futon where Kiyose was sleeping.

“I don’t remember being dead. I hope I’m not.”

Surprised, Kakeru looked at the pillow. Kiyose’s eyes were opening.

“Good grief, what’s all this?” He moved the residents’ arms that were complicatedly tangled over his stomach out of the way and tried to sit up.

“Please sleep!” Kakeru hurriedly pushed Kiyose’s shoulders and made him lie back down on the futon. “Haiji-san, you collapsed. The doctor said you got anemic from overwork.”

“I see. Sorry I caused trouble.” Kiyose looked up at Kakeru’s face, who was peering down at him. “But it looks like the fight is over—that’s good to see.”

Kakeru shifted to intentionally sit in seiza. “I’m sorry,” he said with his head bowed. “I’ve been so on edge and impatient for a long time.”

“Was it because the music coming from Yuki’s room is too loud?” Nico-chan said, a sympathetic look in his eyes that said, “I feel you.”

“If you ask me, it’s the creaking in the ceiling.”

Yuki’s words scared Prince, who felt guilty.

“No, that’s not it,” Kakeru hurriedly said. “I’ve felt that way since before I came to Aotake. I was just running and didn’t see much of what was around me.”

He still didn’t actually know what he should do; Kakeru still hadn’t figured out what he should be running for, other than speed. “But,” Kakeru started, lifting his face up. “From now on, I will also aim for the Hakone Ekiden seriously.”

 “What!?”

The twins’ room shook with astonishment.

“’From now on?’ What were you doing until now?” Jouji looked like he was about to jump down his throat.

“No, I just thought I would play along with it somehow,” Kakeru said honestly. “I thought everyone would get bored and quit soon anyways. I’m sorry.”

“You can train that much, even though your motivation was so low.” Shindou was deeply impressed.

“I’m not good at anything other than running, after all,” Kakeru said seriously.

Yuki shook his head with a “Good grief,” and a stunned King said, “You really are a weirdo, Kakeru.” (1)

“You’re incredible, Kakeru. You’re so incredible it’s funny.” Jouji stifled his laughter. A bit angrily, Kakeru wondered what was so funny, but then he saw that even Kiyose was nodding and decided not to object.

“I can’t stop reading manga, but I’ll work even harder too,” Prince declared, raising his face.

It wasn’t that there weren’t any ill feelings, but it was the first time that the desire to aim for the same thing had budded equally in all their hearts.

Kiyose, who was watching the scene, called out, “Kakeru.” Still in seiza, Kakeru shifted a bit closer to Kiyose, whose head was resting on the pillow.

“Do you know what’s the best compliment for a long-distance runner?”

“Is it ‘fast’?”

“Nope. It’s ‘strong,’” Kiyose said. “It’s not enough to be fast to finish a long-distance race. The weather, the course, the development of the race, your physical condition, your own state of mind... Runners calmly analyze those various factors and persist in moving their body forward even in difficult situations. What long-distance runners need is strength in the true sense of the word. We run everyday for the honor of being called ‘strong.’”

Kakeru, as well as the other residents, listened intently to what Kiyose was saying.

“As I watched you run these three months, I became more and more convinced,” Kiyose continued. “You have talent and aptitude. That’s why, Kakeru, believe in yourself more. There’s no need to be impatient—it takes time to become strong. You could say that there is no end; just as there are people who jog and do marathons even into old age, long-distance is a sport that is worth tackling for life.”

 Kakeru’s passion towards running had always been an ambiguous emotion, making his mind waver unsteadily. But Kiyose’s words skillfully cut through Kakeru’s murky and wavering inner world; they were a light that flashed into his heart and flooded it, illuminating him.

However, Kakeru rebutted, partly due to embarrassment. “But the elderly can’t set new world records.”

“That came out of nowhere,” Nico-chan teased. Kiyose smiled, as if to say there was no helping it.

“I thought that way too. Until I got injured,” Kiyose said gently. “But it’s the older runners who are more likely to be ‘stronger’ than you, Kakeru. That’s what’s profound about long-distance.”

Kiyose’s words were aimed not just at Kakeru, but at everyone present. Perhaps tired, he stopped talking and lowered his eyelids.

“Haiji-san, you can’t sleep here!” Jouji and Jouta shook Kiyose.

“Shut up. You’re dismissed,” Kiyose mumbled.

Everyone quietly took their leave of the twins’ room.

Kakeru was the last to go into the hallway. As he closed the door, he turned around and saw the twins squeezing into another futon from the closet.

What is that strong running Haiji-san talked about? Kakeru was pondering it. He knew it wasn’t about arm strength or leg strength. But, it didn’t seem like he was referring to just mental strength, either.

Kakeru suddenly recalled the snow-covered field he had seen when he was little. When he had got up early and gone to the field in his neighborhood, the snow that had accumulated during the night had completely changed the familiar landscape. Kakeru had run on the white field where no one had left any footprints. He had run as his heart desired in order to draw beautiful patterns. That was his very first memory of thinking that running was fun.

Maybe strength was something beautiful built upon a delicate balance—like the patterns he had drawn in the snow back then.

While thinking that, Kakeru quietly went down the stairs, careful not to make too much noise.

The next day, the skies were clear for the first time in a long while. When Kakeru returned after his early morning jog, Kiyose was feeding Nira in Chikusei-sou’s yard.

“Welcome home,” Kiyose said when he saw him.

“I’m back,” Kakeru responded.

The morning light was shining clearly. It was the beginning of a usual, new day.

Previous | Next

[whumpinggrounds]

I Like You, Not Like That

more jamie/isabella! can u tell i love writing them :)

tagging @shapeshiftersandfire and @killtheprotagonist

CW: pet whump, lady whump, aftermath of conditioning, fucky ideas about sex/sexuality

They’re sitting on the couch together, Isabella curled against Jamie’s side, her head in Jamie’s lap. Jamie has one hand in Isabella’s hair, combing through it with her fingers, while the other holds open a book. It's just a day and a half into Jamie's stay, and already, Isabella is all but melting in Jamie's hands, to the sound of Jamie's voice.

Just now, the sitter is reading to Isabella, but Isabella hardly hears a word. She’s distracted by the feeling of Jamie’s careful fingers in her hair, on her scalp. She’s distracted because she’s busy staring at Jamie’s face. She hardly knows she’s going to speak until the words are already leaving her mouth.

“I like you.”

Jamie’s voice falters. Isabella watches her throat work as she swallows. Letting the book fall shut, she looks down at Isabella, smiling a little. “Um…what? Did you say?”

Her voice sounds tentative, disbelieving, hopeful. It makes Isabella grin, daring for just a moment to glance up at Jamie and catch those ice blue eyes.

“I like you.”

The words don’t feel like bravery, or even a confession. It feels like incontrovertible truth, something that rises like a balloon in Isabella’s chest and comes bursting out without any real input from her brain. Isabella feels a little breathless as she says it, but not just because she’s scared.

Tipping her head all the way back, Jamie blows out a long breath and smiles at the ceiling for a minute before she can meet Isabella’s eyes again. When she speaks, her voice is almost a whisper. “I like you, too.”

But now instead of being happy, Isabella feels her stomach twist and drop. It takes less than a heartbeat for a simple, contented self-knowledge to turn into something else, something dark and doubtful. The smile slips off her face, and Jamie doesn’t miss the change. “Isabella? What’s up?"

Isabella avoids her eyes, and watches Jamie bite her lip. "Did I…did I say something wrong?”

Isabella can’t meet Jamie's eyes, though a pang of guilt runs through her as she hears Jamie trying hard not to panic. “I…I really do like you, Isabella. I do.”

The sound Isabella makes isn’t quite a groan. It’s a protesting sound somewhere between a whine and a growl, and they both know that it means no you don’t. It’s not arguing with an owner, Isabella tells herself as her heart rate starts to pick up precipitously. She’s not arguing, not out loud.

“Hey.” When Jamie stops stroking her head, Isabella pushes against the paused hand, silently asking her to continue. She holds her breath as she waits for the rebuke, the correction - stupid pet, you don't get to ask for things, you don't get to want things. Instead of correcting her, Jamie starts moving her hand again, smoothing her palm over Isabella's hair, and as Jamie soothes her, she keeps talking, in that low, gentle tone.

“Hey, I, I like you, okay? You don’t have to…don’t have to worry about that. You don’t have to believe me, but I’m going to say it anyway. I’m not going to lie to you.”

The words are...they're balm on Isabella's insecure soul, but they aren't powerful enough to stop her doubt. For a long few moments, Isabella considers, chest aching, how to respond. This time, the words don’t come easily, though Isabella knows they’re just as true as the ones that began this whole mess. It’s dangerous, talking like this, but the words are pushing up in Isabella’s chest, demanding a voice. “Do you…do you like me?” she asks, voice doubtful. “Or…or did you like her?”

Isabella doesn’t have to say who she means. They both know already, are well-acquainted with the ghost that sometimes seems more present than Isabella herself.

The look on Jamie’s face as she considers the question is complicated. There’s tenderness there, and an equal measure of pain. Her hand keeps moving through Isabella’s hair, and she heaves a sigh. “Both of you.” She sounds calm and sure, even as Isabella scans her face for a sign that she’s lying. “I like both of you. Very, very much.”

“But…but…” It’s embarrassing, how small and pathetic Isabella’s voice sounds. She swallows, tries again. “But how do you…how do you know?” It’s dangerous ground, contradicting an owner, but Jamie’s never acted like an owner before, not ever, and there’s a needy howling thing in Isabella’s chest that needs to know. That thing wants Jamie to like her, needs Jamie to like her, Isabella, and not the ghost of who she used to be. Even if she's just a Box Babe, just a useless brainless little Box Babe - she wants this to hold onto, this one true thing.

Above her, Jamie is still waiting for Isabella's words. “I’m not her,” Isabella finally says, in the quiet between them. “I’m not. I’m just…”

“Hey, hey, none of that. You’re not just anything.” Jamie is firm but gentle. “I like you. I know you’re not her. You’re someone else. I like that person, too.”

She should take that. She really should. Those words, that’s more than enough. Isabella should take that and cling to it and be contented. But the thing inside her is starving, selfish. “R-really?” She screws up her courage, forces out her most pathetic question yet, her most dangerous demand. “W-w-why?”

“Aw, ‘sabella.” Both hands, now, one resting on Isabella’s cheek, the other running over her hair. Sometimes being petted makes Isabella feel small, but this is different. This makes her feel cared for, adored. “Lots of reasons, okay? Trust me.” Isabella does, she does, but the hunger must show on her face because Jamie chuckles a little, face turning indulgent. “You’re very sweet. You’re a good listener. I like talking to you. I think you’re interesting, and I think you’re smart.”

“Pets aren’t smart,” Isabella whispers, and Jamie’s face goes flat and dead. Isabella’s seen that face, that expression, and she hates it, but she keeps going regardless. “I’m not…all those things were…were trained i-into me? Or they’re…they’re her, that’s not, I’m not…anything, I’m not anything-”

“Yes, you are.” Jamie’s voice is firm and sure. Her face isn’t flat and dead anymore, but it’s strained, a little desperate. “You’re…you’re…” she looks searchingly into Isabella’s face. “Isabella, they can’t beat you into caring about other people. That’s just, you know. You.”

“But…but…”

“No buts. I know you. I knew her, and I know you, and I like you both. So there.” Jamie says it playfully, but there’s true sincerity there, behind the joke. She hesitates, rubbing a calloused thumb over Isabella’s cheek. “Can I…”

Isabella nods quickly, not needing to think about it. Whatever it is, Jamie can. Jamie can do anything to her, anything at all.

Above her, looking down with that same fond look, the redhead rolls her eyes. “You didn’t let me finish,” she says softly, but she takes Isabella’s face in her hands, and leans down, and Isabella shuts her eyes –

And feels Jamie’s lips press against her forehead. She blinks, surprised, looking up at Jamie with big eyes. “I like you.” Jamie says it again, like a promise. This time, Isabella believes her.

_

Every time before, when Jamie has come to stay, Isabella sleeps in Miss Mara's big empty bed, and Jamie stays out on the couch. “It’s your apartment,” Jamie always says, with a crooked little half-smile, and Isabella smiles back, even though it’s not Isabella's apartment at all. It’s Miss Mara’s apartment. And when Miss Mara’s home, she sleeps in the bed with Isabella.

It wasn’t always that way. For weeks, maybe even a month or two, Isabella slept on the couch, which was perfectly comfortable. Then came the night that Miss Mara came home drunk and kissed her newly useful little pet, and…and after that, Isabella slept in Miss Mara's bed, and nights were now...busier than they had been before.

So now, when Jamie kisses her on the forehead, soft and sweet though it was, Isabella figures it’s probably time. Whatever waiting period that keeps holding people back has now passed, and Jamie will probably join Isabella in bed tonight.

The weird part is that Isabella isn’t…totally opposed to the idea. She feels a squirming in her stomach that’s a little bit sick but also maybe a little bit...happy? Isabella doesn't know what she's feeling. She likes Jamie. She does, and she knows it. The redhead is…she’s sweet, and awkward, and gentle. It won’t be so bad, with her.

Not that it’s bad with Miss Mara! The thought is so frightening it makes Isabella gasp. Bad Isabella, bad Box Babe. Isabella’s stupid disobedient thoughts make her cringe even as she goes back to rethink them.

It’s not bad with Miss Mara, it’s not, nothing's bad with Miss Mara. It's just...just...sometimes Miss Mara is so fast and so sure that Isabella gets a bit lost, gets a bit left behind, is stuck inside her own head thinking about dusting while Miss Mara cries out her climax up above her. Isabella loves her owner in the daytime – Miss Mara’s quick dry wit, and her intelligent eyes, and the way nothing gets by her, not anything. At night, things loom bigger, scarier, and as Miss Mara moves in the darkness Isabella feels trapped, corralled, kept. Her owner seems to want her and not want her, cast her aside as soon as they’re done in a way that she doesn't during the day.

Jamie wouldn’t act like that, Isabella’s treacherous thoughts supply, and Isabella tries to squash the thinking, but it’s there. Jamie wouldn’t do that, won’t do that, tonight, when she, when she finally uses Isabella for the thing that she’s for.

And this is what Isabella is for. This is the safest thing for her to be – kept and wanted and used. It’s a good thing that Miss Mara started. It’ll be a good thing when Jamie starts, too, now that she’s said she likes Isabella. And that’s what Isabella wanted! She wanted Jamie to say that she liked her, and now that she has, Isabella’s pacing around the apartment, stomach in knots? Stupid pet, stupid, stupid pet. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her.

Maybe it’s because Miss Mara said no. Miss Mara told Isabella not to – but if that’s what Jamie wants, if that’s what Jamie asks for, then Isabella can’t say no. There’s some safety in that. She can tell Jamie that her owner doesn’t want that, but Jamie doesn’t have to listen to a pet. And maybe Miss Mara won’t find out. And maybe Isabella will be safe, will be good, will please everyone.

More likely, Isabella knows, Miss Mara will find out, and Miss Mara will be furious. More likely, Isabella will be in trouble like she’s never been in trouble before. Right now, though, Jamie is with her. Jamie is in charge of her. And Isabella feels this strange insistent urge to please Jamie, even if the cost proves far too high. Please Jamie. Please Jamie. Make Jamie happy, make Jamie smile. Isabella wants that and wants it and doesn’t know why.

It doesn’t help that this is one of Jamie’s long days. She’s with a client until nine pm, and she makes sure she tells Isabella that she can eat whenever she wants, but Isabella still waits. She shouldn’t eat on her own, and she doesn’t much want to eat without Jamie, and she doesn’t know what Jamie wants, anyway. Then of course once Jamie gets home and they decide, Isabella’s left helping around the edges while Jamie tries to do all the cooking herself. Laughing, she all but orders Isabella out of the kitchen when she catches her trying to do dishes. “Just let me cook,” she urges. “Least I can do.”

“You spent all day taking care of someone,” Isabella reminds her, almost arguing, awed by her own bravery tonight. “I could, I could help?”

“No need. C’mon, just talk to me. Just tell me about your day.”

So it goes – dinner, and then dishes, and then Isabella waits for Jamie to make her move. All day she’d felt nervous but when Jamie comes in the room it dissolves, turns to dust, metamorphosizes into the same tentative excitement she gets every time she sees Jamie. The same tentative excitement she tells herself she still gets for Miss Mara.

As the evening passes, and bedtime draws closer, Isabella rediscovers her anxiety. Nerves twist and flicker in her stomach, but Jamie does nothing, nothing, until Isabella wants to beg her just to hurry up and…and…

It’s hard for Isabella to think about what she wants Jamie to do. It makes her cheeks go red, even as she lies on the couch, tucked under Jamie’s arm, up against her side. They’re so close. If Jamie turned toward her, and Isabella tilted her head just right…

“I think I’m going to get my teeth brushed and go to sleep pretty soon.” Jamie’s raspy voice interrupts Isabella’s thoughts and her heart quickens. She nods, peeling herself away from Jamie’s side and heading toward the bathroom a little too fast. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “You okay?” Jamie calls after her. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

“Yes, Jamie, I’m fine.” If Isabella sounds a little formal, a little off, Jamie doesn’t say anything about it. Isabella feels her eyes, though, examining her face as the two brush their teeth side by side in the mirror. Isabella spits into the sink just before Jamie and feels her heart rate pick up. She thinks she can hear it in her ears. She moves toward the bedroom, lingers in the doorway.

And Jamie goes to walk right past her. “Night, Isabella!”

“Wait!”

The word tears out of her, almost painful, almost a cry. Jamie stops, turns back toward Isabella. “Yeah? What’s up?”

Isabella takes a few careful steps toward Jamie. She’s shorter than Jamie is – just two or three inches, but it’s enough. This close, she has to tip her head up to look into Jamie’s ice blue eyes. All she sees there is confusion.

“Isabella? Is something-”

Isabella reaches up, and Jamie lets her, and she puts her hands on Jamie’s face, and she kisses her. This has to be – it has to be – because Jamie said she liked her, and Jamie kissed her on the forehead, and Jamie’s always kind to her, and so was Miss Mara, at first, and it’s what she was trained for, it’s what she’s good for, and, and, Isabella wants –

Gently, ever so gently, Jamie sets her hands on Isabella’s shoulders and pushes her away. “No, Isabella.”

“But you said…you said you liked me, and…”

“Not like this.” Jamie tucks a strand of hair behind Isabella’s ear. The shorter girl feels dangerously close to crying.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“That’s okay. Can I…?” Jamie stretches her arms out, and Isabella goes willingly into them, burying her face in Jamie’s chest. She can feel the big breath that Jamie takes, feel the way she tenses and hesitates, trying to explain. “I’m not…I don’t think…” she sighs. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

“To…to Miss Mara?”

Jamie’s arms around her tighten. “To you.”

“But…but that’s what…I’m for?”

Another gusty sigh. “No.” She can feel Jamie shake her head, can feel Jamie’s chin brush through her hair. “No, it’s not.” There’s a catch in her voice, and Isabella clings tighter, even as she feels Jamie start to let her go. “Let’s…let’s both get some sleep.”

“Please.”

It slips out, another lapse, another request when she has no right to ask for anything at all – pathetic. Isabella was trained better than this. Instead of punishing her, instead of shaking her head, instead of getting the slightest bit annoyed, Jamie tips Isabella’s head up just a little, so she can look Isabella right in her teary eyes. “What’s up? What do you need?”

“Stay?”

Isabella isn’t hugging Jamie anymore, but her hands are clenched in tight fists around the fabric of Jamie’s shirt. She sees the redhead turn soft, sees the way she bites her lip. “I…I really think I should sleep out on the couch, Isabella. Tomorrow-”

“Please.” It’s a whisper, and Isabella is turning her face back into Jamie’s side, and Jamie sighs once again, shakes her head. Slowly but surely, her feet start to move, and she follows Isabella as she moves toward the bed.

“Okay. We can’t…we’re not doing anything else, all right? But…but I’ll stay. Don’t cry, Isabella. I’ll stay.”