#Worlds Okayest Mechanic

[johnnydany]

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[aspenwritesstuff]

Part Five - Bitter

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"To Felix, seeing you like this rather than how you usually present yourself was like being offered two slices of cake made up with the same ingredients, simply decorated differently." "He simply couldn’t pick one over the other."

🌹warnings: borderline cheating mention, embarrassing interactions between friends, alcohol (casual mention, though hinted at as a potential coping mechanism), intimidation as abuse (merits is grabbed), verbal abuse/name calling, general angst, unprocessed rage and unresolved trauma, general anxiety

🌹w/c: 7.5k

🌹a/n: Not only have I returned with an update on Prove Me Wrong (and our beloved Sunshine boy), but wowee I was NOT skimping on the heavier topics/angst this go around. I hope that despite it being not as lighthearted of a chapter, that you still enjoy this update. We’ll return to our regularly scheduled sweetness eventually. Promise.

I also couldn’t help but include bestie Jisung more in this chapter because I’ve lowkey been neglecting this lil rascal. xoxo -Aspen

Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender with a smile full of sunshine and a heart made of gold, had carried you to bed last night.

And, as expected, your best friend had not shut up about it all morning.

“I was not drooling!” Your squealed, landing a firm smack to Jisung’s arm - though, despite the force with which you’d struck him, his shoulders still shook with laughter.

“You definitely were,” he managed between gasps, his eyes wrinkled shut as he threw his head back, “I can text Felix right now and ask him if his shoulder was wet?”

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, burying your reddened cheeks in your hands.

Jisung hadn’t stopped teasing you about your unexpected slumber - or the subsequent events - from the moment you’d woken up. You groaned as he continued cackling next to you on the couch, tears welling in his eyes from just how funny he’d found the entire situation.

The humor, however, was lost on you as your skin flushed deeper into a concerning shade of crimson.

“Fine, fine,” Jisung said, still grinning from ear to ear as he waved his hands in front of himself, signaling his temporary surrender, “But you were definitely drooling.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, rubbing your heated cheeks in an attempt to urge them back into their former, pre-Jisung fueled embarassment shade.

He chuckled again, winking as he stood up to fill a mug of coffee and leaving you alone on the couch - a frustrated pout on your lips. You sighed as you planted your chin atop your palm, elbow on the armrest, and Felix on your mind.

Had he really carried you up to the apartment as Jisung had claimed? You weren’t sure what all was true of his recollection or how much was simply an exaggeration at your expense. You should probably thank Felix, regardless of how you’d gotten into the apartment, after he’d managed to handle your unconsciousness with a gentleness that never once roused you.

Though you were a bit too ashamed at the prospect of the potentially true, humiliating contents of the latter half of your evening.

It wasn’t too terrible, though - at least, from what you remembered before your little catnap, things had gone well for Felix and Ryujin.

There it was, your opening. The way to reach out without being completely awkward. You pulled out your phone, shooting Felix a quick text to ask if he’d heard from her yet. 

As you waited for a response, Jisung returned with a steaming mug of coffee - with an added splash of cream, just as you liked it - holding it out to you carefully with both hands. “Peace offering,” he explained as you took it from him, rolling your eyes as you read the statement on the side.

World’s Okayest Author.

It had been yet another gag gift from Jisung after you’d initially discovered your love for cringey, cheesy statements on ceramic cups.

“You’re lucky I love you, you know that right?” you murmured, raising the slightly-bitter drink to your lips before sipping it slowly.

Jisung beamed, obviously doubting that you’d ever stop loving him at this point, “Yes, I’m so unbelievably lucky my beautiful, smart, clever, best friend who definitely drooled on Felix’s shoulder loves me.”

Coffee got caught in your throat, sending you into a coughing fit as you held the mug out for Jisung to grab. He did quickly, shifting from poking fun to fussing over you in an instant.

“Breathe!” he commanded, his brows shooting up high enough to be obscured by his bangs. He set the mug down on the table in a rush, patting your back as though you were a baby that needed burped.

“Jesus, Ji,” you sputtered, residual throat-clearing interrupting your words as you slammed your fist against your sternum, “Peace offering, my ass.”

“I’m sorry!” he whined, firm taps shifting into gentle circles being rubbed between your shoulders, “It was just right there, I had to!” 

“Had to?” you croaked, swallowing hard to soothe the sudden scratchiness your choking episode has caused.

“C’mon, sweets,” he pleaded, “If I were the butt of these jokes you’d still be laughing.”

You hated just how true, and just how fair his statement was.

With a disapproving shake of your head, you let out a long sigh in lieu of an answer. Jisung simply grinned before singsonging out a satisfied, “I knew it,” placing the mug back into your hands and ignoring the daggers you shot his way.

You shook your head, saved from admitting defeat by the chime of your phone. You picked it up with one hand, the other holding your mug to your lips as you took a long sip and relished in the way it soothed the irritation from your near-suffocation.

Felix☀️: yeah, she messaged me to ask if i’d gotten home alright!

Felix☀️: i told her i did and then we said goodnight. 

Felix☀️: wait…should i have done that? did i mess that up?

You couldn’t help the affectionate laugh that escaped your lips, Felix’s doe-eyed expression of panic materializing so vividly in your mind that you barely even noticed Jisung announcing he’d be right back. 

You shot him a small wave, still smiling as you replied quickly to the messages, hoping to avert the crisis that was a spiraling Lee Felix.

You: Felix, deep breath. It’s fine, goodnight is definitely not dealbreaker.

The three dots appearing and disappearing as the spirited boy second, third, and fourth guessed himself had become something of a signature in your conversations - evoking a certain fondness - completely certain he was chewing his lip and running his hand repeatedly through his fluffy, blonde locks. You: Whatever it is, you can just say it Felix.

The dots disappeared one final time, before waving along for a solid thirty seconds. You felt your shoulders sink as you read his words, feeling every shred of your dignity evacuate your being.

Felix☀️: did you sleep alright?

Felix☀️: sounded like a rough dream for a bit there

Felix☀️: I stuck around until I thought you were settled, but i was pretty worried

Your heart dropped in your chest, a surge of guilt mostly to blame, though gratitude was taking the small remainder of that accountability. You: You didn’t have to do that, Felix.

You: But, thank you. I’m okay, sometimes my subconscious just…hurts.

Explaining these recurring dreams to Felix was harder than you’d have imagined. He was so gentle and soft - radiating joy and peace. You didn’t want to dim his shine, especially not as he basked in the glow of Ryujin contacting him.

Felix☀️: you sure?

Felix☀️: you can talk to me if you want to

Felix☀️: but no pressure!!!

The small smile that seemed to accompany conversations with Felix crept back onto your face, pushing the anxiety over explaining yourself far into the background. His messages were so…him. Prone to rambling, yet thoughtful and well-meaning with every tangent he went off on. If only he knew that you were the one feeling nervous about how you were affecting him this time around.

You: I’m really okay, but…noted, thank you. 

Not even in the furthest recesses of your imagination would you have figured Felix for the intuitive type, his bumbling nature giving off much more of a clueless vibe than one capable of such inferences.

Yet, here you were, so shell-shocked you nearly dropped your phone - and your coffee - before you’d gathered yourself enough to even attempt to formulate a reply.

Felix☀️: does it involve how you feel about love?

Attempt had been the key word in your mental monologue, seeing as your fingers flew across the keys in the most avoidant, juvenile way imaginable.

You: I don’t wanna talk about it.

Less than a second later, Felix had responded. You could picture him staring at his phone, overthinking the fact that he sent a message so personal. Realizing the troubled thoughts he must’ve been having made you feel a bit ashamed of your own terseness.

Felix☀️: that feels like an answer

Felix☀️: but i won’t push, okay?

Felix☀️: just know i AM here for you, if you ever change your mind

The fact that he still managed to be so understanding, so comforting so…Felix about it all, only served to make the way you’d answered him feel even more shameful.

You: Thank you.

It was all you could think of to reply with, setting your phone beside you before leaning your head back against the couch - staring up at the ceiling blankly. You couldn’t stop cursing yourself internally, wishing you’d met Felix’s softness with something a bit less abrasive.

At least he didn’t seem too terribly torn up over it - you seemed to have that covered on your own at this point, anyways.

Right on cue, with true chaotic-best-friend energy, Jisung barged back into the apartment, his face pale as he held a bright-blue flier in his hand. “Ji?” you asked, sitting upright on the couch to search his eyes for anything that could explain his offputting silence.

He stepped forward, blinking rapidly before handing you the innocuous paper, barely managing to whisper, “Honey, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot…”

“What are you talking about, Ji?” you asked, keeping a nervous smile plastered on your face as if it would change whatever he was going on about into something unworthy of his atypical quietness.

You flipped it over, bold black text sending an immediate chill down your spine. 

Bi-Annual Author’s Gala.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you looked up at Jisung with genuine fear in your eyes, his own expression softening into worry - it was probably best that only one of you were in crisis at a time, and you definitely took precedence when it came to this particular event.

As the name stated, the Bi-Annual Author’s Gala was a party hosted by popular publishers all around the region once every two years - serving both as a social mixer and an award ceremony for authors from all different publishing houses. 

And it was tonight.

This, on its own, wasn’t much cause for concern. You were, in fact, an author and it would be far from your first time in attendance of the Gala. The biggest concern each year was typically finding a dress that suited the occasion in time, or making sure that your makeup wouldn’t photograph poorly should you be given an award.

This year, however, the hurdle you needed to overcome was something you’d never had to face before; attending alone.

You’d attended last year’s event with San.

You’d purchased a plus-one ticket in advance, because you certainly hadn’t predicted San leaving you before the next Gala.

There were going to be two seats saved under your name, and one body to fill them.

“Ji, fuck, you gotta go with me!” you whipped your head up from the flier, ignoring the painful sting that always came along with remembering anything at all about San.

Jisung couldn’t look you in the eye - the surefire tell that he was about to tell you something you really didn’t want to hear.

“Honey, Minho and I are leaving for Jeju in like…two hours, remember?” he spoke in a startlingly soft and serious voice, still unable to meet your eyes, “It’s our first vacation as a couple, I can’t cancel on him…” he chewed his lip, finally sparing you a fleeting moment of eye contact.

You understood, of course, but that didn’t stop your veins from running cold at the prospect of explaining to everyone there why you had two seats, and no plus one. 

Understanding did nothing for the fact that you had less than eight hours to find not only an appropriate dress for such an event, but a date who could also dress accordingly. You must have been wearing your dread in every facet of your being, because Jisung was quick to start spouting suggestions.

“Would your publisher let you skip out? Claim any award on your behalf?”

You shook your head, recalling how she’d reacted when you’d tried to call out of a book signing, let alone an actual award ceremony.

“I highly doubt it, Ji. You know how she is…” you trailed off, your lower lip trembling as you took a shaky inhale.

“Oh! Ask Felix, maybe?” he chirped, tilting his head to the side with the first shadow of a smile he’d worn since reappearing with that cursed, blue paper.

That…wasn’t a terrible idea.

You pulled your phone out, typing and retyping your message until your shaky fingers spared you any typos.

You: Hey, what are you doing tonight?

You wondered if Felix would find amusement in knowing you were nervous on the other end of the phone, just as his through-text stammering tickled your funny bone. Such thoughts were quickly cut short as your heart leapt into your throat.

You finally understood what people meant when they’d complain about how nervous appearing and disappearing typing cues made them.

Felix☀️: was gonna go out for some drinks with ryujin

Felix☀️: why? is everything okay?

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to convince yourself that encroaching on his first actual outing with - as he oftentimes called her - the love of his life was acceptable. That your personal emergency outweighed the potential of his happiness.

The thought itself felt like poison, making you nauseated at the fact you’d even considered it. It felt almost as wrong to lie to Felix, but it was for the future of the relationship you’d promised to help him secure. 

You were sure that, should he ever find out the truth, he’d forgive you. Felix was certainly the type to brush something like this off if he knew your heart was in the right place.

You: Yeah, all good. Have fun, be yourself. Tell me all about it later?

You sighed as you tucked your phone back into your pocket, looking up at Jisung’s expectant eyes before shaking your head. His expression fell instantly back into one of guilt and concern. The way his jaw clenched showed you that he was wracking his brain for any other possibility.

You didn’t need him to say a word to know that he was likely out of ideas.

There was no ill will towards Jisung, just as there was none towards Felix. Plans with someone you loved were important to those who still believed in it’s magic, after all. The only bitterness your heart held was towards San, and towards love itself.

None of this would be a problem if you simply had never loved San in the first place.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Jisung asked, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

Your best attempt at a smile likely appeared more tight-lipped and forced than reassuring, though you did your best to come across as much more composed than you felt.

“Yeah, I’ll survive, Ji,” you nearly whispered, nodding your head before lightheartedly pushing him away, “Now, go pack. I don’t want Minho to blame me if you’re late for your departure, yeah?”

Jisung nodded, giving a half-hearted grin at your attempt to diffuse the tension, “Okay, sweets. Send me outfit photos? I can at least help with that.” 

With that, Jisung leaned forward and pecked the top of your head affectionately, casting a melancholy glance over his shoulder before leaving you alone in the apartment.

All there was to do now was tear apart your closet, put on your makeup, and try not to cry.

You were only confident in the first two.

Time was of the essence, so exhausting your wardrobe was the only option in order to find suitable attire for the Gala. It would be so much easier to head to one of the boutiques uptown, allowing one of the overly helpful employees there to play dress-up-author-Barbie with you.

But you only had two hours, and couldn’t risk being late and alone.

So, you’d spent ten minutes pulling every article of clothing resembling formalwear from the closet, spreading them out on your bed before snapping photos to send to Jisung for approval.

You sat at your vanity, pulling your hair back from your face to apply a thin layer of foundation and a generous layer of bronzer to your cheekbones, a necessary effort to combat the washout due to cameras flashing. A bit of a dusty-rose blush, simple flicked eyeliner, and a shock of red lipstick topped off the entire look.

You had to admit, you looked at least ten times more put together than you felt.

The chiming of your phone brought you to your feet, nearly jumping across the room to check what you had rightfully assumed was Jisung’s verdict.

Dumb Squirrel: honey, are you serious?

Dumb Squirrel: that pretty black dress and you considered other options?

Dumb Squirrel: I taught you better than that???

You rolled your eyes, not quite appreciating his humor as much as you would whilst under such immense levels of stress.

You: Unprovoked???

Dumb Squirrel: Minho wants to see your makeup before he agrees with me.

You snapped a quick photo, trying your best to put on a pleasant expression despite how pointless it felt to waste time with selfies, but you knew better than to argue with Jisung after asking him for advice.

Dumb Squirrel: first of all, i am offended

Dumb Squirrel: you hide this bad bitch in pajamas every time we hangout

Dumb Squrrel: rude

You groaned, brows furrowing as you replied to him quickly. You: Help me now, compliment me later.

Dumb Squirrel: yeesh, grouchy.

Dumb Squirrel: i get it though, so i forgive you

Dumb Squirrel: Minho said, quote, “black dress, match some heels. sleek, sexy and professional”

Dumb Squirrel: he also insists that i apologize because “this isn’t a time to joke” and to inform you he called me an idiot on your behalf

For the first time since your seemingly endless panic, the ghost of a true smile appeared on your face. You had always known there was a reason you approved of Minho outside of Jisung’s happiness. You: Thanks, both of you. Gotta finish up now, message you when I arrive?

Dumb Squirrel: you got it sweets. good luck!

You set your phone down on the vanity, picking up the elegant black number from your bed. It was a simple dress, enough to look dressed up without overdoing it. The sleeves were full length, clinging tightly to your arms despite exposing both of your shoulders. The neckline was modest, resting in a slight curve against your sternum, the skirt floor length - flaring out just enough to flow - with a slit up to your mid thigh. 

After slipping it on and struggling with the zipper alone, your reflection told you that Ji and Minho had been absolutely correct in their recommendation - your resolve only solidifying as you took Minho’s advice about a pair of black pumps. A few pieces of dainty silver jewelry, and an understated black clutch were all that was required to give you an air of poise that - until now - you weren’t sure you were actually capable of.

You’d have no idea this was a last-minute effort if you weren’t, well, you.

Sitting down once more at the vanity, slipping your phone into the clutch, you twirled a piece of hair around your fingertip. You didn’t have the time to do anything fancy, but knew that your unstyled hair would definitely not blend in with the aura of sophistication you’d managed to exude with everything else adorning your body.

The time restriction may have turned out to be a good thing, you thought to yourself. Straightened hair pulled back into a high, tight ponytail tied the whole look together in a way that you were sure Jisung would gush about for weeks after seeing the photos from the event.

Date or not, you looked absolutely fantastic - and you knew it. That confidence exuded from your features, even when you’d simply gaze blankly into the mirror. It was that same overwhelming aura one would get watching perfume commercials; despite how disinterested the actress may appear, your attention was always pulled for at least a moment.

You gave yourself one last glance, spritzing on a light perfume before making your way to the door. You’d had the sense to call a cab in advance, thanking whatever deity may have been watching over you as you spotted it pulling up from halfway down the stairs.

Another quick prayer of gratitude as the interior of the cab didn’t smell horrible, though this was likely due to the extra fee you’d paid to have a nicer, newer model pick you up.

The driver politely greeted you, nodding as you prattled off the address quickly. He seemed to be a man of few words, yet another thing you could only accredit to a guardian angel or impossible luck.

The ride was rather uneventful, save for the occasional bit of traffic at stoplights, and you’d managed to arrive at the venue with five minutes to spare. You snapped a quick photo outside of the venue, sending it to Jisung so he’d know you’d made it safely.

You: Made it to the Gala safe and sound. Now to make it through the evening without needing to explain the lack of date…pray for me. Talk later?

You shut your phone off then, not wanting to risk it going off during any announcements for the awards, slipping it back into your clutch to avoid the temptation to distract yourself with messages or social media. 

Your publicist spotted you from the entrance, waving her arm above her head to draw your attention. You stepped towards her, plastering on your best smile as you greeted her warmly. “Nari, good to see you,” you spoke softly, ghosting your lips above her cheeks rather than actually greeting her properly - the alternative being to stain her makeup red.

“Am I ever glad to see you,” she sighed, audibly relieved as she returned the gesture, “I hadn’t heard from you all day and had honestly begun to worry you’d forgotten.”

“I would never,” you lied, turning your head as your name was called by one of the photographers.

You let the corners of your lips raise as you parted your lips, the look Nari had taught you under the name pleasantly surprised to be photographed. It sounded dumb when she’d first told you about it - though the shots, and how gentle and candid you ended up looking in them, quickly won you over to her side.

“You came alone?” Nari asked quietly, speaking through her teeth behind her own gentle smile. “Mhm,” you hummed softly, turning towards a different photographer to allow them all the shots they wanted. It wasn’t as it would be as an actress or musician - there weren’t really paparazzi to speak of. This was more…documentation for online profiles, potential headshots for book covers, and coverage for the sake of equal representation amongst the arts.

Despite your hopes that Nari would leave the topic alone, it seemed you’d used up your luck reserves for the day.

“Didn’t you book a plus one?” she mumbled haphazardly, trying to keep her expression calm as she wondered how, as your publicist, she’d explain away the empty seat.

“Two years ago, yes,” you reminded her, hoping your discomfort wouldn’t be apparent in any of the photos.

“You couldn’t have canceled?” she asked, sounding more and more urgent despite speaking through a closed jaw.

“Didn’t cross my mind,” you dodged, allowing your face to shift from pleasant to neutral as the photographers gathered around the next author to arrive, “Is it really that big of a deal?”

Nari sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose as she shook her head, “In general, no. As your publicist, yes.”

You frowned, turning your body to face her. You did your best to hide your displeasure - it was embarrassing enough for you without Nari reminding you that she’d have to field questions about your dateless award show from fans of your books.

“Nari, I really don’t see what the problem is, people show up to events without an escort all the –”

You were cut off by a blossoming smile on Nari’s face, visible relief in her eyes as she stared behind you.

“That wasn’t funny, you really had me going,” she scolded, glancing at you only momentarily before allowing her focus to return somewhere behind your shoulder. “Nari, what are you talking about? I meant it when I said I came –” you were cut off by an all too familiar throat clearing behind you.

“-- alone…” you trailed off, the hair on the back of your neck slowly rising as a heavy feeling of dread made itself at home from head to toe - though it seemed to constrict your heart in your chest. “Hey,” a familiar set of sharply angled lips spoke quietly. His jaw - one that you could vaguely recall pressing your lips against once upon a time - clenched awkwardly, the man attached shuffling in place. His sheepish eyes landed upon yours, holding a strong uncertainty that only seemed to increase the contrast with the blatant shock you wore.

You swallowed hard - fight and flight playing the highest-stakes game of chicken you’d ever considered in your mind. 

Both of these options felt like a nightmare. 

Punching him in front of cameras? Tempting, and Jisung would probably ask you to sign a copy - probably even treat you to a fancy and expensive dinner after bailing you out on an assault charge. Though, as far as PR went, it was a horrible decision - having an angry publicist was never a smart choice.

Running off was just as enticing, the desire to head home without looking back - finishing a bottle of wine alone in a pretty dress - sounded absolutely cathartic. Though, Nari would have to explain your sudden disappearance - which also translated to having an angry publicist. You asked the only question you truly felt like you needed answered in that moment, though you couldn't quite recognize your voice's newfound hollowness as your own.

“San, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Lee Felix was not the type to check his phone on a date. If anything, he was the type to leave it in his truck, devoting the entirety of his attention to the person sitting before him. 

That had been his intent this evening - to sit across from Ryujin and finally engage in meaningful conversation. To smile and laugh with her as he filled in the blanks he’d so desperately craved the answer to as he’d crushed from afar. To lose himself in her eyes as she spoke about her passions.

Yet, completely out of character, Felix had forgotten to take his phone out of the pocket of his tight slacks. He, of course, had apologized when it interrupted their small talk, quickly silencing the ringer before returning to his previously enraptured state.

Even further from his typical behaviors, Felix’s curiosity about what awaited him beyond his lockscreen had stuck in his mind. So much, in fact, that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a peek at the screen whilst Ryujin was in the restroom.

Confused only slightly covered Felix’s reaction when he opened your text, swallowing hard to prevent his jaw from dropping at the sight of the photo attached;

#1 Love Hater💔: Made it to the Gala safe and sound. Now to make it through the evening without needing to explain the lack of date…pray for me. Talk later?

He was at least 99 percent certain that he wasn’t the intended recipient, yet everything about your message sparked question after question in his mind. What Gala were you referring to? If he were to glean anything from your attire and more-glamorous-than-usual makeup, it was some sort of formal event. Was this why you’d asked him about his plans for tonight? He felt his stomach lurch with guilt at the thought of you alone at something so…so utterly not like the you he knew. So formal and gaudy. 

Felix had grown accustomed to seeing you dressed comfortably in oversized sweaters, a messy bun or completely unstyled hair framing your barely-made-up face. 

Felix had only ever seen you in casual settings; your apartment, his truck, the food court, and the art studio. You looked beautiful, and Felix could acknowledge and appreciate the effort you’d put into your appearance for whatever this “Gala” was. 

He’d always found your features to be pretty, though, even with your face smooshed against the window of his truck as you slept soundly.

To Felix, seeing you like this rather than how you usually present yourself was like being offered two slices of cake made up with the same ingredients, simply decorated differently. He simply couldn’t pick one over the other.

Ryujin still hadn’t returned, allowing his mind to continue questioning every aspect of the message you’d sent. He could only put so many pieces together on his own, though, and found himself increasingly antsy as he wondered how you were holding up - out of your element, and alone.

He’d shot you a quick text, trying to see how you were doing. He couldn’t help but frown as the checkmark stayed faded, not even registering as delivered. Was your phone dead? If it was, how could you call anyone if you needed something? He quickly scrolled his contacts, finding Jisung and typing out a message before he could even consider other options. Felix: what’s the gala?

Ryujin came back out then, giving Felix a brilliant smile that instantly made him wish he’d never seen your message. He was truly happy to have this time with her, finally getting the chance to become more than the guy who makes her drinks, yet here he was - worrying about you.

“Sorry I took so long, there was a line,” she explained before sliding back into her chair, lifting her wine glass to take a small sip.

“No worries,” Felix assured, his typically shining grin dimmed significantly as he tapped his foot subconsciously beneath the table. 

If Ryujin noticed a change in his behavior, she didn’t let on, launching right back into where she’d left the discussion.

Though once enamored by every word that left her lips, Felix barely registered Ryujin’s recollection of her previous job as a secretary before moving on to her current position as an executive assistant. He felt his phone buzz against his thigh. Felix was doing his best to nod and smile attentively, despite the way his fingertips were twitching with the desire to pull up his phone and get the answers he craved. 

Ryujin finished her story, looking at Felix expectantly as she took another sip of her wine. Shit, did she ask me something?

His palms began to sweat, another buzz against his thigh only serving to worsen the clamminess. He gave his best attempt at a remorseful smile, standing from his seat to give her a slight bow of apology.

“I’m really sorry, I’ll be right back, okay?” His eyes were wide, and it seemed to suddenly register with Ryujin that something was going on with him - that his attention had been elsewhere for the last several minutes. “Oh, yeah,” she said, her kind expression barely faltering as she read the look in his eyes as concern, “Is everything alright?”

“I hope so,” Felix replied with uncertainty, half of his mouth upturning into a crooked smile. Ryujin nodded, seeming to understand fully that this was something important to him - why else would his mood have shifted so suddenly?

Felix bowed again, though this time from gratitude, before hastily walking off in the direction of the outdoor patio. He pulled his phone out so quickly that he’d nearly dropped it, his level of worry causing him to mess up his own lock code not once - but twice.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): howd you know about the gala?

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): its some fancy writing award thing i think tho?

Felix’s brow furrowed so deeply into his head that there would likely be residual wrinkles for a few minutes after he finally relaxed, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Felix: and she went alone? 🙁 what if she wins?

Felix: accept an award alone? 😭

Felix’s guilt from earlier was on the fast track to evolve into unadulterated shame. He wondered why she’d have kept this from him…sure, he was busy, but her secrecy almost gave him further cause for concern.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): yeah…i’m on jeju with Minho rn

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): she said you were busy but if you arent?

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): she’d appreciate someone there, i think

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): at least to save her from her publicist’s wrath

Felix sighed hard enough that it could’ve easily been mistaken as a frustrated groan. He was far from being irritated though - uneasy due to his lack of understanding, maybe, but not frustrated.

Felix: why would her publicist hound her?

Felix: was she not supposed to be alone?

Felix’s confusion only grew stronger, every answer to his questions revealing at least two more things he didn’t understand. 

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): its not really my place

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): all i can say comfortably is that she’d planned on a plus one

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): and some shit happened

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): emphasis on shit

Felix’s heart sank. On one hand, you hadn’t shared this information with him yourself. If he acted on it, would you be upset with him for prying? Upset with Jisung for sharing? On the other, from what he gathered, tonight might be painful for you - especially if you’d planned on someone special being by your side for it.

Felix: you really think she’d want me there?

Felix decided to double check, despite Jisung’s earlier statement that you’d likely appreciate a friendly face. If anyone would be able to predict your reactions closest to complete accuracy, it would be your best friend.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): i know she would.

That’s when Felix made arguably the toughest decision of his adult life, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he reapproached the table - Ryujin’s momentary happiness fading as she recognized the look on his face.

“What’s up?” she asked, trying to remain casual despite the sudden intensity in Felix’s gaze.

“Please forgive me,” he started, though his voice sounded much more resolute than a plea for forgiveness should, “There’s an emergency with one of my friends, I really have to go.”

Ryujin blinked a few times, nodding her head before giving him a sweet smile - disappointment barely visible as she responded calmly, “I understand completely.”

“Rain check?” Felix asked hopefully, pulling his blazer from the back of his chair with a raised brow before slinging it over his arms.

“Of course,” she replied softly, watching as he tossed enough cash for their meal and tips onto the table before handing her a few bills to pay cab fare to get her home.

She blinked at the money in her hand before looking back up at him, her brows creased together. Sure, she hadn’t known Felix long…but his entire demeanor looked different somehow. Gone was the awkward, shy, fumbling man she’d arrived with - in his place stood a man completely sure of himself, confident in his choice to cut their date short in the name of a friend in need.

As she watched Felix race back to his truck, turning the keys in the ignition before he’d even buckled his seatbelt, Ryujin wasn’t quite sure if she was more puzzled or besotted by this brand new side of Lee Felix.

As you stood face to face with San you became certain of two things.

Firstly, he was exactly the same. From the way he parted his hair, to the slight lean to the right in his posture, San had not changed - even a tiny bit. No sign of new fine lines or wrinkles. No difference in the offhanded way he’d addressed you. The only difference, in fact, was a glittering gold band on his left ring finger.

That had led you to your second revelation; any love you had for him was - in fact - gone. The tentative smile he offered you that used effortlessly placate even your largest irritations only served to give you an uncomfortable case of the goosebumps, chilling you to the very core. The way he tilted his head, once something you’d found precious now only infuriated you. 

How dare he look at you so calmly after what he’d done? How dare he show up at an event that wasn’t even for him in the first place? How dare he show up with the audacity to escort you wearing a wedding ring after breaking off your engagement to marry the woman who’d likely slid that onto his finger?

How dare he do this in front of your publicist, who now wore a relieved and excited grin on her face at the notion of having the seat next to you filled.

How dare he waltz up to you with absolutely no warning, uttering a casual hey as if you were somehow friends? 

How fucking dare he?

Your teeth were clenched following your less-than-amicable question, jaw set in a tensed position as you crossed your arms against your chest.

“Don’t act this way,” he started, his brows knitting together before he pursed his lips.

“I said what the fuck are you doing here?” you hissed, eyes widened with a rage that, until just now, you believed had been abandoned in favor of grief.

“I –” he cut himself off, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as he took a sharp breath in through his nose - the telltale flaring of his nostrils showing just how hard he was working to keep himself gentle, “I was supposed to be your plus one. I’m not so shitty that I’d let you sit alone at the Gala.”

“I beg to differ,” you deadpanned, “You’re exactly that shitty, and nothing would make me happier than if you’d never shown up here.”

San’s jaw clenched as he took in your quiet anger. He’d experienced different sides of you before, but this was new. 

You’d had jealous anger before, resulting in tears and long monologues of your insecurities - coating everything you did like a cold drizzle, sinking you into yourself as you’d seek warmth in any way possible.

You’d had explosive anger, too. Raising your voice and refusing to listen to reason, certain that exactly what you believed to be happening was strictly fact - down to every last detail. Like an earthquake, threatening destruction on anything not secured tightly in place.

Now, though? Your face was blank, save for the slightly widened state of your eyes and the hard line your lips had formed. Your words were clear and concise, as if you had been waiting to say these very words to him for your entire life. You sounded sure. You sounded calm.

You were the eye of a hurricane, a single spot of calm amidst the raging sea. Moving in any direction too quickly could plunge him into the chaotic, swirling depths.

“Unfortunately,” you continued on, not once shifting your steely gaze away from his, “It seems that in order to be rid of you, I’d need to do something my publisher will absolutely disapprove of.”

San swallowed hard, “I didn’t come here with the intention to upset you –” his eyes bulged as you laughed - as though his attempt at reassurance was actually the funniest thing you’d ever heard in your life.

“That’s fucking rich, Choi San, considering you’re planning to walk at my side as though you’ve done nothing wrong,” you took a step closer, despite how sick the proximity made you feel, just to ensure that no prying eyes or gossip-hungry ears could pick up on a thing you said.

“You want to come here, to an award ceremony for my profession, wearing the ring given to you by the woman you swore to me I didn’t need to worry about?” you scoffed under your breath, every bit of your body language screaming discomfort and volatility.

You whispered the last sentence, the audacity he had to appear shocked, requiring you to push back against the urge to spit in his face, “But, I guess since you didn’t come here to upset me, it’s all fine I suppose.” 

If it hadn’t been for Nari, you’d have definitely caused a bigger scene. 

If you didn’t know for a fact that she’d have several choice words, if not threats on your career should you turn San away, you’d have simply called him a cab and told him to get fucking lost.

You had to be escorted by the man who ruined your entire concept of love for the night. There was no other option. You suddenly found yourself wishing you’d simply not been reminded by Jisung about the event earlier, simply missing it and facing Nari’s wrath.

That was better than forcing yourself to pretend to be fine next to San.

If you had to be escorted by the largest reminder of your heartache, you refused to do it with an agreeable demeanor - so you turned away from him suddenly, making a beeline for the outdoor bar, hoping to get a couple of drinks to coax you into spending the evening next to the devil. 

You’d expected him to perhaps follow you, at least having the decency to be as close to invisible as he could be in the seat next to you for the evening.

You’d expected him to let you get a drink, maybe to even understand why you wanted to dull your senses around him.

What you hadn’t expected was his sudden, tight grip around your wrist - stopping you in your tracks.

“I showed up for you,” he whispered with accentuated sibilance, a noise more closely associated with a feral cat than a man. His grip tightened on your wrist as his eyes grew wide, “I left my wife home to escort you at this stupid fucking gala,” he spat that bit bitterly, his nose wrinkling with anger, “that I’ve never actually liked attending, just so you don’t feel fucking embarassed, all alone.” San’s voice had morphed into one filled with venom, it’s sole intent to mock you and make you feel small.

“I didn’t fucking ask you to,” you hissed back, ignoring the stinging in your eyes at his words. You didn’t love him anymore, this was true. You didn’t care about his opinion, and that was true, too. 

It was also true that he knew you well enough to know exactly where to prod, exactly how to hurt you.

You barely noticed whispers of a few passerby as the two of you exchanged your hushed, turbulent stabs.

You barely noticed the familiar sound of an engine thrumming beneath the hood of a red pickup truck.

His grip grew tighter, making you wince slightly, “You’re so fucking ungrateful,” San continued, running his free hand through his hair - as he’d always done when he’d grown frustrated with you - before shooting his darkened eyes back towards you, “All you’ve ever done is complain about everything I do for you, no matter how fucking much I hated doing it.”

“I didn’t want you here,” you insisted, trying with futility to pull your wrist from the constraint of his fist, “This isn’t for me,” you swallowed the thickness growing in your throat, ignoring the way your voice quivered as you spoke - determined not to break where he could see you, “If this were for me, you’d be gone. In fact, you’d never have shown up here in the first place, San.”

San grew red in the face as he pulled you closer by your wrist, hissing whatever the opposite of sweet nothings were directly into your face, “You stupid, selfish, spoiled little –” he suddenly stopped, his gaze focusing behind you reminding you eerily of the way Nari had spotted him before.

The smell of a summer’s rain and wildflowers flooded your senses, prefacing a warm hand resting against your bare shoulder. 

San’s jaw clenched as he glanced at the hand, his eyes slowly making their way up to the face attached.

It was then that a familiar, comforting bass voice met your ears - soothing you despite the intimidating closeness San maintained with you. 

You turned your head to confirm your suspicions, relief overpowering the bewilderment you felt seeing the last person you’d expected to show up this evening.

“So sorry I’m late,” he whispered just loud enough for San to hear as well, stepping close enough that he hovered directly over your back.

Felix.

“I’d appreciate if you’d unhand my date." He nearly growled, the look on his face completely foreign to the gentle, fluffy haired boy you'd grown so accustomed to. "Now.”

[chibitantei]

Mobile About

Name (last, first): Shirogane Naoto (白鐘 直斗)

Nicknames: Detective Prince, 2000 IQ Killjoy Detective, Tiny Detective, Defective Prince

Occupation: Student, private investigator, full time orphan

Gender: Female

Orientation: Bisexual

Blood Type: B-

DOB: April 27, 1995 | Zodiac: Taurus, (Wood) Boar

Age:

13-14 (P3)

15-16 (P4)

17 (spinoffs)

20-21 (P5)

Family: 

Mother: Kei (契) - Deceased

Father: Seiji (正慈) - Deceased

Grandfather: Hisashi (久司) - Alive for now 

Grandfather’s secretary (he counts!): Yakushiji (楽師寺) - Alive

Weapon: New Nambu M60 (revolver)

Arcana: [Wheel of] Fortune

Persona: Sukuna-Hikona → Yamato-Takeru → Yamato Sumeragi

Skills: Deduction, fast learner, tinkers with electronics and mechanical things in her spare time, above average understanding of human psychology. Basically, she’s good at learning things that are helpful for detective work. Can also play the piano, dance and do basic magic tricks. Decent billiards player. Maintenance for her revolver.

Likes: Coffee, books related to mystery and crime, model kits, robots, dogs and cats, magic tricks, puzzles, origami, high places.

Dislikes: Being looked down upon, reminders of her orphan status, invasion of her personal space, height jokes, decaffeinated coffee, revealing clothes, her hat being stolen, condescending authority figures, idiocy.

Languages: Japanese (native), English (fluent, no hint of an accent), conversational Mandarin and Korean. Possesses world’s most okayest French. Knows JSL.

「Appearance」

Height: 

5'0 | 152 cm (P4)

5'3 | 161 cm (post P4)

Weight: [Redacted], leans closer to being underweight.

Scars: One on the left side of her abdomen.

Naoto usually wears collared shirts, coats, neckties, and other things that fall under the formal wear category. After P4, her wardrobe has expanded somewhat to include more casual clothing, but she still prefers to dress semi-formally. No matter what, the blue newsboy cap remains a constant.

「Personality」

MBTI: INTJ

Positive Traits: Determined, ambitious, courageous, observant, intelligent (most of the time), trustworthy, independent, reliable, adaptable, caring once you break down those fifty walls of ice.

Negative Traits: Stubborn, sarcastic, likes to bottle her anger and have it explode at the worst times, perfectionist, can be cold, reckless, aggressive, blunt, too independent, cynical, secretive, often neglects her health.

Health: Depression, PTSD

Other things of note: Inferiority complex, low self esteem, self destructive tendencies (more internal), abandonment issues, anxiety, survivor’s guilt, suffers from suicidal thoughts.

Losing her parents and working as a detective at a young age forced Naoto to mature, becoming aloof and independent. She is courteous to those who are polite, but there is always a barrier to keep others an arm’s length away. Never letting people in leads to unfulfilling life, but for Naoto, she prefers to keep it that way.

For a detective, logic prevails over emotion and as such, Naoto has shoved any emotions that are deemed unnecessary to the side. Working in numerous homicide cases has made her somewhat cold, making it difficult to appeal to her emotional side. In spite of her frosty exterior, there are moments where she allows it fall and show her caring side, but only for a short while before the mask comes up again.

Among those she considers acquaintances friends, particularly the Investigation Team, Naoto fully shows her kindness and lends a helping hand. Although it’s often subtle, she loosens up somewhat and shows a side that is 0.000001% more likely to crack a joke. She may not participate in all of their exploits, but she does enjoy messing around with them occasionally. However, while she may enjoy their company, there are times where she wants to be by herself.

Despite having other people to rely on, she has the stubborn refusal to let others help, often saying she can handle things herself. Coupled with her low self esteem and fear of being a burden, Naoto frequently sacrifices her well being if it means her family and friends will be happy.

「Quick Headcanons」

The Shirogane estate is not in Inaba or near it, so Naoto rents an apartment. The estate will always be her home. As such, she does not live in Inaba after graduation. It holds a special place in her heart and she will visit, but she does not live there.

Naoto skips a year and graduates with the older IT members.

Headcanon + screenshot/analysis tag if you want more.

Miscellaneous: 

Naoto is Japanese, so she introduces herself with her surname, then first name. However, if your character introduces themself with their first, then surname, I will follow it to make things less confusing.

I usually default to post game for muses who aren’t from P4, so you don’t have to worry about her being disguised as a guy. For any threads before her rescue, nobody in canon really questions it, so please discuss with me if your muse can see through her disguise. However, after her rescue, most of Inaba knows, so it’s fair game.

With Naoto’s mental health, any interactions dealing with it in detail will always be discussed, or I’ll ask if it’s okay to continue if a thread seems to be headed down that direction. They will be tagged appropriately.

You can find my dash game/uquiz/ask meme headcanons here, but ask meme headcanons are not very well written, and may be elaborated on in the future.

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.3.14 SATURDAY NOVEMBER 1st, 2:22 PM

Haddonfield, Illinois

Virginia's head was buried in James Tramer's chest, as it had been most of the entire day. They sat in the small but comfortable chairs inside Deputy Meeker's office, facing his desk. James had run his eyes around the contents of the desk and the office over a million times in the last few hours, not really looking at the items around him, but kind of looking through them.

Sure, he processed the embossed gold nameplate that read: DEPUTY MEEKER flanked by two small flags, one the American stars and stripes, the other the flag of the Marines. He saw the Chicago Bears coffee mug that held various pens and pencils. He saw the stapler and the roll of tape, and the large desk calendar that was still stuck in October.

Gotta lift it up to view November, he thought almost mechanically. My son Ben will never see November.

Anabel Gillespie from Yuva's Funeral Home had pulled Deputy Meeker's high officer chair over beside them. She now sat talking, holding the brochure out for them to see. Jim wasn't looking, and he wasn't listening. His eyes hovered over the wall behind the desk. The plaque from the Marines, awards from the Warren County police department, a picture of then Staff Sergeant Meeker on tour of duty in Kosovo. There was a picture of Deputy Meeker and Sheriff Brackett standing behind fifteen smiling kids. They wore blue and red baseball uniforms imprinted with the words Warriors on the front and Cleveland Indians hats. The title at the top read: WARREN COUNTY WARRIORS LITTLE LEAGUE STATE CHAMPIONS 2A 2009. Another at the bottom read: SPONSORED BY JAMIE LEE'S DINER HADDONFIELD ILLINOIS.

Second from the top left, Jim had spotted his son. Right field. He mused. Ben couldn't hit a baseball with a tennis racket. Ben Tramer had ditched little league baseball for Pop Warner football not too long after that, and had become a star Wide Receiever for the Haddonfield High School Huskers not long after that. On Jim's kitchen table right now there were acceptance letters from Quincy, Slippery Rock, Urbana, Ashland and other Division 2 football schools. The big schools had been down on Ben for his size, Jim thought now, He could have walked on at Northwestern, I know he could have.

His glanced turned to the flatscreen television mounted in the corner. The news was showing the footage of the bodies being taken from the old Myers home. The title at the bottom of the screen read: DEATH TOLL RISING IN ILLINOIS MASSACRE. Jim averted his eyes, coming down to a Chicago Cubs pennant tacked to the paneling on the right wall near the TV. I wonder who won that game last night, he thought. It had gone too late, he had just not been able to keep his eyes open to finish it. He thought now about how important that game had seemed just a few hours ago and how he had not thought of it at all until just now.

“So did you decide?” He heard a voice.

Jim was still thinking about the baseball game.

“Mr. Tramer?”

Jim shook his head startled. Virginia lifted her head from his chest and looked at him puzzingly as he looked over toward Anabel.

“What?” He croaked dryly.

“Have you decided which coffin you would like to go with?” She asked.

Virginia whimpered and returned her face to his chest.

Jim cut his glance from Anabel to behind her where Officer Mullenix stood in the doorway which led out to the rest of the police station. Mullenix was staring back at him, sipping his coffee out of a mug that read: WORLD'S OKAYEST EMPLOYEE.

Jim opened his mouth to answer, then closed it, then cocked his head to one side, cleared his throat and asked, “Where is Mr. Gudipati?”

Anabel looked from Jim back over her shoulder to Officer Mullenix and then back to Jim again. “Mr. Tramer, Mr. Gudipati's brother was also killed last night. He is on family leave.”

Jim frowned and shook his head, “That's a shame, an awful shame. Rajesh Gudipati ran a fine store. The restrooms were always clean.”

Anabel frowned. Officer Mullenix took a sip of his coffee and said, “Ms. Gillespie, perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Tramer are still not up to looking at the---information.”

Anabel was about to speak but Jim waved and cut her off, “Nonsense Officer. I'm sorry, let me see them again.”

Anabel passed over the brochure and Jim took it. The first thing his eyes saw was a tiny blue urn with a silver teddy bear on it, something you would get for an infant. There was a noise in the corridor behind Officer Mullenix that startled them and he saw no more.

“Hold up! Where are they?!” A woman's voice demanded.

A large black woman pressed herself passed Officer Mullenix into the office, her ample bosom scraping past him. She wore a fake blonde wig and a large floral print dress to cover her voluptious body. Her drawn-on eye brows raised when she saw Jim and Virginia and she smiled, extending a hand decorated with three inch fingernails painted bright yellow. “Hi Mr. and Mrs. Tramer, I'm Ureta Johnson, attorney at Johnson Sloan and Johnson, what have you told these fools?”

Virginia lifted her head.

“I'm sorry, what?” Jim asked dryly.

“These murdering police officers, have you told them anything?” Ureta put her hands on her hip.

“Hold on there--” Officer Mullenix began.

Ureta cut him off, “You hold on there trigger happy! I think I need to be alone with my clients so why don't you just scurry away there porky pig,” she cut a glance to Anabel, “you too blondie.”

Jim frowned, “I don't think we're gonna need representation.”

Ureta frowned back, “Honey, your beautiful black baby boy was gunned down in the street last night while unarmed by white police officers. What do you mean you don't need representation?”

“Wait just a damn minute--” Officer Mullenix tried again.

Ureta held up her finger and was about to speak but Jim interjected, “I don't think it was like---”

This time, Virginia interrupted. She pulled her face from his chest, her eyes rimmed with tears and as bloodshot as a day drunk. She spoke the first intelligible words she had uttered all day.

“Like what James?” she said, her voice growing louder as she spoke, “Our son—my baby boy, was just out trick or treating like all the other kids,” she pointed her finger at Officer Mullenix, “and these bastards shot him dead! Shot him dead for no reason!”

Jim looked at his wife, then at the lawyer, then Anabel, then Officer Mullenix. He did not know what to say. He hadn't anticipated this at all.

“Anabel,” Officer Mullenix said softly.

She looked at him, her eyes wide in confusion.

“Anabel come with me. Let's give these people some time alone.”

Anabel stood up like a shot and pushed passed Officer Mullenix.

Ureta grunted, “That's right. Give these people some time alone.”

Mullenix forced a friendly smile, “Take all the time you need.”

NEXT>> (COMING SOON)

[gizkasparadise]

cdrama rec/review: go ahead

KDRAMA AND CDRAMA MASTER LIST OF REVIEWS

Series: go ahead Episodes: 40 Genres: family, healing/melodrama, slice of life, romance Spoilers in the Rec: for the first 20% ish/set-up If You Like, You’ll Like: reply 1988, le coup de foudre, find yourself (same production company/main male actor), rain or shine/just between lovers, found family stories, meet again stories

Rank: 10/10** (see Drawbacks section)

PREMISE

widower hai chao and his 6 year old daughter jian jian live happily above his noodle restaurant despite the recent, tragic death of his wife. one day, dysfunction junction a married couple (he ping, a police officer, and chen ting, a real piece of work) move into the same building with their 7 year old son, ling xiao. immediately, jian jian attaches herself to ling xiao, who is unexpectedly grim for a small child. 

because ling xiao’s family is less-than-healthily grieving the loss of their youngest child, ling xiao’s sister who died in a terrible accident. The Apartment of Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms eventually implodes, ending with chen ting abandoning her husband and son. he ping, suddenly a single father, and hai chao come to a friendly partnership that is clearly alluding to gay marriage where they co-raise both of their kids--hai chao as the primary caregiver, and he ping supporting them financially through his job as a policeman.

meanwhile, the neighborhood busybody is dead-set on getting hia chao remarried. eventually she introduces him to a divorced single mother, he mei, and her son zi qiu, who is ling xiao’s age. they sort of start to date, but it culminates in he mei skipping town and leaving zi qiu behind. hai chao, man with a heart of gold, informally adopts him and zi qiu becomes jianjian’s foster brother.

from there, the trio grow up happily and become inseparable. but once zi qiu and ling xiao graduate high school, the bullshit parade their respective childhood skeletons reappear in their lives. circumstances lead to the boys moving overseas, leaving jianjian and their fathers behind. 

they reunite after 9 years, when the boys return to a home where they hope to pick things back up from where they left off. things are more complicated than that, as jianjian finds herself in a new life and surrounded by new people. 

MAIN CHARACTERS

li jian jian

hai chao’s daughter and the only girl in the family. she attended the required short-hair-low-grades training program required of all cdrama youth female leads. super positive and outgoing, as well as the youngest of the three pseudo-siblings, jian jian grows up spoiled and over protected by her father and brothers, and as a result is completely devastated once her family falls apart. it’s so sad.

after the time skip, she’s an on-the-verge successful artist who makes woodcarvings, and exudes big art bro energy. inhales sugar like it’s nobody’s business. she inherited her father’s disease called caring too much, and it’s incurable!! 

ling xiao

the eldest brother and resident fun police. ling xiao comes from a seriously toxic home that finally seems to improve once his mother leaves. but then she comes back. fucking great. introverted to the point of being withdrawn to anyone but his chosen family, ling xiao’s had to carry a lot of emotional weight that takes a larger and larger toll on him as the series progresses. please get this boy some therapy. 

becomes a dentist because jian jian needs one. wears a lot of monochromatic outfits with low necklines because heavy angst but make it fashion. has been in love with jian jian since high school and is still carrying that torch 9 years later.

he zi qiu  

the middle child who grows up in hai chao and jian jian’s home, and is her foster brother in all but paperwork. hotheaded, zi qiu and jian jian basically share two brain cells that ling xiao routinely takes from them for safekeeping. he spoils jian jian, sneaking her snacks and junk food and wants to become a pastry chef so he can open a sweet shop for her!!

my favorite character. just wants to be wanted 8( him and hai chao’s relationship is my favorite dynamic in the series. will sob while driving a pink moped. is too proud to beg

li hai chao (left) and ling he ping (right)

the greatest (hai chao) and okayest (he ping) dads in the world! noodle dad/hai chao has never done anything wrong in his life, ever, and we know this and we love him. he ping isn’t a bad person, but demonstrates pretty classic absentee parenting/isn’t as emotionally present in his son’s life as hai chao. hai chao is the heart of the family, and would do anything for his kids 8( 

SOME SUPPORT CHARACTERS 

tang can (left) and qiu ming yue (right)

jian jian’s #GirlGang and roommates. they, like literally everyone in this drama, have some severe mom issue hang-ups. tang can (left) is a former child actress who is struggling with her lack of success as an adult and gives well-meaning but absolutely terrible advice on the regular. 

ming yue (right) is jian jian’s best friend since childhood and as an adult is trying to break free from her mother’s controlling nature--she’s also had a thing for ling xiao for the last 9 years. raises fish for symbolism purposes.

chen ting

ling xiao’s mom and certified garbage human. unable to cope with the death of her daughter that was her fault lbr, she abandons her family and disappears for ten years. she forces her way back into ling xiao’s life when he turns 18, where it’s revealed that she’s remarried and ling xiao has a younger half-sister chengzi (”little orange”). shit goes down, and soon ling xiao is forced to move back to singapore to serve as primary caregiver to both his mother who abandoned him and the half sister he barely knows. 

emotionally abusive and basically hits every single square on the toxic parent bingo card. i just. i just hate her. even typing this out is making me mad.

he mei

zi qiu’s mother. after a few dates with hai chao, she ends up ditching her kid and disappearing for unknown reasons. is a slightly better parent than chen ting but that’s like saying some poison kills you slower. the show tries to bring us around on her but it didnt work for me. 

SOME OTHERS

zhuang bei, zi qiu’s best friend growing up who i would like a lot less if he wasn’t played by the same actor who played my beloved dachuan

zheng shuran, jian jian’s first boyfriend and fellow artist who’s got a weird thing for women’s waists and pretentious artists’ statements

du juan, jian jian’s friend who co-owns their woodworking studio. has absolute trash taste in men

chengzi, ling xiao’s half-sister who can be a brat but dear god does she need to be protected/saved 

**DRAWBACKS

so this is a weird one for me. what i didn’t like i really didn’t like, but what i loved i really loved. ultimately, the factors/uniqueness of this show and the loveability of the main characters outweighed the negatives and it’s one of my favorite dramas.

THAT SAID. i got some #thoughts on this one. 

first, there are literally no positive mother figures in this show. not a damn one. they are all negligent or controlling at best or down right abusive at worst. no woman over 30 is portrayed positively and that’s a big No from me. 

the last 10 eps have some pacing issues and focus on the wrong people. spending the remaining episodes focused on one of the most universally hated characters vs. the main family was a bad move 

the show tried to redeem or make us sympathize with characters that were, to me, completely irredeemable. one case is worse than the other, but both of them were terrible people that deserved to be cut out of the main family’s lives.  

REASONS TO WATCH

the main family. the characters are so wonderful and nuanced, and their dynamics with one another were amazing. you’ll fall in love with hai chao aka noodle dad and the trio. they go through so many trials but they still stick together and it’s ultimately a healing drama and i loved it very much.

the central romance was less in focus, but the pining is enough to make jane austen emerge from the grave. i loved the leads together, and while LOL ling xiao’s attachment to jian jian was not always healthy, they supported each other and it made me smile. i love me a tortured pining dude.

#Acting. everyone played their parts to perfection. the child actors in particular were so well-cast (esp baby zi qiu)

the soundtrack lmao. you watch the opening credits and know you’ll need to buckle up

idk it’s a very unique show, and i haven’t seen one like it. reply 1988 comes close, but it doesn’t tackle the same issues and it was all just very real and earnest. 

Final Thoughts.

GOODNIGHT, GOOODBYYYYYE MY CHILDREEEEEEEN

[stefciastark]

Hallucinations ~ Webpril Day 19

A/N: WARNING (briefly mentioned graphic violence, but nothing extreme, just putting a warning in case). After a hallucinogenic gas explodes in Peter's face during a mission, he is plagued by nightmares and flashbacks. Tony steps in to help. Apologies for any inconsistencies or general bad flow on this one, I had to write in a bit of a hurry before an early A.M class tomorrow and I haven't had a chance to give it a once-over. Hope you guys enjoy this one :) x

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

“Kid, kid! Stop!” Tony grasped Peter’s wrists as they flew once more towards his face, and he staggered forwards with an ungraceful jerk, almost falling onto the bed. How the hell was the kid this strong?

“Get off me!” Peter thrashed on the bed wildly, eyes open but looking feral and petrified. Peter’s response was purely instinctual, and nature had chosen ‘fight’ as his defense mechanism. It was too bad Tony wasn’t in his suit to help contain it.

After an incident a few days prior involving a gaseous compound that caused vivid hallucinations, Peter hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep since. Neither had Tony. The kid had been caught right in the face with the gas during the few seconds that his mask was down, whilst Tony was lucky enough to have his built in air filtration system save him from the hell that ensued.

Peter didn’t talk about what he experienced. At least not to Tony, but Tony couldn’t quite think of anybody else that Peter would go to. Tony really wished the kid would open up to someone.

The dim light from the ensuite bathroom cast light on Tony’s forearms. They were covered in bruises that looked like scattered wine stains with the varying shades of deep red and purple.

Peter’s struggles dissolved in intensity, and his eyes slid shut again. The poor kid was exhausted, and each - almost - sleepless night was taking its toll.

Once Tony was sure Peter was asleep once more, judging by the now even breathing, he slid to the carpet below, back leaning against the side of the bed. Feeling powerless to help the young Avenger, he stared blankly into the wall, suddenly transported back to a time when he suffered much like Peter was.

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

“Good morning, Peter. It is currently 9:30 A.M. Today it will be slightly overcast with a high of 73.4 degrees. You have no upcoming events. Enjoy your morning.”

With a groan, Peter rolled over and covered his head with an adjacent pillow. This was the first time in a long time that F.R.I.D.A.Y had woken him up. Closing his eyes once more, he prepared to re-enter the world of sleep.

That plan immediately was foiled as “Thunderstruck” blared over his room’s speakers.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y…” Peter whined, sounding more like a spoiled toddler than he cared to admit.

“I apologise, but this is part of Mr Stark’s ‘Couch Potato’ protocol. If you do not leave the bed in the next thirty seconds, I will have to initiative Phase 2, which involves-”

“Okay, okay!” Throwing the sheets to the side, he swung his legs off the side of the mattress. As soon as his feet touched the floor, the music stopped, and he sighed in relief. At any other time he would have loved the sound of classic rock, but he felt overstimulated and irritated by almost every sound, sight, and whatever else assaulted any of his senses.

The rational part of his brain told him that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was a probable culprit. Maybe it was spending so much time around Tony “I’m Fine” Stark, but Peter didn’t particularly want to address the issue. He was strong, he could brute force his way through it, no problem. As far as he was concerned, none of the other Avengers were getting psychological help - although in all fairness they needed it - and he didn’t want to be seen as weak. He didn’t want it to seem like he couldn’t handle the mental duress that went with being an Avenger.

Half-conscious, he went through the automatic routine of having a shower, brushing his teeth, and throwing on a basic outfit. Today’s choice consisted of jeans and a Hawkeye T-Shirt that Clint had unironically bought him last Christmas. Blearily shuffling into the kitchen, Peter considered taking up drinking coffee in the mornings; it seemed to be universally known as the almighty bean juice that provided a form of liquid Carpe Diem.

He half expected the whole Avengers team to be in the common kitchen area. They usually were in the mornings, but today it was dead quiet. Dead quiet except for Tony, who was flicking through the latest issue of Wired magazine. In his left hand was a mug that said “World’s Okayest CEO”. Peter had to guess that that mug was courtesy of Pepper. If it were up to Tony, ‘okayest’ would have been swapped with ‘best’.

“You know, these photos don’t really do me justice. I’m much sexier in person. I mean look at this,” Tony flipped the magazine around, showing Peter an article that summarised Tony’s latest successes and blunders. The photo Tony’s finger was tapping on was of Tony at the Stark Expo a few months ago. His smile blatantly looked like he would have rather been anywhere else.

Peter opened his mouth to send a smart remark in response, but instead he froze in place, air stuck in his lungs, his throat jumping as he struggled to get words out. The sound of percolation coming from the coffee pot dredged up the memory he was trying to forget: the dripping of blood - Tony’s blood - creating a macabre mosaic on the pavement as he hung suspended by cables and wires. Steve’s hand had been wrapped around Peter’s ankle in a silent beg for release from life, a large shard of glass having punctured through his chest. The worst of all of them was Aunt May, eyes staring open and lifeless, neck bent at an unnatural and gruesome angle that was burned into Peter’s retinas for the rest of time. On all sides, marching towards him, had been an army consisting of Doombots, Chitauri, and the remaining Avengers. Those he had come to trust had come to betray him.

“Whoa, whoa, you’re alright, c’mon.” Tony’s brow was furrowed, and although his voice sounded distant and miles away, it was gentle and full of understanding. Peter shook his head, shaking the visions away with it.

“Grab your phone and wallet, kid, I’ve made you an appointment.” Tony swept up his sunglasses - this time tinted orange with a silver frame - off of the coffee table and tucked his phone into the inside of his jacket pocket.

“An-an appointment? For what?” Peter was taken by surprise, fully expecting - and hoping - to vegetate on the couch that day. The TV turned his mind off, the white noise drowning out the visions that replayed in his mind over and over again.

Placing a comforting hand between Peter’s shoulders once Peter had returned from a quick phone and wallet retrieval mission, Tony guided him towards the elevator. Pressing the ‘down’ button, he turned towards Peter. “Taking you to a psych. I don’t know how to-” Tony gestured vaguely, lost for the right words he wanted to say. He sighed, and started again. “I didn’t exactly deal with my stuff the right way. Didn’t think I ever needed a shrink, but let me tell you, one conversation with Bruce and it changed my mind completely.”

“Isn’t he not that type of doctor?”

“Don’t interrupt, I’m trying to have a heartfelt father-son moment with you here and break the whole cycle of shame about…” Tony trailed off again, seething internally at his inability to string a semi-coherent sentence together. “My dad didn’t really believe in that kind of stuff,” Tony continued, eyes darting to the elevator display and then returning back to Peter. “Anyways, you’ve been having nightmares. You can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because you can’t sleep, and,” Tony winced, “I don’t think the whole counselling shtick is my forte.”

As the elevator doors chimed open, Peter stepped forward and promptly wrapped his arms around Tony in a heartfelt hug. Clenching his eyes shut against tears that threatened to overflow, he murmured, “thanks, Mr Stark” into the fabric of Tony’s jacket.

[sweet-void-princess]

The Prince Family

Forsythe Prince : FP

The Protector, Police Officer, 45, Cousin

Madeline Prince

The Matriarch, Mama Bear who will protect her cubs with her LIFE, Teacher, 40, Eldest Sister

Portia Prince

The Queen, Fashion Designer, 36, Second Eldest

Monica Prince

The Partier, Med Student, 32, Third Eldest, Adopted but family nonetheless

Ashlyn Prince

The Lover, Waitress, 29, Middle Child

Regina Prince

The Fighter, Student Mechanic, 17, Second Youngest, World's Okayest Sister

Roman Prince

The Baby Prince, High Schooler, 16, Youngest

[tv-sinner-archived]

4, 25, & 26 for leverett?

4. Race and Ethnicity

Leverrett is biracial (black/white)! She’s American (though her mother is Black Creole while her father is German American).

26. Guilty Pleasure

One of the biggest guilty pleasures that Leverrett has (aside from watching really bad horror movies be herself) is that she (back when she was still on Earth) used to eat at the stash of candy meant for trick-or-treaters during Halloween once she was seen as “too old” for trick-or-treating.

27. What’s their family like? Who’s in it? What’s their relationship with them?

While in the main story aside from Mark, Leverrett is pretty much completely separated from her family from beginning to end (save for some flashbacks scenes), I will go over her childhood relationships with the family she had!

So first, we have Mark Chaplin. He is Leverrett’s brother who is four years older than she is. Growing up, Mark and Leverrett, though not entirely antagonistic to each other, they were somewhat argumentative and they would even occasionally have small prank wars with each other. Mark was always kind of the air headed jock who excelled in sports but was not so great in academics. Meanwhile, Leverrett was more of a troublemaking but cunning introvert who was much more interested in horror movies and making movie props. At the time, Mark was not aware that Leverrett was a trans girl (plus he was an ignorant teenage boy who still thought he was heterosexual in the 1970s) so he did occasionally make fun of Leverrett for being ‘gay’, ‘a sissy’, etc... While Mark didn’t quite realize that Leverrett was in fact, not cishet, this made Leverrett feel conflicted towards her brother. At the time, she felt like she needed to hide her identity from Mark (which considering her environment, it was for the best).

Of course this changes when 18 year old Leverrett went missing gets spirited away to another dimension and this immediately broke Mark’s heart. Mark sort of had a Come to Jesus moment where he realized what he had done in the past and felt guilty about how he treated Leverrett, feeling like he was partially responsible for her disappearance. Leverrett is unaware of these feelings and she assumes Mark wouldn’t have cared about her that much.... Though this would eventually change when she sees a familiar face in Hell..

Next we have Leverrett’s mother, Marie Chaplin. While Marie was the world’s okayest mom who did try her best with trying to raise her children, she was battling chronic depression during her time as a mother (and wasn’t diagnosed with it until after Leverrett’s disappearance). For a while, she was alcoholic as she was using drinking as a self destructive coping mechanism and she often felt the need to hide her depression from her family in order to function. She often tried to avoid the problem altogether, trying to avoid acknowledging her shortcomings despite trying desperately to show affection towards her kids. Leverrett’s relationship with her soured as she felt distant from her mother, having feeling little connection with her. When Leverrett disappeared, her loss dealt a heavy emotional blow to her, her believing the Leverrett hated her and ended up running away.

In GD Verse, she is seen years later, now going to therapy for coping with the loss of her child and the treatment of depression and alcoholism. At this time, she has since learned how to cope with her problems in a healthier way and has mended her relationship with her son. Still, she misses Leverrett and hopes to reconcile with her one day. Meanwhile, Leverrett has mixed feelings towards her mom. While she now understands why her mother turned to alcoholism and became distant, she still feels hurt by the years raised by her. If she were to ever see her again, Leverrett wouldn’t completely be against talking to her mother at least once... though she is anxious about how she would react to her being trans.

Then there’s her father, Richard Chaplin. Out of the family Leverrett has interacted with, he was the worst. Richard was a born-again Christian, an evangelist who was the most toxic influence in Leverrett’s life. A man who worked in the Christian music industry and distributed Chick Tracts for a living, he was the paranoid sort of person, believing Satanism was always lurking in the shadows and latched on to ant-LGBT rhetoric. While to outsiders, he seemed mild mannered and even friendly, behind closed doors, he often used his religious beliefs to minimize or rationalize abusive behaviors, especially towards his children. He often shamed his both of kids (often for things such as daring to listen to anything that was remotely not religious), criticized them, and generally used emotional/verbal abuse tactics to get his way. He was the harshest towards Leverrett, especially once he learned of her fascination with horror and music that wasn’t remotely Christian. This lead to Leverrett growing rebellious as a teenager, always feeling animosity towards her father. As a result, she ended up learning how to be deceptive in order to avoid confrontations with her father.

After her disappearance, her father would end up divorcing his wife due to their failing marriage. Leverrett is glad that she hasn’t seen her dad in years and would prefer to keep it that way.

Last (relevant) family member I’ll talk about is Leverrett’s maternal grandmother, June! Out of the family she knew, June was the most positive influence in Leverrett’s life. Whenever Leverrett visited her Grandma during the summer in New Orleans, the time spent together was among the better family times in Leverrett’s life. Often spending time with her exploring the city, going out to restaurants, telling ghost stories, watching tv/movies, and simply relaxing at her home, Leverrett had always had a special connection with her grandmother from literally day one as June made a knitted a black rabbit plushie with a red bow for the newborn Leverrett as a gift. Leverrett often talked freely with June, as she was a blunt but understanding lady who was honest and tolerant as a person.

June was a children’s author who often wrote and illustrated books. As such she was planning to write a book dedicated to Leverret, knowing she would appreciate the gesture. However, this was not to be as she passed away from a heart attack when Leverrett was only 11 years old. Despite not finishing it, she left the outline for Leverrett upon her death. At the time, Leverrett still went by her deadname. However, once she came to the realization that she was trans at 13, she ended up adopting the name “Leverrett” for herself after a character in the unfinished book as a way to honor her grandma.

[onelettereffect-blog]

Can you help a fellow INFJ to stop overthinking? I don't want this habit to ruin me and others

INFJ: Hi there! Okay, so I think it has come my time to shine :’)

An active mind is something great, but an overactive mind (as I am sure you know) is a pain in the ass. And if there is something worse than being with a high-strung person, is being the high-strung person. To start, understand that overthinking is not helping. If you are asking this, you probably have this step won (nice). The thing is that everytime you start wondering obssesively how something will turn out, you are not dealing with it in advance. What you are doing is killing your efficiency. You are not dealing with the things that are coming in your present with a 100% focus. It’s important that you learn: You got this. Really. You have the ability to handle the things that pop up. Don’t think about them more than you should. Just keep doing what you need to do each day.

You see, I used to overthink to a point where it ruined me. My health was terrible and my coping mechanisms to stop overthinking were making things worst fast. Right now I am not the most okayest person in the world, but I am a lot better. And you know, life is not hell, and that is always a plus. These tips I am gonna give you worked very well for me. Remember it might take a while to change the way your brain works. Be patient with yourself and keep trying.

The first thing I am gonna advise is taking a walk. I would choose 30 mins, but I know life is busy, so adapt as you will. Everyday you are gonna take a walk. I take it in the morning because it’s when I have a cleared mind and I can deal better with irrational thoughts. Don’t bring music or things that might distract you if you can. During that minutes, just lwt yourself think. All the thoughts that come, came the day before and probably will come. Deal with those slowly. Find which one was the first thought that got you obssesed.

For the rest of the day, any time you get an impractical thought, you are gonna save it for later, for when you take your walk. See, there is this little thing where if you wanna rest a tired body you rest, but if you wanna rest a tired mind you activate physically. A tired mind is harder to control and you wanna be able to have your thoughts under your will.

So you may say, “well, and how do I stop the thoughts??”.

When I get a thought (usually a bad one) that I can’t stop thinking about, I do one of the following (sometimes a few more than one):

- Visualize the thought as a spiral. And in your head, cut that spiral. Don’t let it continue.

- Close to this one, I order my brain to stop. I tend to interrupt my thought with a very clear “Stop. Now is not the time to think about this”

- Change what you are doing. Focusing your attention in something else (even if it is getting a glass of water) can help make your brain change its chip.

- Whenever you get a thought, try to come up to a counter-thought and to something cool you will do that day.

[ao3feed-victuuri]

Projectile Motion

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2rjxafH

by RC_McLachlan

If someone put a gun to his head and made him list everything he knows about Yuuri Katsuki, it’d look like this:

1. Annoying 2. Smiles at babies for no reason 3. ?? 4. World’s Okayest Skater

Words: 1143, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Yuri Plisetsky, background Yuuri Katsuki/Victor Nikiforov

Additional Tags: Friendship, Homework, Yuuri's unexpected knowledge of mechanics (the math kind), Yuri's completely expected desire to set fire to things

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2rjxafH

[customcheaptshirts-blog]

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Fun Women T-Shirts – Crazy Dog T-Shirts Womens World’s Okayest Sister T Shirt Funny Sarcastic Siblings Tee for Ladies (Grey) – M was originally published on custom cheap t-shirts

[rcmclachlan]

He goes through three random duffel bags before he finds what he’s looking for. Just as he’s about to make his move, Katsudon decides it’s the perfect moment to take a break from practicing the fastest step sequence anyone’s probably ever attempted and come off the ice to hang out for a bit before I meet Victor for lunch, it’s been a while since it was just us. And of course he immediately zeroes in on the lighter in Yuri’s hand, because there is a helicopter parent trapped inside Katsudon’s chubby ass that finds every opportunity to come out and make Yuri’s life a waking nightmare. 

“Yurio,” Katsudon gasps, positively breathless with disappointment. He looks like he’s two seconds away from crying, turning himself over to the police for gross negligence, or both. “Have you started smoking?”

“Yes, because lung cancer will definitely help me win gold at Worlds; you know those judges love a good sob story. No, you idiot, I’m doing math homework.”

“… So why do you need a lighter?”

Sometimes he forgets that he’s surrounded by absolute fuckwits. “To set said homework on fire,” Yuri says very slowly, waving the worksheets he’s got clenched in his other hand. “Out of my way, pig. I’ve gotta get to the bathroom with the broken smoke detector before Yakov comes back.”

Yuri’s almost certain he didn’t mean to reveal his evil plan, but Katsudon has this weird ability to make people tell the truth whether they want to or not. He seems completely unaware of the power he wields and Yuri’s doing his civic duty by keeping it that way; if Katsudon realizes what he can do with his stupid, guileless face, no one will be safe. 

True to form, helicopter parent rears his ugly head and grabs Yuri’s shoulder before he can push past. 

“Yurio, your education is imp—”

“Ugh, spare me.” He tries to jerk away, but no dice. How is this idiot so strong? Does Victor know that his fiancé is apparently the Hulk? Oh god, he regrets even thinking it. He really and truly doesn’t want to know what Victor knows. “Look, it’s only because my tutor is a fucking moron who doesn’t explain anything and expects me to just know this shit, and then he gets huffy when I fail the tests because it’s all useless! When am I ever going to need to know this? Is the guy at McDonald’s going to make me calculate how gravity affects my burger when he drops it on the floor? I’m a figure skater.”

Katsudon opens his mouth, no doubt to appeal to some mystical better nature that he seems to think Yuri possesses, then stops. “Wait, mechanics? Like, projectile motion?”

If someone put a gun to his head and made him list everything he knows about Yuuri Katsuki, it’d look like this:

1. Annoying 2. Smiles at babies for no reason 3. ?? 4. World’s Okayest Skater

It’s never once occurred to him that Katsudon might have a life outside the confines of a rink and Victor. That he might… like things. Or even know things. Things like the exact subject his slave-driver of a tutor is forcing him to learn.

“You actually know about this crap?” Yuri shoves this week’s assignments into Katsudon’s face, and it takes a second of righting his glasses before Katsudon can get a good look at them.

“’A body is projected with a velocity of…’” Katsudon mumbles the first equation aloud, scans the rest of the page, and then gives Yuri an incredulous look over the rims of his glasses. “You don’t get this? Really?”

It takes all his willpower and dredging his near-dry reserves of decency to stop his fist from flying. “I don’t care how much Victor will cry: I will break your nose.”

Katsudon laughs merrily, like he doesn’t believe him for a second, the bastard. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant—Yurio, read the equation again.”

Growling, he swipes the page out from Katsudon’s fat fingers. He reads it. Then again. Then he throws the entire page as hard as he can—it flutters to the floor less than a foot away. He’s going to burn this entire building to the ground.

“What the hell am I supposed to—”

“It’s skating,” Katsudon says, positively beaming. “It’s asking you to calculate parabolic trajectory—a jump, basically. Time of flight is how long you stay in the air, range is the path you take from the starting point on the ice to where you land on it, and maximum height is… exactly what it sounds like. This is the kind of thing judges use to calculate jump scores.”

To demonstrate, his hand curves and slices through the air, falling like a missile. Or a skater coming out of a quad.

Fuck.

With a knowing smile that makes his face a hundred times more punchable, Katsuki hands him back the rest of his assignments. “Let me know if you need help calculating anything. Phichit and I studied together when we could—I could have him text me our old notes. Or we could go out onto the ice and talk about friction for a while.”

Yuri glances down at the crumbled page on the floor, then the bunched papers in his hand. “… Don’t you have to meet your stupid fiancé?”

“Missing one lunch won’t kill either of us,” Katsuki says with a shrug. 

“Have you met either of you? If you make it past noon without getting the shakes, I’ll be supremely fucking surprised.”

Rolling his eyes, Katsuki starts herding him toward the ice. “I had trouble with mechanics when I first started learning it too, but it’s easier when you couch it in something you know. We could start with initial velocity. That’s—”

“—like me getting speed for a jump.” Despite his best efforts, he feels his cheeks betray him and pull his mouth into a grin. There’s no better feeling than finally understanding something. “Yeah, I get that, but what if you don’t know how you first get into the air?”

“Okay, so if the launch angle isn’t given…”

By the time noon rolls around, they’ve worked through a good chunk of his homework, fielded no less than eleven calls from Victor, and (unbeknownst to Katsuki) updated Yuri’s list.

1. Less annoying than previously thought 2. Knows the locations of all Mila’s secret chocolate stashes (how???) 3. Can plot jump trajectories for better scores wtf why did no one tell me this was a thing what the hell else are they keeping from me 4. World’s Goodest Skater

[ao3feed-yurionice]

Projectile Motion

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2rjxafH

by RC_McLachlan

If someone put a gun to his head and made him list everything he knows about Yuuri Katsuki, it’d look like this:

1. Annoying 2. Smiles at babies for no reason 3. ?? 4. World’s Okayest Skater

Words: 1143, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Yuri Plisetsky, background Yuuri Katsuki/Victor Nikiforov

Additional Tags: Friendship, Homework, Yuuri's unexpected knowledge of mechanics (the math kind), Yuri's completely expected desire to set fire to things

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2rjxafH

[megamachines]

JOHN DEERE 7520 4wd Tractor (Pure SOUND) Farming [The Best Compilation]

JOHN DEERE 7520 4wd Tractor (Pure SOUND) Farming [The Best Compilation] Production: Manufacturer: John Deere Factory: Waterloo, Iowa, USA Total built: 4,661 John Deere 7520 engine: John Deere 8.7L 6-cyl diesel Full details of the engine ... Capacity: Fuel: 110 gal [416.4 L] Hydraulic system: 19 gal [71.9 L] Dimensions and tires: Wheelbase: 120 inches [304 cm] Weight: 22,320 lbs [10124 kg] Front tire: 18.4-34 Rear tire: 18.4-34 Complete dimensions and tires ... 7520 serial numbers: Location: Serial number on the back of the tractor, above the power take-off. photo of the serial number 7520 1972: 1000 1973: 1615 1974: 3054 1975: 4999 End: 5705 How to read serial numbers ... John Deere 7520 Power: Draft bar (claimed): 160 hp [119.3 kW] PTO (claimed): 175 HP [130.5 kW] Drawbar (tested): 160.46 HP [119.7 kW] PTO (tested): 175.82 HP [131.1 kW] details of the power test ... Mechanic: Chassis: articulated 4x4 4WD Government: hydrostatic power Brakes: integral hydraulic damp disc Taxi: Standard of the cabin. Hydraulics: Type: closed center Capacity: 19 gal [71.9 L] Pump flow: 21 gpm [79.5 lpm] I THANK THE CREATORS You can visit the channels mentioned in the description, Many thanks to all of them are part of this video! tractorhouse https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCceM... CAR VIDEOS https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCSKw... Oh Deere! https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCC8i... Agrifoto https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5ez... nick pettipas https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC7IT... mossman381 https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpZh... Worlds Okayest Farmer https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpw-... WestSideTractorBP https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC-G4... Kabin Henke https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCyAG... INTRO: https://www.fiverr.com/enamalamin Subscribe you will help me grow : https://goo.gl/N1zWUT FOLLOW ME IN MY SOCIAL NETWORKS Instagram: https://goo.gl/GJEkvD Pinterest: https://goo.gl/aTPhMv Reddit: https://goo.gl/TZy5D5 Twitter: https://goo.gl/aWUiPm Fan Page: https://goo.gl/bk4RAS FGroup: https://goo.gl/b6QSaz Google+: https://goo.gl/yWAJK5 #Deere7520 #JohnDeere #JohnDeere7520

[the-origin-story]

Origin Story Character Text Posts +Cyra, Jean and Kira and The Squad

Kira: Someone: *tries to guilt trip me* Me: the jokes on you!! i feel guilty 97% of the time for Everything I Do!, if i didn't have have depression no one could fucking stop me. i only have depression because otherwise im too powerful., please don't flirt with people i secretly like it's rude and disrespectful, i have three moods: fuck off, fuck you, fuck me., im cute and small and ready to brawl, "talk about" hahah, no no, i prefer to internalize all my problems so they eat away at me from inside until im unable to function in any way, no offense @life but can a have a breather...a break...some slack..., yea boys are cute but they disgust me and constantly disappoint me, she's beauty, she's grace, she'll punch you in the face, 5'2 but my attitude 6'2, "If I don't have calves of steel or abs of iron by the end of this trip, I'm going to feel so cheated.", "No offense, but I just can't process the fact that someone might actually care about me.", night time would be so beautiful and fun if all men had a curfew. me?? using sarcasm as a defense mechanism???????? what?????, When a girl says she has experimented with girls, that does not necessarily mean she's bi. She may just be an evil scientist., the bible said adam AND eve so i slept with them both, list of people i'm going to fight: everyone. put your fists up i'm coming for you, stale cinnamon roll, been in this world too long, too cynical

Jean: i don't have a nervous system. i am a nervous system., pick your battles. pick...fewer battles than that. put some battles back. that's too many., Wakey wakey eggs and social anxiety, enough about sex positions has anyone discovered a reading position which doesn't get uncomfortable after 5 minutes, i'm actually pretty cool just me like 5 tries to get it right, i love freckles theyre skin stars, never underestimate my ability to find shit out, "I don't feel that sore right now, but ask me again tomorrow and I'm sure I'll have a more colorful answer for you.", my life is constantly an inner monologue of "why do i do this to myself", 90% of my day is me being nervous., every friend group has the mom friend, if you don't who it is you're it.

Cypress: biology more like BYEology because I'm out, Highest form of art: girls, i don't want to look "pretty" i want to look otherworldly and vaguely threatening, things that make every video game better: give me nice outfits to wear, let me be gay, give me a pet, yoU THINK YOU'RE REAL CUTE, DON'T YOU???? REAL FUCKING CUTE RIGHT???? i think so to, "Your aim's a little off - now look at that. You just smushed the ant. Now it can't crawl anymore.", appreciation post for broccoli, thanks for being so tasty you tiny trees, there are people out there that are the embodiment of the sun like the things they say and do light up the world and make you feel warm they are human sunshine, I slept for 8 hours straight and then 2 hours gay, fuck dating girls who are "naturally pretty". date girls who are supernaturally pretty. date a hot ass ghost. date a fucking alien., Current mood: wanting to have a hooded cloak and to be in misty forest., You Want To See Some Goddamn Optimism?, "guys prefer-" that's nice i don't care, how to look cute but like you could kill someone

Liam: ive been annoyed ever since i was born, members of my squad: me, I may seem like an asshole but deep down im a good person and even deeper down im a bigger asshole, I came out to attack people and I'm honestly having such a good time right now, me, introducing myself: it is i, your local asshole, my kink is when everyone shuts the fuck up, *at a job interview* Oh yes, my criminal record? The only illegal thing I've done in absolutely KILLIN it on the dancefloor. Haha, just kidding! I have killed a man., The worst part about kissing a perfect ten is the cold feeling your lips get from touching the mirror., i don't want a friend w/ benefits i just want the benefits keep your friendship away from me, Ur what we call in the scientific community a "lil bitch", have u ever met the human version of a headache, *barges out of coffin at funeral yelling sike*, i'm permanently emotionally damaged, but its chill, I'm chill, no addressing our problems we downward spiral like men, I'm wasting my youth and beauty being a mysterious eccentric loner and I wouldn't have it any other way, im alive out of spite

Beckett: world's okayest friend, Do you ever look at someone and you're like how, "What are you twelve" Yeah on a scale of one to ten bye, having 3 friends is a lot of work, "Yeah I'm going chug four servings of this entire energy drink so I can crash later and actually get some sleep.", when you see a person smile and it's like...holy shit...what is this magic...please do that again, Stop taking advantage of people with good hearts & who are emotionally vulnerable, "you're so sweet!" thank you i have abandonment issues, IF YOU'RE THE KIND OF GUY WHO KISSES A GIRL ON THE TOP OF THE HEAD WHEN HUG THEM THEN YOU ARE DOING IT RIGHT MY FRIEND, beautiful cinnamon roll too good for this world, too pure, why is everyone so mean. How aren't you tired

Cyra: When a grumbly grump who hates everyone and sees the world as dark and cold and unforgiving loves a sunshiney optimist. When a sunshiney optimist who sees the best in everyone thinks the grumbly grump is the best thing out of the whole beautiful world., do you like sleeping because so do i we should do it together sometime, love yourself so we can have something in common, how many eye contact until date, beING SUPER IN LOVE WITH YOUR FRIENDS BUT IN A FRIEND WAY but also a little bit in a gay way but also in a friEND WAY, anyone have that friend that you REALLY wanna fuck but you're never gonna say anything about it, listen i didn't come here to ship it lightly ok i came here for it to consume my soul, you could take me on a date anywhere and i'd be happy. like it could be the movie theater, or watching a movie at your house. fuck you could take me outside and we could look at clouds and climb trees i do not care as long as we hold hands or something at some point., my mom thought otp meant "oh, the pain." what's the difference., My way of flirting is looking at the person I'm attracted to and hoping they're braver than I am., i;m feeling...what's the word...........gay, I AM GOING TO PUNCH YOU IN THE MOUTH WITH MY OWN MOUTH Softly Because I like you

Jean and Kira: i would follow you to the ends of the earth with only mild complaining, does anybody else have that friend that your pretty sure is your soulmate but in a friend way, friend(jean): fuck off stop punching me me(kira): it's called platonic bdsm, when ur best friend says something weird and ur just like...I love you but what have I gotten myself into with this friendship, do you ever look at your best friend and just "who the hell blessed me with this dork, i am the luckiest loser in the galaxy."

The Squad: "what are the chances of EVERYONE in a friend group being queer" do you realize that we all tend to flock together like penguins huddling for warmth in a cold heteronormative, world right

[poetrybooksya]

#BOOKBLITZ: MEET the World's Okayest Dad in GOT MINE by @NicoleLoufas | @xpressotours

Got Mine Nicole Loufas Publication date: July 25th 2017 Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance

When his girlfriend joins the army; Theodore Sway is left to raise their daughter on his own. His shitty job barely covers the ever-rising cost of his San Francisco neighborhood. When Lulu is accepted at a hipster private school, Theo is forced to find a better job. He does what any good parent would – he becomes a stripper. Theo sacrifices his ego, his morals, and his body hair so his daughter can have the kind of childhood he’s always dreamt about. With the encouragement of his not-so-helpful club brothers and Sylvie, his ex-stripper BFF, Sway struggles to maintain balance between his sexy stage persona and his role as the world’s okayest dad.

Goodreads / Amazon

Author Bio: Nicole was born and raised in California. She claims to be a San Francisco native, however she's lived in both Northern and Southern California. She credits her creativity to the fact that she attended 12 schools between kindergarten and her senior year in high school. Her nomadic childhood allowed her to reinvent herself often. Some might say she was a liar. While others see the stories she told as a coping mechanism. Twelve schools, in six cities, in twelve years - give her a break. Today she channels her storytelling ability into writing novels. Long story short - kids that lie become writers.

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