#amateur mistake. do better next time.

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Just for a second - Lando x fem reader

Summary: Y/N "dated" Lando for a while but life happens and sometimes it isn't a fairy tale.

Warnings: Fluff and a sad ending.

Word Count: 17K

Notes: Please, no second part requests. This is me trying to deal with personal stuff I don't know how to work out, and writing helps me get it out. I wrote it in a rush so excuse the mistakes.

___________________________________________________________

An Instagram DM request called your attention, when clicking on the notification his name froze you. You doubted about opening it.

After panicking for a couple of minutes you finally did.

LvNg4Lf Hey, I will be in Italy next week. Can I take you out for some dinner?

Your heart rushed a million miles an hour.

You had kept yourself busy for the last year to keep him out of your mind, but the moment his stupid face and name appeared on your phone it all came back.

"Y/n? Are you ok?" Ana, your best friend and roommate asked softly as if not to scare you.

"Sorry, yes" you answered matching her tone

"Are you sure? You're biting your nails again"

You removed your hand from your mouth.

"He messaged me"

"Who?" You just stared at her. "Oh hell no, what does he want?"

"He will be here next week, he wants to buy me dinner"

"Why?"

"Don't know"

"What did you say?"

"I haven't answered"

"Are you going?"

"I don't know"

"How do you feel?"

"I don't know, I thought a year would be enough to get over it, but I guess not" you said signaling your bitten nails.

"I don't know what to tell you"

"It's ok, I don't know what I need to hear"

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Hell, no, it's your anniversary dinner. You go, I will be fine"

"Are you sure, I can tell-"

"Go" You pushed her off the couch "Say hi to Leo from me. Have fun"

"Ok, but message me if you need anything"

"I won't and you know it, go!" You pushed her out the door and sat back on the couch, your phone on the coffee table. How could something so insignificant as a message have you losing your mind?

You and Lando had met in the UK at a Quadrant shooting, your boss was in charge of the art department for the shooting but that weekend he had caught a bad cold, and after the pandemic, anything close to the mild flu meant someone else had to take the job and that's how you found yourself in a meeting room with Lando, Max and the rest of the creative team.

It was an instant click, he was funny, and smart, and much to your surprise he had a good eye for colors, textures, and lighting, he was clearly an amateur but better than a few of your "professional" coworkers.

The shooting was long but so entertaining and with such an amazing vibe between you and Lando, when he offered to drive you to your hotel you didn't hesitate and said yes.

It was all super friendly, both of you talking about everything and nothing at the same time, you sat in his car talking well past 5 am.

The next morning you got an Instagram follow request from a weird account and a DM request.

LvNg4Lf Hi, it's Lando, last night was so much fun, it was amazing working with you. I would love to invite you to lunch and talk about future projects. This is my personal account, please don't share it.

The next day the group chat was exploding with messages asking you for details about your hot night with the F1 driver, but there was nothing to tell, it had been all innocent.

The dates started as innocent work meetings but slowly the topics drifted from work to more personal stuff, then the Instagram DMs became more and more frequent, and before you realized you started seeing each other for movie nights and dinner dates. The first kiss happened one night after dinner, he was dropping you off at your flat. He had been weird all night as if something was bothering him, you were worried something was wrong.

"Thanks so much for dinner" You said as he helped you out of his car. "Please let me know when-" He pulled you hard against him placing his hand on your cheek.

"Don't hate me, please" He whispered, and joined your lips shyly.

You kissed him back, it was as natural as all those dates. His soft lips against yours felt amazing.

"I'm sorry" he said out of breath as his forehead rested against yours.

"Don't" You gave a quick peck to his lips.

Just a kiss was shared that night, even when your body was asking for more, and judging by the bulge pressing against your hip, he was craving more too, but neither of you wanted to rush it.

It was just a situationship but it was intense. You kept it down on the low, only your roommate and best friend, and his best friend knew about it. You could see how everyone treated the other "WAGS" and your mental stability wasn't ready for that kind of pressure, especially when you didn't even know what was happening.

He was flying straight back to London after every race, staying over at your house or you going to his, spending as much time together as you could. Movie nights and romantic dinners in either of your places were the usual, but you didn't care about not being outside. His arms around your body, him kissing your forehead, neck, and lips, was better than any date outside, you couldn't keep your hands off each other and didn't want to risk being caught in public.

You were falling, and falling hard. Once you even flew to surprise him at a doubleheader, spending one amazing week with him, living the full F1 experience.

His personal brand had reached a high peak and his management advised him to move to Monaco, it was a good economic decision. He was so excited when he told you about it as he showed you the apartment he had just leased, but all you could think about was what about the "relationship"?

It was the post-sex rush that made him ask you to move with him to Monaco, but it wasn't that easy. You loved your job, and you had worked so hard to get to the position you had now, leaving the country for a situationship wasn't the smartest idea, especially when he wasn't sure about going public or even formalizing. Another suggestion from his team. His Playboy era had proved to be a great marketing strategy, his merch sales had increased the moment he broke up with his last girlfriend, so getting into a relationship was strongly discouraged.

You spoke about it once, but in the end, moving with him or him staying in London was out of the question.

You avoided the topic for the last couple of weeks you were together. He spent his last night in the UK at your place, since his place had been emptied. It was as lovely as every night you had been together, but you couldn't shake away the bitter taste of him leaving and not knowing what would come next,

"We will find a way to make this work, ok?" He whispered against your lips as you said your goodbyes.

"Promise?"

"Yes" he kissed you deeply, biting your lip one last time.

He got in his car and drove off.

You kept in touch, facetime was your best friend for a few weeks, but slowly the communication started to lessen. He had a lot of work with Quadrant and the races, and you received an offer to lead the company's office in Italy which kept you crazy busy.

You moved to Italy a couple months after he had left for Monaco. Thank God, your best friend found a way to move with you thanks to her remote work, keeping you company whenever you needed to vent about your situationship. Around that time you were messaging just a couple times every couple of weeks.

Slowly whatever you had faded away, and even when you still had feelings for him, you did your best to keep yourself busy trying to bury whatever you felt under tons of work and meaningless dates.

But now, his message pulled all those feelings back up, and they were as strong as they were a year ago.

Y/USERNAME Y/workadress, on Friday I'm off at 5

LvNg4Lf Great, see you on Friday

Thank God, Ana spent the rest of the week at her boyfriend's, when she texted you asking about Lando you just replied "I'm not sure yet", she had such a strong mom vibe she would've rushed home just to talk to you about it, ruining Leo's anniversary plans.

"Y/n, somebody's waiting for you in the lobby" one of your workmates said as she entered the meeting room, a cheeky grin on her face.

"Thanks, Lis" You gattered your things nervously.

"Who's the cutie?"

"An old friend" you said escaping her interrogation, you were anxious enough to also worry about the office gossiping about your relationships.

The moment the elevator doors opened you recognized him, his back was facing your way, but the curls were unforgettable, and his arms those damn arms.

"Hey" you softly said standing behind him.

"Hi" A big smile on his face as he took you in his arms.

You hugged him back, it was as if no time had passed. He was bigger, stronger, and his back was broader, but still, your body fitted inside his embrace like a glove, and his scent, you had missed it so much.

He took your bag and jacket as he walked you to his car. Inside he handed you his phone.

"What?" You asked confused, he was usually the designated DJ.

"Your address"

"Why?"

"You need to pack for the weekend"

"What? I thought we were just having dinner"

"Do you trust me?" he stared at you making your heart rush.

"Calm down, Aladdin"

His particular laugh melted your heart, you hadn't realized how much you missed that sound.

You typed your address and started the route.

You shared small talk, he asked you about your day at work and you asked about his trip there.

"Go, I will wait here, I need to make a couple calls" He opened the door and offered his hand to help you out.

"What should I pack for?"

"Whatever you might need for a weekend, if anything is missing we can buy it, now go" He kissed your forehead and took out his phone as you rushed up to your apartment.

You took a quick shower, shaved, and trimmed where it was needed, not that you were expecting anything to happen, as far as you knew this was all friendly, but you didn't want to get caught offward.

"Holly shit, you're not going to believe who I saw-" Ana barged into your room as you were searching for a dress in your closet.

"-what are you doing?" She asked approaching the suitcase on your bed. You just turned and gave a nervous smile. "He invited you to have dinner, and you weren't even sure you were going, now you're packing?"

"Well..."

"Why are you packing? Are you escaping, want to jump in my car's trunk?"

"I'm not escaping, I'm not sure, he just told me to pack for the weekend"

"What if he's kidnapping you to take you to Monaco, should I call the police?"

"I'm not going to Monaco!"

"Not yet" A hint of sadness in her voice.

"I'm not, I swear, we're just doing something that I'm not sure what it is, but I'm not moving anywhere."

"Well, I guess the only thing we're sure about is that sex is part of the plan" She said pulling out the Victoria's Secret set you had packed.

"You never know" you answered with a cheeky smile.

You finished packing and rushed to the door.

"Please take care, be careful, and call me if you need anything, I will send the Italian troops your way immediately"

"Thanks, I will keep you posted" You hugged her and rushed downstairs, Lando placed your bag on the back of his truck and started driving without a map.

"Are you telling me where are we going?" You interrupted the conversation.

"Nope" A proud grin on his face.

"Are we going to Monaco?" You asked shyly.

"Do you want to go to Monaco?" He turned to look at you, some seriousness on his face.

"I'm just asking" You turned your blushing cheeks towards the passenger window.

You kept a casual conversation, the nerves were fading away but then he placed his hand on your thigh, and your breath hitched, it was a normal gesture when you were together, but now it felt like your leg was on fire.

A little over two hours later you were driving on a dirt road toward a lit-up old-style chalet.

He took both your bags, placed the code on the pad at the door and a beautiful living room appeared. It was one of those fairytale-like chalets.

"Follow me" He walked up some stairs to the only room in the house.

"One room?"

"I didn't think you would mind us sharing a bed. If you don't feel like it, I can sleep on the sofa" A hint of shame in his voice.

"No!" you said a little too loud. "I mean, I just... this is all just a surprise, that's it" You walked towards the bed and sat on it. He placed the bags next to the closet and walked towards you, he sneaked between your legs and you hugged him by the waist as his hands wrapped around your shoulders.

"Want to explore before it gets darker?" He kissed your hair.

"Sure" You followed him through the back door.

It was such a beautiful place, a jacuzzi was just outside the living room door, facing the Italian countryside. Not a single sign of other people for miles and miles.

He took your hand, intertwining your fingers as you walked through the dimly lit path. The conversation was about it all, your new job, the F1 season so far, just like old times.

Night fell and you walked back to the chalet, the full moon giving you enough light not to need the phone flashlight.

You prepared dinner and sat in the living room to watch a movie. After you finished eating you found yourself leaning against his chest, Aladdin playing on the flat screen as his fingers softly played with your hair, and yours traced the veins on his arm around your waist. A knot in your throat, you missed this so much.

As Aladdin was kissing Princess Jazmine after defeating Jafar his finger found your chin, turning it softly towards him. You stared deep into his eyes, your breath hitched when his tongue traced his lips. You moved your hand to cup his cheek and pulled him to join your lips. The kiss was soft, but filled with emotion.

His tongue entered your mouth as you turned your body to face him completely. His hands found your thighs guiding you to straddle him.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked breaking the kiss, as much as he was dying to be with you he wanted to make sure you were ok.

"Yes" you answered leaving a soft kiss on his nose.

That was all he needed to hear and in no time you were naked, his lips traveling to the places he missed the most. The moment he entered you it was as if you were two pieces from the same puzzle.

Magical, wasn't enough to describe the weekend. You had sex in every single surface of that chalet as if you were trying to make up for lost time. Even the sex in the jacuzzi was amazing, you had heard a ton of stories discouraging you from doing it in the water but it had been one of the best experiences in your life.

It was the early hours of Sunday, and you had to leave the chalet that afternoon. Your head on Lando's chest as his fingers traced figures on your back. A sudden feeling of sadness took over your body. A couple tears escaped your eyes.

"Y/n?" Lando took your face when he felt a warm tear on his chest and you sobbed silently.

"I'm ok" You said trying to sound normal.

"Come here" He sat up, his back against the headboard and he pulled you to straddle him, this time it wasn't sexual, he just needed you close. His face showed he was as unsure as you were, bringing more tears to your eyes.

"I know" he softly said as you laid your head on his chest and finally let the tears fall freely.

When the tears had eased you lifted your head back. Seeing your red eyes and nose broke his heart.

"You're thinking the same, right?" You lowly asked as you saw his eyes starting to water.

"Complicated?" his voice hoarsed from the tears he was holding back.

"Yes"

"You seem happy in Italy"

"You seem happy in Monaco"

He nodded and you leaned your head back on his chest as fresh tears fell from your eyes.

"Having you by my side would make me happier" he softly said as his fingers played with your hair.

"Same"

You knew that for now, this was impossible. As much as you loved being with him, you loved your work, your life in Italy was amazing and you couldn't ask him to do something you weren't willing to do yourself. Maybe you didn't love him as much as you thought, but why was this hurting so much? You could feel your heart breaking into a million pieces as his chest moved in a way that let you know he was crying too.

"I'm sorry" He whispered

"Don't, it was amazing, it's just...life"

"This fucking life"

"Ok" you took a deep breath and whipped your cheeks. "We still have a few hours, let's make the most of them"

He smiled, his eyes still shining from the tears, which made you sigh. "But first" He kissed your neck. "One more?" he pulled you down grinding your body against his growing bulge.

"Let's see if we can fit two" You smiled against his lips and hugged his neck.

After leaving the chalet you stopped by a small trattoria, eating slowly, enjoying every bite. Back on the road he was driving the speed limit, trying to spend the most time together.

He parked next to your car.

"I'll help you with it" He said as he stopped you from taking your bag.

"It's ok" You tried to reach for it.

"I insist" he took a step back.

"Lan, I can do it, please" You looked up at him, your eyes watery again.

"But..."

"Thanks for this, it was magical, but I think it's time" You tried to hold back the tears, he was doing the same. He didn't say a word but handed you your suitcase.

You hugged him hard. He breathed in your scent, trying to lock it in his memory and you did the same with his.

The garage door opening interrupted the moment.

He whipped your tears and you did the same with his.

He kissed your lips softly, you knew the three words he was holding back because you were holding them back too.

"Good luck next weekend"

"Thanks, good luck at work"

You said goodbye as if you were seeing each other soon just to make it less painful, but the truth was completely different.

He watched you walk towards the elevator. you saw a faint smile on his face as the door closed.

The moment your appartment door closed Ana rushed to you, hugging you hard when she saw the heavy tears falling from your eyes.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch,

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[tainsan]

misfits IV (college!ateez x reader)

pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

warnings: cursing, negligence, mentions of suicide, a fight between yeosang and yunho

word count: 8.5k

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{if you asked to be in the taglist and dont see your name, i am incredibly sorry but your account cannot be tagged.}

--- THIS IS AN 18+ STORY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ---

“You’re also adding the overall total to the mean, it doesn’t need to be there.” You explain to Jeongin, who immediately face plants into his palm.

“Are you serious?” He groans, understanding his amateur mistake. You recognise the frustration, relating to the problems, having them yourself in the past due to being very stressed and sleep deprived.

“Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us.”

Jeongin and you are sat side by side in the quiet solitude of the library, Jeongin finds himself engrossed in the assignment, his brow furrowed as he surveys over his mistake. The air is filled with a hushed diligence, the only sounds being the soft rustling of papers and the occasional scratch of pen against paper. The library offers a sanctuary for their focused work, providing a space free from distractions where they can dive deep into the realm of knowledge and learning. You are not too far from the spot where you tutored San and Jongho last week. Yet you decided to stay away from the particular spot, so you don’t get too distracted by the strong memories and thoughts of the two men.

“I feel like I could’ve sorted that out by myself, I’m sorry for wasting your time.” Jeongin looks extremely apologetic, and you can’t help but feel bad for him.

“It’s really okay, my morning was free anyways, and I’m always glad to help a friend.” You smile at him, his remorseful gaze melting away and being replaced by his signature eye smile.

“You better get going though, you’ve got an important date to attend to.” You wink at him, wiggling your eyebrows jokingly. Jeongin rolls his eyes before grabbing his things and bidding you a sweet goodbye. You reflect on Jeongin’s happiness, a wave of warmth and affection washes over your heart. Thoughts of your friend finding someone he truly likes, brings a genuine smile to your face. Silently hoping that this newfound relationship will last, the look on his features pure.

As the time passes by, you realise it’s time to find Jisung and attempt to explain your situation in a way that won’t freak him out too much. Grabbing your phone, you send him a text that you’re in the library, you await his presence by editing the finishing an assignment that needs to be uploaded by tomorrow.

“Girl, I haven’t heard from you in days where the fuck have you been?” Jisung’s voice speaks from behind you loudly, causing fellow library attendants to send him pointed glares. Jisung sends the look back, telling them to mind their business before bringing you into a warm hug. The two of you sit down next to each other, your assignment pushed to the side. Turning to your best friend, you give him the apologetic look you can muster.

“It’s been really crazy, I’m so sorry.” You reply, regretful for denying the events from the past few days from your best friend, knowing it would’ve been much more manageable with Jisung by your side.

“Right? Minho told me that Kim fucking Hongjoong came into your lecture and demanded you to see him?”

You grimace, remembering that day and how likely it was that the whole school is talking about you right now, “yeah that did happen?”

“Did he threaten you? Stab you? Poison you? You know he’s the leader of the group, right?”

“Yeah, a good leader too.”

“Is that seriously the only thing you got from that sentence?”

“Jisung I’m fine, he actually offered me a place to live…” your words are careful, trying to be quiet, knowing someone is probably listening to your conversation after hearing the words ‘Hongjoong’. Maybe even listening in since they saw you, knowing the attention you are receiving now is much more than usual.

“Okay what.” Jisung looks at you in disbelief, he eyes scanning yours to look for any sign of a joke, “she’s gone insane holy shit.”

“Jisung I’m not insane shut up. His mother is a real estate agent, and they pulled some strings.”

“Okay you’re telling me that the Ateez magically pulled strings for you.”

“I know it’s hard to believe but they really aren’t as bad as you think, only one of them is… questionable.”

Jisung gaze towards you softens, “I want to believe you, but I’ve seen it first-hand how rude they can be to people,”

“Maybe they are trying to change? Come on Ji, it’s me, you know damn well I’m a good judge of character.”

There is a long pause between the conversation, Jisung letting in the information you have provided him with. Jisung knows you are very good at reading people, due to past events you’ve had many situations where you don’t like a friend of his, even if they are the kindest person in the world to him. They always end up the way that you see them and warn Jisung of. At this point Jisung judges your gut feeling more than his own.

“I trust you. If you say they are nice then I will believe it. Just be careful around them, okay?”

You nod at Jisung, happy he understands. As you sit in quiet reflection, an intense sense of gratitude washes over you, directed towards your cherished best friend. With each passing thought, you are reminded of the countless moments you have shared, and the unwavering support Jisung has always offered you. He has been a pillar of strength and a constant source of comfort in your life, and you are overwhelmed with an immense feeling of thankfulness for the presence of Jisung in your life.

“So, what place did you get?” Jisung asks, curious as to where you ended up staying. You realise you never actually told him the full story. Preparing yourself for the worst, you try to find the right words to use.

“Do you promise to not freak out?” You question, your words again quiet, fearful of someone listening in to the conversation. Jisung raises an eyebrow in your direction, very intrigued as to why you would have to caution him not to freak out.

“After finding out Ateez are actually sweethearts, nothing can freak me out.”

“I’m living with them.” You deadpan, not finding any easy way to put it. Watching as Jisung’s eyes open hugely, his mouth takes in a large breath before opening. Before he can even get any words out, you cover his mouth with your hand, stopping his scream from echoing across, likely, the entire library.

“Please don’t freak out!” You exclaim, attempting to silence him as quickly as possible, hoping not to get kicked out of the library. Slowly removing your hand from his mouth, his shocked expression stays present on his face. If this were a scene from a movie, it would definitely make the two of you laugh.

“I’m not freaking out, you’re freaking out.” His voice is high pitched and out of breath, his ears not believing the absurd words exiting your mouth.

“Look I know, it’s insane, but it was my only option.”

Jisung slightly relaxes, yet his entire body is noticeably still tense and on edge.

“I’m saying this because I love you, but are you fucking stupid?” Rolling your eyes at him, you start to speak yet you get cut off, “you can’t live with eight guys.”

“That’s how it would’ve been if I moved in with you.” You retort.

“Yes, but Minho and I would be there to keep you safe if they tried anything. I don’t know your roommates; how do I trust them not to hurt you?”

“Jisung, I really appreciate that you care, but I trust them. They are too respectful to do anything. Plus, you know if they ever hurt me, I’d WWE the shit out of them.”

Jisung’s laugh is boisterous and echoes in the library, when he gets shushed by the people around him, he quickly puts his finger to his lips and shushes them back, again. Looking back at you, his eyes scan your face for any signs of discomfort. When he sees none, his body relaxes a little.

“You’d call me if anything happened, right?” Jisung questions, he moves his hand to rest on yours on top of the large oak table.

“Of course, Ji. It’s not like anyone else is on my emergency contact list.” You say joking through the bitterness evident on your voice.

“Speaking of, have you heard anything from your dad?” Jisung’s voice is soft, knowing how sensitive the subject can be for you.

“Not really, and I don’t particularly care. I did see on Facebook that he has found a new family to terrorise.”

Jisung’s eye roll is almost audible, he lets out an exasperated groan, “this guy never fails to surprise me with his bullshit.”

“You’d think he’d had enough after destroying one family.”

“Let’s not talk about it, he doesn’t deserve the attention.” A comfortable silence begins, and you feel yourself relax, Jisung continues talking when he realises, he didn’t ask a crucial question. “You do have your own room, right?”

“Yes of course. It’s a super nice room, and the bed is so big and comfortable. Plus, I have my own bathroom, so I don’t need to worry about walking in on them naked.” You reply, thinking about the amazing rest you had the previous night.

“That wouldn’t be too bad.” Jisung confesses, leaning back in his chair.

“What the fuck are you saying?” You hit Jisung’s arm, baffled by the nonsense coming out of his mouth, “weren’t you the one who was literally bashing on them earlier?”

“What? Just because I don’t especially like them, doesn’t mean they aren’t undeniably handsome and sexy as fuck.”

“Jisung shut up, you literally have a boyfriend.”

“I also have two perfectly functioning eyes, and if they are so respectful and kind maybe you should bag one,” Jisung looks over at you, a devious glint in his eyes, “or all.”

“Not a chance, Yunho fucking hates me for some reason.”

Jisung looks at you with a gobsmacked expression, “Yunho? Hate you? How can this guy hate you? You’re the sweetest person in the whole world.”

“I don’t know to be honest, Seonghwa said it was because he’s bad with new people, but I feel like there’s something more to the story.”

“Hang on we will unpack that another time. The Park Seonghwa?” Jisung questions, his eyes even wider than before. You start to wonder how wide his eyes can even go at this point.

“Yes?”

“He’s so fine holy shit. If you don’t bag him, I will.” Jisung relaxes back into his chair again.

“Again, you have a boyfriend.”

“Multiple boyfriends are a thing.” The short male jokes, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m joking. I love Minho to bits, you know that.”

Laughing at Jisung whilst rolling your eyes, he gently pushes your arm, clearly wanting more details.

“So, you’re telling me you have zero feelings for any of them?” Jisung inquires, leaning closer to you, resting his chin on his hand, a questioning look on his features.

“Why are you so interested in my love life Han?”

“I’m your best friend, your love life is very interesting to me.”

Just as you're about to respond, a vibrant flash of pink captures your attention from behind Jisung, causing you to momentarily lose focus. As the source of the pink draws nearer, you realize it's Mingi approaching your table. His piercing gaze sends a chill down your spine, and you can't help but notice the awe-struck gazes of onlookers as he effortlessly navigates past numerous tables. There's an undeniable air of confidence in his stride, similar to that of a model confidently strutting down a runway, leaving you in awe of his presence.

Caught off guard by your sudden distraction, Jisung turns around, following your gaze to the approaching figure. Sensing his confusion, you instinctively reach out, placing a comforting hand on your best friend's shoulder, offering him reassurance amidst the unexpected arrival of Mingi.

“Don’t worry, he’s one of the nicer ones.” You whisper in his ear, Jisung’s tense shoulders relaxing slightly.

“So, you weren’t lying about moving in, were you?” Jisung whispers back, his eyes not leaving Mingi’s tall structure.

The tall male reaches the table you are at, you are glad that his back is faced towards all the people staring, otherwise they would see the smile that spreads across his features.

“Hey,” Mingi smiles at you, not even paying attention to the smaller man sat closer to him.

Jisung stares at Mingi, shocked to even see a smile on Mingi’s face. Eventually, Mingi looks towards Jisung, and his smile fades slightly, but doesn’t disappear. Gently nodding his head in Jisung’s direction, as if he says hello, he turns his head back to you. 

At this small gesture, you are somewhat happy that they are not treating your best friend the cold way you have heard so much about. It is huge for Mingi to be nice to you, so the fact he is also being pleasant to your friend makes you feel extremely touched by the small act.

“You have anatomy soon, right?” Mingi’s deep voice questions you. You and Jisung are both surprised that the man knows what you have next.

“Yeah, I do, how did you know?”

“I’m walking in the same direction; do you want to go together?"  Mingi ignores your question leaving you confused, yet you decide to pay no attention to it.

“Well, I was actually going to walk with Jisung.” You say, slightly upset for denying the pink haired man, seeing that he came all the way to find you so you could walk together.

Jisung’s eyes light up like lightbulbs as a thought enters his head, “no, she wasn’t. I was walking by myself. Goodbye you two. It was nice to meet you Mingi.” Jisung has a huge grin on his face as he grabs his bag off the floor and rushes to leave the library.

Confused out of your mind, you look towards Jisung as he leaves, with your arms signing ‘what?’. The only thing your best friend does is point towards Mingi, who still has his eyes on you, he then mouths the words ‘bag him’ before laughing and almost sprinting out of the large room. Wasn’t he the one who said he didn’t want you to be around them? ‘This guy doesn’t have enough time to be playing match maker,’ you think in your head and let out a groan.

“Is it that bad to walk with me to class?” Mingi questions, his expression sorrowful, worried from the groan that just left your lips.

Immediately, you feel bad and reassure the man in front of you, “no Mingi of course not. I was just weirded out by his actions; I’d love to walk with you.”

Instantly, the frown on his face is replaced by a relieved smile. Feeling happy you’re comfortable to walk with him, Mingi helps you pack your things into your bag and the two of you head out of the library, trying to ignore all the stares you get from the people around you. If this is what it’s like to be friends with Ateez, you might as well get used to it, even if you hate being in the spotlight.

As Mingi bids you farewell and heads off to his next class, a wave of realization washes over you. Despite living with the Ateez members, there is still so much you don't know about them. Determined to resolve this, you make a mental note to engage with them individually, realizing that one-on-one conversations might be more manageable and less overwhelming than having them all in one room together. Living under the same roof provides ample opportunities for deeper connections to form.

As the professor enters the classroom, the chatter subsides, and a hush of anticipation settles over the students. You take a seat in the back, preparing for the extended lesson that lies ahead. Thoughts of the impending dinner with the Ateez members fill your mind, stir up mixed feelings within you. It has been quite some time since you've had dinner with a larger group of people, reminiscing about the warmth and amity that accompanied those moments back in high school. The sight of them gathering around the table, like a chosen family, tugs at your heartstrings. However, the prospect of encountering Yunho once again fills you with concern. The words Seonghwa spoke about Hongjoong's "good way of disciplining" linger in your thoughts, leaving you with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. You contemplate the dynamics at the dinner table, resolving to find a seat away from Yunho to avoid any confrontations or discomfort.

Realizing that you've allowed your mind to wander, you refocus your attention on the lecture, determined not to miss any crucial information. The upcoming dinner remains at the back of your mind, a blend of excitement and apprehension. You reassure yourself that tonight will be an opportunity to observe and evaluate the dynamics of the group, to see how everyone interacts and finding your place. Deep down, you know that time and shared experiences will reveal more about each member's true nature, allowing you to navigate this new chapter with openness and resilience.

With renewed focus, you immerse yourself in the lecture, ready to absorb the knowledge before you and face the dinner with a mixture of curiosity and cautious optimism.

---

Frustration consumes you as you struggle to insert your key into the stubborn lock, the front door refusing to yield to your attempts. With an exasperated sigh, you lean forward, allowing the weight of your frustration to manifest as a slight bang against the door, as your head comes in contact with the white door. The lecture had ended at four, and you had planned a quick shopping trip with Jisung to grab the forgotten essentials like toothpaste and shampoo. However, fate had a different plan in mind as you unexpectedly ran into Felix near the school. Before you knew it, the three of you found yourselves lured into a charming café that Felix had discovered through the enticing realm of TikTok. Sensing the minutes slipping away, you bid your hasty goodbyes when the clock neared seven, anxious not to be tardy for your inaugural dinner together.

Fortunately, someone had left a key for you on the kitchen counter this morning, yet you are starting to think it’s not the key to the house. Maybe it was Yunho playing a trick on you, so you can’t get into the house, and you will leave him alone. Luckily for you, you happen to be pretty stubborn, and you are not going to give in to whatever this ruse is.

Pulling out your phone, you go to your contacts and push in San’s number. You think you should probably get the rest of the boys’ numbers so if you’re stuck outside at least you have more of a chance of getting inside.

The phone rings about three times before the phone picks up, and you’re surprised at how fast San picks up.

“___, hey. What’s up?” San speaks over the phone, his voice is soft, yet for some reason you can hear he has a smile on his face, perhaps he had a good day. Hearing the smile on San’s face brings a smile to your own and you frustration pointed towards the door melts away. You can hear him shuffling around in the background.

“Hey San, are you home at the moment?” You ask, putting you key back into your pocket.

“Yeah, I am. Why?” The curiosity laced in San’s words is unmissable.

“My key isn’t working for some reason, could you please open the door for me?”

“Ohhhh,” San speaks out, realising the problem, “try pulling the door towards you slightly when you turn the key.”

Reaching into your bag once again, you pull out the key and place it back in the lock. This time, gently pulling the door towards you and just like magic the lock turns fully, opening the door.

“Ah thank you San!” You exclaim as you walk inside the house and start to take off your shoes.

“No worries” a voice speaks out from in front of you. Whipping your head up, you see San leaning against the railing of the staircase with a small smile on his face. Why does he look so handsome suddenly?

“How long have you been there?” You ask, wondering if he was just passing by.

“Since the first time you tried to unlock the door.”

The disbelief washes over you as you observe the guy standing there, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he could have easily opened the door for you. 

A wave of guilt surges through you, realizing that you had unfairly blamed Yunho for something that wasn't his fault. It dawns on you that perhaps it's premature to judge him as a horrible person without giving him a chance. The thought lingers in your mind, igniting a flicker of curiosity you decide maybe you should try to get to know him better before passing any final judgments.

“Why didn’t you open the door then?” You groan as you walk past him, into the kitchen where you see Jongho sat at the island, watching a video on his phone. San follows you behind, and watches as you place your bag on the island, catching Jongho’s attention.

“___,” Jongho says with a smile. You return his smile as you take a seat at the island not too far from Jongho.

“If I had opened the door for you then you would never learn how to properly open it.” San explains, his smile is still on his features, yet you can see just a hint of teasing behind it.

You feel your annoyance fade away as you realise, he has a point, still being stubborn though, you blow a raspberry at him, faking annoyance, causing a laugh to erupt from his throat.

Approaching you with a playful demeanour, San affectionately places a hand on top of your head, his touch causing a gentle ruffle of your hair. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he leans down, bringing his eyes to meet yours, and in that intimate proximity, your faces mere inches apart, he confesses, "You're cute."

The sudden admission sends a surge of warmth rushing up your neck, setting your cheeks ablaze. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, you instinctively break eye contact, leaning back as if to create some distance between you and the rush of emotions that swirl within you. San, now standing tall again, leans against the counter behind you, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the fluttering of your heart.

In an attempt to collect yourself, you shift your gaze towards Jongho, who observes the exchange between you and San with a knowing smile. Catching the small glare Jongho directs towards San before turning his attention to you, his smile resumes, radiating a sense of reassurance and understanding.

“How was your day?” Jongho asks, turning off his phone and placing it face down on the counter.

“It was good, I helped a friend with his project and then had an extended lecture which I am absolutely exhausted from. I also went to a really nice café with Jisung and Felix” You reply, sinking into the chair.

“Who is Felix?” San asks, curious at the unfamiliar name. His voice is a little sharp and you can’t help but wonder why.

“He’s one of Jisung’s friends, we don’t hang out that often, but it was nice to see him today.”

“Are you two close friends?” Jongho is the one who questions this time.

“Not that close, he’s more of an acquaintance to me.” I explain to the two.

They both lets out “ah’s” as they let the information process in their heads.

“You didn’t go to Wooyoung’s café?” San questions, sitting next to you, “he was working today.” San adds.

Feeling bad all of a sudden, you remember the café Wooyoung works at.

“Next time I’ll go there for sure,” you say, hoping they aren’t mad about you not going to their friend’s café.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he doesn’t mind.” Jongho reassures you the second he sees the slightest amount of guilt on your face. Smiling at Jongho, you silently thank him for reassuring your worries.

Then, you suddenly remember the unfinished assignment essay you have yet to submit to the online drop box. Checking the time on your phone, you are relieved to see that you likely have enough time to finish it before dinner.

“Excuse me, I need to finish this essay, I will see you two later.” You explain as you grab your belongings off the island, turning to walk to your room, you take one more look at the men in the kitchen. They are both watching you as you leave, but they have smiles on their faces.

“Good luck,” Jongho says before you close the door to your room.

The next forty minutes are spent in your room, putting the final touches on your assignment, a sense of accomplishment fills the air around you. With a satisfied smile, you close your laptop, knowing that you have poured your efforts and creativity into completing the task at hand. Glancing around, you realise that dinner is still in the process of being prepared, and a surge of anticipation awakens your taste buds. The tempting aromas wafting from the kitchen ignite a hunger within you, making you eagerly await the culinary delights soon to be served. In this brief moment of transition, you revel in the satisfaction of a job well done, ready to savour the flavours that await you at the dinner table.

When Seonghwa knocks on your door to let you know that dinner is almost ready, you send a smile in his direction before getting back to your screen, only having to upload the document. As dinner gets closer, you hear more noises around the house of people entering the abode, your excitement intensifying as you hear Wooyoung’s high pitched laugh from the kitchen making you chuckle under your breath.

Just as you send in your assignment, you hear a soft knock on your door before you hear Mingi’s deep voice speak explaining dinner is ready.

You take a minute to put your laptop into your bag again and clear up your desk quickly before heading out the door and towards the living room. You pass Yunho in the kitchen who is stirring something in a pot. Walking around him quietly, strategically avoiding his gaze, you make it past the kitchen without him seeing you.

As you enter the room, you notice the group gathered around the expansive table, everyone is present except for the notably tall male figure. Finding an empty seat beside Mingi and Seonghwa, you greet everyone with a respectful hello, initiating a brief conversation with Mingi to ask about his day. The conversation flows effortlessly, yet it is cut short as your attention is swiftly diverted by the entrance of Yunho.

He is carrying plates of food. A smile tugs at your lips as the pleasant aroma wafts towards you, instantly recognizing one it as of your favourite meals. Your mouth begins to water in anticipation as you watch Yunho meticulously place the plates in front of each person around the table. However, as he reaches your spot, he strangely passes your plate and instead sets it down in front of Seonghwa, a confusing act that leaves you momentarily taken aback. With a mixture of surprise and confusion, you lock eyes with Yunho, who takes a seat directly across from you, further adding to the mystery of his actions.

“And ___’s plate, Yunho.” Hongjoong questions, his voice is strong and authoritative yet the glare that Yunho gives you shows he ignored Hongjoong completely.

“Sorry, I only made enough for eight.” Yunho glares at you, ignoring the sighs of disappointment and groans from the seven males around him.

“You can have mine,” Seonghwa begins to put his plate in front of you, yet you stop him. Smiling at him gently, you turn back to Yunho in front of you.

“Enjoy your meal, Yunho. I hope you’re happy.” You deadpan, before standing up and pacing out the room, irritated with the bullshit that Yunho is pulling. As you rise from your seat, Wooyoung makes a move to join you, concern written across his face. However, you gently halt his advance, urging him to remain seated and enjoy his meal. Seonghwa's assurance that Hongjoong would handle the situation lingers in your mind, but deep down, you harbour scepticism about Yunho's ability to change so quickly.

Despite feeling deeply disappointed by the turn of events, you gather your inner strength, resolved to confront the situation on your own terms. You remind yourself that you are capable of handling this setback, even though it casts a shadow over your anticipation for the dinner.

“Yunho what the fuck are you trying to do?” Wooyoung demands as he glares at the tall male, his disappoint and anger evident in his words, his stance defensive.

“Just eat. It’s her problem.” Yunho answers, starting to cut his food up.

----

“He didn’t make me food, on purpose, so I just walked out.” You explain the situation to Jisung over the phone.

“Now this is what I expected from an Ateez member to be honest. No hate.” Jisung groans over the phone, annoyance evident on his voice.

The enticing aroma of your favourite meal still wafts through the air, and you find yourself torn between anticipation and frustration. Yunho skilfully prepared the dish you adore, and you aren’t sure is he made the meal because he knows you like it, that would be impossible. Your irritancy intensifies as you realise this was a deliberate attempt to manipulate your emotions.

It becomes painfully clear that Yunho purposefully made the meal with the intent to excite you, using it as a weapon to push you towards the decision of moving out. The realization strikes you like a jagged bolt of lightning, igniting a mixture of anger and hurt. A part of you wants to go back into the dining room and snatch his plate from under his nose, but a stronger part of you resists, refusing to let Yunho's manipulation dictate your actions.

As soon as you entered your room, you found yourself calling your best friend, disappointed but not surprised by the actions of Yunho. Scurrying over to your bed, you rest on the edge still trying to fully process the events. Ranting to Jisung only makes you realise how annoyed you are on the tallest male.

“It’s annoying yes, but it’s manageable. If he starts squaring up on me though I will likely be very scared, bro is big.” You half joke, knowing that he likely won’t dare to start a fight with you due to Hongjoong being present. Tonight, wasn’t nice but it wasn’t like he threatened you or said particularly rude things, if it’s like this you are for sure able to manage at least until you find another place to live. Yes, this place is extremely nice and affordable but it’s not somewhere you see yourself living in for a long time.

“Have you at least eaten anything?” Jisung’s question leaves you shocked. No, you haven’t eaten anything since probably lunch. The second you think about food, your stomach emits a loud growl, leaving you to face palm. Definitely should buy some food, you think to yourself, still aggravated about missing out on the most delicious food you’ve smelt in a while.

Reassuring Jisung, then saying goodbye after about an hour of talking, you hang up the call and immediately open your fast-food app. Scanning through each restaurant you end up even more irritated seeing that there are no deals and most of the food will take at least an hour to arrive. You’re not sure you should be even buying food, seeing how posh the area is it would be a crime to even think about ordering cheap fast food. Flipping from the food application, you go to your bank account checking to see if you even have enough money to be buying a meal. Seeing the amount makes you audibly sigh, your ideas of getting food leaving your mind quicker than you can shut off your phone. Laying back on your bed, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, attempting to let the frustration slowly vacate your body.

‘Whatever.’ You think to yourself, you’re not eating so you might as well get ready for bed.

Walking into the bathroom and settling into your night time routine, a sense of annoyance creeping over you when you notice that your favourite moisturizer is running dangerously low. Frustration bubbles within you as you realise that you’ll soon need to replace it. You contemplate the possibility of squeezing out every last drop, hoping to prolong its usage just a little while longer. Sighing to yourself, you realise that you have to again spend money on something you would rather not. Wishing you could just ignore your need for moisturiser, you groan knowing you can’t due to having extremely dry skin in the winter and you’d prefer to not look like your skin was falling off. The moisturiser you use isn’t even that expensive, it’s just a supermarket own brand one that barely keeps your skin looking presentable, yet it’s all you can afford, you have other things you have to save your money for.

Making your way wearily back to your bed, where your phone rests on the charger, you snatch it up and settle on the edge of the mattress. With a swift search on YouTube, you strive to find the perfect video to unwind with before drifting off to sleep. Yet, as your finger taps on a selection, the video barely has a chance to begin before a soft knock reverberates from your door. 

Your head whips towards the source of the sound, a realization dawning upon you that someone seeks entry. Surprise tinged with guilt washes over you as you reflect on having walked out on dinner, aware of its importance to the other person. Amidst the rapid whirl of thoughts, you question why you are shouldering the blame when it was Jeong Yunho who acted insensitively. 

A flicker of panic flits through your mind, silently hoping that it's not Yunho standing on the other side of the door. Should you pretend to be asleep? No, that won't work, as they would have heard you using the bathroom. Lost in a flurry of racing thoughts, you momentarily forget that someone patiently awaits your response, mere inches away on the other side of the wall.

“Um ___? Can I come in quickly?” A deep sweet voice sounds from behind the wooden door and you immediately recognise it as Yeosang. Letting out a soft sigh of relief you answer back, letting Yeosang know it’s okay for him to open the entrance to your room.

From across the room, your gaze fixates on the door, anticipation coursing through your veins. It swings open, revealing the familiar figure of Yeosang standing hesitantly in the doorway, his presence both captivating and disarming. As your eyes slowly travel from the bottom of his body to his face, you can't help but take note of the subtle changes in his appearance. His usual jeans and hoodie are replaced by a black tank top that showcases his toned arms and snug grey sweatpants that accentuate his casual yet charming vibe. The sight of his bare arms, muscles defined and veins subtly visible, evokes a mix of admiration and intrigue within you. You find yourself captivated by the way his physique displays strength and confidence.

Caught in the act of observing him, Yeosang registers you checking him out, a blend of pride and embarrassment sweeping across his features. His cheeks dusted with a rosy hue, hints at the flattery he feels under your gaze. A contented, almost bashful smile graces his lips, revealing his genuine delight at being the centre of your attention. His usually carefully styled hair appears tousled, and you realise he must have been readying for bed.

However, your attention is abruptly drawn to the paper bag clutched in his hand, distracting your eyes away from his physique and back to his face. The red blush on his cheeks remains, giving him an endearing charm, while his eyes sparkle with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The sight of his dishevelled hair and his relaxed attire only amplifies his charm, adding a touch of effortless attractiveness to his overall appearance.

“I bought you some food. I wasn’t too sure what you’d like so I got a mixture of some things.” Yeosang explains, holding up the paper bag in his hand.

This act instantly makes your heart speed up and your chest to feel warm despite the freeing temperature of your room. This kind gesture warms your heart, and you can’t help but feel incredibly grateful to the man standing in your doorway.

Yeosang's gaze sweeps over your figure, his eyes instinctively drawn to the form-fitting pyjamas that hug your curves. A surge of satisfaction courses through him as he realizes the envy that would consume the other boys if they knew the position he is in at this very moment. Grateful for the stroke of fortune that has brought him into this position, he momentarily loses himself in a spiral of thoughts, silently expressing gratitude to whichever higher power may have orchestrated this unexpected encounter. However, his attention is abruptly redirected as your soft voice breaks through the reverie, grounding him back to the present moment.

“Yeosang, I,” you start to speak yet you can’t find the words to express your gratitude to him, you instead invite him to enter your room fully. “Please come in.” You request, smiling widely at the giddy man who is now in your bedroom.

It’s the first time Yeosang has been in your bedroom since you decorated it, finding some small posters and fairy lights to hang around your room, and some plants to place around making it feel more like home. He looks throughout the space, admiring what you’ve done to it.

“I still have some more things I need to buy before it becomes home.” You admit to the blonde male as he looks around. When he hears your statement, he looks towards you and smiles warmly.

“Here you go,” he says, handing you the bag, and stepping backwards, wanting to not bother you further and let you eat in peace. Looking down into the bag, you see a few different packages, wrapped in aluminium foil and the smell reaches your nostrils, filling them up with the most delicious savoury scent, causing your mouth to water and your stomach reminds you how hungry you actually were.

When you look back up, you see Yeosang back by the doorway, heavily debating whether he should leave or stay to make sure you finish the food, nervously shifting from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say. You smile at his actions, for a buff guy who is supposedly a ‘bad boy’, he sure is cute.

“Yeosang,” you speak out, catching his attention, he meets your eyes, and you swear you could have fainted at that moment. His gaze holds a gentle softness, yet beneath the surface, you sense a wealth of unspoken feelings concealed within the intensity of his eye contact. Words are on the tip of your tongue as you contemplate the question that weighs heavily on your mind, unsure of how to speak your thoughts.

Yeosang, sensing your hesitation and the hint of worry in your stance, takes a step closer, concern etched on his features. Something in the way you stand, lost in your thoughts while gazing at him, tells him that something might be wrong. “Are you okay?” He asks.

Before you can find the right words, however, you instinctively close the distance between you, your heart racing with anticipation. The bag of food you were holding slips from your hands, forgotten on the floor as you gently wrap your arms around him, seeking comfort in a tender embrace.

Yeosang tenses up, caught off guard by the sudden display of affection. Your abrupt departure only further fuels his uncertainty, leaving you standing a meter away, immediately apologizing for potentially crossing boundaries. “I’m sorry, I’m just extremely grateful for the food I’m so sorry for pushing your boundaries,”

But before you can utter another word, this time, Yeosang closes the distance, his hands enveloping you, drawing you closer to his chest. Your cheek presses against the warmth of his shirt, the sensation of his toned physique beneath it briefly registering in your mind. Overwhelmed by the strength and security of his hold, you find yourself tensing up this time, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected gesture. Yet, understanding his earlier hesitation from your own action, you reciprocate by wrapping your arms around his waist, surrendering to the comfort of the embrace.

Time seems to stretch as you bask in the comfort of his arms, feeling a sense of familiarity and longing that has been absent for far too long. Your light-headedness gives way to a contented sigh, revelling in the serenity given by his hug. Expecting the moment to end, you begin to pull away, only to be pulled back into his chest, your cheek colliding with his in a gentle 'oof' of surprise.

Moments blur into eternity as you remain locked in each other's arms, a silent connection between your two souls. Yeosang withdraws slightly, but his hold remains, your arms still embracing his waist, his still encircling your shoulders.

Your gazes meet once again, mere inches apart, illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Even in the dim light, you can discern the flush that colours his cheeks, an unreadable expression adorning his features. It's an unfamiliar emotion that leaps around in his eyes, neither embarrassment nor discomfort, but something entirely new, leaving you dizzy with curiosity.

For what feels like an eternity, the two of you engage in a silent exchange, locked in a gaze that renders you weak at the knees. And just when you think your heart couldn't flutter any faster, Yeosang breaks the silence with a confession that catches you off guard. His eyes remain fixed on yours, unwavering and sincere as he admits, "Your eyes are beautiful."

“Uh thank you.” You reply, cheeks growing even hotter than you thought they could go. You just know if Jisung would see you right now he would scream his lungs out.

Moving away from Yeosang, he momentarily wonders if he screwed up by saying those words, yet when he sees the sincere smile on your face, his worries melt away and he gets lost in your expression.

“Would you eat with me?” You question, hoping he will keep you company, the question of ‘did we know each other before college?’ slipping your mind completely.

---

Seated cross-legged on your bed, you relish the delicious food that Yeosang thoughtfully brought for you. Across from you, he sits on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked comfortably while the other dangles freely. His eyes never waver from you, captivated by the way you devour the meal with avid hunger, and a sense of relief washes over him. It's evident that you must have been starving, and he silently curses Yunho for denying you a proper meal earlier during the disastrous dinner. In this intimate moment, he seethes with anger at the thought of you being deprived of a simple joy you were so excited about, confirming his resolve to make up for it.

As you converse one-on-one with Yeosang, the opportunity to have a genuine heart-to-heart arises, a chance to connect without the distractions of others. The conversation flows effortlessly as you delve into the events of your day, sharing thoughts, dreams, and anything that comes to mind. It's in these moments that you notice a subtle transformation in Yeosang's demeanour. His eyes shimmer with a radiant passion whenever he talks about dance, and his voice releases a fresh energy when he discusses subjects close to his heart.

Discovering his love for reading piques your interest, knowing your mutual fondness for books. This realization sparks a lively conversation about favourite authors and cherished books. The genuine curiosity and engagement exchanged between the two of you ignites a flutter within your chest, relishing the ease with which you connect and share your passions with Yeosang.

Yeosang remains by your side until the very last piece of food disappears, his unwavering presence a testament to his attentiveness and care. Not a single crumb is left, and as you sink back into the comforting embrace of your pillows, the weight of the day begins to settle upon you. The heaviness of your eyelids is a gentle reminder that rest is calling, but before sleep claims you, you can't help but feel grateful for the precious moment spent with Yeosang.

“This is the book I was explaining earlier!” Yeosang exclaims, turning his phone to you to show the book he couldn’t remember the name of. However, when he looks up to you, he finds you snuggled into the pillow, your mouth slightly parted, eyes closed. Surprised, his eyes widen as he peers over your sleeping form. Yeosang’s heart swells, revelling in the fact that you felt comfortable enough to allow yourself to fall asleep.

Tucking you into your blanket, careful not to wake you up, he studies you once more, taking in all of your features. He notes each freckle and mole on your face, the way your eyelashes rest against the swell of your cheeks, your hair falling messily over the sheets.

Yeosang gracefully exits your room, a gentle smile adorning his face and a faint blush colouring his cheeks. The evening spent together was a significant milestone in your friendship, and he couldn't help but feel content that he had won the rock-paper-scissors with Wooyoung to order food for you. However, what catches him off guard is the sight of Yunho emerging from his own room simultaneously, intending to make a trip to the kitchen for a glass of water. In that moment, disappointment flickers across Yunho's eyes as he witnesses Yeosang leaving your room.

“Are you seriously cosying up to her?” Yunho’s voice is once again full of venom, not even realising the tone he’s using to talk to his close friend.

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now Yunho.” Exhausted by the taller male's behaviour, Yeosang attempts to walk past him, seeking to put some distance between them. However, his friend intercepts him, halting his steps and preventing him from moving forward.

“I’m being serious, how can you just let her in after everything we have been through?”

“You can’t hold this grudge up forever; she lives with us now.”

“You were the one who said, ‘we will never let outsiders in again’ what the fuck happened to that?”

“It’s ___ dude, she was never an outsider, and you know that damn well.”

“Are you seriously this desperate to get your dick wet that you’ve forgotten everything we have been through?”

“That’s not what this is about, you know that.” Yeosang pushes past Yunho and walks towards the kitchen, taking a seat down on the barstool. Yunho follows him, grabbing a glass from the designated cupboard.

“She may have saved Hwa, Yeosang, but the second she is given the opportunity to leave us she will, just like Ryu did.”

“I don’t understand why you are acting like this after everything she did to help us get back on our feet. She is nothing like her, you would know that if you gave yourself the chance to get to know ___.”

“I don’t understand why you are acting like this. This is exactly what happened with Ryu, she got close to us, just to take away everything.”

“Aren’t you tired of acting like a dickhead to everyone all the time?”

“We do this, so we don’t go through that ever again.” Yunho’s voice raises slightly, his voice starting to echo in the kitchen. “We have acted like this for years because that is the damn narrative that that bitch gave us.”

“Are you seriously telling me after all these years you aren’t tired of being this way just to avoid getting your heart broken? It’s a human thing, Yunho, we deserve love too.”

“You aren’t the one who had your entire heart ripped out of your chest.” Yunho’s voice is louder this time causing some restless heads in the house to shake awake.

“You know damn well my heart was crushed too.” This time Yeosang yells back at him, taking the tall man by surprise. Yeosang barely ever raises his voice, let alone it being directed toward someone, Yunho steps back a little. “I know what you had with her, you thought was special, but you can’t keep dwelling on it. ­­­Back when this all began, ___ was the only person willing to be kind. I know for a fact you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel even the smallest amount of love for her.” Yeosang’s voice is exasperated, begging towards his friend to stop the act he has up.

“Then what if I do love her?” Yunho’s voice cracks and Yeosang can see the tears starting to dwell in his eyes, causing him to soften slightly. Yunho continues, “there’s nothing stopping her from doing the same thing as Ryu the second Seonghwa’s dickhead of a father offers her the money to ruin us. She will leave us and our hearts, my heart will be broken again.” The tears in Yunho’s eyes fall onto the surface of the island, yet he doesn’t know whether they are from pure frustration or because the truth is starting to hit him like bricks.

“When we were KQ Fellaz, she knew we were trouble, she knew the rumours about us, she knew the danger she was putting herself in every time she stood up for us. When were all broken from the trauma and heart break she never once pressured us to talk about it, she never yelled at us when we yelled at her, she was never scared of us. Don’t tell me you don’t remember every time single fucking time she cleaned the wounds on your hands after getting in countless of unnecessary fights?” Yeosang runs his hands through his hair, frustrated by the sheer ignorance of his friend.

Yunho goes to speak but he gets cut off by Yeosang, who is half fuming half desperate. “She was kind to us without ever expecting anything in return, so stop letting your stupid prejudice against the human race blind you completely from what’s in front of you. If she was like Ryu, she would have let Seonghwa jump off that ledge.”

Yunho feels his heart drop as he remembers the sight of his older friend in such a fragile state, his only option to be to end it, him not being able to help the pain he was enduring.

“Please Yunho,” Yeosang’s voice is soft this time, nothing louder than a whisper, “just give her a chance.”

[sk3tch404]

Late Night Hanma Blurb

A/n: Thought abt this during an itty-bitty road trip today. Smoker Hanma does smth to the chemicals in my brain. Forgive me for any lengthy bad writing. I've had a long day and I just wanna yip yap about one of my fav crazies 🙇

CW: Hanma can give two shits about your lung health but chooses not to when he feels like it, intimidation, threats of forced drug usage, sometimes forced participation in violent activities, thoughts of lovers suicide/murder(?), and whatever other yappin I put in here.

Hanma who smokes a fuck ton and doesn't mind giving you the good ol' second-hand effects of it, but absolutely detests you doing it on your own.

He snatches the stick from your mouth and holds it up and away from you with a small grit in his teeth. Hanma glares down in some curiosity but clearly squints in irritation.

"The hell is this? Don't tell me I'm being a bad influence on you now. If I catch you with one of these again, I won't let you off the hook so easily. You got it, Y/n?"

When you retort, telling him it's no different from when he does it and it is your own choice whether he likes it or not, he merely scoffs with a tilt of his narrow head. Throwing down the cigarette, the sound of his sneaker stomping and scraping it out against the pavement echos through the air with an annoying presence. Shuji demands the rest of your stash with a looming stare that can only put you into a state of sinking discimfort.

"Come on, don't be stubborn. Ya know, if you wanna do it so bad, why don't you try the whole pack? Mine too since it's a shitload better than that cheap stuff."

Reluctant on suffocation and early lung cancer, you begrudgingly hand over your smokes to him. Hanma smacks down on the box with an evidently loud shot of noise and slides it out of your palm. He pockets it with a stretched smile as he leans down towards you.

"See, now it ain't so hard to listen."

He's still ticked off by the fact you think you can do whatever to your body without his permission, but since Shuji is so generous, he'll let you learn from your mistakes. See, he can be nice.

Don't test him though. Next time you're caught defying his selfish wishes, he's beating you down with degrading language and probably also beating whoever was involved. The convenience store employee that sold you the cigs, vape, or maybe even chewing tobacco? Yeah he's taking out his held back frustration on them. Bro is jumping over the counter and tearing their shit up.

Avoiding him because of his brutal and honest-to-God psychopathic personality? Now that's just cruel. Shuji is dragging your ass by the back of your shirt and pushes you to his motorcycle. The leopard print on the back of the bike makes you wanna barf every time you see it, but you got to keep it down if you wanna have enough energy to deal with him. He'll take you out no matter where you are at in that point of time and make you remember who he is; who you think you're messing with.

"Y/n, how many times do I have to tell you? Aim for the nose. That's easy for amateurs like you. Actually, lemme show you how to really deliver a jaw breaker-"

Yeah, he'll show you just how bad it can get with some random thugs on the street. You should be grateful with how gentle he's treating you. Instead of ending up with facial fractures, you have nice dates and thoughtful gifts. He's even teaching you a few tricks. How lucky can you get?

"I'm all done. Shit, I'm starved. Let's go grab a bite to eat, kay?"

Hanma thinks the only way you'll ever keep paying attention to him is if he keeps you and your actions in line. If you go off doing your own thing, his usually unmoving heart can't just stand there and watch you slowly leave him. Despite the negativity be brings into your life, he actually gets really fuckin anxious when he doesn't know or understand what you're doing. It's so troublesome how you make him feel. Yeah, being bored as shit is bad, but seeing you, the only thing that could ever bring him down to his knees unwillingly, slip away with nothing but disdain for him? Fuck no. He won't accept it. Shuji would rather kill you and then himself than have to bear the strange feeling of pain, or what other people call heartbreak, by his lonesome self.

Should he ever say he loves you, that would be the point of no return for the both of you. His hands have you tight in his clutches. No way out, no way back in for anyone else.

[dozing-marshmallow]

BAKING WITH TOTAL DRAMA CHARACTERS SCENARIOS

(Photos aren’t mine by the way!)

BAKING WITH LINDSAY

(AS A BIRTHDAY SURPRISE)

You were surprised when she told you she didn’t have a mani-pedi appointment today. As if the day couldn’t be more convenient.

In Lindsay’s world, there was no such thing as baking unless it was done for her. And she was no expert in cooking either, which is why she was hesitant to bake.

“I don’t get it... Why am I putting four eggs in when five is my lucky number?”

Yep. As long as she was in the kitchen you could not let your guard down.

“What are you saying? What’s with all this flour? And this butter? Is that supposed to help me remember it?”

Alright, you both definitely didn’t have the same image in mind,“Remember what, Lindsay? We’re baking.”

“Ohh bake!” See? “I thought you meant pake, you know like password authenticated blah blah... Oh I’m soooo happy that wasn’t the case, you really aren’t complicated in that way, (Y/M)!”

She still messes your name up sometimes. But on the bright side, her motivation and inner child was found.

She loved pouring the sprinkles into the batter and tried her best to not break any when mixing.

You strictly put yourself in charge of dividing the batter evenly between each tin and swapping them around fifteen minutes within oven baking.

In the meantime, Lindsay managed to get started on the icing- not without constant confirmation that she was doing it right. Seems like she learnt a lot already.

All was looking well, until you noticed something out of place in the bowl. Feeling icky, you carefully extract it,”Lindsay... Is this your hair?”

“Oops...”

You fixed her hair into various styles until the timer went off.

She was gasping in amazement to how solid and fragrant they came out, asking if she could just eat them like that, and you don’t blame her.

Fast forward to icing the layer in between the combined cake and it as a whole, you were about done preparing the piping bag from a separate bowl of icing when she suddenly pleaded to do it.

Anxious, you handed it over to her. Your worry about any mistake she could make was short lived when remembering that even if it did come out slobbery, you know that her intentions were pure and it’s not like anyone else was going to eat the cake anyway. Until watching her actually pipe made you realise she was no amateur:

She was way better at it than you expected.

Seriously, her flowering and swirls were so high in symmetry, it was practically perfect!

“Duhhh! I do makeup! Hair and makeup! I’m like basically holding a curler, ooo I wonder if I could use this bag to style my hair instead? This has to be Victoria’s Secret to smelling so good!”

Logic never went well with Lindsay’s talents. And that was fine with you.

“Taa-da!” She cheers out,”Ohh it’s so pretty... I almost don’t wanna eat it!”

You congratulated Lindsay for her fruitful efforts and asked if she knew why you wanted to bake a cake with her specifically on that day.

“Because you like like me?” Her response after her time of self complimenting over the finish product was done.

“Yes, and also...” This is it.

You grabbed your 1 candle and 7 candle, placing them next to each other on top of the cake.

She watched as you lit them up in seconds, and without warning, the occasion hit her.

“Ohh right! Now I know why my Facebook’s blowing up like crazy today! It’s today!” As though the piped cursive writing of her name on top of the cake didn’t tell her too, but when she started clapping her hands together with that big smile on her shiny lips, it made up for it,”Yaaay! Seventy one today! Can’t believe how long it’s been since I first picked up a magazine. And was born, can’t forget about that, duh. Uh oh. Does that mean I’ll get frail and wrinkles now? Aww I don’t wanna give up tanning! Not yet!”

“You don’t need to worry about that for now, Lindsay, because it actually says seventeen. You’re seventeen today, and for another three hundred and sixty five days. Happy birthday, baby.” ⟡

BAKING WITH GWEN

(HELPING HER OUT)

“A pie, huh? Which flavour you thinking, apple, blueber-“

“Blackcurrant. We’ll be making a blackcurrant pie... that okay with you?”

When Gwen told you that her clique were hosting a get together party, you were almost as enthusiastic as she was.

But...

Because this was Gwen’s first time going to a party, she never thought she would have to worry about oven temperatures and accurate measurements up until now where the group agreed to whip up something individually that everyone could all share and eat.

That’s why she came to you with this dilemma! Her one and only.

Definitely not so she could simultaneously spend time with you.

You believed the thought process behind her choice of baking a blackcurrant pie was genius: the lattice crust on top could mimic a spiderweb and the colour behind itself was the real thing that appealed to the goth eye.

At the start, Gwen was nervous. She never did this kind of stuff before and didn’t want to screw it up, especially if her friends were going to eat it.

That’s why you suggested: I’ll make the crust, you can make the blackcurrant filling.

Oh how she loved crushing the blackcurrants,“Just imagining it’s Heather’s head right now.” She said with a smile.

Isn’t she so cute!

After pouring the sauce in the base, Gwen’s ambition really skyrocketed- you couldn’t deny how happy you felt when she insisted on making the perpendicular crust for the top, and that was just one example.

Even with all the red on her hands, she really was an artist.

“This is fun! It’s really like painting! Only with dough and fruit.”

Now, all the pie needed was no more than thirty minutes in the oven. To pass the time, you guys decided to do some drawing in her bedroom.

And it came out beautifully! The crust was golden brown and the blackcurrant juices were steaming with sweet flavour. Delicious... You can tell by Gwen’s eyes that she can’t wait to sink her teeth into a slice of it.

But her craving was quickly replaced by annoyance, upon realising how messy the countertop and floor was.

You cheekily remind her that she could’ve just bought something and passed it off as hers if she didn’t want to go through the trouble of cleaning everything up.

“Y-You think I would do something like that just so I wouldn’t need to clean? Jeez, I’m not that bad! I couldn’t handle the dreading guilt of doing that to them. Besides, I made it with you. That alone already tops off any other pie I could have bought instead.” <3

BAKING WITH ALEJANDRO

(IN CELEBRATION OF A SPANISH FESTIVITY)

“It would be an utmost honour, mi tesoro.”

In light of his Spanish roots, you were going to be baking “Pan de Cea” which was some kind of bread that’s traditionally made in favour of this summer festival called “festa de exaltación”.

You couldn’t wait! However, because you weren’t so familiar with bread baking, you were naturally amazed by Alejandro having known the entire recipe off by heart.

“No need to be ashamed. Unlike my love for you, this recipe will be very easy for you to understand.”

And what would be a day with Alejandro without his charming lines?

You loved and hated the warm effect they had on you, even more so when they escalated to a physical level.

He loves to stand right behind you, with his hand being on yours when you were mixing the yeast, the flour, the salt, the olive oil together... 

He’d pour the water so majestically into the bowl and took over when your arm got tired of stirring.

After the dough was hard, he claimed that you’d have to leave it in the bowl under plastic wrap for a day,“I know I’d feel safe if you stayed here all day with this dough, your beauty is the perfect thing to maintain a high temperature.”

Pretending you weren’t flustered, he laughed and invited you to get churros with him to make up for the spare time- it was only fitting.

Timeskip to the next day where the dough was hard, just how it needed to be on the parchment paper. Two minutes of watching Alejandro rub the dough in olive oil felt like two hours with the frequent looks he shoots at you.

Once he’s done, he pampers you by also literally massaging you during the hour needed for the bread to rise. Guess he thought you got jealous of it.

Jealous was a stretch, but you didn’t think you’d groan when it was time to take the loaf out. At least it smelt as pleasant as it looked.

As you were about take a piece, Alejandro stopped your hand with his to take it for you instead. This was nothing out of the ordinary, Alejandro just enjoyed having the liberty to feed you like that.

“Delicious... You did so well...”

“Don’t hold yourself at such low standards, mi amor! We did very well. Words alone aren’t enough to describe how proud I am of you. Feliz festa de exaltación.”

“Happy exaltation party!”

For the first time in your relationship with him, he was the one caught off guard,”Did I say it in English before?”

¡Era canela fina! ///

BAKING WITH CHRIS

(JUST WANTING TO SPEND TIME WITH HIM)

Initially, he would accuse the activity something only for “peasants” to do so you quickly reminded him that it was an insensitive thing to say and it wasn’t always about material things; sometimes it’s just about wanting to spend time with him outside Total Drama.

Once he’s gotten over his pride, he joins you, on the condition that you made cookies- since, according to him, it requires the less mental strength.

This probably won’t be surprising, but he made you do most of the work (at first). Claimed that his hands would be “soiled” if he touched the “filthy” ingredients for too long.

In the beginning, he was mean spirited as Chris enjoys to be i.e pouring a handful of flour down your clothes, forcing your face down the sink with the tap on, general shoving.

You wouldn’t have minded if you could’ve also had a laugh whenever you tried to recite the treatment.

Yeah he would be seriously insulted if you tried even doing something as little as rubbing a chocolate chip against his cheek.

It wasn’t until you threw an egg at his head out of anger and watched the yolk oil down his hair where he took accountability that he went overboard. Sure, he was laughing while he did.

But his hair was ruined for the rest of the baking process so you were too.

Afterwards, there was less “joking” and more compassion. Somehow now that he temporarily moved past his sadist ways, Chris began to involve himself a lot more in the whisking and licking your finger and vice versa of leftover batter.

The rolling of dough into a collection of spheres was arguably the best part.

“Look Chris! I made one that looks just like you!” You held up a cookie circle, obvious that those two lines of dough were purposely added to be on top to mimic his hair.

“Oh? What a coincidence! I made one that looks just like you too!” He declared, revealing a sticky slob of dough in his hand right after he said that.

“Oi...” You smile helplessly,”That’s not a nice thing to say to your spouse.”

But hey, if he didn’t tease at all, was that really Chris?

Post setting them on the tray and into the oven, Chris immediately rushes to the shower, and by the time he’s done, you were on your fifth cookie.

He whined at you for not waiting for him, but you’re quick to hand the one you’re on to him.

He finishes it, not without reminding you that you were the only exception to treating him like a “regular” person. Which in his books, was a deadly sin.

Needless to say, he’s impressed; despite him letting on so little, you’ve been with this man long enough to know otherwise. You could only smirk when he makes dismissive claims that they would’ve came out better if it was just him making them as he took spontaneous sips of his glass of milk.

By the end, he’s really glad you had this time together. He won’t stop thinking about it for a while. Heck, he’s more excited about baking with you again than you are.

Even if he won’t admit it.

Yet. :)

[dulltoned]

Branch's boyband days are far behind him. Far, far behind him. He's way too busy to be singing and dancing and playing games. He's building the hideout-- his bunker-- and it's a lot of work to dig out the rooms and start collecting all the supplies and provisions he'll need in the years to come. His grandma is gone, he has no idea where his brothers are or when they'll come back, and the rest of the village isn't really his biggest fan. It's just him and he needs to keep his head on straight.

It's not his fault these other trolls won't leave him alone.

__

A oneshot collection that tries to build a canonical way for Kismet to exist while exploring how the other members of the band came into Branch's life, how they grew to be close friends, and the trials they help each other through along the way

Admittedly, Branch could have planned this better. He left the bunker a few hours ago to restock the wood for his construction supplies and he already had two large bundles but he needed three. He realized a little too late that he didn't really have the means to carry three full bundles through the woods. He glares down at the bundles he already has. He was almost a fully grown troll now, only a few years out from adulthood, and he should've thought about this before he even left the bunker. He's learned the hard way that he can't rely on anyone else and he can't afford to make stupid mistakes like this. The Bergens could show up at any time and if he's unprepared it could mean his death.

"Damn it," He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the budding headache. He could probably fashion some sort of strap out of a vine or two so he could carry one of the bundles on his back but he was a long way away from the bunker and he didn't want to hurt himself if he could avoid it. He'd be leaving himself vulnerable if he pulled something and that was an amateur mistake he won't be repeating. It's looking like he might need to make a second trip if he wants to have everything he needs for the next room expansion but a glance up at the sky quickly puts a stop to those plans. The sky is overcast and heavy with dark clouds rolling in. He'd be caught in the storm if he had to walk all the way to the bunker and back again but he'd already collected all the suitable material from around the clearing he's built the bunker in. Any and all wood he could collect would be soaked through and useless if he tried to do two trips. He didn't want the structural support in his walls to be warped after all. "Come on, Branch." He sighs, tapping his foot as he tries to decide the lesser evil. He needs the supplies if he's going to be productive and it'd throw a wrench in his plans to push back the expansion.

He's resigned himself to an aching back when he hears a light humming coming from the bushes to his right. His ears twitch, alert, as he turns to face the incoming stranger. The humming gets louder, occasionally forming mumbled lyrics, and Branch's shoulders rise with building tension as the noise gets closer. He doesn't have time to gather up the supplies and get out of there before he's spotted so he waits anxiously for the inevitable confrontation.

It's not too much longer before a yellow glitter troll emerges from the bushes, pushing aside the foliage with one paw and holding a large handful of red berries in the other. He's singing the last notes of whatever song he had stuck in his head under his breath, seemingly unaware of Branch as he picks some stray twigs from his purple hair and brushes leaves from his trousers. He pops one of the berries into his mouth. Branch is hoping that maybe the other troll will just walk right past him and leave him be. He's never been lucky. The troll stumbles to a stop when he catches Branch out of the corner of his eye and for a few seconds the two just stare at each other with wide eyes. The glitter troll shakes himself from his stupor and offers a soft smile, "Hey, didn't see you there," he greets. There's no judgment or hesitation in his eyes when he talks to Branch and it catches him off guard.

"Uh, hey," He stutters before he can remind himself to ignore the intrusion. The glitter troll doesn't so much as blink at the awkward response though. Instead he pops another berry into his mouth and steps closer to get a better look at the heavy bundles of wood Branch has left on the ground. "Whew, that's a lot of wood." He remarks curiously, turning green eyes to look at Branch more closely. He still doesn't say anything about Branch's gray pelt or the colorless black of his hair and Branch doesn't know when the other shoe will drop but it's starting to make his skin itch. He doesn't like this attention, he feels oddly exposed beneath this random troll's warm gaze. "Are you in construction or something?" Branch raises an unimpressed eyebrow in response. The troll blinks, confused, before he suddenly perks up, "Oh, I'm Boom by the way." Branch hadn't been looking for an introduction but he supposes it's nice to put a name to the face he'd like to avoid.

Branch doesn't reply. He decides that he doesn't know what this troll wants but he isn't inclined to give it to him. He looks back down at his supplies and commits to his backpack idea. He nods sternly to himself and heads off towards one of the nearby trees covered in thick vines and moss tangled in the gigantic bark. He doesn't bother to keep track of Boom as he sets about his task. It takes him a few minutes to assess the tree to determine that the best way to get down the vines would be to climb up and cut them off. He's startled out of his thoughts when Boom makes himself known again.

"So," the glitter troll drawls, popping another berry into his mouth. Branch scowls. "Do you want some help with that?" He asks, not looking away from the vines Branch had been appraising.

"No," Branch grinds out, easily extending his hair up to loop around an especially thick vine that swoops back up all the way into the foliage. He pulls himself up with ease and balances precariously on the thick body of the plant. He digs a small pocket knife out of his pocket and cuts through the vine with a single slice, using the severed end to swing back down to the ground. He doesn't spare a glance at Boom as he estimates the length he'll need before cutting it accordingly.

"Cool," Boom beams. He doesn't gush or awe but he nods at the impressive feat. Not dismissive but not over the top either. Branch can't figure out what he wants. He growls and coils up his vine before stomping back over to his abandoned wood bundles. Boom, of course, merrily follows after him.

Branch does his best to ignore the pest that's latched onto him and shrugs the rolled-up vine up onto his shoulder. Boom only watches on in silence as Branch hefts one bundle of wood up beneath each arm and begins his trek further into the woods. Branch expects the glitter troll to give up after he so rudely brushed him aside but no such luck. Instead, Boom trails after him, popping another berry into his mouth before holding out the dwindling handful in a silent offer. Branch shoots him a dirty look and picks up the pace.

Boom follows. No matter how far into the forest Branch goes Boom is right on his heel. Branch feels his irritation growing until he can't just grit his teeth and bear it anymore. His head falls back with a loud groan before he whips around to face the offending troll, "What do you want!" He demands, glaring daggers at his self-appointed shadow.

Boom blinks. He ran out of berries a few paces back but that still hadn't deterred him from following Branch around like a lost cuddle puppy. "Sorry man, I guess I just figured you could use some company?"

Branch blinks back, brows furrowing, "What could have possibly given you that impression?" He huffs, adjusting the wood in his arms. His arms were already starting to burn and he hadn't ever collected the third bundle yet. He was going to be sore tomorrow but he could work through it he's sure.

"Well you just seemed kind of upset," Boom shrugs with a kind smile on his face like that was a decent excuse.

Branch scoffs and rolls his eyes, "I'm grey." He says like it explains exactly why that was such a ridiculous reason. To him, it does. People around the village avoided him. The adults weren't unkind but they looked at him with undisguised unease and discomfort. A lot of the younger trolls could be borderline cruel. Mocking words were often thrown his way by trolls his age and even if he wanted friends-- which he didn't-- it wasn’t like anyone wanted to spend time with someone like him. He was bad luck; unhappy and miserable just like the Bergens that killed Grandma.

Boom shrugs, "So?" Branch was used to the blind optimism of Troll Village but this was too much.

"What do you think that means?" Branch snarls, his temper rising again.

"That you could use some company." Boom throws back, a smug look sliding across his face when Branch could only blink back. The tables have turned, it seems.

Branch sighs, glaring at the glitter troll who only grinned back unfazed. They stand locked in a stare-down for a minute before Branch rolls his eyes and drops one of his bundles to the floor, rolling his shoulder to ease the ache. It feels good to shift the weight, the one bundle is a much easier burden to carry. "If you're not going to leave you could at least be helpful." He sniffs, turning his glare down to the floor. He likes being alone. There's no one who can disappoint him if there's no one there. There's no one to lose if he has no one to care about. But he can admit that it's lonely. It hurts to be disregarded by the same trolls who watched him and his brothers grow up before BroZone fell apart and Grandma died. He's been tossed aside so carelessly time and time again but Boom still lingered no matter how unkind Branch was. It was stupid how this hesitant yearning sparked in his chest.

Whatever. They weren't friends. He'd probably never see Boom again. If nothing else he can at least get an extra pair of hands out of this.

Boom absolutely beams and scoops up the bundle of wood with a small grunt of effort, "You got it!" He's way too excited for Branch's liking and he looks far too content to be doing manual labor for a stranger in the woods but whatever. If it'll keep Branch from unnecessary pain and keep him on schedule then he'd be an idiot to say no. They travel through the woods in relative silence as Branch picks up more sturdy-looking branches and Boom occasionally hums a stray melody. Boom doesn't lose the bounce in his step for even a second, happily following Branch along, and even occasionally picking up a few stray pieces of wood himself to add to their growing collection. Still, he doesn't say anything unkind or start asking invasive questions. He just follows behind Branch and helps without so much as a complaint. Branch still doesn't understand but he's starting to accept that maybe this was all there was to it and there wasn't some secret agenda lurking around the corner.

"So, what's all this for?" Boom asks when Branch ties up the last bundle and calls their search finished.

Branch narrows his eyes at the glitter troll and hefts up the two bundles. "Why?" He asks, voice thick with suspicion. He appreciated the help but that doesn't mean he was any closer to this stranger than he was before. He's already gotten teased enough about the bunker for a lifetime, thank you very much.

Boom shrugs, "Just wondering," he replies with a lighthearted grin, "You don't have to tell me or anything, I'm just curious." He adjusts the wood held a bit awkwardly in his arms, "It's just a lot, I figured it had to be for something specific."

This has to be some sort of bait. Word got around about the grey troll allegedly living underground, there was no way he hadn't heard something about it, and Branch was the only gray troll in the whole village. He huffs and turns on his heel, starting the long trek back to the bunker. The sky was dark and gray, a near-perfect match for the desaturated color of Branch's skin, and it was clear they didn't have much time before they got caught in the storm. He hears Boom pick up his happy humming as he follows after Branch without so much as a disappointed whine. It does nothing to ease Branch's confusion.

The walk back to the bunker passes in the same way the wood scavenging did and Branch wonders how someone could be so content despite getting no answers about the work they were doing. It's a while before he can see the clearing where the bunker's entrance was located but when he spots it up ahead he swiftly picks up speed. Even only carrying one bundle of wood under each arm he could still feel the weight dragging his shoulders down and he's certain that he's still gonna be sore come tomorrow morning. He can't imagine the way his body would've ached had he forced himself to lug all three bundles back by himself. There's no way in hell he'll tell Boom that.

"You can leave it here." Branch hums, dropping his own two loads onto the grass beside the hidden trap door that would finally bring him home.

Boom blinks in surprise, shifting his armful with uncertainty, "Are you sure? These things are heavy, I'm more than happy to help you take them home." Even after carrying wood through the woods for what couldn't have been any less than two hours the glitter troll is still offering more help. Branch supposes that was the way the troll community worked at its core but he's spent the majority of his life isolated from that both by choice and by circumstance. It's weirding him out.

"This is fine." He replies curtly.

"If you're sure…" Boom trails off, lowering the wood down beside the supplies Branch left on the grass. "I had a lot of fun, though, thanks." The glitter troll smiles over at him, running his hands through that deep purple hair, and Branch looks back in utter confusion.

"We just walked through the woods," Branch huffs. "I made you carry like thirty pounds around for hours." He gestures to the wood at his feet. He just doesn't get this troll and it's starting to really get on his nerves.

Boom shrugs for what must be the umpteenth time and his smile only brightens, "Yeah, but I kind of enjoy the stormy days and I was out for a walk anyway. You're a bit prickly but you don't make bad company." That, Branch knows, is a downright lie. He only raises a disbelieving eyebrow in response but Boom just laughs. "I'll see you around, maybe?" He asks, tilting his head.

Branch shrugs back, "It probably can't be helped." They both lived in the same village after all.

"Cool," Boom nods, offering a cheery wave before turning around and making his leave back the way they came. No more questions. No pushing, no scathing remarks, no disappointment. Nothing. Just a seemingly heartfelt admission of enjoying their time together and a cheerful goodbye. Weird.

Branch shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he opens the hatch and pushes his supplies in first. It's perfect timing, really, as the first roll of thunder rings out just after he hops down into the bunker entrance. He makes sure to fasten all the locks behind him. He hasn't perfected the tech to open and close the hatch at the push of a button so all the locks were manual for the time being. He was almost there, though, he could feel the breakthrough on the horizon. He can hear the rain start to drizzle down as he drags the wood over the elevator platform and it's a soothing sound. He'd probably still be walking back to the bunker if it wasn't for Boom, weighed down by everything they'd collected. Huh. He doesn't give it too much thought as he pushes down the elevator lever, hoping that the thing will work this time and he won't have to haul the wood down the stairs. It's only when the elevator gets stuck halfway down that he realizes Boom never even asked for his name.

[anathemafiction]

Hello! I just want to say that i fell in love with your writing! Is so poetic, light and fresh! Thank you for writing! And your book made me want to learn how to write. Do your have some pointers to where i should start? (oh, and im from Brazil! So english is quite hard for me, but your english is incredible!). Thank for your time!

Hello! Thank you so much for your words. E abraços de Lisboa para o Brasil. ♡♡

So, I've gotten a few requests for writing advice, specifically, IF writing advice. And while I understand why people may want to hear from me, I really feel the need to state that I am very much still an amateur, wannabe author. 

This isn't me trying to be fake humble or gain sympathy points, it's simply the cold truth. I'm not comfortable giving advice because I'm still learning every day. I've made a lot — and I mean, a lot — of mistakes with Book One. There's so much that, looking back, I did wrong and would change if I could go back in time, but alas, that's impossible, so I must do what all humans do: take it in, learn from it, and do better next time.

Next time is Book Two, and I'm sure that, once I'm done with that, there'll be new errors and new ways I'll find that I could have done better. The important thing is, of course, never to repeat the same mistake twice.

The only advice I'll give regarding writing, in general, is this: read. Read as much and as diversely as you can. Read other Interactive Fiction games, but mostly, read books. Read the classics, read the ones that were banned, read horror and sci-fi and romance and fantasy and historical and philosophical and poetry and dystopian and everything you can get your hands on. Read books from your country and language, but please, read other cultures too. Read books people swear are amazing and read books badly rated. Read what you like and what you think you dislike. And, most of all, never stop reading. Read every day.

Slowly, gradually, you'll start to find your style. You'll find what you like and how you like it. You'll find out whether you describe a scene better using the senses - the weather, the light, the smells, the background noise - or if you prefer to pay as little detail to the surroundings as possible. You'll find whether you like an active narrator, different POVs, tales written like dialogues, or as ethereal as if watched from the eyes of a God. 

For interactive fiction in general? I'll say, write a good outline. I didn't have one for Book One, and now that I do for Book Two, it's a completely different ballpark. 

My method is to write a first draft of a chapter on paper and pencil where I do one "path" until I reach the end of the chapter. Then, go on Word and fill out all the choices and paths, basically completing the chapter — that's draft two. Draft three is after I put it all in code and do a deep edit. But I'm very much aware my method won't work with everyone (it most likely won't work with the majority of people).

For coding, let me redirect you to this old ask: Here.

There are a lot of more experienced IF writers on Tumblr who have made amazing posts about writing IFs, coding, and storytelling in general. I can direct you to Hannah, a veteran COG and game writer — @hpowellsmith. But there are others! 

[darylsfavoritegirl]

my first fanfic here... feel free to correct my mistakes or you can just say what i can do more for these to be better!

Summary: This takes place in season 4, prison era (my personal favorite) there is this new girl which Rick and Daryl have taken into prison as a survivor but Daryl can't really stand her and dang a broken fence cuts her upper front thigh (rectus femories to be exact I had to examine an anatomy pic for this one😭) and Daryl has to clean it!! But our girl has surgery scars from when she was a kid. It catches Daryl's attention. Idk I'm making it quite obvious that I'm such an amateur in this. It's a first person narration fanfic

I was lying on my bed under the dim light of a kerosene oil lamp Maggie had given me earlier that day. I was sighing deeply now and then, getting more and more bored with each passing second. Having to put a stupidly looking smile on my face everytime someone would pass infront of my cell. I could feel my hands feeling more and more sweaty in the humid of Georgia summer, yet I kept them crossed on my lap.

I was stupid enough to not check my surrondings when I was aimlessly walking into the gates of the prison after a run I was sent to with a couple of others in the camp. A fence cut the upper front of my thigh, not deep enough to leave me all screaming and whining, I thought. I let out a small soft moan at the pain of it, but I was the last one to pass through the gates. Nobody saw it bleeding. I covered it with the hems of my shorts, my shorts immediatly being colored with my blood. I ran into my cell and tried to bandage it incompetently, which horribly failed.

Carol was the first one to notice how terrible my wound was looking.

"It can get infected" she said with a warm, cautious temper.

"If not cleaned and bandaged properly."

I couldn't help but gasp a little bit at the idea of my wound getting infected in the middle of the apocalpyse. I went through worse wounds than this, except I always had someone to take care of them for me before. I couldn't bear the idea of the others thinking I was dumb enough to get my wound infected within my first week with them.

Carol, Maggie even Hershell have been my saviors so far, cleaning the wound. I could walk, I wasn't handicapped in any aspect but I didn't know how to clean it myself neither.

But there I was, lying in gloom and distress worrying about who was going to be cleaning my wound and I'd have to share a couple of odd minutes with them, both of us trying our hardest to come up with something to say for a small talk.

Carol showed up with necessary utensils on her hands. She had that welcoming, warm and even pleasant smile on her face. I smiled back.

She started lying out the stuff she brought on the nighstand next to my bed.

"Your wound is getting a lot better." She said without looking at me.

"Next time, you get injured; you let us know."

"I will." I said with a subtle undertone of guilt and a mix of apprecation in my voice.

She gestured her body towards the cell door as if she was gonna leave. Before I could even open my mouth, she spoke "Mind Daryl cleaning your wound tonight? I'm needed somewhere else."

By the gestures on her face, the way she said those words I knew Daryl have had to say something about me to this woman, which obviously wasn't all positive. It wasn't a secret that he didn't necessarily love me but I was the one that needed some kind of a simple procedure. I wasn't gonna act like a child, whining and requesting someone else. I simply nodded and waited for this dreadful man to come and do what he was asked for.

Minutes passed like years when he finally showed up at the cell door, looking a bit pissed and constrained. It was obvious he was never asked to do these kind of stuff. He was an important man around; going on runs, finding supplies, the act of service type of guy; working only for the good of his people. He seemed, though, a little bit bewildered as if he had no idea what or how he was going to clean my wound.

He stepped into the cell. I curled the ends of my shorts without him having to ask for it. He checked the utensils Carol laid out on the nighstand minutes ago. He, once again looked bewildered, incompetent. He grabbed some of the utensils on the nightstand, drew the half broken stool to himself and sat on it. He laid some of the stuff on the edge of the bed as he gestured his hands to the blood soaked bandage. Before he could even move his hands towards it, I spoke "I got it."

A soft moan of pain escaped my mouth as I was taking off the bandage, throwing it right into the trash after.

I heard him taking a deep breath and mumbling under his breath

"Shoulda spilled earlier, wouldn't hurt this damn much now."

I frowned at him before starting to study my wound.

"Carol said it's getting better." I said softly, my tone just above a whisper. I didn't feel any energy to spend on talking to this man. He gazed at my wound couple of seconds before grunting "It is."

He took a grey cloth that somehow looked like a deformed gauzed pad out of an aid kit. He poured some kind of alcohol-based liquid on the cloth. He looked at me for a brief moment before speaking under his breath

" 'S ma' hurt. "

"It's fine." I spoke. The alcohol really stings on the bare wound but there was nothing I could do. I bite the inside of my cheek as he started cleaning my wound. It was hurting like hell but I didn't want to whine and come off as "weak" to him. I was worried that I would cause the inside of my cheek to bleed because of how hard I was biting it and how often I have had to start doing it.

I look at him for a brief moment. He couldn't see me looking at him as he leaned forward so that he'd make a better job at cleaning my wound. I could see his bangs falling on his eyebrows and sometimes getting into his eyes which he'd swing his head slightly to get them out of his eye corners. He looked really focused, not talking at all. The others did; asking me where I come from, what I did before all this. It would all be omnious small talks, which I regret thinking they ever were because what this was felt more infuriating.

I kept on staring at him or looking at random places now and then for 30-40 seconds when I noticed him scowling at something he saw on my leg. His expression faded away within 2 or 3 seconds perhaps, I followed his gaze and saw his finger curling the hem of my short a bit more upwards than I did because he needed more space to work on my wound. There they were, the scars from the surgeries I had as a kid. I knew he wasn't the type to ask when or why I had those but now my scars had my attention as well as they got his. He was still working on the area and his finger was still on the edge of my shorts so it wouldn't fall on where he was cleaning. I noticed he avoided touching them. I was feeling hotter and more distressed each passing second. I assumed questions were pondering his head because my scars were relatively long scars. At the end, I decided to speak. I cleared my throat lightly. Somebody had to end this awkwardness.

"Surgery scars." I spoke

"I had 'em when I was 5 and 6."

Our gazes met, he seemed as if he was contemplating whether or not to stay silent. His blue eyes were almost piercing and I couldn't help but feel hotter than I felt before. I felt his hand falling on my upper leg lightly.

" 'S fine. "

That was it. That's all he had to stay. He broke the eye contact immediatly after. He went back to getting the job done with my wound.

"Ever thought 'bout gettin' 'em removed?" He grunted.

"No. Never." I huffed under my breath. I sensed that he asked this question only to make conversation and break the oddity wall that was getting thicker every passing second.

"Hmmm." He expressed and kept working on my wound.

"Can't get them removed even if I want to now, can I?"

I spoke with the intention to talk to him more.

" 'S possible if ya can bear the pain." He said I might be wrong but I saw the curl of his lips going upward. It was the first time I saw this man smirk even a little. He got up from the stool, that tiny mischievous snigger was still on his face as my eyes followed his every little move. I was mesmerised as if he has just cast a spell on me. I had a stupid smirk on my face, of course it was subtle to an extent which wouldn't freak him out. I probably smiled for the first time with him ever since I've met him. He placed the tools on the nighstand and turned to me.

"Yea should be al' good if yea keep an eye on yerself a bit."

I nodded. He didn't expect me to say anything and made his way to the cell door.

I got up, sat on the edge of the bed; looking at the fresh bandage he just wrapped around my upper leg. I sighed as I looked at the high narrow window on the wall.

FOOTNOTE

Ok yall that was it. I actually loveeedd writing this eventho we don't get much of a daryl content but idk this is my first time writing in english (as in fanfic, yes i have written in my mother tongue when i was in like middle school.... a guess a writer is always a writer😈😈👿👿😭😭 -corny as fuck) and i feel like writing daryl can get quite out of character for two reasons, first being he's never had a s/o in twd where it was obvious they were dating and we havent seen any "boyfriend" or "flirty daryl" and this man only grew more and more silent each passing episode and season so.....

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.179 thoughts

[Don't Trust a Ho, Never Trust a Ho]

(Contents: Latla analysis)

Wow, I did NOT see Untrust coming! I (and I bet most other folks) thought her ability was going to be Unpredictable, and I guess in a sense, it was! I don't think anyone ever guessed Untrust!

But it makes sense, doesn't it? As a professional fortune teller, Latla was known for having 100% accuracy, meaning that anything she said, you could unequivocally trust. Of course God would want to take that away, it's almost like she already had an unsanctioned Negator ability, and God wasn't going to let her break the rules like that

For anyone unclear on how Untrust works based on what we've seen so far, let's do a quick review

Latla doesn't need to make a prediction out loud, she simply needs to predict an outcome at all, even if only in her thoughts. She's not negating the prediction, she's negating her own credibility, even for herself

There seem to be two stages to this: mystic predictions and logical conclusions. Using her crystal ball, Latla can predict or divine any outcome or truth, but because she cannot be trusted, whatever she divines has to be wrong. With this, she can look decently far into the future and understand broader concepts like the flow and ultimate victor of a fight; she doesn't need to know anything about the topic, she just needs to look into her crystal ball and understand what she's seeing

All other predictions she makes are simply logical; Rip getting shot and killed, an attack on a clear path, and losing to a seemingly invincible monster, all are predictions that anyone could have seen coming and anyone would take at face value in those moments. Therefore, Latla doesn't need to use her crystal ball, she just needs to use her sense

This is also why Latla can't deflect attacks with odd trajectories or that come from her blindspots; she simply doesn't have the experience to make those predictions in the moment. If she had time to use her crystal ball, sure, she could predict something so difficult to see coming, but otherwise, no, she's not a fighter and doesn't have the capacity to see multiple steps in advance

Let's say a chessmaster got Untrust; if they know how an opponent will (or rather, should) react to a certain move, they would negate the predictable conclusions and leave only the least logical and effective move for the opponent to make. "There's no way they'd make a move so stupid, they're better than that" -> "what a blunder! They've fallen for the obvious trap I laid, I thought only an amateur could make a mistake like that!"

We don't know a ton about Latla's interests, but for argument's sake, let's say that Latla doesn't know how to play chess. If she were to play against anyone, she would have no idea what to expect from an opponent and would likely move her pieces blindly; without a clear understanding of what counters would make the most sense, she would be left without a way to predict and negate her opponent's moves aside from the most blatantly obvious (like having a piece next to an enemy Queen). If she predicted she'd lose before the match, then naturally she'd win, but if she can't make real-time predictions, she might as well be playing blindfolded

But enough about the power itself, let's focus on the real juicy bits: the thematic implications!

First things first: Rip was initially staunchly opposed to Latla using fortunetelling because he didn't believe in it. He didn't trust in Latla's methods at first, but he did trust in Latla herself. Even believing that her trade was hokum, Rip trusted Latla implicitly and went along with any prediction she would make

On the reverse side, though, Rip never relied on Latla. Sure, he made use of her ability in combat, but he only even allowed her to be present because she insisted. Regardless of what he said or did, Rip always made Latla feel like he didn't trust her. He didn't trust her enough to tell her his plans, to let her be present for the worst of it like cutting off his own limbs, and didn't trust her to put her life on the line; he tried to shoulder the burden alone because he didn't trust that she could stand the weight

In much the same way that Rip 100's quest was a futile attempt to repair his own shattered life, Latla 100 was constantly left behind because Rip never entrusted her with anything of value. She was perfectly capable and reliable, even with her 100% inaccurate predictions (ironically making them 100% accurate upon inversion), but Rip couldn't leave things to her

However, it's because of his faith in Latla that Rip was able to accept Fuuko's help in this loop. Rip says that he could tell at a glance that Fuuko was a good person, but I doubt that it's because of anything about her specifically; instead, I think it was because she was standing with Latla, who clearly had already put her faith in Fuuko. Despite everything, despite butting heads, despite ideological differences, despite not wanting anyone other than himself to suffer, Rip absolutely, 100%, believes in Latla, and that means believing in anyone she believes in

That's also why they're able to fight so well together too, "in lockstep" as Rip says. They are perfectly in sync, their hearts beating as one as they finally walk together towards the same goal, which will soon prove my earlier assertion that they will be absolutely pivotal to defeating God in the final battle. I guarantee it

[gritsandbrits]

Fixing Jackpot Pt. 1

I'm no stranger to dealing with Marvel's nonsense especially when it comes to their insistence that PeterMJ isn't real. Currently she's having her superhero arc but like a lot of fans, I'm not meshing with this storyline. And for someone who's supposed to be a fashionista her choice of outfit is messier than an x men family tree! So with my amateur design skills I took it upon myself to see if I can break her out of her faux pas. But first let's dive deeper into my issues with this marvelous disaster!

Comparing the original cover to greyscale, everything kinda contrasts but it isn't enough. If I were to see this far away I would mistake it for a giant grey blob. The big ass cards on her thighs causes unnecessary distraction and too on the nose. The outlines around the cards, the gauntlets and tie and angle on her chest AND the goggles, makes her costume look incoherent and dated. Also her sleeves are grey yet the top half of her chest is white, there's like five main colors fighting for dominance.

So what did I do?

First thing I did was change the color. Since MJ already has long bright red hair, it made sense to add cool colors to balance it out. I went with purple for its association with magic, graceful qualities, and wealth. These contexts are especially ironic when you take her backstory into account. I also changed the sleeves to better match with the top.

For the second variant I added gold to contrast with the purple and to further emphasize the fortune aspect. It makes the goggles stand out more too. Oh yeah I colored over those rectangles so you're focused on her face.

Here's another variant. Blue is also commonly associated with magic, and it matches the blue on Peter's suit.

Again cool colors compliments her hair, and they're almost at equal areas so they're balanced as all things should be. I noticed the blue matches the numbers too. This rich shade pops out pretty well from thr background. The palette leans towards the trope "Primary Color Champion."

This green variant is based on Alana Jobson, the original Jackpot. Ugh greyscale is NOT on my side! 🙄🙄🙄

Out of curiousity I sketched up long boots with gold trim at the top, round to contrast the sharp symbols as well as to match the shape of her gauntlet. Now comparing to greyscale again, she pops out more against the background.

It's not perfect but at least I got the point across.

Overall, absolutely nobody asked for this story. I won't even entertain the idea of reading it. But I love fashion and MJ as a character. She deserved better. Next time I'll see if I can draw a new costume from scratch. Any critiques are welcomed, I love to hear y'all thoughts on this!

[sweettjrose]

Detective Mickey Pilot P.4

Hey everyone. Hi... Hello... So it has been quite a while since the last part... Okay, so I ended up being extremely busy these past couple of weeks and really struggled to find time to finish writing. It doesn't help that this ended up being another really long part. I think the parts from here to now on will continue to be long. I'll try to get part 5 out next week, but no promises. I should still have 2 more parts left. Though I may add an epilogue. I'll have to decide once I write the final part.

I am so thankful for all of the support I've been getting. Part 3 got the best response which makes me so happy since it was my favorite part, but this part may be a close second. Tbh this is my first time writing "fanfiction" and I can already find myself improving. I wonder if maybe I should figure out what else to write after I finish this. But I'll discuss that late.

I will warn you that there are few somewhat tense situations in this part. For those who read the "Mickey Mouse Outwits the Phantom Blot" comic, you'll get an idea of what I may be talking about. But I did add my own twist to it. I will try my best to add triggers for it, but please let me know if I am missing something.

Now with all that out of the way...

Previous Part: X

Next Part: X

So Close. So. Close. He was about maybe 20 feet from his car until he felt the metallic muzzle at his neck. Instantly able to tell what it was. He slowly raised his hands and froze, doing his best to avoid sudden movements.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

A chill went up Mickey’s spine. That cold but velvety voice was all too familiar and Mickey knew he was in the presence of that cloaked nightmare once again. Memories of their previous encounter flickered in Mickey’s mind, including those eyes. Those frightening white eyes. Mickey quietly took a breath, finally able go calm himself down. He better respond soon. Thankfully though, with help from Horace, he had a backup plan for this exact situation. In his best old-person voice Mickey tried to tell the threatening man behind him that he thought that this was his house and that he made a mistake and would be heading home. He hoped that the shadowy figure would buy that he was just a senile old man and not find value in dealing with him. But that hope shattered when he heard his cruel horrid laughter snake into his ears, growing and growing each second. The Blot paused his laughter every couple of seconds asking the mouse if he thought he was stupid enough to buy his little disguise. He is literally the master of disguise and yet this amateur journalist thought he could outwit him with a fake beard and a hat. Mickey blushed, feeling silly that he thought this would work. Getting the sense that the mouse was feeling embarrassed the Blot faked trying to console him by saying to not feel too bad as he thought that the little costume was “adorable” and if there was a next time he could see the mouse able to pull a more convincing look. Unfortunately, there wasn’t going to be a next time.

The Phantom Blot sighed, adding that he was rather hurt that the mouse didn’t accept his very generous gift. He feigned hurt, going on about how he used up all the kindness in his heart to give this mouse a benevolent second chance, only to have it thrown back into his face. Oh Well. That’s what he gets for showing kindness to others. I guess he’ll have to heal his broken heart by torturing this little pathetic mouse. The Blot poked Mickey’s neck again with the gun, this time partially lifting the camera around Mickey’s neck with the barrel and then picking it up with his other hand, leaving the gun still touching Mickey's neck. He jokingly asks what it is and remarks that this doesn’t look like any of the missing cameras. Almost out of instinct, Mickey tells him to stop and pleads to give it back. Only to freeze again after the gun touches him again. The man laughs before noting that this must be the mouse’s personal camera and questions how he must be concerned about all the incriminating pictures…Or perhaps it is something a bit more intimate than that. Mickey then hears a thud and a loud crack that causes him to rapidly turn to the source of the noise… Did he… Before he has a chance to see, a swift hit to the head quickly knocks him out, leaving him once again vulnerable to whatever the Phantom Blot has planned for him.

Mickey's eyes instantly shot open and he tried to get up. Unfortunately, he found that a bit of a challenge as he noticed that his whole body seemed to be tied up with ropes. From what Mickey can gather he is tied to some kind of bench facing upwards. He tries his best to move any muscle or joint, but can’t even wiggle a finger. Frustrated Mickey looks up realizing that right above him is a giant sharp circular saw aimed right at his neck. He let out a large yelp before seeing a note that was attached to the blade of the saw...

“Hope you rested well little mouse,

Wish I could stay and watch this play out, but unfortunately I had other things to attend to. Do not worry, nothing bad should happen, lest any of our new friends decide to wake. I cannot seem to remember if I fed them or not. I advise you to avoid making too much noise. Nothing good will come of it. 

Your Dear Friend… ”

 The letter was signed with some splotches of ink. He looks around cautiously, noticing dozens of cats dozing on the floor. Thankfully they all seem to be in a deep sleep. But for how long? As Mickey tries to investigate the saw, he notices that it is attached to some kind of mechanical device. At the end of the device, there is a thin wire with a… Fish wrapped around the end? Mickey is confused by the fish until he remembers the sleepy and probably hungry cats over the floor. He puts together very quickly that if that fish is moved too much, that will most likely signal the device to turn on the saw and… Cut right through his neck. Crap. Mickey was unsure what kind of “torture” the Phantom Blot would put him in, but he wasn’t expecting this. This is a bit odd, but still extremely morbid. Bet this would make an interesting headline. Mouse gets his head cut off thanks to starving cats. What a way to die… Thankfully Mickey isn’t one to quickly give up. There is too much at stake. He survived the Phantom Blot before and he can do it again. Mickey stops to think a little and quickly realizes that the Phantom Blot has given Mickey a very powerful tool at the moment. Time. Ha, the Blot could have easily killed him while he was knocked out and yet he gave Mickey plenty of time to figure out how to-o… to-oh… A sudden tingle hits Mickey’s nose… Oh No. Mickey tries his best to hold in a sneeze but finds it near impossible until he is finally forced to let it out. Ah-Choo!

As the sound of the sneeze echoes around the room, about half of the cats perk up. Shoot. Shoot. Mickey feels another tingly sensation under his nose and instantly looks further up. He notices a pepper shaker dangling above him slowly dropping pepper flakes. Crap. He doesn’t even have time. The awakened cats start to wander around the room, getting a better look at their surroundings. A white long long-haired cat jumps on the table, gets near Mickey’s face, and starts to brush his nose with their tail causing him to sneeze more. Not. Helping. Mickey tries his best to shoo away the cats, not afraid of making noise anymore. But they don’t seem to care. A small black and white kitten tries to jump up to the fish and misses. However, now the other cats are aware of the fish. No. No. Mickey uses every ounce of energy he has to try to scare away the cats. Screaming and moving the bench enough to wobble side to side… Wait, wobble the bench. He can wobble the bench! He uses all of his strength to wobble the bench from side to side. Getting more powerful with each swing. Come on. Come on. A much larger orange-striped cat looks at the fish and gets in a position to make a jump. Crap. Come On. Hurry. Swing. Swing. The cat bends back. Hurry. Swing. Swing. And leaps instantly catching the fish in their claws causing the wire to go down as well and turning on the mechanical machine. Within a couple of seconds, the circular saw turns on and swings the powerful and sharp blade downwards right at Mickey. Making a loud buzzing sound as it cuts through something. But miraculously in that very last second, Mickey managed to swing hard enough to get the bench on its side facing away from the whirring saw. 

The saw instead cuts straight through the legs of the bench and stops right before it hits the floor. The noise and vibrations are enough to scare all of the cats causing them to rush around the room, avoiding the saw, looking for any exit. Mickey tries to move and finds that the rope tying him down was sliced through, allowing him to pull himself free. He stands up, rushes to the nearest door, opens it, and lets a flood of cats rush right out the door… He survived. He really survived. Mickey lets out a large breath, relieving the tension in his shoulders. He could feel tears start to build up in the corners of his eyes. Okay. Focus. Need to Get Out of Here. Mickey looks around, instantly recognizing that he is still in the mansion. At least the Phantom Blot didn’t take him too far.

He starts rushing out the door over to where he remembers parking his car, hoping it is still there. Little did he notice a small white and black kitten following him. On his way he spots some trash cans not too far from his path. One of the lids seems to be partially open, held up by something. He feels a strong urge to check it out. Might as well since it is on the way. As he opens the can, a small smile creeps onto his face. Little Korker V39 cameras. A whole bunch of them. They all seemed to be broken into, but quite a few of them don’t look too hard to fix. An idea pops into his mind as he starts taking out as many of the least broken cameras he can find and placing them in a convenient burlap sack that happens to be nearby. As he picks up the last camera he notices something colorful on the side of the trash can. It is probably the thing that was holding the lid up from before that dropped when he opened it. He decided to take a deeper look at the object and in an instant his heart breaks. 

Ol’ Reliable. In this mess he completely forgot about Ol’ Reliable, his faithful camera. He sees it currently lying in a pile of mud shattered beyond repair. He instantly remembered the thud and loud crack from his previous encounter with the Phantom Blot. He did this. Memories flood his mind of the time  he first bought it, Felicity helping him develop the photos, and all the care he put into repairing and cleaning it … It’s gone. It’s really gone. Mickey can’t help but feel a huge hole in his heart. That camera meant so much to him and it was destroyed by that evil man like it was nothing. Mickey then remembers that the camera also held photos of the evidence he found earlier. Not caring about the danger within, the mouse heads back into the mansion and retraces his steps to the secret door. He heads down and looks at the now empty circular room. Crap. Seems like the Phantom Blot cleaned out the place before he left. Mickey sighs. Now he really doesn’t have any evidence left. He somberly exits the mansion with a depressed expression on his face. Now what is he going to do?

As he heads back to his car a little black and white cat comes up to him and starts to meow. Almost as if he is asking Mickey if he is alright. Mickey smiles a bit, picks the kitten up, and starts petting him. As Mickey heads over to where his car might be, the cat meows again, almost as if he is asking what’s the matter. Mickey laughs and tells the cat that he is just going through a tough time, I mean he did almost die, and it seems like it will only get tougher. After a quick pause, the cat purrs and rubs his head on Mickey’s chest, seemingly trying to tell him that it will be alright. It will be alright. Mickey could feel his broken heart mend a bit as his new friend comforted him. He is really glad to not be alone right now. He miraculously still finds his car where he left it and starts placing the broken cameras, including his own, into the car. When he opens the door the kitten immediately jumps in and sits in one of the seats. Seems like his new friend wants to come with him. Hmmm… Minnie talked about wanting a cat. 

We cut to Mickey in his house as he carefully places Ol’ Reliable on the table and can’t help but feel hurt looking at the unfixable state it is in. He has experience fixing small dents and replacing missing pieces here and there. But it is completely crushed and Mickey is at a loss on whatever could be done to save it. Mickey sighs and starts to move over to a chair. Pluto notices and instantly lays his head on Mickey’s lap. Mickey smiles at him and thanks him for the support. The little black and white cat also tries to wobble over to his lap, causing Pluto to growl, which Mickey stops by reminding Pluto that he should be nice to their new friend and that he will only be here for a little while. Pluto begrudgingly ends the growling, deciding that it was best if he didn’t cause any trouble for Mickey at this moment. 

Mickey stops to think a bit. He has to continue this case. He can’t let the Phantom Blot get away with that weapon blueprint. He would never forgive himself if he did. But what can he do? Well before he was hoping to be able to have some evidence to show the police. I guess he could go back to the mansion and check for more clues. But what if the Phantom Blot is there. Mickey shuddered at the thought of seeing him again. It’s possible he hasn’t returned yet. Is it worth the risk though? He already cleaned out the secret room. It’s possible he could find nothing and waste his time. Maybe he doesn’t need clues. If he could just talk to O’Hara, he would know Mickey wouldn’t lie about this. But then again he did mention being really busy.  Mickey continued his internal debate, as Pluto raised his head once more to look at the annoying feline that invaded his home. Only to notice that the kitten is completely gone. The pooch perked up looking all over the room only to spot the mischievous cat playing with something on the table. After peering closer the hound realized the cat was messing with the now-broken item he knew Mickey loved a lot. He instantly got up and started barking at the cat. Trying to get it to leave the special item alone. This broke Mickey out of his deep thinking as he went to calm Pluto. The barking however still managed to spook the cat, as it attempted to run pushing the camera to the ground. After telling Pluto to halt, Mickey went over to the camera to pick it up and noticed that the canister holding the film had fallen out. The canister looked pretty beat up… But not as bad as he thought… He wonders… 

Mickey quickly heads over to the extra bedroom he has been using as a film studio. He pulls out the film in the dark room and sees that it was definitely damaged… But maybe…  He goes through each step of developing the film taking great care to be careful. Mickey follows each process perfectly, clearly the result of doing this hundreds of times. As he removes the film from its final rinse, he braces himself for the moment of truth. He looks through each photo carefully trying to see if any would be usable. Unfortunately, it seems that for most of them, it is as he expected. Too damaged from when the Phantom Blot crushed it… But then he looks at one photo. It actually is pretty clear compared to the others. And it is of the… Chemical. He got a good one of the green chemical he saw before. Hot Dog! That will surely be enough to convince the police. He hangs the film up to dry and carefully exits the room. Here he thought he lost everything, but it ended up being okay. As he thought that he looked at the young cat who was cuddled up next to Pluto in his dog bed. Mickey quietly laughed to himself, glad to see the two finally getting along. He looks at the time and realizes how early in the morning it is. He probably has a couple of hours before the station opens up and he can meet O’Hara there when he is more in a work mood. Well, this gives Mickey time to organize his findings to better explain what is going on. Also, he looks at the bag of broken cameras, this could also give him time to work on the plan he came up with before.

We see Mickey run into the police station carrying a laptop and a tote with a couple of items inside. He looks pretty disheveled and exhausted. It is debatable how much sleep he got last night, but he must press on. He rushes up to the unfazed secretary and tells her that he needs to speak to Chief O’Hara immediately, making sure to add a please this time. She bluntly tells him that O’Hara is too busy to see anyone today and that he will have to try another time. Mickey tries to emphasize that he has really really important news to share and that it’s an emergency. Only for the lady to roll her eyes and repeat what she said before verbatim. Frustrated Mickey then frantically asks if there is anyone he can talk to as he really needs to talk to someone now. As he said that, two dogs, a shorter one in a green suit and a larger one in cowboy boots, entered the main lobby from the front door. Mickey instantly recognizes them as the same dogs he bumped into when he came here earlier. The lady calls out to both of them, referring to the smaller dog as Detective Casey and the larger dog as Detective Brick. She tells them that someone is here to see them. Detective Casey mumbles under his breath as the mouse quickly scurries up to him. Mickey tells him that he has very important information to share and needs the help of the police immediately. Casey doesn’t seem to buy it and tells the mouse that they are very busy, only for the other detective to mention that they should hear him out given how freaked out Mickey looks. Casey grumbles and asks if they have to and Brick mentions that it wouldn’t hurt. He then tells the mouse to follow him and leads Mickey to an empty conference room with an annoyed Casey following closely behind. 

Mickey immediately starts setting up his laptop with the conference projector as the other two settle down into their seats. Once everything was all set up, Mickey started to go into an explanation about how Chief O’Hara sent him on a case about a missing camera so that he could write a story about it. Casey tries to question why a missing camera would be worth a story, only for Mickey to ignore him and continue his explanation. As Mickey went on, a police officer or some other staff would noticed the presentation and started to trickle into the room, giving Mickey more of an audience. He brings up how he thought it was a common thief, but then realized that this was all part of a large conspiracy. Mickey then shows the picture of Jimmy Korker, the article, and a somewhat fixed Little Korker camera. He then starts going into the details about the Little Korker V39 cameras and how a couple of shipments of them were used to smuggle a chemical to a foreign country, pointing to the photo of the chemical. Brick asks if Mickey knows what country it was being shipped to and Mickey mentions that he doesn’t know. Casey peers into the picture closer and asks if it is a glow stick. Mickey explains that it is not a glow stick, but is some kind of chemical. Another police officer asks what kind of chemical, and Mickey says he doesn’t know he just managed to get a picture of it. Another police officer blurts out that it sure looks like a glow stick only for Casey to add that he doesn’t know why he needs them to look for a glow stick, Mickey patiently replies that it wasn’t a glow stick and explains that it is an important chemical that is connected to some kind of weapon. There is a brief pause before another person pipes in asking what type of weapon.

Mickey discloses that he doesn’t know but knows that there are blueprints for it hidden in one of the cameras and they need to hurry and find this blueprint or else… Before he could finish, Casey stops him and tells him that it isn’t that he doesn’t believe him, though he clarifies that he doesn’t believe him, but that Mickey hasn’t really been able to substantiate any of his claims so far. These pictures don’t really tell him anything and he needs to see something a bit more… substantial. Brick asks Mickey if he could take them to where he took a picture of the chemical. Mickey says he could, but also regretfully adds that everything is gone. Casey shakes his head and points out that is the problem. Mickey has been telling them all these wild ideas and nothing he has seems to support his claims. The picture of the glow stick could be photoshopped for all he knows and Mickey doesn’t even know what this chemical or weapon is. Brick adds that while this seems very interesting, they don’t really have the resources or time to waste and if Mickey manages to find more evidence they may be more willing to check it out. As he says that the police officers start to talk amongst themselves, seeming to agree with the detectives, with a couple even walking out the door. Mickey frantically does his best to get everyone to stop leaving. Stop. Please. I know this seems far-fetched. But you have to believe me. Listen, I can show you the mansion. I have a plan I’ve been setting up. I need your help. I-I… Unfortunately, as the mouse looked around he realized he failed to convince anyone as more people started to pour out of the room. No. This can’t be happening. He needs them. They have to help him. “YOU HAVE TO HELP ME STOP THE PHANTOM BLOT!”

Everyone instantly stops, turning to the mouse. Someone repeats “The Phantom Blot?”. Mickey confirms, “Yes the Phantom Blot.” Mickey adds that he met the Phantom Blot face to face and that he is also looking for the blueprint for the weapon. If they don’t hurry and find the other cameras before he does, the Phantom Blot will... And with that, the room erupts into laughter. Between his chuckles, Brick asks Mickey if he is truly saying that he met the Phantom Blot. Mickey reconfirms and someone else pipes in asking if he met Negaduck as well, causing the room to go into another fit of laughter. Mickey gives a confused no and tries his best to plead with everyone that he is telling the truth. He really did meet the Blot. Twice actually. The Phantom Blot tried to kill him. There was a fish and a bunch of cats. Unfortunately, he continued to be drowned out by all the chortling from the crowd. Casey adds that he thought the mouse was looney before and now he knows for sure. Frustrated, Mickey glances around the crowd, seeing if he is reaching anyone. He looks out the conference window and spots Chief O’Hara walking by and talking with some kind of lioness in a fancy suit. O’Hara. He’ll believe him. Mickey starts speeding through the crowd trying to get to him. Only for the two detectives to stop laughing and charge after him, though they struggled to get through the giggling crowd, due to their larger size.

Mickey manages to reach O’Hara and shouts that he needs his help. O’Hara stops his discussion with the lioness and greets Mickey, though a bit caught off guard by the sudden outburst. He looks at Mickey noticing his exhausted appearance and asks if he is okay. Mickey quickly adds that he is and that they don’t have much time. He needs O’Hara’s help to catch the Phant-. That is when Brick and Casey finally catch up to Mickey and start grabbing onto him. Casey mentions that this mouse has been raving about a bunch of baloney wasting their time. Mickey tries to defend himself as Brick adds that he thinks that the mouse may be feeling a bit under the weather. Mickey tries his best to struggle out of their grasp to look straight at O’Hara and plead that he really needs to talk to him. O’Hara looks at him and spots the bags under his eyes. The other figure gives a cough at O’Hara, seeming to indicate that they should get back to their conversation. O’Hara apologizes to Mickey that unfortunately he is really busy and can’t talk now. He adds that Mickey looks tired and should take some time to relax and they can catch up another time. 

This seemed to be the breaking point for Mickey and he stopped struggling against the two detectives. Even O’Hara doesn’t believe him. O’Hara. The two detectives easily carry the mouse out to the lobby as another police officer brings over Mickey’s stuff which they hand back to him. They drop Mickey on the floor and Casey communicates that since Mickey seems like he has a positive relationship with the Chief, they’ll let him go. But they are way too busy to deal with pranksters like him and can’t waste time following some made-up nonsense. They have real crimes to work on, not some mumbo jumbo about the Phantom Blot. Mickey tries to protest, but he stops himself realizing it isn’t worth it at this point. Brick gives the mouse an empathetic look and tells him that he should probably head home. He asks if the mouse needs someone to drive him home and Mickey angrily responds with a no. He then tells Mickey to drive safe and to not worry about it, as it was all probably a bad dream, before he leaves the lobby closing the door behind him. Defeated, Mickey gathers his stuff and exits the building. That didn’t go well at all. He didn’t know why they didn’t believe him. Ugh… This is constantly happening to him. Every time he tries to talk about something important. Nobody ever trusts him. Everyone treats him like a child. Nobody takes what he says seriously. What did he ever do to be treated like this? He sighs, usually he would brush this off if it was just affecting him. But lives are at stake now. A lot of lives. Who can he turn to now?

As if nails to a chalkboard, Mickey could hear a very familiar and annoying snicker behind him. Not Him. Not Now. Mortimer clasps his hand on Mickey’s back. Mortimer adds his typical “Ha-Cha-Cha” and chuckles out that he can’t believe the fact that THE Mickey Theodore Mouse has finally cracked. I mean claiming he met the Phantom Blot. THE Phantom Blot. What a riot! He gloats that he can’t wait to tell everyone about this. Mickey angrily rebukes that he did meet the Phantom Blot and that lives are in danger. Mortimer continues to crack up and tells Mickey that he doesn’t know what has been going on with Mickey lately, but he needs to step up his game. He’s making Mortimer embarrassed to still call him a rival. Mickey could feel his insides boiling before unleashing an uncharacteristic rage at Mortimer. He shouts that he is not joking and doesn’t appreciate how everyone is treating him so badly. There is a big threat in Mouseton right now and no one seems to care. So unless Mortimer wants to help him, he better get out of his way. With that, Mickey shoves the other mouse away and stomps to his car. Mortimer stands there completely stunned. He has never in his entire life ever seen Mickey so angry, and he has known him since Kindergarten. Eventually, Mortimer gave a huff back. What’s his problem?

Mickey drove away in his car, not even knowing where to go. He just had to go. After taking a couple of random turns, Mickey could already feel himself calming down. Alright, now what. Since the police are a bust, Mickey could already feel himself running out of options. Mickey also is afraid to bring any more of his other friends in, as that could just be putting a target on their backs. He shuddered thinking about the odd contraption he was stuck in last night. He wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. Ugh, what can he do? He parks his car at a gas station and looks at his phone. He sees a message from Minnie pop up. Minnie. He opens the message. She’s asking if he has been doing okay. Even though it has been a couple of days since he last spoke to her, it feels like months. Mickey doesn’t really like to share his problems with anyone as he doesn’t want to be a bother. But with Minnie, he always felt like he could truly open up to her. She really felt like his second half. Maybe he should tell her. No. This situation is much different from his other problems. He wouldn’t even know how to tell her about the near-death situations he’s been in. He really doesn’t want to worry her. She’s been working hard running her boutique. She shouldn’t be worrying about her boyfriend’s life.

Mickey spots Horace’s name under Minnie's message and realizes he hasn’t checked in on Horace yet. Maybe he found something that could really give him an edge. He presses the call button and waits for Horace to answer. After a couple of rings, Horace cheerfully answers the phone and Mickey asks if he has found out anything else about the cameras. Horace is just about to respond when there is a loud crashing noise and a grunt and the phone call ends. Oh No. Mickey instantly turns on his car again and rushes over to Horace’s house as fast as he can. This can’t be happening. Please. How did he know to go after Horace? Was it because of the social media post? Did he see him at Horace’s house? He shouldn’t have brought Horace into this. This is all Mickey’s fault. Mickey prays that he isn’t too late as he haphazardly parks at the Apartment Complex and bolts his way to Horace's door. He promptly turns the handle only to find that it is unlocked. No. Please No. Mickey rushes in and calls for Horace, searching every crook and nanny for him. Landing in his bedroom. Mickey falls to his knees. How could he have let this happen? Now the Phantom Blot has gotten to his friends too. Horace could be some kind of weird death trap or even already dead and it is all his fault. Mickey’s phone rings and he quickly grabs it out of his pocket. It is from Horace. Mickey takes a deep breath and braces himself as he takes the call. Mickey then immediately tells the person on the other line that he doesn’t know what he did to Horace, but that he will not give up and will save him. 

Only for a very confused Horace to respond unsure of what is going on. Mickey could feel a large weight drop from his shoulders the moment he heard Horace’s voice. He’s okay. Or at least he thinks he is. Mickey asks Horace what is going on. Horace assures him that he is okay and that he had to leave town to help a friend with a plumbing emergency and when Mickey called, a pipe broke causing the whole house to fill with water. He’s a bit waterlogged, but mostly okay, and should be back tomorrow. This explanation causes Mickey to laugh a little, mostly to relieve the stress that is building up. Horace asks if Mickey is doing okay based on the weird introduction and Mickey responds that he is doing fine, he just noticed that the door was unlocked and was afraid something bad happened. Horace responds that the locks at the apartment aren’t that great. He really needs to find a new place to live. Mickey reminds him that he has the extra room at his house, and the horse responds that he’ll keep that in mind. Horace then asks if Mickey has any more updates about the missing cameras. Mickey tells him a brief explanation of what he learned about the cameras and that he found the cameras broken in a trash can. Horace then asks if Mickey saw the Phantom Blot again. Mickey paused for a second. Oh yeah. He told him about the Phantom Blot. Mickey then chose to lie, not well but good enough, about not seeing the Phantom Blot and adds that he actually thinks he may have just imagined him before. Horace doesn’t need to be too involved in this. He shouldn't have to worry over Mickey. Horace seems confused but a bit relieved over the call and congratulates Mickey for technically solving the mystery. He knew he could do anything he put his mind to, especially since Horace taught him everything he knew. Mickey laughs a bit, feeling much better, and thanks Horace. 

Quickly remembering the fright he had before, Mickey asks Horace if he wouldn’t mind staying out of town for a little bit longer. Horace inquires as to why and Mickey responds that he thinks the Horse deserves a break after helping him with the camera case. Horace gladly agrees, mentioning that he would never turn down an offer for a vacation. Besides, his friend has been showing him how to Bull Ride and he thinks it is his true passion. With that, the two say goodbye to each other and end the call. Horace is safe. What a relief. Mickey heads out of the room to leave, and he notices some black spots on the front door. He did not see those black spots before. It looks like… like… Mickey touches it. Ink. It’s Ink. A shiver ran through the mouse’s spine. Is he losing his mind? Why else would ink be on the door? Is this a warning? Maybe it was always there and he hadn’t noticed it. Maybe Horace just happened to spill it. But why would Horace have ink? Or at least not attempt to clean it up. Mickey breaks out of his wandering thoughts before opening the door to leave the apartment. He needs to focus on what he is going to do next. If the police aren’t going to help and he can’t risk any of his friends getting hurt, then Mickey will have to do it alone. He can’t stop now. Just as Horace says, he can do anything he puts his mind to. Mickey thought about what his next steps should be. He could try to see if he could find any more cameras left. Maybe if he gets the blueprint before the Phantom Blot does, he can destroy it and prevent him from ever using that weapon. 

Mickey gives a heavy sigh as that would be quite the task he would have to take, but what else could he do. Mickey spends the rest of the day going from pawn store to pawn store, going to any camera-related store he could find on the Waddle Maps, and even checking antique or any kind of odd store in hopes that maybe one of them may still have a Little Korker V39 left behind. Unfortunately, just as Mickey suspected, he couldn’t find a single one as they don’t have any in stock or they “mysteriously disappeared”. As Mickey left the last store he looked at the clock and realized how late it was getting and the chances of any more stores being open is probably minimal. Shoot. He was really hoping to get something, but it seems like this was a bust. Mickey feels at a complete loss of what else he could possibly do. I mean there was that one idea earlier. But he would be completely mad to try and do it alone. But what other choice did he have? He had to do it. He had to do the unthinkable. He had to capture the Phantom Blot. 

He decided to head home before he started as he should probably check on Pluto and his new cat friend and gather a couple of things. When pulled into his driveway, he quickly noticed that the lights happened to be on. He did not leave those on. As he went to the front door he picked up a rake that was lying in the grass and slowly crept through the door. Prepared to attack anything that might jump out at him. He peeked in the small window that was next to the door. He saw Minnie who appeared to be making something in his kitchen. He gave a large sigh. This isn’t a surprise. Minnie often would just come into his house whenever she wanted, as she had a key. Usually, she would surprise him with dinner. Though normally she would tell him first. He dropped the rake and opened the door. Minnie greeted him and mentioned how she was making spaghetti for dinner. Mickey tells Minnie that he wasn’t expecting her to come over and Minnie responds saying she sent several messages. Mickey checks his phone and sees that she is correct. He must have somehow ignored them in his search for the camera. Minnie adds that she also wanted to talk to Mickey about something. As she finishes stirring the sauce she goes up to Mickey only to notice the giant bags under his eyes and his general exhausted demeanor. 

She immediately questions whether Mickey is feeling alright. Mickey quickly blurts out that he is. He notices the little cat walking by and picks him up, handing him over to Minnie mentioning that he found her a cat, hoping he could change the subject. She thanks Mickey and places the cat down. Though continues to press on, aware of what he was trying to do. She asks Mickey again if he is truly okay. Mickey doesn’t respond and sits at the dining room table. She sighs and mentions that Mortimer messaged her earlier and said that he was at the police station making a fool of himself. Mickey rolls his eyes, of course Mortimer would tell Minnie that. He says that it is nothing to worry about and that he has it under his control. Minnie drops a plate of spaghetti in front of him with the noodles perfectly swirled, the sauce right in the middle, a couple leaves of basil on the side, and the meatballs in the sauce oriented to look like Mickey’s head. He smiled, she always did cute stuff like this for dinner. She sits down with her own plate. Minnie thinks for a bit and then asks how the camera heist was going. The last thing she heard was when Mickey told her about the successful meeting with O’Hara. Mickey looks down and plays with his food a bit, again not responding. Minnie assures Mickey that he can tell her anything and that she will support him no matter what. Mickey stares at his plate. He wants so badly to unload like he usually does, but this is way beyond what he usually struggles with. But he knows that if he doesn’t say something, Minnie will continue to try to get Mickey to talk to her until he does. She’s persistent. He normally loved that about her, but at the moment…

He decides to start slow by explaining how he thinks who knows who takes the cameras, causing Minnie to quickly congratulate Mickey. But then he explains how he realized that the cameras were part of something… A little bigger than he expected. Minnie tries to pry more into what he means, but Mickey doesn’t answer. He instead talks about how he tried to go to the police to get help, but they didn’t believe him. This seems to upset Minnie as she asks if he tried talking to O’Hara. Mickey looks down and mumbles that he is busy. Minnie pauses for a second and then complains about how she doesn’t know why the police wouldn’t help Mickey. Their job is to help people correct. Mickey sits there silently as Minnie continues to rant, bringing up that there is no reason for them to not give Mickey a chance. She looks at Mickey and notices an expression she isn’t really familiar with. She has known Mickey for almost her entire life and has become all too familiar with his quirks. But when she looked at him she saw something she hadn't really seen. He looks shaken to his core. He’s terrified. Really terrified. But of what. Something happened to him. Something changed him. He’s hiding something. She asks Mickey who the thief was. And Mickey freezes. After a second he says that it is not important. She gets up from her seat and heads over to Mickey again asking who the thief was. He tries to look away and instinctively says that he doesn’t want to worry her. It’s fine he got it. She goes over to grab his hands before noticing something on his wrist. There are red markings on his arms that she didn’t notice before. Is that… Rope Burn… She pleads to Mickey “Mickey… What happened”... Mickey pulls away his arms, realizing what she saw. He got up from his chair and crossed his arms. “Was it the Phantom Blot?”

Mickey turned around, extremely surprised that Minnie knew. Oh wait, she said Mortimer told her what happened. Darn that rat. She stared at him with a completely distraught look in her eyes. She expressed that she thought that Mortimer misheard Mickey, but now she can see… She freezes. She has no idea how to even respond. Mickey looks at her, unsure if he is happy that he finally has another person who believes him. Mickey adds that the Phantom Blot is trying to find something dangerous and he was hoping the police would help, but they didn’t believe him. But he can’t stop. The Phantom Blot is an evil man and if he found what he was looking for, thousands could die. He glances at Minnie to see how she is taking this. Unfortunately, she was unreadable and Mickey had no idea what she could be thinking. The both of them just stand there, until she finally speaks again. She slowly admits that she isn’t sure if Mickey should do this, being very careful with the words she says. Mickey asks why. She stutters that the Phantom Blot is really dangerous and a threat beyond anything they can handle. She doesn’t know if Mickey should be the one solving this. Mickey responds that he has to stop him. No one else can and there isn’t much time. Minnie starts to tear up. Mickey quickly comes up to her and starts holding her. Through her tears, she blubbers about what if Mickey gets caught. He could be killed. She could never see him again. She then erupted into a bawling fit, clinging onto Mickey. Mickey just stands there, rubbing her back. He thinks about the moment in the alleyway when he thought about the very same thing. He doesn’t have an answer. For a while, they just stand there holding each other as Minnie sobs. 

One thing about Mickey that Minnie has always loved is his compassion for others. He always seemed to do what would be best for everyone even at the cost of what would be best for him. Minnie always felt like she had to be the one to stand up for Mickey and make sure that his own needs and wants weren’t ignored. But she didn’t mind. She loved Mickey. She would always support Mickey. Or at least she thought she would. And yet now Mickey wanted to make the ultimate sacrifice and risk his life to protect others as usual. She can’t lie. She wanted so badly to beg him to drop this case and that someone else would take care of it. She felt bad since she knew how much this meant to Mickey and the possible lives lost. But she can’t lose him. Not now. They were each other's soulmates. But she knew that Mickey had to do this or he would regret it forever. She had to let him go. But she really didn’t want to. Eventually, Minnie gets out of the hug, gives Mickey a kiss on the cheek, and heads over to the front door, picking up the little kitten on the way back. She apologizes adding that she knows that she can’t stop Mickey. But she isn’t sure how she feels about the situation and needs time to think. She then pleads to Mickey that before he goes, he will go to sleep first. He looks tired and shouldn’t be doing this with little sleep. Mickey nods and promises her he will. And with that, she closes the door. Leaving Mickey. Alone. Part of him is glad that she didn’t try to stop him. But at the same time, he doesn’t know if he exactly got her support. He was unsure how she would respond and had a feeling she wouldn’t react well. Minnie wasn’t the only one who was scared. Mickey was scared too. But he has to see this through. He thought about the promise he just made. To get some sleep. He could at least keep that. He needed to be in top shape if he really wanted to stop the Phantom Blot. But he’ll have to wake up early so that he can get started on his new plan. He held on tightly to the red bow with white polka dots around his neck. Making one more promise in his heart:

I swear that I’ll come back to you Minnie. We will see each other again.

[askagamedev]

Any advice for a beginner/amateur who wants to make a lil point-n-click adventure game?

Pick a game engine that is conducive to beginners to craft your adventure game and start doing tutorials for it. I suggest you take a look at:

[BladeCoder Adventure Game Engine]

[Adventure Game Studio]

[Escoria for the Godot Engine]

[ScummVM]

[Ren'py]

Try one at a time until you find something that you feel makes sense to you and run with that. All of these options are pretty good (and free) for crafting an adventure game. You will need to reach [minimum competence] with the engine in order to make your game.

Beyond that, the evergreen advice I give all first-timers is "Scope Down". Your first game does not have to be your dream game-to-end-all-games. It does not have to be the most amazing game ever. Because it is your first game, you are likely to make a lot of mistakes along the way. That is ok! That is expected! No one should expect perfection when learning a new set of skills. Being bad at something is the first step of being good at something. Your first game just has to be playable and you have to finish it. 

The most common cause of failure in beginner projects is being too ambitious. You will learn a lot of things while you work and you will make a lot of mistakes along the way, but this is all necessary in order to level up your skills and increase your ability to do the work. Keep the scope of what you're working on small and reasonable, because there's a lot you don't know yet. Once you're nearing that finish line, you'll look back and see how much you've learned and all the things you could have done better. That's the experience and skill you'll carry into your next game. Start by keeping the scope small and gradually expand it as you gain experience and level up.

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[ourgoodfriendjonathan]

Results of the Big Dracula Daily Fandom Questionnaire

Part 2 of 2: Favourites

(Part 1)

I analysed the results and will post them in two parts, because it is a bit much. If you have any questions, let me know.

Note: the layout isn't perfect and the language isn't scientific.

Also note: this post contains major spoilers.

Time for the second tournament between Dracula characters this year: who is everyone’s favourite? Here is the final (average) ranking, where 1 would be first place and 10 would be last place:

Mina (2.2)

Jonathan (2.6)

Quincey (4.4)

Lucy (4.6)

Jack (5.1)

Van Helsing (5.5)

Arthur (6.4)

Renfield (6.6)

Dracula (6.9)

Captain of the Demeter (7.1)

It may come as a shock that the captain was ranked below Dracula, but keep in mind that I asked you your favourite character and not, for example, favourite person to hang out with or to go sailing with. The answers would be wildly different if that were the question. Remember also: Arthur is an amateur fitter. Opportunities for a next questionnaire!

In this table you can see the amounts of votes per ranking per character. For example, the number “215” next to Mina’s name and under the number one means Mina was ranked number one 215 times.

What is interesting to note is that in this table you can see that the captain was mostly ranked in eight or ninth place, but Dracula was placed mostly ninth or tenth. So if we look at this, instead of at the average ranking, I would say we like the captain better than Dracula.

As you can see in the table as well, the results weren’t entirely unonymous. Especially Jack and Van Helsing are ranked all over the place, ranging from third place to seventh.  

The most important take-away here is how much we love Mina and Jonathan. We place Jonathan in the top three 620 times (28% of all 1-3 votes), and Mina 560 times (26% of all 1-3 votes). (See how I found a way to make Jonathan sound slightly better there? I may not be all objective.)

A few of you misunderstood the assignment, and ranked 10 as highest and 1 as lowest. I think I managed to filter most of these out and reversed those rankings. Usually it was clear from other answers that the participant had made a mistake. They would have, for example, expressed fondness for Mina in all questions, and then went on to rank her in tenth place. I knew, intuitively, this was a mistake.

We loved receiving mail from our good friend Jonathan and it shows: 45% of us liked his “voice” best. Mina comes in second (27%) and Jack third (13%). The captain of the Demeter’s log scored well too with 7%, and 4% of you kept a soft spot for the flowery journalism of the anonymous correspondent. Lucy received another 4% of the votes, but only seven people loved Art’s and Quincey’s writing the best.

When I made the quiz, Van Helsing hadn’t made any entries yet. Future research could find out what the results would be now, after we read everything.

The hardest results to analyse were the ones for the question about ships. I thought I would be able to find all combinations by making the question a multiple choice grid, but it turns out it’s still vague.

Do with these results what you like, I declare it a puddle.

In my next questionnaire I will write out all of the combinations you made (including all the polycule variants), so that you can choose and mix to your heart’s desire. Hopefully the results of that will be more conclusive.

The last four questions asked to describe/name a moment that made you feel something. There were four categories: scared, sad, happy, and moments that made you laugh. I grouped the results into broader categories so I could rank how often they were named.

The category names make sense to me, but perhaps not to everyone. I’ll try to explain the ones I think might cause confusion.

Overall (the results of all categories piled together) we were most moved by everything that happened to Lucy. Her slow decline, Dracula’s last attack of September 17 and her eventual death were mentioned by 14% of you. Counting everything else surrounding her too, 24% of the answers named something related to Lucy's story, almost all of it sad.

Second most mentioned was the wedding. If we group the news of Jonathan surviving, him and Mina reuniting and the wedding together, we get 13% of the answers that contained one or more of these moments as a source of happiness.  

Special shoutout to the 3% of you who named Quincey shooting the bat as something that made you laugh.

Please note that most of the results of the questionnaire came in before the end of the book (between October 29 and 31). Events that happened after October 31 are therefore underrepresented in the replies.

My next questionnaire will contain a list of everything mentioned, and I will make participants pick their favourites. This list will include events that happened after October 31.

Below are the results for each category:

12% of the answers for this question named the log of the Demeter as a cause of fright, followed closely by the attack on Mina on October 3 (11%) and the attack on Lucy on September 17 (10%).

The group “Trapped” (6%), which includes general moments in the first two months (May and June) when Jonathan felt especially in the toils in castle Dracula.

“Escape” (5%) is specifically Jonathan’s last entry of June where he told us he was going to walk the ledge in an effort to escape the castle (“Good-bye, all! Mina!”).

The “July silence” (7%) is the fact that we didn’t get any letters from him for a long time after this, and we didn’t know whether he lived or died.

“Lucy’s mum” (4%) covers the moments surrounding the death of Mrs Westenra, like the fact that Lucy was alone with her body or that she died smack on top of her.

“Mina left behind” (3%) are the events of October 2 and 3 when Mina was excluded and this led to her being at risk.

29% of you mentioned Lucy’s death as a cause of sadness. Renfield’s death was second with 9% of mentions, and the groups “attack on Lucy”, “unopened by her” and “Lucy’s decline” got 6% of mentions each. The others all got mentioned 4% or less.

“Lucy’s decline” (6%) contains everything from the first attack of Dracula (when she was sleepwalking) until the moment she eventually died, like the ups and downs of her 'mystery disease', or how futile healing her seemed.

“Unopened by her” (6%) was the letter Mina sent Lucy on the day of Dracula’s last attack, which Lucy would never be able to read.

“Suitors mourning” (3%) is about Arthur, Quincey and Jack mourning for Lucy after her death or after killing her as a vampire.

“Jonathan suffering” (2%) contained several moments of Jonathan having a generally bad time, like his reaction to Mina being attacked or his speech to Van Helsing (“Have you felt the Vampire’s lips” etc.).  

The happy-category was often answered with more general things like the love these characters have for each other (3%).

“Jonmina” (6%) means the relationship between Jonathan and Mina,

By “Assembly” (5%) I mean the day all the characters met each other and combined their diaries.

In the group “Harker-Helsing” (3%) fell mostly events of the day Van Helsing met the Harkers, for example Mina pranking Van Helsing or Jonathan saying he loved hearing him praise Mina.  

As touched on before, “Bat” (15%) refers to the moment Quincey got up from a meeting to shoot a bat sitting in the windowsill.

“VH talks” (7%) groups the weird things Van Helsing said or, more generally, his way of talking, though I made separate groups for mentions of his King Laugh-speech (4%) and the Corn-speech (3%).

“Mirror yeet” (4%) is my name for the debacle surrounding Dracula and Jonathan’s shaving mirror (“A foul bauble of vanity!”),

“Maid” (3%) refers to the fact that Dracula did all the cooking and cleaning in Castle Dracula.

Let me know if any other categories need explaining, I’ll be happy to talk about this more!

In general, we ranked the entirety of the Dracula Daily phenomenon with an average score of 6.7 out of 7. Over 95% of the participants gave it at least a 6 out of 7.

This concludes my analysis of the results on the Big Dracula Daily Fandom Questionnaire.

As said before, I made another, even bigger, questionnaire, because I have lots and lots of other questions. I think they'll be fun to answer, as they aren't very scientific (wet rat Jack the certified scientist would no doubt frown upon it).

During all of this analysing I felt a bit like Jack sitting begrudgingly in the graveyard back in September, in that I kept grumbling profanities and "Why am I doing this" and immediately after: "I'm going to do this again tomorrow."

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

Please consider filling in my long follow-up questionnaire. I think it'll take about 15 minutes:

[mx-piggy]

just got around to watching the Ghosts Christmas special/finale. yesterday i saw previews to posts i assumed were negative, so i went into it with the thought i might not enjoy it. i have yet to find out what the negativity was in reference to- i'll go looking through some posts in a sec to look at the reaction to the ep, though i've already skimmed an angry post about it from someone i follow. but maybe the issues i have with the episode are different to others people's. i don't know yet.

anyway, here are my fresh from the oven thoughts about the episode. my opinion may be altered by reading some other thoughts on the ep but everything i put here is my uninfluenced thoughts.

first off, i cried. very bittersweet way to end the show, but honestly i didn't think it was a bad ending. it strikes a good balance for me, where Alison still sees the ghosts without having to take care of them like she used to. but i guess it's weird considering the previous episode where they try to get Mike and Alison to stay.

i don't want to be negative about this show that i adore and will no doubt rewatch and at some point write some fanfics for. technically speaking, though, i didn't really enjoy this episode as much as other episodes. i didn't like the choice to focus so heavily, for the first two thirds of the episode, on Mike's mum and the exorcism fake-out that i doubt worked on anyone watching. the build up was so unconvincing it seemed intentional, but regardless it felt kind of like a waste of time and an idea that should have been done in a different episode, not the series finale. it felt like the ghosts were sidelined in an episode of a show named after them. this bad pacing and focus on a weak story wasn't entertaining.

i also didn't laugh much at this episode, which is surprising, because normally Ghosts is good at balancing humour with emotionally resonant moments. it's frustrating because not a lot of this episode felt particularly emotionally resonant either because Betty takes up so much of the episode, and i wish that the weight of the ending didn't feel like it had just been tacked on to the end of an episode that only felt like it functioned as a finale in the closing few minutes. it barely even felt like a Christmas episode.

i would have preferred if S5 E6 had been the finale and this had just been an epilogue that could have been a fun, sweet Christmas episode rather than a Christmas episode and a finale, neither of which it feels like for most of its runtime.

again, i'm not unhappy with the choice to move Alison, Mike and Mia out of Button House, but i wish it hadn't felt so underdeveloped because of what else the episode chose to do. like i wish the rest of the episode didn't feel so tenuously connected to the Mike's mum story that took up so much time. i get that the thing with Mike's mum was there to make the ghosts realise that Alison might need some space away from them, but surely there was a better way to do that that didn't involve centring so much of the episode on a supporting character?

if it were me- an amateur writer- who was tasked with writing a Christmas finale and special, i have a (possibly worse) idea about what i would have maybe done. so here's my pitch: an episode that takes place when Mia is a little girl. there's a cold open where Alison or Mike make the typical parent mistake of dropping Mia on her head at some point during her first Christmas. everything's fine. cut to next Christmas, she takes her first steps. a ghost makes a comment that she should stop seeing them now. a couple/few Christmases after that, she starts talking about the ghosts. it's clear she can still see them. alternatively, Mia ends up having some kind of accident when she's long since outgrown seeing ghosts, and then she ends up seeing the ghosts (bonus points if Julian sees it happen and alerts Alison, and the ghosts are forced to question if Julian would harm a child). i just want this kid to see ghosts.

now there's ample opportunity for the ghosts to have the screentime and focus they were robbed of in this episode via having some sweet interactions with her. the Captain can still have his little arc of learning how to talk to a child in a way that isn't so stiff. Kitty learns to overcome her jealousy of a literal child, and she's the most enthusiastic auntie ever. Julian tries to be a good role model for his niece (this would also be related to another thing that i would have wanted in the episode, which is the idea that Rachel comes to visit or gets in touch with Alison or something). that said i don't know if it'd be appropriate for Julian to be around a kid for so long given the trouser situation he has going on. with Fanny, it'd be sweet if she was happy to see a girl grow up so free of the restrictions she grew up with. Robin could tell Mia all about the ghosts who've been sucked off. honestly that episode sounds like it'd be messy, but with an extra half an hour i think it'd be doable.

you can still find a way to kind of justify Mike and Alison leaving if you want to, by them wanting Mia to have a more 'normal' upbringing, or them wanting to put away some money for Mia, possibly? but honestly i kind of just like the idea of Mia having an interest in the ghosts' and the house's history from a young age and doing something with that, like writing a book about the ghosts or something. maybe that's all a load of crap, but i might write a fic based on that idea if anyone would like to see it. if i wrote a fic it wouldn't be constrained by festive obligation either. so let me know if you'd be interested in that (i might start outlining it even if someone tells me it's shit and i should never write professionally).

i can honestly say that this is the first episode of Ghosts that i haven't really enjoyed. it's saying something about how great this show is that it takes 34 episodes for it to get to a point where i think it's a letdown. it's just unfortunate that the dud had to be the last ever episode.

going into writing this review i didn't think i disliked this episode and its choices as much as i did. and honestly i don't hate this episode as much as i do other bad finales (looking at you, How I Met Your Mother). i still love this show and i think that everyone involved in it is so great at what they do. i'm not passionate in my dislike of the episode. i just think it was kind of disappointing that the episode focused so heavily on a supporting character and neglected most of the main cast in a way that a good final episode shouldn't. so many other episodes of the show would have been far more satisfying send-offs. i might just ignore this episode on rewatches to be honest.

feel free to chat with me about the ep and your thoughts on it, or your thoughts on my thoughts. comment, reblog, send me asks. i'd just love to discuss it with you guys!

[dear-mrs-otome]

Silvio Ricci - PRETEND LOVER Event - Another Terrible Summary

(Yes, he is blushing. And yes, you'd better get used to his red-faced dumbstruck look because it's happening. Often.)

Here is my absolutely irreverent and chock full of hyperbole, only nominally-guaranteed-accurate rendition of Silvio's event story.

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

Please always bear in mind that 1) I claim to be no expert in JP and there are and will be mistakes in this so show mercy on this amateur - and if you see any obvious mistakes, kindly let me know so I can improve 2) I didn't even TRY to make Silvio's dialogue as rude as it is. Always, at all times, assume this man is talking like a foul-mouthed sailor.

Aaaaaand 3) I made this so fucking long. Why did I feel compelled to be so detailed idk - this isn't even really a summary anymore it's just the whole damn event. FML

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

So our story starts with Emma walking down the hall and being stopped by a very persistent aristocratic man she’s been dodging for days now - almost a dozen times now whenever she’s found herself alone he’s popped up, ‘coincidentally’, pestering her to have tea or spend time with him. 

He tries again today, stating how beautiful it is outside and how she should join him for tea. She tries to make her excuses, apologizing and saying she has a prior engagement, but this stalker says no, he knows that’s not true - she doesn’t have anything on her schedule, he’s already checked with the servants in court. 

She’s dismayed and also more than a bit wtf internally, when he presses her and says she doesn’t have any reason to hesitate so they should go. Takes her by the hand, making her skin sort of literally crawl, and tries to pull her off - only to be interrupted by a voice.

“Found you.”

Someone’s hand comes from behind and snags her, hauling her in…and she turns around to find, to her horror, that it’s Silvio there behind her. The tyrant himself, the last person she probably wants to see or have anything to do with because he is patently The Worst. 

She can tell already that today is going to be rough.

He’s got his arms around her from behind, caught up too in his fancy schmancy exotic cologne, when he scolds her for making a hassle of herself. She’s one part relieved to be rescued from the creepy aristo guy…and one part full of dread because it’s Silvio that’s saved her and she knows he is far faaaar from a nice man. 

He says with a smile how she’d already make a promise to him for the next while, and she’s blankly like….promise??? Prompting him to scowl at her before she’s all OH RIGHT RIIIIGHT THAT PROMISE RIGHT NOW YEP YEP. Realizing that maybe he’s trying to cover for her excuse to the aristocrat earlier. 

Silvio’s grinning, but then he turns to the aristocrat and brushes him off, stating he doesn’t know who the guy is but he shouldn’t dare touch someone else’s woman - specifically, this woman is his.

Cue the aristocrat nearly pissing himself with terror, and Emma wondering wtf?? 

“Isn’t that right, woman?” Silvio prompts, and she’s left scrambling to say that maybe? That might be true??

She’s wondering if this is some attempt at protecting her, but her gut is telling her WARNING WARNING you in danger girl. Silvio’s got a wicked look and is clearly up to no good, but she’s pretty desperate here.

The aristocrat hastily apologizes, saying he had no idea that was the case, before he scampers off like a terrified rabbit.

Silvio scoffs at the guy in his absence, before turning back to Emma and telling her they should go. They have a promise to keep, no? She’s just silent, wary, and he grins.

“Come with me to a negotiation, woman. You certainly can’t refuse the invitation of your benefactor….right?” he presses.

She’s just YEP, had a feeling this was coming…but she forces herself to say it’d be her pleasure, much to Silvio’s great satisfaction.

—---

They end up at a fancy dressmaker’s shop, where the clerk who seems utterly unsurprised to see them sets about bustling Emma into a changing room and dressing her up in clothes and jewelry as if she were some kind of doll, much to her bemusement. Complete with a lavish jeweled necklace that makes her nearly sick at hearing the price.

Silvio points out that he can’t have any woman of his looking poor, and she asks if he’s insisting they stick with that scenario. She’d assumed it was just to put up a front for that aristocrat.

“Just for the day. Consider it an honor - there are countless women out there who would love to be my girl,” Silvio says with a smirk.

“And if I refuse?” she asks.

He threatens to hand her over to that perverted bastard, and she knows he’s talking about that aristocrat from before, so she has no real choice other than to silence her protests. But then something occurs to her and she asks him why, if he’s got alllll these women just throwing themselves at him, why doesn’t he ask one of them to play the role of his lover??

She doesn’t get why, but she has the distinct feeling he was searching for someone to attend this business talk with him in the role of his paramour. 

He states too that it doesn’t make any sense if it’s not her.  

“Why?” she presses.

“It just doesn’t,” he insists.

She points out that that’s not an answer, and he’s clearly getting frustrated, telling her to just quit her yammering - she can keep the clothes and the finery, just come with him. In a panic she tells him she can’t accept that, thinking to herself in horror how much money it is worth and how she’d have to work for years and years to make that much to pay him back.

She’s shaking her head when Silvio, his expression all a sour frown, grabs her chin and leans in. “Then I’ll buy you at whatever price you name.”

She’s flailing now because GORGEOUS MAN TOO CLoSE she’s gotta look away from those pretty pretty ocean eyes as she tells him it’s not a matter of money. “You helped me out today, so I’m going along with you as a way of saying thanks. So I don’t need to be paid for it.”

He just stops to stare at her all wide-eyed and wordless, and she starts to wonder why he looks so stunned.

Finally, she asks him to let go of her face…and he bitches that she shouldn’t try to order him around but he does so immediately anyways.

Moving on, he asks if she’s ready to go with him then and when she says yes he scolds her to smile then - she looks so glum she doesn’t exactly look like his lover. She feels a little bad she made it so obvious, and she promises to try her best - but despite that promise, he still looks displeased.

—---

They end up at the home of a prominent merchant in the Rhodolite jewelry business, the head of one of the largest and most famous in the country. Silvio and the merchant exchange business pleasantries, catching up on the past few years since they’ve met, and Emma sits silently and listens - realizing he was being legit, it really is just a business meeting. 

The merchant expresses thanks for Silvio introducing them to many trade channels, even those outside of Benitoite, and he tells the man his good are so quality it’d be a shame for them to never make it out of this small country.

He’s there today to discuss a new opportunity with the merchant, one the man is very eager for since he claims it’s certain to be a success if Silvio is involved. But the man first makes note of how rare it is for Silvio to bring a woman along with him to a business endeavor, turning his attention to Emma.

He seems impressed that any particular ‘lovely flower’ of Rhodolite has caught Silvio’s eye, and Emma knows that is an oblique way of referring to a mistress in Rhodolite. She realizes she’s meant to act more as his mistress or arm candy than a true girlfriend, but she hides all those complicated feels behind a pretty smile.

But at that moment she hears something crash and everyone looks at the doorway to the room where Emma sees a woman standing, her face in her hands looking as if she were on the verge of crying.

“Ah, you’re up, woman,” Silvio prompts Emma. 

She’s not sure what he means by that, looking back and forth between a frowning Silvio and the woman starting to cry. There are broken tea cups and such around the woman’s feet, a tea set she’d clearly been bringing them, and brushing aside whatever Silvio seems to want from her she turns to the teary woman. 

“Are you hurt?” she asks, running over to her, and through her sobs the woman declares that she was serious about Silvio.

It all finally makes sense to Emma, who looks back at him and sees him scowling, though he’s as haughty as ever, as she says his name.

He insists he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, they had a meal and he gave her a little gift - clearly he doesn’t think it was any big deal. But Emma realizes there might have been a misunderstanding.

“Prince Silvio, is that woman really your paramour?” the woman asks him.

“That’s right,” he says. “You heard me, didn’t you?”

The woman is stammering denials and clearly distraught, and Emma realizes she seemed to have really liked Silvio, as she succumbs to her tears at last.

Emma tries to hold her up as she sags, but the woman shakes her off, and her heart is breaking at the sight - wondering if she can confess it’s all a lie and fake. She doesn’t know what Silvio’s up to here, but she doesn’t want any part of stomping all over some woman’s love. “Please, don’t worry. I’m -”

But that’s as far as she gets before her words are cut off by Silvio clapping a hand over her mouth and offering that if she doesn’t like being his mistress, he’ll bump her up to full-fledged lover. He’s smiling but clearly pissed, though that makes two of them - she tries to claw his hand off her but he holds on tighter.

“What, you’re that pleased?” he asks, to her muffled noise of protests. “Don’t worry, I’ve decided that the only woman in Rhodolite for me is you. I’m not in the mood to play the field much now.”

She’s incensed, raging to herself over how much of a skeezy lowlife this man is, flailing and fighting as he holds her even tighter still, pressing them even closer together. (Hon hon hon 😉)

Until with a wail, overcome at last, the poor woman runs away in tears without Emma ever getting the chance to set her straight.

“Don’t go running your mouth, stupid,” Silvio hisses in her ear as soon as she’s gone, finally letting her go. 

She rounds on him, catching her breath. “Go after her and apologize right now!”

He’s totally baffled, frowning as he insists he doesn’t have anything to apologize for, but Emma is furious as she tells him he DOES, for what happened just now. Silvio just insists he doesn’t get what she’s saying, and she’s about to let him have it again when he stops her mouth again.

“More like, you’ve got some nerve talking to me that way, don’t you?” he sneers. He’s not hurting her but her mouth is blocked again, his stupidly handsome face leaning in to give her a once-over. “And don’t give me that defiant look. You’re doing this to thank me, right?”

She’s thinking how she did want to thank him for helping her out of the blue, but she’s got lines she can’t cross. Rather, she grips his hand over her mouth hard - knowing she’s not gonna win any strength contests against a man but wanting to make it very clear to him she was defiant.

He scoffs that she’s not being cute and they’re glaring at each other, sparks practically flying in the air, when they’re finally interrupted by the poor merchant who’s still there just….UHHHH SCUSE ME…? 

Silvio apologizes for the fuss, and the man apologizes in return for his daughter’s behavior, Emma realizing the tearful woman must be the merchant’s own daughter. They go back to their discussions as if nothing’s happened - she’s still got PLENTY to say to him, but can’t interrupt now.

—---

The moment they’ve left the meeting, she’s pouncing on him again, saying how awful that was. She still feels wretched and wracked with guilt. Silvio asks if she's STILL going on about that, and tells her to forget it - he’d brought her here to get put an end to all this from the start. 

She had a feeling that had been his purpose all along. “Do you have no heart at all?”

Even if he can’t return a woman’s feelings, there has to be SOME better way to turn them down than what he did here, she feels. But the way he took that woman’s heart and crumpled it up and tossed it aside, like trash into a wastebasket, infuriates her beyond reason.

“A heart? That’s got nothing to do with business,” he says, to her further outrage.

“Besides, I don’t act like that towards every woman.” He says that profitable ones are worth paying for, but not that particular woman - and he had to find some way to break things off without being rude because she’s the daughter of a business partner.

“You had to treat her with consideration, so you set me up as your lover and tried to get her to give up?” Emma rephrases.

“Yeah…so what the hell’s with the attitude just now?” he demands, warning her that he’s not going to just let it slide the next time she puts him in an uncomfortable position.

He literally doesn’t think he did anything wrong here, she realizes. She’s never thought of him as some kind of saint or anything but she didn’t think he was bad enough to just walk all over other people indiscriminately. “I see, it’s all very clear now.”

He turning around when he realizes she’d stopped a few steps back and asks what’s with the sudden honesty.

“It’s all very clear now - that you are the scum of the earth, the sort of person who stomps all over other people’s hearts!” she accuses furiously.

Angrily he asks if she’s looking for a fight and she retorts he’s already gotten himself  one, taking him aback.

“Do you honestly think you can do whatever you want to something that doesn’t make you a profit?” she asks.

He says that it’s just a hassle and a waste of time that could be better spent elsewhere. “If it’s not worth money, it’s not worth the care.”

It’s a fundamental different of opinion, she realizes. “Money isn’t everything.” She reiterates to him that that woman seemed to really like him, regardless of money or anything like that, but he counters that he’s not buying that - there’s plenty of women who are underhanded gold-diggers.

She vehemently denies that that was the case here, thinking to herself that nobody cries the way that woman had over money, and asks how he doesn’t seem to get that.

Silvio still maintains he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“You must lack some basic part of humanity.” She knows she’s being outrageously disrespectful to the prince of a foreign country but she’s too far gone to care right now, not with the memory of that woman’s tears still seared in her mind. “If you keep thinking like that…I don’t think anyone could ever love you.”

She’s half ranting when she suddenly senses the change in the air. 

“You….”

CHOOSE YOUR FIGHTER ENDING HERE: Premium

Silvio’s got a thunderous frown as he closes the gap between them and grabs ahold of her hand, dragging her to a nearby alley. “I can't stand women like you.”

“What a coincidence, the feeling is mutual,” she fires back.

He half scoffs, saying she’s got cajones to take on the prince from another country, and she retorts that just being a prince isn’t any excuse for stepping all over other people’s hearts. He tells her that he can alway fix things with money, and she starts to protest -

Only for it to be cut off before she’s barely started by his hand hitting the wall beside her with a loud bang, his handsome face close enough that their breath is mingling as he offers to just buy her, at whatever her asking price.

She realizes this is all pointless…nothing she says is going to get through to him. “No thank you!” She shoves at his chest and he doesn’t fight her as she pushes him away - but he still grabs ahold of her hand.

Irritated, he says they’ve wasted enough time here and they’ll be late for his next appointment, insisting that he’s not done with her yet despite her protests that she has zero interest in going anywhere else. “Denied. No matter what you say, you’re my woman for the day.”

She’s half dragged back out into the streets proper - but if he wants to be like that, she decides, he’s given her an idea.

—---

Next they find themselves at a nobleman’s mansion, and Emma can’t miss the woman on their way in who’s clearly thrilled to see Silvio, realizing it’s set to be the same scenario all over again. Silvio reminds her warily that she’s she’s just gotta keep quiet and sit next to him, nothing else unless she wants him to get back at her. 

They’re cooling their heels, waiting for this business partner of his to show up, and she decides it’s now or never if she’s going to put her plan into action. As they’re seated, taking their tea, she waits until Silvio’s set his teacup back down after taking a sip, and the moment he does she tosses any shame aside and hugs his arm as tightly as she can. 

He’s startled, and she launches into her attack. “It’s so lonely just sitting here in silence, Prince Silvio,” she pouts, and demands that he pay attention to her and not his business deal, or else she’ll never let go. Dredging up the recollection of a wicked woman she’d read about in one of her book and assuming the role, shoving aside embarrassment as she wriggles and clings to him even harder.

She figured, if she made herself enough of an annoyance, he’d kick her out of the meeting. But in actuality…

He’s completely nonresponsive, no reaction whatsoever. She’s been braced for him to chew her out but all she’s getting is crickets and she wonders - did she piss him off SO MUCH that he can’t even form words??

She lifts her head with all sorts of trepidation to peek up at him…and is completely gobsmacked to see his wickedly handsome face is just awash in flaming red.

“...Prince Silvio?” It doesn’t seem like he’s red in the face because he’s angry, and she’s just thinking NO NO WAY HE’D BE ALL SHY, pfft not Silvio -

“...Let go of me, you idiot!” he sputters as he comes back to himself, trying to pull his arm free of her grasp when he freezes all over again and his face somehow manages to turn redder and redder. 

Totally baffled, she’s asking what’s wrong as he accuses her of doing this on PURPOSE, but she’s just echoing that in bemusement. He’s half shouting she IS, before he covers his face with his free hand and heaves the world’s biggest sigh, then glances down at her. 

Or more accurately, down at his arm, as he manages (still blushing furiously) to point out that she’s touching him. She’s just ??? before it finally clicks, to her horror.

He’s talking about her tiddies, mashed onto his arm as she’s hugging it so tightly. 

She lets go in a bigass hurry, just stammering. “N-n-no, I didn’t mean to do that!!”

He’s still totally silent, eyes closed and face still en fuego as she keeps flailing and insisting she didn’t do it on purpose.

When they're rescued (?) by the nobleman coming in apologizing for keeping him waiting. And in an instant 180 Silvio’s recovered, cool as a cucumber, his blush gone so fast as he greets the man that she half wonders if the whole thing was some kinda illusion…but she has the recollection of it seared into her brain.

No WAY….she’s thinking, trying to wrap her brain around what just happened. So stunned she can do little but sit there the entire rest of the meeting.

—---

Afterwards, they're sitting in the carriage in WORLD'S AWKWARDEST SILENCE. Silvio's seated himself diagonally across from her, as far away as he can possibly get in the carriage, and she wonders if he’s still on edge because USUALLY Silvio’s got no problem with them casually touching but he’s clearly making an effort to be out of reach.

She starts to say his name but he cuts her off. “You say one more word, you’re gonna get it.” He’s still got his arm propped in the window, staring out it all moody, refusing to make eye contact with her.

She’s just OHOHO how fascinating…and she gets up all casually and takes a seat next to him, watching him flinch when she does.  She can’t help but laugh a little at the sight.

“You…” he warns.

She manages to get out an apology, still amused, and says it’s just too much of a surprise. “Maybe you’re actually terrible with women?”

“No, no way,” he insists, and turns to wrap his arms around her waist suddenly. She realizes though it seems he’s fine with it when HE’S the one instigating the touching, and she’s surprised by the fact that her heart pounds a little with his fancy cologne surrounding her. 

Back to his usual cocky self he grins and offers to take her right here and now if she wants.

“Dream on, you gaudy sleaze,” she scoffs. 

Still smirking he says he’s going to remember that - and he’s going to make her pay for that, plus the stuff she said to him earlier that day. It seems he’s back in fine tyrant form, she realizes.

He undoes one of the buttons on her blouse, and she’s reminded that she’s got a beast that doesn’t understand the first thing about hearts on her hands here. She’s flailing in disbelief that he was actually serious, and she says his name all alarmed.

She grabs his face to stop him  - only to find he’s immediately red again, looking flustered and uncomfortable, frozen in place again at the touch of her hands.

She points out that if this is how it’s going to play out, she doesn’t think he has to force himself to threaten her (she’s clearly about ZERO PERCENT THREATENED hahaha)

He’s just grumpy scowling again. “Quiet - don’t you get the situation you’re in?”

“Yeah. I’m quite certain you can’t do anything more than undo that button,” she challenges, and he’s left to just stare at her wide eyed.

“Bullseye, right?” she crows.

“It’s just that the mood’s been killed,” he blusters, shoving them apart.

He��d totally denied being bad with women, but she’s beginning to wonder - is THAT the reason he’s so dense when it comes to their hearts? He’s got a certain sensitivity that’s completely contrary to his outer appearance, and she realizes she might have accused him without understanding the whole picture. Clearly it’s a shitty thing what he did to those women that loved him but she can’t quit thinking about his whole mindset that ‘money solves everything’.

There must be some reason why he got that idea in the first place, she figures. 

And without understanding the why, she regrets having said something like the fact that he would never be loved by anyone. 

Silvio's moaning and groaning about how everything is The Worst and he needs a drink - and she offers that if so, she knows a good bar near here.

“You drink?” he asks, and she says she enjoys it somewhat, and he’s back to his usual arrogant grinning self as he tells her to come with him then. “It’s your fault I feel this crappy anyways.”

But she notices he’s put distance between them again, even though there’s not much room to escape each other ina small carriage no matter how much he seems he might want to. It’d be easy to write him off, just tell herself she’d never understand him…but she finds she doesn’t want to. And those sudden feelings confuse her a little. 

Meanwhile, Silvio’s in his corner of the carriage grumbling that this wasn’t worth it - not even getting to see Rio’s expression will put this whole fiasco back in the black. (Sir plz just admit you're pissy beyond belief she's got the dirt on you now) But when she asks him what he’d said just now, he brushes it off as nothing and turns away without saying anything else. 

Today was a rough day, but in the end she’s glad she got to know the real face of this man. And now that she knows the SQUEEEISHY UNDERBELLY OF SILVIO, that impression she’s always had that he’d be hard to get to know has begun to fade.

THE END (if you made it this far, bless you)

The Sweet Ending can be found here.

The AU epilogue can be found here.

[thornescratch]

15 people, 15 questions

@snipertrifle tagged me in the 15 things meme, and it's been sitting in my drafts since early October and I finally finished it.

1. Are you named after anyone? Yeah, my mom told my dad's sister she would name her first girl after her, since my aunt passed away young before I was born, and then they had to find a name that worked with that name. So, my middle name is for my aunt, and my first name was a convenience of assonance accompaniment.

2. When was the last time you cried? Like, actual sustained crying, back in June when my dad died. Some occasional tearing up since then, but each time I have immediately walled it off like some kind of imaginary cask of Amontillado because I have legitimately not had the goddamn time for an emotional breakdown until recently. (Now that it's November, I finally do have the time, but my brain is all, 'Hmm. No. I think we better wait for something innocuous in public to set you off unexpectedly. Perhaps the next time you got to Costco. Gotta keep you guessing.' Some poor customer service person is going to wind up on the witness business end of that, and it is going to be super awkward for everyone.)

3. Do you have kids? No, hasn't worked out that way. I always wanted them, though; I never had any doubt that I wanted to be a parent and have kids. It does make me sad. But I have nephews and nieces and godchildren I adore, so that's something.

4. What sports do you play/have played? Swimming, diving, soccer, some track and field, and I can skate well enough to not fall on my face most of the time.

5. Do you use sarcasm? Never.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people? How we would stack up against each other if we were stuck in a situation where cannibalism of the other was the only option for survival. (But in reality, eyes and voices. Sometimes hands.)

7. What’s your eye color? Brown.

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings. I do enjoy scary movies the way God intended, by reading about them in great detail on wikipedia but rarely watching them in full.

9. Any talents? I can tie cherry stems into knots with my tongue; I think my record is like, four in one minute. I can also touch my nose with my tongue and wiggle my ears. I'm okay at writing. Apparently I have the kind of face that people ask me for directions a lot (this is a mistake.)

10. Where were you born? Maryland.

11. What are your hobbies? Reading, writing, hockey, swimming, putting together Legos with the kiddos, screaming about Star Wars, occasional amateur skeletal articulation, foraging, the kind of hiking that's actually just rambling, and baking.

12. Do you have any pets? A turtle obtained through dubious legal means who will probably outlive me, at the rate he's going.

13. How tall are you? 5'6"

14. Favorite subject in school? English, Biology, Art. Surprisingly, Latin.

15. Dream job? I mean, optimally I would receive large amounts of money and not have to work at all! I used to say fiction editor, but now I want to just read whatever I want all day without necessarily trying to make it better. As long as I'm dreaming, anyway.

No pressure for tags, but I could always stand to learn more about @milliebeeweasel, @immoveableobject, @darkisrising, @bronze-lorica, @maikaartwork, @soranokumo-is-catt, @sushiburritonoms, and @marloweseyeball, if only so I can eventually steal their identities (both online and physical).

[17caratssi]

Distance makes the heart grow fonder ; Koo Jungmo

Non-idol! Au

You just picked up a call from your boyfriend who's working out of town that week. As soon as you put him on speaker, his muffled voice filled the empty room. "What're you doing?" he asked.

"Getting ready to sleep," you yawned as you finished answering. He chuckled at your nonchalant attitude and shifted on the bed so he could get more comfortable.

"It's that late in Korea? I haven't checked the time," he said softly. Then, evidence of realization traveled to your ear. "It's pretty late.. Should I just call you tomorrow?"

"No, let's talk. I missed you and we only get to talk after three days," you reassured your boyfriend and suppressed the second yawn. "Jungmo, I missed you so much," you continued after a struggle.

Silence. "Jungmo?"

You noticed the quietness and something clicked inside your brain and it had you laughing. "Are you blushing? Is it because I said I missed you?" you managed to complete the sentence in between the laughter.

Jungmo was flustered to the core. "It's because you never said that," he coyly responded. Perhaps, you haven't met each other for a longest since you began dating him, it made your mouth run the words sincerely.

"It's nice to hear that, and I missed you too, Y/N,"

The rustle of the blanket and his whine coming out from his lips sent you a wave of yearning. You definitely missed his cool breath when he spoke so close to you and the warmth you shared when he pulled you into his embrace at night.

"Don't say that.. You know I could only hug Rangmo now," you said, sulking in a way that melts Jungmo's heart. "Rangmo will sleep outside once I'm back," he faked a scolding and earned a giggle from you. "How was your day?" he added after you calmed down.

Taking a breath, you narrated your day to Jungmo in a very detailed manner because he prefers that. He was attentive and only spoke after your voice trailed off with the ending.

"That's a good job. Don't brood over your mistake since you get to learn better afterward. How about you reward yourself tomorrow and send me the proof?"

"That's a nice trick. You got me there,"

Jungmo didn't feel embarrassed when he got caught and instead, he even became bolder. "Make some time and send me your photos,"

You rolled your eyes at his order and asked, "Didn't you take many pictures of me when we were out?"

"That's different. Your amateur selfies are the best," Jungmo heard your grunt and smiled fondly. "Ah-"

You were startled when he, out of nowhere, made such an exclamation. You were about to ask if something was wrong but he beat you to it.

He said, "I think I can go to your sister's wedding next week. My application has been moved forward. I almost forgot to say that,"

A pulse late, he whispered. "I can finally meet my in-laws,"

You bit your lip and bashfully said. "How can you say that so casually?" Returning in the same volume.

"Why is that? Isn't it a given for me to go meet my wife's parents?"

"Koo Jungmo!" you couldn't take his teasing any longer. He has brought up this title stuff a lot of times and it never fails to make you go rubescent.

"You're such a tease,"

Jungmo let out a simper and inevitably made you anticipate the future with his next words. "A tease comes true?" and also a burst of big laughter at his silliness.

"You better keep your promise,"

Nodded silently, Jungmo confessed. "I love you, my wife,"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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