#and anyone who says they wouldn't read it is a liar

[saintsenara]

Another ask, this time just for fun. What are your thoughts on original characters in fanfic? Furthermore, what about fanfics that center around original characters?

thank you very for the ask, @hauntingpercival

and the answer is that i am a great defender of original characters in fanfiction because fanfiction is a hobby we do for fun - which means we are entitled to do whatever the fuck we want when writing.

i think that it's incredibly unchic behaviour when people decide they're suddenly professional editors exclusively to complain about their presence in stories - and i don't think there's anyone in fandom who can cast a stone against others when it comes to being a little self-indulgent in their writing...

because - of course - it's basically impossible to write a story set in the harry potter universe [even with the lightning generation] which doesn't use original characters at some point.

even if your protagonist is the most canon-accurate version of the character ever to walk around canon-accurately, co-workers and fellow students and parents and siblings and love interests and friends and shop assistants and random passers-by all need to be pulled from the ether to add colour to the story - and this is especially the case if an author wants to delve into themes or eras which are overlooked in the canon narrative.

as someone who writes a lot about voldemort's life, i have needed to come up with plenty of original characters to serve as his teachers, schoolmates, fellow orphans and so on - and i think it's worth saying that while some of these, like abraxas malfoy, are mentioned in canon, the fact we know nothing canonical about them beyond their names means that they function as original characters too.

and i find it tremendous fun.

[and i've spoken elsewhere about my favourite oc - romulus lestrange - father of the erstwhile rodolphus and rabastan.]

and i do think that it's worth offering a defence of that fun element - i see a lot the suggestion that it's a bit cringe [or, perhaps, a bit arrogant] to take original characters seriously, but i actively enjoy thinking up character details and writing characterisation notes and so on for people who exist exclusively in my head. and - yes - i think the process of fleshing out oc's has broader benefits to me as a writer, but that's really a secondary point next to the fact that it's fun.

i also love naming oc's - and i want to offer here a defence not only of fun but of whimsy.

it has been my great pleasure while writing one year in every ten - which is a murder mystery formed of three different poirot novels in a trenchcoat - to cram in as many characters named after crime writers or stars of classic detective novels as possible.

[when i'm taking things a bit more seriously, i like thinking about the class vibes of the series when making sure any pureblood original characters have anglo-norman names...]

and so - while we're taking a stance in favour of fun and whimsy - i think it's important to also back stories centred around original characters. and to do this even when these oc's are transparently author self-inserts.

all too often the conversation around oc's focuses on how to make them "good" - how to make them unclockable as a self-insert, how to avoid writing a mary-sue, and so...

but i think that's the wrong way to look at it.

people write mary-sues because they want to - because fanfiction is escapism and because sometimes it's nice to imagine yourself as flawless and beloved. people write self-insert because they want to - because it's fun to imagine yourself as part of a fictional world which means a lot to you.

i'm not sure i'd personally find writing an original character self-insert fun [largely because i'm a mess and nobody would want to read about me] - and, to telegraph my own hypocrisy, i really don't like it when characters who have a lot of canon material behind them turn into unrecognisable author surrogates [hence my enmity with fanon!hermione], which i do think it can be argued is a meaningfully different phenomenon...

but people who do enjoy it? well, i love that for them. not everything has to appeal to me, after all.

and - even when oc's aren't mary-sues or intentional author inserts - sometimes it's nice to give the responsibility of telling the story you want to tell to a character of your own, instead of asking a character who has to be dragged from canon to do it for you.

and i know that i do find writing a story centred around these sort of oc's fun because i'm... doing it.

metallurgy - the upcoming sequel to bookbinding - hinges entirely on its original characters: the seven children [since seven is the most powerful magical number] of tom riddle and myrtle warren. these lot are causing carnage in the wizarding world of the 1970s, and i am very much enjoying the ride...

[artytaeh]

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

THEODORE NOTT— a popular slytherin, an introvert at heart, despite his reputation as a womanizer. theodore nott, who has a big, terrible communication problem.

with the pure terror of displaying his vulnerable emotions, theodore smokes cigarettes to force his emotions to disappear with the wind; bites his inner lip and cheek until his mouth bleeds, so no tears threaten to make way to his eyes.

when theodore nott cries, he stares blankly into the wall. he doesn't sob— sobbing would make him even weaker, more vulnerable, less capable and definitely useless, in his father's eyes.

silent tears are the epitome of theodore's sadness, because other than that, his sadness, stress and troubled thoughts are never known. hidden by a mask of stoic expressions.

theodore nott is 'stupid' smart. if he wasn't a slytherin at heart and soul, then he'd be a ravenclaw, or at least that's what the professors comment amongst them. theo enjoys reading, and would easily spend his afternoon on a silent, vacant corner of the castle, devouring a book in few hours.

he lies, saying that it's simply because knowledge is a good weapon. he'd be saying the truth, if theodore confesses that he reads this much, because whether be it fiction or not, he can escape his thoughts to fully concentrate on the book's contents.

theodore nott is knowledgeable, theodore nott is a good, straight-A's student. theodore nott is quick-witted; you wouldn't want to banter with him, because usually, he gets the last word with a victorious, cheeky smile— an insufferable cocky grin.

and yet, shamefully, theodore nott has no idea how to verbalize his feelings.

every good liar is like this, he'd argue. in exchange of spilling the most atrocious lies with a straight face and nonchalant tone, theodore finds it awfully hard to tell the truth.

ask him what's wrong— you can do that, sure. now, if theodore will answer you, that's another story. and to give you a genuine answer, if he doesn't snap? then an angel must have fallen down its altar.

then, if he can't verbalize or trust anyone, not even mattheo riddle or lorenzo berkshire on a good day— what does theodore nott do, to deal with his full mind and empty heart?

theodore nott destroys.

he destroys other living beings,

being the first one to join mattheo riddle, with a smile on his face, when his best friend snaps at the smallest hint of disrespect. throwing a (not really) deserved punch at a guy that honestly, if you ask him afterwards, theodore has no idea what he done wrong.

when lorenzo scolds mattheo for starting a fight and reprimands theodore for indulging it, the slytherin simply shrugs. he's "looking out for his bro", he says. that's only partially true, as much as he deeply cares for mattheo.

everytime that he starts fights, like a rabid dog. theodore doesn't really know when he stopped being il dolce ragazzo of his madre. when he became a dog that bites without thinking about barking first. "so much for claiming to be the logical one," — lorenzo muses.

... he destroys himself.

which would explain the concerning amount of muggle, wizarding, flavored, all shaped packs of cigarettes he owns. there isn't a brand that he didn't try, at least once— the more harmful, the better.

smoking until his lungs become as black as his heart, as his dark thoughts. smoking, until he drops dead with his worries. smoking, until theodore nott becomes a better man (something that he doubts he could do, for he was born a broken man— born from a couple that should have never crossed paths with each other).

consequently, damaging his hands. skin that becomes calloused and slightly scarred from the cigarettes. knuckles constantly bruised from throwing punches at gryffindors or smartass ravenclaws.

so, theodore nott starts believing that he's unlovable. that loving him— oh, that would be torture. pure masochism, that he wouldn't wish to anyone, not even the witch he dislikes or rolls his eyes at the most.

and that becomes a creeping fear of his. oh, theodore is terrified, when the thought of becoming like his father plagues his mind.

to think that he'd become such a disgusting man, the man who brought so much pain to his mother, that killed the only person who truly loved him.

what would his mother say, if she saw him like this?

would she be disappointed, would she be ashamed to even spare a look at him? would her beautiful porcelain face become a frown, would she walk away, disgusted?

theodore consumes three more cigarettes on that thought alone.

... or would she give him a sympathetic look, gazing at her dolce, bravo ragazzo with those tender eyes of hers? a shade of blue, that theodore was fortunate to inherit.

a sad smile makes its way to his lips. because now, even for a brief moment, theo is himself again. he's not a casanova slytherin, he's not the heir of the nott family. theodore nott is simply his mother's little boy, her teddy.

in honor of such bittersweet memories, theo drops his cigarette and doesn't smoke for at least 24 hours.

theo doesn't know how to deal with comfort. genuinely tender touches, fingertips grazing his skin so lightly—

of desperately needy, lustful touches, he knows. he knows them very well, from all those times he slept with a woman, ruined her for the next guy. from the times a slytherin girl gripped and pushed his hair, needing, begging more of his mouth on her; or when a gryffindor got so lost in pleasure that she left the mark of her nails on his back; when a hufflepuff senior clenched her fingers on his torso, hips and shoulders, screaming for more, deeper, faster; that time when he found a way to shut up a particularly insufferable ravenclaw know-it-all by fucking her mouth, and when he felt the back of her throat on him, the stubborn ravenclaw gripped, scratched, protested on his thighs.

of harsh, violent, cruel, merciless touches, everytime mr. nott decided that a disgusted, disappointed gaze wasn't enough to educate his son. when those knuckles adorned with rings curled into a fist, and theodore was beaten into discipline. all those times he started fights and consequently got hit by a punch or two, even though theodore is a good fighter, and makes sure that even if he does get hurt, the receiving end is in worse state, in need of more than one night in the infirmary wing.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

... but comforting, meant to soothe, gentle touches? oh, theo is terrified of them. rather than flinching away from a fist coming his way, theo looks like a scaredy cat when fingers come to brush his hair away from his face, with all the love and care of the world.

theo doesn't know those touches. to be fair, yes, he was acquainted with them once— but that was long, long ago, when his mother was still alive. a life ago, really, because sometimes theodore wonders if he's the same teddy he once was, under the protective but loving arms of his mother.

so at first, theo panics when you hug him, when you physically bring comfort to his broken, damaged heart.

but then?

then, after he gets a taste of how heavenly it feels to be held by someone he loves? then, theo embraces the fact that he is indeed a touch starved man. then, theo completely and shamelessly melts under your touch, relaxing in your embrace, wishing to never leave this safe haven.

( or maybe he does. a little voice on the back of his mind, menacingly suggesting that this safe haven, this loving harbor — you — might disappear into thin air by the cruel hands of his father, the same he did with his mother. )

but before his truly prodigious brain dares to overthink once again— your hands comb through his hair, brushing it back along with his worries, massaging the scalp and melting the troubled thoughts away. that's when theo closes his eyes. that's when he, finally, is in peace with himself.

and if you'd ask him; this is when and where theodore nott is the happiest. this is when theodore nott is teddy again.

౨ৎ these voices in my head screaming ♡ ͡

run now. i'm praying that they're human . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— my motivation? it's a silly little drabble, about my favorite slytherin. theodore nott deserves love, seriously.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[mostlysignssomeportents]

You were promised a jetpack by liars

TONIGHT (May 17), I'm at the INTERNET ARCHIVE in SAN FRANCISCO to keynote the 10th anniversary of the AUTHORS ALLIANCE.

As a science fiction writer, I find it weird that some sf tropes – like space colonization – have become culture-war touchstones. You know, that whole "we were promised jetpacks" thing.

I confess, I never looked too hard at the practicalities of jetpacks, because they are so obviously either used as a visual shorthand (as in the Jetsons) or as a metaphor. Even a brief moment's serious consideration should make it clear why we wouldn't want the distracted, stoned, drunk, suicidal, homicidal maniacs who pilot their two-ton killbots through our residential streets at 75mph to be flying over our heads with a reservoir of high explosives strapped to their backs.

Jetpacks can make for interesting sf eyeball kicks or literary symbols, but I don't actually want to live in a world of jetpacks. I just want to read about them, and, of course, write about them:

https://reactormag.com/chicken-little/

I had blithely assumed that this was the principle reason we never got the jetpacks we were "promised." I mean, there kind of was a promise, right? I grew up seeing videos of rocketeers flying their jetpacks high above the heads of amazed crowds, at World's Fairs and Disneyland and big public spectacles. There was that scene in Thunderball where James Bond (the canonical Connery Bond, no less) makes an escape by jetpack. There was even a Gilligan's Island episode where the castaways find a jetpack and scheme to fly it all the way back to Hawai'i:

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0588084/

Clearly, jetpacks were possible, but they didn't make any sense, so we decided not to use them, right?

Well, I was wrong. In a terrific new 99 Percent Invisible episode, Chris Berube tracks the history of all those jetpacks we saw on TV for decades, and reveals that they were all the same jetpack, flown by just one guy, who risked his life every time he went up in it:

https://99percentinvisible.org/episode/rocket-man/

The jetpack in question – technically a "rocket belt" – was built in the 1960s by Wendell Moore at the Bell Aircraft Corporation, with funding from the DoD. The Bell rocket belt used concentrated hydrogen peroxide as fuel, which burned at temperatures in excess of 1,000'. The rocket belt had a maximum flight time of just 21 seconds.

It was these limitations that disqualified the rocket belt from being used by anyone except stunt pilots with extremely high tolerances for danger. Any tactical advantage conferred on infantrymen by the power to soar over a battlefield for a whopping 21 seconds was totally obliterated by the fact that this infantryman would be encumbered by an extremely heavy, unwieldy and extremely explosive backpack, to say nothing of the high likelihood that rocketeers would plummet out of the sky after failing to track the split-second capacity of a jetpack.

And of course, the rocket belt wasn't going to be a civilian commuting option. If your commute can be accomplished in just 21 seconds of flight time, you should probably just walk, rather than strapping an inferno to your back and risking a lethal fall if you exceed a margin of error measured in just seconds.

Once you know about the jetpack's technical limitations, it's obvious why we never got jetpacks. So why did we expect them? Because we were promised them, and the promise was a lie.

Moore was a consummate showman, which is to say, a bullshitter. He was forever telling the press that his jetpacks would be on everyone's back in one to two years, and he got an impressionable young man, Bill Suitor, to stage showy public demonstrations of the rocket belt. If you ever saw a video of a brave rocketeer piloting a jetpack, it was almost certainly Suitor. Suitor was Connery's stunt-double in Thunderball, and it was he who flew the rocket belt around Sleeping Beauty castle.

Suitor's interview with Berube for the podcast is delightful. Suitor is a hilarious, profane old airman who led an extraordinary life and tells stories with expert timing, busting out great phrases like "a surprise is a fart with a lump in it."

But what's most striking about the tale of the Bell rocket belt is the shape of the deception that Moore and Bell pulled off. By conspicuously failing to mention the rocket belt's limitations, and by callously risking Suitor's life over and over again, they were able to create the impression that jetpacks were everywhere, and that they were trembling on the verge of widespread, popular adoption.

What's more, they played a double game: all the public enthusiasm they manufactured with their carefully stage-managed, canned demos was designed to help them win more defense contracts to keep their dream alive. Ultimately, Uncle Sucker declined to continue funding their boondoggle, and the demos petered out, and the "promise" of a jetpack was broken.

As I listened to the 99 Percent Invisible episode, I was struck by the familiarity of this shuck: this is exactly what the self-driving car bros did over the past decade to convince us all that the human driver was already obsolete. The playbook was nearly identical, right down to the shameless huckster insisting that "full self-driving is one to two years away" every year for a decade:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/8/23/23837598/tesla-elon-musk-self-driving-false-promises-land-of-the-giants

The Potemkin rocket belt was a calculated misdirection, as are the "full self-driving" demos that turn out to be routine, pre-programmed runs on carefully manicured closed tracks:

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/tesla-autopilot-staged-engineer-says-company-faked-full-autopilot/

Practical rocketeering wasn't ever "just around the corner," because a flying, 21 second blast-furnace couldn't be refined into a practical transport. Making the tank bigger would not make this thing safer or easier to transport.

The jetpack showman hoped to cash out by tricking Uncle Sucker into handing him a fat military contract. Robo-car scammers used their conjurer's tricks to cash out to the public markets, taking Uber public on the promise of robo-taxis, even as Uber's self-driving program burned through $2.5b and produced a car with a half-mile mean time between fatal collisions, which the company had to pay someone else $400m to take the business off their hands:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

It's not just self-driving cars. Time and again, the incredibly impressive AI demos that the press credulously promotes turn out to be scams. The dancing robot on stage at the splashy event is literally a guy in a robot-suit:

https://www.businessinsider.com/elon-musks-ai-day-tesla-bot-is-just-a-guy-in-a-bodysuit-2021-8

The Hollywood-killing, AI-produced video prompting system is so cumbersome to use, and so severely limited, that it's arguably worse than useless:

https://www.wheresyoured.at/expectations-versus-reality/

The centuries' worth of progress the AI made in discovering new materials actually "discovered" a bunch of trivial variations on existing materials, as well as a huge swathe of materials that only exist at absolute zero:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/23/maximal-plausibility/#reverse-centaurs

The AI grocery store where you just pick things up and put them in your shopping basket without using the checkout turns out to be a call-center full of low-waged Indian workers desperately squinting at videos of you, trying to figure out what you put in your bag:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/31/neural-interface-beta-tester/#tailfins

The discovery of these frauds somehow never precipitates disillusionment. Rather than getting angry with marketers for tricking them, reporters are ventriloquized into repeating the marketing claim that these aren't lies, they're premature truths. Sure, today these are faked, but once the product is refined, the fakery will no longer be required.

This must be the kinds of Magic Underpants Gnomery the credulous press engaged in during the jetpack days: "Sure, a 21-second rocket belt is totally useless for anything except wowing county fair yokels – but once they figure out how to fit an order of magnitude more high-explosive onto that guy's back, this thing will really take off!"

The AI version of this is that if we just keep throwing orders of magnitude more training data and compute at the stochastic parrot, it will eventually come to life and become our superintelligent, omnipotent techno-genie. In other words, if we just keep breeding these horses to run faster and faster, eventually one of our prize mares will give birth to a locomotive:

https://locusmag.com/2020/07/cory-doctorow-full-employment/

As a society, we have vested an alarming amount of power in the hands of tech billionaires who profess to be embittered science fiction fans who merely want to realize the "promises" of our Golden Age stfnal dreams. These bros insist that they can overcome both the technical hurdles and the absolutely insurmountable privation involved in space colonization:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

They have somehow mistaken Neal Stephenson's dystopian satirical "metaverse" for a roadmap:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/18/metaverse-means-pivot-to-video/

As Charlie Stross writes, it's not just that these weirdos can't tell the difference between imaginative parables about the future and predictions about the future – it's also that they keep mistaking dystopias for business plans:

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/tech-billionaires-need-to-stop-trying-to-make-the-science-fiction-they-grew-up-on-real/

Cyberpunk was a warning, not a suggestion. Please, I beg you, stop building the fucking torment nexus:

https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/torment-nexus

These techno-billionaires profess to be fulfilling a broken promise, but surely they know that the promises were made by liars – showmen using parlor tricks to sell the impossible. You were "promised a jetpack" in the same sense that table-rapping "spiritualists" promised you a conduit to talk with the dead, or that carny barkers promised you a girl that could turn into a gorilla:

https://milwaukeerecord.com/film/ape-girl-shes-alive-documentary-november-11-sugar-maple/

That's quite a supervillain origin story: "I was promised a jetpack, but then I grew up discovered that it was just a special effect. In revenge, I am promising you superintelligent AIs and self-driving cars, and these, too, are SFX."

In other words: "Die a disillusioned jetpack fan or live long enough to become the fraudster who cooked up the jetpack lie you despise."

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/17/fake-it-until-you-dont-make-it/#twenty-one-seconds

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 2

Part 2:

Tashi Duncan was a force. Everyone knew it. Everywhere Tashi went, a crowd of people gathered, seeking some form of contact with her. A brief conversation about her day, their day, the fucking weather. Just so they could say they talked to the Tashi Duncan. Liana hated her. She didn't hate her personally; she hated the fact that even at Stanford, everything revolved around tennis, and accordingly, everything revolved around Art Donaldson and his blonde curls. Art, who showed up at her dorm at unreasonable hours with a box of fries he didn't even eat but knew she liked, Art, who was at every party she attended, Art, who wouldn't stop babbling about Tashi Duncan. "Look, I just think she's not the right girl for him..." Right now, Art was lying on her bed, bouncing a ball while she was trying to finish a paper for her Intro to Economics class. "I don't understand why you're here..." she mumbled in response. Somewhere in the second week at Stanford, she had stopped fighting his presence. He refused to let go. Every scowl she sent his way only encouraged him to do stupid things like waiting for her after class to walk her to the cafeteria or calling her mom and casually asking if she knew why Liana stopped coming to his open practices (she never attended his practices anyway, the little shit was an unbearable liar who made her mom talk for half an hour about how you can't neglect friendships like the imaginary one between her and Art). "Because you didn't come to practice today. Again." He looked at her. "Are you back with James?" he asked casually. "You know his name is Jake," she rolled her eyes, realizing she'd been reading the same line for fifteen minutes and deciding to close her laptop. "Are you sure?" he asked with a half-smile, pleased that for the first time that evening, he had her attention. "Why do you care that Patrick and Tashi are together?" she asked. "I don't care. I just know Patrick, and you know Patrick-" "Do I?" she cut him off, causing him to squint for a second. "You know Patrick well enough to know how he treats girls. He doesn't take them seriously, and now he's with Tashi. He's going to mess her up and ruin her season." He shrugged, as if it was the most logical thing anyone had ever thought about his best friend. "Aren't you supposed to worry about Patrick's season, Art? Like the good friend you are?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Everything felt too charged with tension she couldn't figure out. "You didn't answer me about James. Are you back with him? He's kind of a loser," he changed the subject, not taking his eyes off her. "You're kind of a loser. Sitting in my room and whining about your best friend dating the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. Get over your crush and move on. Use your blonde hair to find a hookup instead of bothering me while I'm studying." She turned her back to him and opened her laptop again. "And no, I'm not back with Jake," she concluded the topic, not wanting to reopen the wound of that relationship. Certainly not with Art Donaldson, who had started moving towards the door, finally getting the hint.

Liana put Patrick on speaker while she searched for her earrings. She had promised Daria (the only friend she had managed to find so far) that she would go out with her to the bar across from the university, and they would try out their fake IDs. Liana was sure no one would believe she was 21, no matter how revealing the dress Daria forced her to wear, how much makeup she put on, or how high the heels she wore were. No one with eyes would believe she was old enough to buy alcohol. "The referee kept making mistakes. I think Marcus paid him off. His dad probably promised the guy a new Aston Martin if I lost." Patrick, who had been complaining for the last ten minutes about the terrible game he had today, continued talking while she tried to apply lipstick as straight as possible. "I don't know much about tennis, but that sounds exaggerated, Pat." Liana didn't know what to say to cheer him up. The truth was that since the season started and Patrick decided he was pursuing professional tennis, Liana didn't know how to support him. "I'm telling you, something was off there." He spoke, maybe to her, maybe trying to convince himself. "I think you should call Tashi or Art. they would understand better than me what went wrong..." she said, wiping off the lipstick, the bright color felt too much. Like she was trying too hard to draw attention to herself to show everyone she was pretending to be an adult. "Oh, if you think Tashi hasn't already called me and told me everything I did wrong in that game while reminding me of all the mistakes from the previous game, you're wrong." He answered. She recognized the bitterness in his voice. "That sounds like a healthy relationship. you should write a book." She tried to lighten the mood, again not knowing how to help him. She didn't know Tashi, only heard stories about her, and currently, they weren't great. "Art will just keep saying I should have taken the Stanford scholarship like him and be with you guys in the beautiful college bubble, drinking beer from a keg." He continued, ignoring the jab about his relationship. "Imagine how much fun you could have had with me at Stanford, Pat. I'm on my way to use my fake ID at a bar. In heels and everything." Liana tried to do everything she could to steer the conversation away from tennis. "Whoa, Liana Levi, breaking the law. Who would have believed we'd reach this moment? What's your fake name?" he laughed, which made Liana smile. Something about hearing Patrick so broken felt wrong to her. It didn't fit the curly-haired boy who always tried to make her laugh and include her in everything he did when she was around. "Amanda Jacobs," she replied. Silence fell on the line. "Amanda Jacobs like Amanda James who went to boarding school with me and Art?" Patrick asked, and she could hear the octaves in his voice change. She already knew he wouldn't let this go. "I had to come up with something on the spot. I panicked," she defended herself as his laughter slowly became the only thing she could hear. He couldn't see her right now, but it made her smile even more, even though it was at her expense. "Alright, Amanda, don't drink and drive. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He said after he calmed down. "Okay, Dad." She rolled her eyes. "You know I love it when you call me-" he couldn't finish the sentence because she hung up.

Art was sitting on her bed when she came back from the bar. Not only had her fake ID worked, but the bartender had also been hitting on Daria all night, so he kept pouring them free shots. It was safe to say Liana had never drunk that much alcohol in her life. "Am I imagining you?" she asked with utter seriousness. "What? No. I was waiting for you." He looked confused. "Are you drunk?" he asked the obvious while Liana tried to take off one of her heels and almost fell, causing Art to quickly get up and stand next to her so she could lean on him. "How did you get in here, Arthur?" she put her hands on her hips, causing him to look at her and flash his most charming smile. The kind that made all the girls melt. "Your dad gave me a key for emergencies," he said, without taking his eyes off her as he sat back on the bed and she approached him with clumsy steps, a little disappointed that taking off the heels didn't help her stability much. "Do you want to sit?" his tone was amused. He had never seen Liana so drunk. Almost every summer, they managed to sneak a few beers when Patrick came to visit. But it was never serious. "My dad gave you a key? You realize that's not normal, right? We need to talk about boundaries, Donaldson," she turned her head to him while he was already looking at her, just inches separating them as they sat next to each other on the bed. "Patrick told me you were going to a bar, something about a fake ID? wanted to see if you're ok" he said, not moving. A little afraid she'll be the one who suddenly moves away. He couldn't remember the last time Liana was this close to him. He didn't think she would ever get this close to him again. "Patrick is a snitch, and I'm not telling him anything anymore," she sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically, spreading her arms, causing Art to do the same and land on her arm, closer than she would tolerate any other day. "I can't believe you didn't invite me. I'm disappointed," he tried to sound amused, but he was genuinely disappointed. By this point, he was sure she understood they were friends, that they were connected by such a strong bond that he sometimes doubted if he could ever unravel it. If he even wanted to unravel it. He just didn't understand how, while he saw her so clearly, she didn't see him at all. Sometimes he wondered if she even knew his name. Then he would see her in the crowd at one of his games, and the world calmed down; he always won when she was there. "You don't drink anyway," she noted quietly. The fatigue started to overcome her, and Liana's eyes closed on their own. "Hey, I do drink," he defended himself, even though they both knew he was lying. He tried to maintain his diet as correctly as possible, as fitting as possible for his athletic lifestyle. "I think Patrick is sad," she suddenly said, and Art felt his heart beating quickly. "How do you know?" he asked in a quiet, almost defeated voice. "Because when I talk to him, I'm sad too."

sooo, here's the second part. I think we're getting somewhere, but it's going to be a slow burn, so stick with me, I guess. I'm kinda clueless as to if you like it or not, so feel free to tell me what you're thinking ❤️

[hvtqo]

🩷 headcanons —alhaitham as your bf

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: fluff, just cutesy stuff i daydream about

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ warning: nsfw at the end, afab! reader.

・❥・about:

just a bunch of hcs of how i think haitham would act as your boyfriend <33 there's some participation from kaveh as well ! (no, not a threesome or anything 😭)

↓ read under the cut ↓

❛ pre-relatioship ༉‧₊˚

haitham wouldn't be the first to give the green light in the relationship. he would definitely observe you and wait until you show signs of liking him, but he would do so very subtly, and probably wouldn't make the first step directly himself.

but i do feel like he'd be the type to make up excuses to be around you. and you'd be confused because he wouldn't be overt about it either. like a cat just being there... silently demanding attention.

he'd be specially attracted to your intellect. he'd probably ask you questions about your preferred research topics or engage in discussion with you. like sure he can think you're fine asf, but i think he'd fall for your way of seeing things and your intelligence.

you'd notice he likes you likes you when you see him more disposed to listen and learn from you than to contradict you. he's such a contrarian, sometimes just even assuming the opposite point of view from others for simple amusement, not because he actually believes what he's arguing for. but with you he gets to shut up sometimes lol

random gifts left over your desk without you asking for them. a book you've been meaning to buy but never have the chance to. the flowers you saw the other day and thought were beautiful. a keychain that reminded him of you. anything you casually comment that you'd like to have. it pops up.

and then you pretend you don't know it was him who bought those things for you. you left your desk for a minute to go for a coffee, or to the bathroom, or whatever. that's when he comes in and leaves a cute silver necklace there. it has a little ornament in the shape of the moon, which you've mentioned you adore the sight of. he doesn't really get why you find a generic spatial rock so amusing even though you've explained to him it's about the poetry and the symbolism of it, not only it's function or form in space.

he just ended up accepting that you love the moon and the stars and gave into it, associating you with them. before you come back he leaves. you find the necklace and smirk to yourself. you know it was him who got it for you, of course. the next day, you wear it proudly but don't mention it to him.

in fact, you both don't even talk to one another; the only recognition he gets for his gift is a gentle glance across the room. the silver moon glistens over your chest. you smile. he lowers his glance back to his book, and you don't notice the tiny smirk on his face after that.

of course, this subtle tension builds up over the weeks. i feel like haitham, even though he wouldn't directly make the first move, would get impatient. he'd probably scheme a way for you to end up asking him out. you'd definitely fall for it without knowing it was his plan all along to make you confess first.

another thing is that he doesn't come up with all this by himself. he's got you fooled though because he loves the praise and the light in your face when you realize he's responsible for everything.

but no, he's a liar. he definitely asks kaveh and the boys for advice. actually, all of them come up with very specific ways to win you over. kaveh is a romantic and he's always making sure alhaitham doesn't fuck up lol

“just flowers?” a grimace settles on kaveh's face. “yes” alhaitham says, “isn't that what everyone wants? a bouquet? the classic thing?”

“no” kaveh scoffs. “it's not about the flowers, it's about the intention. anyone can go up to her and give her a bouquet of flowers. also, what's special about a bouquet? the flowers will wither in a week. that can be representative of your relationship. be more original.”

so he brings you a bunch of plants instead that you can hang on your ceiling in your room. it looks quite decorative. now everytime you walk to your room and see the hanging plants, you think of him.

he also sends kaveh to ask you things. like what you're into and what type of person you'd date. and like you know he's asking for him, but you play along.

you even tease them a bit.

“i'm into people who can dance” you confess. “it's just so sexy to see a man who can move. why are you asking though? you're not planning on taking me out, are you?” you rise a brow.

“oh, no, not me” kaveh giggles nervously. later in the day he finds haitham scrolling on his phone at the couch. kaveh takes his phone away, which obviously upsets him, and shuts off his headphones.

he pulls him up, making him stand. that's when haitham notices the music. he gets a little nervous but won't show it. “what are you doing?” he asks defensively.

“teaching you how to move” kaveh replies, and the lesson begins.

❛ while dating ༉‧₊˚

so i feel like after the ordeal that making you his girlfriend was, he'd be the type to grasp onto you and not let you go. not easily, at least.

he's lasting. like if you don't end up marrying this man, at least he's gonna be one of the longest relationships of your life.

no over-the-top displays of affection, though. the subtlety continues. and it secures the duration and firmness of your bond. this man's the type to do rather than say. the way he pampers you is through the little things.

like for example, he keeps perfect track of your cycle. even if you're not regular. he knows when you're ovulating (you get it 😌) and when you're extra sensitive because your periods coming.

“did it come?” he asks casually. you frown, because you've never mentioned it. “yes. just this morning” you guess what he's talking about. “good.” he replies. “how do you know?” you rise a brow. he rests his eyes on you. “two days ago you cried because a bee stung me accidentally and died. you cried because it ‘sacrificed itself for me’. and you buried it. under plants.”

“oh”

“yeah”

of course, he also takes care that you have everything you need, because you can be a little forgetful at times. so you go to the store and while you're wandering the halls in search for candies and chocolate, he grabs a pack of pads and tea and face masks and stuff for you to relax during this time.

ON THE OTHER HAND, he's not the one to easily accept gifts from you. he appreciates them though it's just that he's the type to think of effectiveness and utility when he buys you stuff, while you only buy him things that you find cute or that remind you of him.

like you know you could get him a cute green sweater and he'd be like “i dont need this”, and you'd roll your eyes (he'd wear it nonetheless, because he loves the texture).

so over time you learn to stick to gift him things that have a purpose. books that you know he'd find interesting, perhaps, and that you've read yourself so that you can share something. utensils and tools and stuff that “works”. although you still bring him the occasional trinket or plushie at times.

alhaitham is not a morning person. most often than not you're the one cooking breakfast and cleaning up at early hours. but whenever it happens that he wakes up first and surprises you with breakfast, you appreciate it. he's not the best cook either but he's learned to prepare your favorite dishes perfectly.

i hc you spending time together doing separate tasks or being in silence. he'd be researching, writing, at one side of the room, and you'd be playing videogames or giggling at tiktoks.

“lmao you” you show him a random video, and he glances at it slightly. not a sign of amusement on his face, but you perceive a tiny smirk once you pull back.

also. he helps you with school all the time. you have an essay to deliver in two days and you haven't done a thing? he'll write it for you. *but* this is not free labour. you're gonna have to do something for him as well.

you bargain with him successfully. he writes your essay and you say you'll give him a surprise. the surprise? a candy. he's unimpressed at first, but he shakes his head and smiles and says it's exactly what he was expecting in return.

not really though, you know it. you're just teasing him. it's not like he's some sort of fairy that you can bring candies to and he'll grant your every wish.

i mean he kind of is, but no. so you end up actually paying him back some other way.

and surprise ! your essay gets the best note. alright, it's not like he did all the work. of course, most ideas are yours, he just wrote them eloquently. the teacher praises you. you feel a little bad because you're basically lying but haitham assures you to calm down. he's a scribe nonetheless, and you basically “dictated” the essay to him.

so you have this little thing that you're absolutely in love with life's casualties. whenever you saw a dog passing by you'd scream “dog!” excitedly and sometimes walk up to it and pet it, interrupting haitham mid-sentence (or yourself).

now whenever you're down or distracted at something he's the one to point “dog.” in a lower tone at you. and you rise your glance, see doggy passing by, and you smile, and feel better. “aw, dog” you repeat.

❛ nsfw ༉‧₊˚

he's very touchy, ok? that's his love language. like you're cooking and he casually comes up behind you and grabs your waist, hugs you, and slowly swings you from side to side, very subtle. he lays his chin over your shoulder and watches whatever you've got on the stove.

and then he leaves without saying a word, and you feel the coldness left behind by his absence, making you want him even more.

hes also the type to absentmindedly touch you when you're relaxing. perhaps its even become a form of stimming for him.

you'd have your legs resting on his lap as he reads a passage of his book to you, and you have your eyes close, and he caresses your leg with the other hand.

he's most often than not the one to begin things. he does it that way, making you think you're the one throwing yourself at him, but in fact he's been heating you up in subtle ways the whole day... with little glances and touches and even words.

lmao like this man is conditioning you

like over time you understand the cues and now whenever he does a move like that casually you think to yourself. “oh” and you surprise him later wearing a cute little set of lingerie for him. now who's got the upper hand?

like i feel you've got all of these secret games between you that others don't know about. like this one. who'll give in first? who'll fall first for it? it's so fun.

sometimes you take it as far as making a move in public. you know others don't understand your little cues, it's just between you and him, but you love to see him get a bit shy in front of everyone.

OF COURSE, haitham is a curious type of person. if he's gonna do something, he's gonna do it well. he's not afraid or ashamed of experimenting in the bedroom. so you can come up with all sorts of ideas and he'll probably give them a try.

he's a dom. like any type of dom you want. soft dom, hard dom, whatever. you communicate very openly with him. but it's hard for him to give up control. whenever he accepts to let you dom he's teasing you the whole time.

this man likes being in control ok that's why he's so secretive and stuff. let him be

i feel like he's got a lot of stamina but he gets so sleepy. like im sure he sleeps a lot. just in general not like just after sex.

he can be rough too. and emotional. hes a tongue type of guy. in many ways; he doesn't just love licking, he also loves conversation. praising. degrading. teasing. just words.

he'd be constantly paying attention to your body language to see what you like and dont. he becomes very communicative about this so he's prompting you to speak, approve, and tell him directly if you like something or not.

he loves the sight when you're on top though. just. your body over his. and the way the sweat rolls down your neck into your collarbones. he grasps at your thighs roughly. you feel his fingers burying. and he loves the way you bounce. he won't admit it though, but he does stare in awe when you don't see.

he also won't ask you but he's often hoping you'll give him. like also seeing you on your knees, mouth open, ready for him... he looks forward to it. and you know he loves this part so you don't make it so available to him.

he loves you biting and scratching, but specially biting. he loves the tears rolling down your eyes out of pleasure and the blush on your cheeks.

thrusts are deep and rough. he goes in all the fucking way, deep. he doesn't like doing things mildly anyway. there's also a specific rhythm, but he likes taking unpredictable variation and will sometimes begin thrusting really fast and hard just when you were expecting a slower movement.

he's always ready for aftercare as well. like i just feel like he's a very organized and prepared dude, so he wouldn't do things out of the blue. whenever you start things he's already got everything there for when you finish.

and then you cuddle to sleep and you wake up the next morning... and he's horny again. he's also the type to appreciate some cockwarming after the act.

he's got a high sex drive when it comes to you 😔

oh also i don't feel like you're his first but he's definitely not that experience when you start dating. he learns on the way and through research lol but i don't feel like he's got that high of a body count. NOT LIKE KAVEH AT LEAST.

ta-da~ you've reach the end! if you've come this far thanks for reading <3 reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated ! let me know your thoughts or any other character you want me to write about 🩷🤍

[heavens-moonlight]

𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 | 𝟬𝟮 : 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗨𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗙𝗟𝗬 𝗘𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗖𝗧

𝟬𝟭 : 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗗𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘 | 𝟬𝟯 : 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦

Author’s Note: Well, here we go...The game has finally started but who will survive? As always, let me know your thoughts and all comments are greatly appreciated! ♡

The dorms are much more spacious than anticipated as Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won beeline for the sole coffee table in the middle of the room, occupying either side. You instead, opt to unceremoniously plop yourself down onto one of the sizeable bunk beds, plugging your phone in to charge, having depleted the power source earlier on the bus ride over.

With a familiar chime, the battery icon flashes, but you do a double take as you realize the bar has gone back up to more than 50%. "That's strange..." you whisper more to yourself than anyone, but Yoon-Seo hears you.

"What is?"

You flip over onto your stomach and turn your phone screen toward her. "Look." You point to the upper right corner, forefinger tapping at the yellow bar, lightning symbol on display. "I'm sure it was at 26% earlier but all of a sudden it's paused at nearly double what it was previously."

"Maybe you mixed up the percentages?" Yoon-Seo suggests.

"I don't think so..." You scratch your head in confusion as Yoon-Seo shrugs, neither of you having a clue in the slightest.

"Electronics are good when they work," Jung-Won says, padding over to the chair by your head where Yoon-Seo left her backpack. You place the phone face-down on the nightstand and see her slip a small gift box inside the unzipped bag, making a shushing motion with her pointer finger against her lips. Smiling, you mimic the locking of a key and throw it away behind you, keeping Yoon-Seo's birthday surprise between the two of you. "Ugh, I need to take a coding lecture but my laptop's failing to connect to the internet."

Yoon-Seo scoots her back against the side railing of your bed and crosses her arms, tsking at Jung-Won. "You keep badgering me nonstop for reading, but who else except you would willingly study during a school trip?" Yoon-Seo shakes her head. "Stop acting like the top of the class, Madame Mensa."

Jung-Won doesn't look up from her laptop screen, monotonously correcting the nickname. "Mensa is the name of the organization. You're supposed to say Mensan for the people. How many times do I have to tell you?"

You laugh at the habitual repartee between them, but get cut off by a ding signaling an incoming notification. Peering over Yoon-Seo's shoulder, you eye as an app materializes on her home screen, one you don't recognize nor have you ever seen it in the default bundle all phones come with.

"Jung-Won, what's this? I said I don't need it."

"It's really not me. I haven't touched your phone at all."

Curious, you grab your own phone and glance down at it, the same little round-edged square making its appearance. "Yoon-Seo, I have it too. Neither of us downloaded it or scanned the QR code when we arrived."

[ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇɢɪɴ sʜᴏʀᴛʟʏ. ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀssɪɢɴᴇᴅ ᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ]

"Mafia game?" As you touch the screen, an envelope unfurls following animation. "Wasn't this what they were playing earlier on the bus?"

"Yeah..." Yoon-Seo confirms distractedly, verifying her own occupation. "I guess I'm a civilian, not that I expected to be anything else. How about you guys?"

"I'm also a civilian."

[ ʜᴀɴ sᴇᴏʟ-ʜᴡᴀ ɴɪᴍ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴏʟᴇ ɪs ᴀ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ. ]

"Me too," you fib, hoping that it wouldn't be questioned. You weren't a very good liar to begin with and hoped this would pass. Maybe there would be a reward for winning the game, but either way, at least you knew your closest friends were on the same side as you.

Still, for some odd reason, it didn't seem fit for you to reveal your real character. Being a doctor seemed too important of a role to just go around telling everyone willy-nilly. The three of you rarely kept secrets from one another, and so you trusted that a white lie for the game this one time could be forgiven.

Before any of you can discuss the odd happenings of the unexpected game further, paragraphs pop up in successive order, outlining the standard rules:

𝟣) ᴀʟʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀɴᴛs ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛʟʏ ᴀssɪɢɴᴇᴅ ᴀs ᴀ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ, ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ᴏғғɪᴄᴇʀ, ᴏʀ ᴀ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ ᴄᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴀɴʏ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ sᴇᴇ ғɪᴛ, ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴғɪʀᴍ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ's ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʜᴏᴏsɪɴɢ.

𝟤) ғʀᴏᴍ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀʟʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴇs ᴡɪʟʟ ᴅɪsǫᴜᴀʟɪғʏ sᴜsᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀs ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴠᴏᴛɪɴɢ.

𝟥) ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴏᴄᴋ sᴛʀɪᴋᴇs ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀɪᴛʏ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀɴᴛs.

𝟦) ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴠᴏᴛɪɴɢ ᴄʟᴏsᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴇᴍɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ sʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴀsɪᴅᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ.

𝟧) ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ɪs ɪɴ sʟᴜᴍʙᴇʀ, ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀs ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀᴡɴ.

𝟨) ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɪɴ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄɪᴠɪʟɪᴀɴ, ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴄɪᴠɪʟɪᴀɴs ᴏʀ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ᴏᴠᴇʀʀᴜɴs ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴏᴜᴘ, ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴇɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴɴᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ.

[ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ғɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀs ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇɢɪɴ ᴄᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠᴏᴛᴇs. ]

You're still trying to wrap your head around the summarized instructions, sensing that there was much more to the game than meets the eye. Why was there no outlining of the individual tasks required for those with specialized occupations? How many of you were assigned to each role? What happens after execution?

Jung-Won's voice interrupts your thoughts, the thread of worries pausing in its unending tangling inside your mind. "If you push a name, a vote gets cast apparently."

"You elected someone already...?" It was quite obvious how much Eun-Ha pushed for Yool determinedly in the group chat, and reluctantly, you and Yoon-Seo follow suit, knowing full-well Yool's obsession with the game and his caliber for winning streaks.

Pensively, you start scrolling through the partakers' list, seeing your classmates' yearbook photos, including your own. Being the overthinker that you are, your mind starts spinning with all of the possibilities on how this game could end, but you had no clue why it even began in the first place. The awareness of budding anxiousness courses through you as a slight breeze from the window sends goosebumps raising on your arms at the late revelation. "But guys...why does this app have our identifiers?"

Yoon-Seo turns to you, eyebrows knit together in agreement. "Right. We didn't even sign up earlier. Who granted them access to gather this protected information?"

Jung-Won bites at her nails, eyes shifting back and forth across her phone screen, the glare of its light reflecting off her glasses. "The internet isn't working either. How are we able to play the game anyway?"

Silence encases the vicinity around your trio, no one knowing what to say to the other, all questions remaining unvoiced and unanswered.

"Why don't we go back down to the lobby and see if there's anyone we can ask?" you propose, Jung-Won and Yoon-Seo readily assenting.

The reception desk as you head downstairs is as empty as it was the moment you came in, maybe even more so as reticence settles over the expansive building, the sky having gone ominously dark from a single look out the glass doors of the entrance.

"Our teacher hasn't come back yet? He left so long ago..." Yoon-Seo walks around the reception desk, circling for any clues. "Nothing could've happened, right?"

"What if he got into an accident?" Jung-Won states bluntly, drumming her fingers against the marble countertop.

"Yah, don't say it like that..." you warn. "Words can be dangerous. You don't know what it can subject someone to."

Before Jung-Won can list more outrageous possibilities, Jun-Hee sidles up on the opposite side of the counter where you're spinning back and forth in the chair slowly, lost in thought.

"Hey Jun-Hee, do you know when Seonsaengnim will be back?" Yoon-Seo directs at him while she flips through the binder of contacts placed beside you. "These numbers aren't what we need at all. They're just for the retreat center's use like maintenance and all that."

Jun-Hee shakes his head. "I can't reach him." He pulls out his phone, only to sigh and slip it back inside his pocket. "Are any of your guys' devices working?"

"We don't even have service." You look around once more, surveying areas within your eyesight in case any adults would spontaneously reappear. "Shouldn't there be at least one staff member or at the very least a security guard on patrol at night?"

"I guess they all went with our teacher." Jun-Hee walks up next to you and settles down on the counter to your left.

You raise an eyebrow. "Every single one of them? They didn't think to have anybody stay behind as a chaperone?"

"Well, when you put it that way..." Jun-Hee begins. "It does seem a little unnecessary for all of them to up and leave."

"Then, what do we do now? How long do we wait?" Jung-Won stares at the clock ticking away. "It's barely nine o'clock. Surely, it wouldn't take him twice as long to pick up the others and return here, right?"

"There must be a phone in the staff lounge," Yoon-Seo stops her rummaging around under the desk long enough to say. "Jung-Won, let's go and search there."

"You're leaving me here alone?"

"Not alone," Yoon-Seo waggles her eyebrows so only you can see. "With Jun-Hee, of course."

Jung-Won conceals her smile behind her hand not so discreetly and begins to drag Yoon-Seo away. As they pass, Yoon-Seo pats Jun-Hee on the shoulder and cautions him. "If she gets lost, you'll be in big trouble."

He turns to her. "You've known me since we were babies, who do you take me for?"

Yoon-Seo merely ignores him and follows Jung-Won upstairs happily, an extra spring in her step, making it known how proud she was of herself. Rolling your eyes unnoticeably at their less than subtle tactics, you could only hope they were actually going to find a phone and not saying that purely for reasons of ulterior motives.

The hush after is stifling without the buffer of Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won. Jun-Hee is staring straight at you, hands bracing the counter on either side of him waiting for you to say something, but you're staring down at the floor, purposefully refusing to make eye contact.

"Are you mad at me?"

That was the last thing you expected him to say. "Of course not." You look up at him briefly, but what a mistake that was. With you lowered in the chair and him sitting up on the raised desk, your eyes meet his lips first and your mind automatically reels back to the kiss on the bus. Darting your eyes back to your lap immediately after draws out a weary sigh from Jun-Hee.

"Even now you can't look straight at me. At least tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it." When you're thinking of what to reply with, Jun-Hee grabs the chair's armrests by your sides and pulls you in closer, leaning his head down so that his form towers over yours. With nowhere else to look now, you're forced to gaze upward and the expression on his face has your stomach tightening in knots, guilty. "Now you're finally looking at me." A beat passes before Jun-Hee's eyes become downturn. "I'm sorry."

Your gaze softens as you glance into his dark brown eyes, seeing your own image in his irises. "I'm the one that should be sorry." You place your hands that were settled in your lap onto his forearms, and he instantly gazes down at the contact before looking back to you, his attention unwavering. "Don't ever apologize to me when you didn't do anything wrong, Jun-Hee."

His eyes dart back and forth between your own, questioning. "Then why have you been avoiding me? Did something happen while I was sleeping earlier on the bus? If there is or I made you uncomfortable in any way—"

"No, no, it's nothing like that," you're quick to salvage the situation and dismiss the notion entirely, even though he couldn't have been more spot on. He had always been an observant person. This you knew too well.

I didn't want you to find out my feelings for you and lose you as a friend all in one.

Instead of the full truth, you tell him only half of it. "I didn't want you to find out how tired I felt and have you worrying over me. I know you're the class president with greater, more important responsibilities, but I also know, above anyone else, that I can't burden you with my troubles just because I'm your friend."

"Seol-Hwa, even then, you could've told me." His hands move to rest on your shoulders. "You'll always be my top priority." In a much quieter voice he says, "And I'll always worry about you."

"Jun-Hee..."

He looks you dead in the eyes, expression open and filled with warmth. "I don't like when you're sad. You look the prettiest when you smile." You don't even get a chance to get a word in before Jun-Hee plows on, turning his head away slightly. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was abashed to be saying the things he did. "In the gymnasium earlier, you were laughing so carefree with Yoon-Seo. It's been a while since I've seen you like that with me. I can only be happy if you're happy..." He's almost sulking, his countenance like that of a kicked puppy.

You laugh genuinely, your head hitting the back of the chair. "Kim Jun-Hee, are you jealous of my friendship with Yoon-Seo right now?"

"I got you to smile this time!" He grins back brightly at you and the two of you sit there looking at one another, neither grin dropping. The soft exhalation of his laughter trickles into your ears once again, Jun-Hee being so content with having you in his presence, and you bask in how happy the sound makes you. Any previously existing tension disintegrates in an instant, and oddly enough, you feel closer to him than ever.

The moment gets cut short when a text from the app's group chat comes in, a start contrast to the discussion earlier, votes having already pooled in for Heo Yool.

[ 💬 sᴏ-ᴍɪ: ʟᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴏɴ-sᴇᴏ, ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴏʟ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴɴᴇx. ɪᴛ's ᴜʀɢᴇɴᴛ. ]

The oddly specific and demanding tone of the message irked you to no end. "What is this about?" Never once have you seen So-Mi try to interact with your friend group voluntarily.

Jun-Hee waves his hand dismissively. "For the event tomorrow, we're interviewing everyone about the trip and the general experience."

"Even in this situation?" you ask incredulously.

Jun-Hee chuckles. "You know how So-Mi is." His eyebrows lift pointedly.

You pat his thigh accidentally, having missed his knee entirely and feel the muscles tense beneath your hand although he doesn't move away. "Don't you find it odd?"

Jun-Hee tilts his head, equal parts confused and curious. "About...?"

"Everything." You gesture around. "The lost signal, the disappearance of supposedly responsible adults, this automatically installed app that has our personal data, and the mafia game we're all in even though we didn't choose to play?"

Jun-Hee mulls it over for a second. "I honestly have no idea what's going on." He ruffles your head affectionately. "But don't worry so much. I'm certain once morning comes, everything will be alright."

"I sure hope so."

Your conversation quietens as heavy footsteps pad across the glossed floors and you squint to see the figure in the distance.

"Joo-Won?"

Jun-Hee turns around at your discovery and notices your classmate's bloody nose, a spark of recognition flashing across his eyes. "Where are you going?"

Joo-Won looks from Jun-Hee to you, and back again nervously, seemingly deciding whether he should say something or not. "W-Well, the guys wanted to see me for a second. So..." he stammers out.

You frown, knowing of the relentless bullying Kyung-Jun's group puts him and Da-Bum through.

"Wait there," Jun-Hee directs, hopping off the desk, and Ju-Won picks at his fingers, clearly on edge at the impending encounter.

"Be careful," you add in as an afterthought before he can leave.

"I will, now that I have you fretting over me." Jun-Hee smirks cheekily.

"I'm being serious, Jun-Hee." You fix him with a stern but caring gaze. "Try to be less confrontational. It won't be good for you or Ju-Won to get on Kyung-Jun's bad side."

He nods, understanding. "I'll try my best." Waving, he begins to lead Ju-Won away, the latter shuffling after with his head down pitifully. "I'll see you soon. Don't go anywhere where I can't reach you!" Your eyes trail after their distancing forms, agitatedly until you can no longer hear their footsteps echoing down the hall.

Not even a full minute has gone by before Yoon-Seo and Jong-Won show up again, trudging down the same stairs they climbed up less than an hour ago. Judging by their walk and the look on their faces, their search must've proved unsuccessful.

"Nothing came up?" You fall into place with the two as your all make way toward the pool.

"The phone lines..." Yoon-Seo begins, dishearteningly. "None of them worked. Every single ring had us fooled."

You stare at her in shock. "But—"

"We tried contacting 119 and even picking up incoming calls immediately, but no one answered." Jung-Won hangs her head despondently.

"This trip is starting to take a very wrong turn..." you hypothesize out loud. You don't even get to explain to Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won your reasoning before Na-Hee comes by, skipping over joyfully, oblivious on how to read the room.

"You all came." Na-Hee grabs your hand and Jung-Won's in each of her own, motioning with her head toward Yoon-Seo to enter. "Yoon-Seo, you should head inside." Without questioning it, Yoon-Seo does as she's told.

You slip your hand out of Na-Hee's nippily, and her smile wanes faintly, somewhat hurt. Hyun-Ho had confided in you that he liked her, but given what you knew about Na-Hee, you weren't fond of the idea. Not wanting to disappoint him, you don't say anything when he brings her up, but the things she has been a bystander for following in So-Mi's schemes never sat right with you. Silently, you hope that one day Na-Hee would come to her senses for Hyun-Ho's sake, but you've been proven wrong time and time again.

"Are these solo interviews or what?" you inquire curtly.

"They want to record Yoon-Seo first. You can come in a bit later."

"Can't be that special of footage." Jung-Won pulls you by the elbow, sidestepping Na-Hee and pushing the doors open of her own volition.

You're met with So-Mi, Ji-Soo, Yu-Jun, and Woo-Ram, all crowding around Yoon-Seo and singing her happy birthday with a makeshift cake comprised of stacked choco-pies.

So-Mi steps forward, offering Yoon-Seo the sweets and urging her to blow out a single measly candle that wasn't even lit beforehand.

"Since when have you done stuff like this? You barely give her the time of day." Jung-Won eyes So-Mi suspiciously, voicing your same exact thoughts.

Yoon-Seo is way too nice, proceeding to thank So-Mi. You, on the other hand, didn't buy into the latter's nice girl act whatsoever, and clearly, neither did Jung-Won.

So-Mi shoots Yoon-Seo a saccharine smile. "Don't mention it. We should celebrate since we're friends." The word doesn't roll off her tongue easily, openly not a genuine desire. "We brought a present too." You narrow your eyes at the group as they're trying to hide their shrewd smiles, albeit unsuccessfully. "Let's start with a birthday beating and plunge!"

Instantaneously, you try to drag Yu-Jun, leaving Jung-Won to fend off Woo-Ram, away from Yoon-Seo with no luck. More force would just topple all three of them straight into the water. You didn't particularly care if the boys fell to the very bottom depths of the pool, but Yoon-Seo shouldn't get soaked, no less on the night of her birthday. She didn't deserve this horrible of a treatment for simply being too trusting, genuinely wanting to see good in everyone with no ounce of judgment or malice.

So-Mi guffaws hysterically in the background, bent over clutching her stomach like the sight is the funniest thing she's ever witnessed. "Put her down," she orders in between giggles, wiping away a tear from her eye. "She's about to cry." Standing akimbo, she bites back her sneer, turning to the rest. "We went too far, didn't we?"

"You think?!" Jung-Won rounds on her, eyes blazing with anger.

You haul Yoon-Seo back up to her feet as the boys scatter, high-fiving. As she stands up again after you've barely let go of her hands, So-Mi swiftly shoves her over backwards, sending her diving into the water with a loud splash, droplets flying every which way.

"Are you crazy? How could you do that?!" Jung-Won kneels next to you by the edge of the pool, watching as Yoon-Seo resurfaces.

"You ok?" You reach out a hand to her, close enough that she can grip your fingertips.

"Yeah, I will be."

You breathe a sigh of reprieve, but it's rather short-lived when Yoon-Seo starts kicking madly underwater, her arms and legs flailing before she sinks beneath, no longer visible.

"Yoon-Seo!" you shout, but hear no response.

"What a funny 'prank' to you guys, huh?" Jung-Won yells crossly at So-Mi's group, everyone standing shell-shocked. How they have the conscience to even feel the tiniest bit of remorse is beyond your understanding.

The group tries to urge Woo-Ram to go in, but in hindsight, being on the receiving end of the prank didn't seem so appealing anymore.

Livid, you turn around to heave So-Mi backwards and she goes tumbling to the ground, the silver platter she was holding in one hand clattering and smashing cake crumbs all over her. For whatever reason, Ji-Soo is still recording, but you could care less about the captured situation. "Be glad it's not the pool I pushed you into." She's stunned enough that she can't find it in her to form words.

Na-Hee opens her mouth, outwardly wanting to apologize, but swallows the excuses when you glare at her in turn. "I was right about you all along. You'll never change."

You kick your shoes off and jump in after Yoon-Seo without hesitation, Jung-Won screaming for you in the background. Thankfully, Yoon-Seo is still conscious, but scarcely, and you manage to guide her toward the rungs of the poolside ladder. Jung-Won yanks Yoon-Seo up and over the edge, throwing a hand down to you.

"Yoon-Seo lost her shoes. I saw them earlier but couldn't reach them, so let me retrieve them too."

Jung-Won looks into the chasmic pool apprehensively, more concerned after what happened, but nods in acknowledgment, going back to propping Yoon-Seo up. "Come back quickly, Seol-Hwa."

Everyone is huddling around Yoon-Seo while you plunge back under, holding your breath comfortably as you grab her sneakers. Right as you're swimming on the path of return, something cold clamps onto your leg, refusing to let go. The vice-like grip tightens, pulling you downward to drown in darkness. No matter how hard you kick, you can't resurface due to the invisible power.

"Seol-Hwa!" Jung-Won calls out to you, frightened. "I'm going to get help, hang on!"

The last thing you see are spindly, mottled, black fingers, color washed out grey in the lighting; something sinister and otherworldly. As it curls tighter around your ankle, so too does your chest constrict, the coldness of the touch seeping into your bones and you find the sense of prior trepidation returning in full force before everything sinks into oblivion.

Lungs burning and head throbbing, you open your eyes groggily, the pristine white walls of the infirmary slowly coming into focus. In the bed next to yours, Yoon-Seo is still asleep.

The digits on your left hand are numb, and you look over to see Jun-Hee gripping it like a lifeline, head resting atop his arm by your knees. Your body protests as you turn on your side, muscles stiff, trying to draw your hand free. Reaching out, you card your fingers tenderly through his hair, the ends still yet to dry. Did he jump in?

After a while, he wakes up with a start, eyes flickering to your face. A shaky sigh of relief escapes him seeing the tiniest of smiles from you, any prior sense of unrest vanishing.

"Are you in pain at all?" He cradles the back of your head, helping you sit up as you dangle your legs over the bed's edge, seated knee to knee with him.

"How long have you been here with me?" You sweep the fallen fringe away to the outlines of his face, fingers lingering against his forehead. "You should've gotten changed at least." Your hand falls back to your lap when you can see his eyes better, unshielded. "You'll grow sick at this rate, Jun-Hee."

"Says the one I'm stressing over."

"I'm fine now," you assure.

"Why didn't you wake me up as soon as you came to? Do you know how terrified I was?" His brows are furrowed in concern still, and you lift your hand again to smooth the crease lines away.

"But you rescued me," you speak quietly.

"I thought you were dying in front of me and that I wouldn't be able to save you in time. I can't lose you; do you know that?" His hand comes up to cup your face delicately, barely daring to touch it wholly, almost afraid you would disappear if he did. "You're someone I can absolutely cannot let go of." You don't realize you're crying until Jun-Hee runs his thumb over your cheek, wiping away the twin trails of tears. You're not usually one to cry, but in this moment, you were overcome with emotions. "Why are you crying?"

"I was worried. Not for me, but for you." His hands are shaking where they're pressed against your face. You put your hand over his, expecting him to pull away at your next words. "I know you like to avoid the water as much as you can after..." you trail off, teardrops still falling. "You willingly jumped in to save me when I know how deep-seated your fear runs."

He smiles sadly at you. "I found out that the care I have for you outweighs any of my existing fears." His hands have stopped shaking and you drag them down, yours coming along with it to hold them together. "I told you earlier to not go someplace where I can't reach you but after this, I'm willing to follow you to the ends of the earth. Even in death, as long as it's with you, I wouldn't mind the thought."

Your heart stutters in your chest at the sincerity of his words, and you know that your feelings for him would never fade. Not in this lifetime. "Jun-Hee..."

"Seol-Hwa? Jun-Hee?" Yoon-Seo's trembling voice has the both of you looking in her direction, but Jun-Hee is yet to release your hand.

"Yoon-Seo..." you reply, eased now that she's awoken. "How are you feeling?"

"I can't recall what happened at all." She holds her head, staring blankly ahead. "But somehow, I find I'd rather not remember." Yoon-Seo moves over to sit on your cot, back-to-back with you. The warmth radiating from her is welcoming. "Seol-Hwa, thanks for always being there. You're a good person through and through."

"Tell that to yourself." You smile and lean your head back against hers. "What are friends for?"

"Saving one another's lives now apparently," Jun-Hee jokes, lightening the atmosphere.

"Then I owe you one," Yoon-Seo continues. "I'll be your Superwoman next time."

"You and Jun-Hee really are like one another. What did you both do together when you were babies to make you fearless like this?" you question, exasperatedly fond. "Readily giving up your life for another person?"

"Only because we know you'd do the same. That kind of sincerity comes once in a lifetime."

The door creaks open just as Yoon-Seo ends her sentence, So-Mi's group filing in self-consciously, Jung-Won leading them in with her arms crossed.

"Apologize," Jun-Hee states emotionlessly. "Right now," he emphasizes, leaving no room for argument. "Pranks are supposed to be harmless, not harmful."

So-Mi grimaces at his harsh tone. "I'm sorry," she's quick to apologize. "Seol-Hwa."

She's not looking directly at you but past to the side of you, gaze straying to your hand in Jun-Hee's where he's absentmindedly rubbing circles with his thumb into your palm, not aware of his own actions. One corner of So-Mi's lip twitches, but aside from that, she doesn't comment on it. If the others have noticed, they don't say anything either.

"I'm not the one this should be reserved for."

You see her bite her tongue, annoyed at having to repeat herself once again, but not yet dropping her fake performance. Plastering on the most pitiful puppy eyes she can conjure up, she shifts her attention to Yoon-Seo, still pale. "I do feel guilty. We truly just wanted to wish you a happy birthday." So-Mi forces the waterworks on, squeezing one teardrop out at a time.

"I don't think I've ever been pushed into a pool as a birthday present before," Jung-Won mutters not so quietly under her breath.

Yoon-Seo elbows her subtly. "It's okay. Don't cry, So-Mi."

You and Jung-Won both whip your heads toward Yoon-Seo, in pure disbelief. Neither of you would've accepted that half-baked, insincere apology.

"Really?" So-Mi's eyes widen on cue, as if she didn't expect Yoon-Seo to be so pardoning. "Will you forgive us?"

"Of course, I accept. I'm alright now, so let's just put it in the past."

Jung-Won doesn't attempt to hide her distaste as she groans aloud. "Yep, totally fine. You just almost went and saw King Sejong is all."

"That's enough," Yoon-Seo whisper-yells.

"Alright, everyone out," Joon-Hee cuts in, feeling the tension in the room. "We'll all talk later."

So-Mi is the first to leave, unmistakably irritated and shamed at the same time. No matter how hard she tries to mask it, you see right through her well-crafted persona. Na-Hee lingers, the last one to exit. Before the door slams shut, she catches your eye, but in finding a look of indifference staring back at her, she turns away without saying a word, the light from the hallway dimming once more.

"That wench spilled crocodile tears."

"Jung-Won ah," Yoon-Seo expresses tiredly. "She said she was sorry."

"I don't care. It wasn't genuine. She acts up because you're the only one that gives way to her."

Yoon-Seo gets up to drag Jung-Won away and out into the hall as the latter begins to raise her voice. Their conversation lowers, but you can hear the last bit of it as they step outside.

"What would you like me to do then?"

"You don't have to do anything," Jung-Won reasons. "I'm only saying I don't tolerate her or her victim mentality, and neither should you."

"Shouldn't we head out too?" You turn to Jun-Hee.

He shakes his head lightly. "Stay and rest a bit more."

"I really am fine." You give his hand a squeeze in affirmation. Despite saying so, you continue to shiver in only your thin white button-up still damp in random patches from being submerged earlier.

Jun-Hee opens the backpack by his feet and tugs out his uniform cardigan, wrapping it around your shoulders. "Here, put this on. You're still cold to the touch."

"Then what about you? Sitting in wet clothes isn't comfortable."

"I have extras I brought with me." Jun-Hee's name tag still pinned to the sweater falls into his line of vision and he can't help smiling to himself that you haven't noticed it's positioned right over your heart. "Plus, it looks better on you anyway."

"It what?" You lean forward, tilting your ear in his direction, not sure if you heard correctly or if they were still water-logged.

"Nothing," Jun-Hee evades, suppressing his smile. It seemed too far-fetched a thing for him to say in either circumstance, so you leave it be, not wanting to wander down the winding paths of your own thoughts. He crouches down and draws the heel of your socked foot to rest on his knee, his free hand untying the laces of your shoes placed to the side.

"I can do it myself," you tell him, flustered from all the attention you were receiving.

Without looking up, Jun-Hee proceeds to put your sneakers on your feet. "I know you can." He goes so far as to knot them tight, tying bows on both sides. "But I want to do it for you." His fingers reach out to trace the shoelaces all the way to the ends of the aglets, remembrance in his eyes.

Embarrassed, you put your feet back on the ground but he looks up at you, eyes twinkling with mischief. "You kept them."

"Of course, I did." You gaze down at your shoes. "You gave them to me."

His own white sneakers come into view, and you wonder why you never noticed his laces, dyed in your favorite color, and yours in his own. "So did I. I didn't think you would."

"Why not?" You toe his shoes with yours. "Just because we made them during summer camp a few years back? A gift is a gift," you reply, nearly pouting.

He laughs at the faux cross tone of your voice, but as his eyes trail upward, the sound chokes and dies off at the end. "Uh...your shirt's now see-through..." He coughs awkwardly and stands up, looking away, a slight tinge of pink dusting his cheeks. "I'll see you out there." Jun-Hee picks up his backpack, hurriedly slinging it over one shoulder before turning to look back at you once more before leaving.

Only a short bit of time has passed, but the moment you step back out with Jun-Hee's cardigan on, you slam straight into Hyun-Ho. He steadies you by the upper arms, eyes widening upon seeing you. "Seol-Hwa!" Before you can react, he throws his arms around you and gives you the most suffocating of hugs, larger form squeezing you tight as his arms encase you, rocking back and forth.

"Hyun-Ho. Can't. Breathe." Your voice comes out punctuated, every pause a ragged intake of air.

He lets go soon after, yanking your head every which way to assess for any injuries.

"Ouch!" you exclaim. Hyun-Ho doesn't know how to control his strength so every pat comes out more like slaps. "Alright!" You try to push his hands away but they're hell bent on checking your well-being. "Ok! That's enough!" You say with finality, laughter bubbling up as your cousin continues to shake you around like a rag-doll. "Yah! If I didn't have any bruises, I sure do now!"

Hyun-Ho steps back, chiding. "Where's the thank you, huh?"

"For giving me new injuries?"

"Is that how you repay me?" Hyun-Ho scoffs. "I was the one who found you in the pool first."

"Y-You were?!" You splutter. "How come no one told me?"

"I said I found you. I wasn't the one who saved you." He shrugs like it was common knowledge.

"Aish." You shove his shoulder but he stands his ground, not budging an inch. "And you're thick-skinned enough to request a word of thanks?"

"Obviously." He flicks you on the forehead, drawing a scowl from you. "I went and got Jun-Hee for you."

"Ok, and...?" You're more baffled than ever.

"Geez, this ungrateful brat." Hyun-Ho tries but fails to hide his smirk. "Who do you think handed you over so you could be carried by Jun-Hee all the way to the infirmary?"

"What?!"

"You looked more comfortable in his arms than on my back, but really, it was no big deal." He shrugs. "All in a day's work for me."

"You—" you point a finger at him, gawking and at a loss for words.

"Also, nice change of outfit by the way." He raps his forefinger on Jun-Hee's nameplate, nails clacking on the piece of plastic. "I know it's your favorite brand."

You gasp as you finally notice, immediately unpinning the white rectangle and slipping it in your skirt pocket. "I'm going to kill him," you mutter under your breath.

"Why not kiss him instead?" Hyun-Ho jests, knowing well enough by now to evade your incessant slaps to his back, running down the hallway as you give chase after.

The two of you come to a stop when the rest of your classmates congregate from the other end of the hallway where Jun-Hee and So-Mi were making an announcement about retiring for the night and trying to contact the teacher again tomorrow morning.

Yoon-Seo taps your shoulder from behind and tilts her phone screen toward you where a timer has popped up.

Before anyone can so much as take a step toward their rooms, the intercom comes to life.

[ ᴠᴏᴛɪɴɢ ᴇɴᴅs ɪɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ. ]

With everything that has happened since you got here, the mafia game had slipped from your mind.

Suddenly, Yoon-Seo's meter starts counting down from 59 seconds, and with the ding comes a renewed sense of excitement from everyone around you, sleep long forgotten.

While Yool and his friends incessantly chatter away, trying to place blame on one another in good fun, you're the exception. Questioning the origins of the game, you feel a sense of foreboding, an ill-omened current in the air. You were known among your friends to have good instincts, but you hope against all hope that this time, your intuition wouldn't be true.

Jun-Hee walks over beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder that makes you jump out of your skin. "Seol-Hwa...? Did you hear anything I said?"

Hands trembling, you grip onto the rolled-up sleeve cuff of his shirt. "I...don't think we should've voted."

You eye the shaking numbers on Jun-Hee's phone screen, growing shades redder by the minute as it nears zero. He doesn't get a chance to reply as successive announcements come in.

[ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴀs ᴄᴏɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇᴅ. ʜᴇᴏ ʏᴏᴏʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴠᴏᴛᴇs ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ. ]

Seconds later, Yool lets out a guttural scream of agony, clutching the side of his head.

"Oi, look at this kid. Gosh, he's just begging for attention again," Eun-Ha utters with clarity, unfazed by Yool's prankster tendencies. While everyone laughs at her statement and his actions, you study his face contorted in pain, veins popping up in his neck.

That kind of intensity isn't for show.

"Jun-Hee...Something's not right," you undertone tremulously, fingers slackening from the grip you had on him. The moment those words leave your lips, Yool falls to the ground, slumped over.

As his friends crowd around, Jun-Hee is rooted to the spot, intertwining your hand with his, holding on tight. You can tell he wants to go help as well, but he keeps throwing glances down at you and ultimately decides against it.

A sickening cracking sound has you sliding your eyes slowly over to see Yool's neck snapping rearward, the rest of his body contorting into a standing position in descending parts. Like a puppet controlled on a string, his limbs bend in odd angles, much more grotesque and inhumane compared to his earlier stint in the gymnasium. As his head straightens again, screams ring out down the length of the hallway.

You press yourself against the wall, finding it hard to breathe as you look directly into Yool's rolled eyes, now completely white, no irises in sight.

The White Butterfly's Murder.

You knew. You knew that butterflies were often seen in the spring as a divination of death, a harbinger of impending demise if it were to encircle someone while in flight. But to have it be white, the color of innocence yet also the color of surrender, you can't help but to wonder if these were all signs you should've heeded. Would we still have ended up here?

Eyes are windows to the soul, they say. Here, you realize, now stands a soulless individual.

Eun-Chan and Yeon-Woo have both fallen to the floor in a heap, staring up at their now unrecognizable friend with nothing but absolute fear in their expressions.

A mindless Yool throws himself side to side, intentionally crashing his head against pictures framed on the wall, glass shattering into a million pieces and raining the floor with shards akin to glitter.

But not all that glitters is gold.

You can't tell if it's the glass reflecting light, or if your tears are distorting your vision, but the scene hazes and blurs, turning into the illusion of a haunted nightmare you so desperately want to wake up from.

The horrific effect doesn't end there as Yool proceeds to crouch down and thump his head repeatedly against the floor, prostrating himself as if he's paying for sins he doesn't even remember; sins he can't even begin to atone for.

Blood is pouring in rivulets down his face, pooling around him like the expanding rings of a target, leaving only the center for his body to stay dead centered.

A broken sound escapes from your lips and Jun-Hee pulls you into his arms, shielding you against him, screening your eyes from having to look any further. Where your ear is pressed against his chest, you can hear the pounding of his heart, but even that sound alone is not enough to drown out that of Yool's head bashing against linoleum.

You squeeze your eyes tight, hard enough until you see spots, but these faint flickers of light are not lucky stars you can wish upon tonight.

If you could, you'd wish to be able to wake up. To start again from the beginning.

But you can't.

Rather, frozen in this cruel reality, you can only escape once you cease to wake up again.

And Yool does just that.

A thousand footsteps running toward a bitter end.

A crash as hope falls apart.

A thud to cease the beating of a heart.

And then...complete silence.

Before you lose consciousness, you feel that same vice-like grip from the pool return in full force, unbreakable chains around your heart.

This time, you're not sure anyone will come to your rescue.

This time, you don't know if you'll make it out alive.

𝟬𝟭 : 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗗𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘 | 𝟬𝟯 : 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦

© 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨, 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

[dollypopup]

People who are saying 'it's so sad/annoying that Eloise never realized Penelope was in love with Colin!' and then using that to villify her and claim she was a bad friend to Penelope are. . .so missing the point.

WE know because we see much of the show through Penelope's eyes. Debling knew because Cressida told him. Cressida knew because she had a vested interest in that being the narrative. Violet knew because Colin very obviously asked her about friendship and love, and has a grand total of ONE woman he could have been talking about.

It is not on Eloise to assume truths about Penelope.

Read that again.

It is NOT on Eloise to assume truths about Penelope!

In the same way it was not on COLIN to assume Pen had a crush on him. The thing about trust is that you HOPE that the person you care about will open up to you, and in fact, it is GOOD that Eloise didn't notice. It doesn't mean she was a bad friend, or self centered, but rather that she was of the belief that her friend would be open with her.

That's not unreasonable of her.

How is Eloise meant to listen to a fact that is never voiced, and in fact, is actively denied?

Eloise asked Penelope in Season 2 if she would ever know what it was like to have a crush on someone, the way she had on Theo. Penelope told her STRAIGHT UP "no, I wouldn't know". What did you want Eloise to do? Accuse Penelope of being a liar and then proclaim she was clearly in love with her brother?

Same with Lady Whistledown- Penelope assured multiple times she wasn't LW to Eloise because when Eloise was talking about her, and having theories, and going on a detective chase about it, Penelope never told her she was LW.

The fact that Eloise HAD to assume these things about Penelope was an indication the friendship had problems. And these problems are tied up in Penelope's arc: coming into the light and living her authenticity unapologetically. Because she kept so much close to the chest for so long. 'Eloise didn't listen'. Penelope never SAID ANYTHING about it for her to listen TO.

Now, does that mean Eloise is blameless and saintly and good? No. That would be lame and boring and would do her a disservice in being a complex, interesting female character. The way near all the women in this show are. The truth is that BOTH Eloise AND Penelope were wrapped up in the immediacy of their own lives, and had different goals and interests from one another. In many ways, Eloise and Penelope were together by proximity, rather than aligned in purpose.

But also. . .we are ALL more invested in our own lives than those of our friends. We care for our friends, yes, but we live our own lives first and foremost. And when we have friendships, we trust that they will talk to us about their lives, their truths, their passions, and their hopes and that we will celebrate such with them. Whilst Eloise has ignored Penelope at times, Penelope has also ignored Eloise. Eloise has assumed Penelope to have the same interests in feminism and not in marriage as she does, but Penelope does not talk to her otherwise until they have a fight about it.

It explodes out of her. Comes out, almost against her will.

They have issues communicating. That's relatable.

But people don't want to see the relatability of these women. They want to compare them and pit them against each other, instead of trying to understand BOTH of them.

Listen, the truth is that this fandom has a misogyny problem. We only want to empathize with the woman we see as the most relatable for our own viewing, and any other woman who is in any way contesting their immediate happiness is turned into a villain. In fact, in Polin, it's extended to ANYONE who has done Penelope any form of disservice ever, as if tension and conflict isn't what drives a narrative.

Colin said one thing that was hurtful to Pen? Burn him at the stake. Eloise is hurt by Penelope's secrecy? Well, she should have listened more, and fuck her, she was a bad friend. Marina told Penelope to butt out of her relationship and to stay in her lane? She's evil and cruel and treated Pen horribly. Penelope never did anything wrong, everyone else is the problem.

This denies Penelope her own accountability, her own narrative of growth, firstly,

But secondly, ALL the women in this show have compelling reasons for acting the way they do. Not just the one you like the most.

I see people talking about how they feel so bad for Penelope, that she has undergone so much and has no one to really confide in, that she feels she has no friend with which to unburden herself with: but the same is true for Eloise. She had no one to talk to about the pain and grief she experienced at the end of Season 2, and kept mum about Penelope's identity as LW all throughout. The same was true for Marina, who had been Otherized from the moment she stepped into the ton, and had been physically and emotionally abused by her own family as she faced down a future of potential misery. Why can you see and sympathize from one character's perspective and yet not the other? Why is it okay to proclaim one a villain, and the other an innocent?

If you can feel empathy for Penelope, you better be ready to feel it for Eloise, for Cressida, for Marina, for Kate and Edwina, because ALL these women underwent some very painful circumstances in their lives, and all of them made mistakes that resulted in other people getting hurt. They have all been hero in their own story, and the antagonist in another. As we all are.

How ironic to see 'well, Eloise is terrible because she's' not seeing it from HER perspective!'

when we are doing the same

[derangedanomaly]

hi! Could I have some Bad Sanses headcannons with a new member (crush or future s/o) who has the power to control time but doesn't think that power is a big deal?

Like, he thinks it's not a big deal because he only knows how to see the future and that's it (because the power isn't trained yet)

(please make reader male or gender neutral)

Sorry if it's confusing, english is not my first language :(

Nah, you don't have to worry. Your English is fine! I understood you very well ^^

I'll do male reader, since there's not many for my guys out there! But as I know myself, I think that it won't be mentioned much, so I guess that you can still take it as gender neutral?

Enjoy!

Masterlist

Bad Sanses with a time manipulator reader (male)

(Nightmare, Killer, Dust, Horror, Error)

Nightmare:

The only thing he's thinking right now, is; This dude can benefit me so much!!

Yeah... You just got yourself in a trap 😀

He doesn't listen to you when you tell him how you think your power is useless. He's literally ordering the others to train you while you're yapping.. wants to see your powers immediately.

He's kinda- disappointed when he finds out that you can only see the future. (Mf should've listened when you were telling him that 🙄)

These thoughts immediately disappear when he figures out that you can literally tell them the exact time the Star Sanses attack them.

Overall.. really manipulative.. constantly manipulates you into doing so many things for them- and they're not for the greater good either. 💀

Killer:

Mf does NOT believe you. (At first I mean)

You get bored of him asking you to prove your powers so fast 💀

"If you can read the future, then tell me what I'm going to do next!!" Immediately followed by your answer: "You're gonna call me a liar." "I KNEW IT!! YOU LIAR!!" "......" "You just had luck.." mhm. Yeah, sure. Luck.

His mouth literally dropped when he finds out that you in fact wasn't lying..

Now that he knows your powers are legit... Oh boy... He's gonna abuse the shit out of that..

And I don't mean it in the same way as the way Nightmare's using you, no! More like a.... Goofy way??

Bro's gonna be asking you about the next time he falls down the stairs, so he'll be prepared for that and not fall down. (He still will fall down.)

He will feel sympathy for you after Nightmare starts using you.. but he can do nothing with that. So... He cuddles you! (As a way of comfort) Only if you want to of course.

Dust:

Oh this nerd... He'll absolutely believe you! Like- the first time you tell them, he believes you. Wants to know more, actually.

He's probably the one you get close to the first, because he talks to you so often. I mean- they never really met anyone like you before!

He wants to document every single thing about you. Huh? Why are you asking him why your favorite food is important for this? That's only for him to know! (The dude is just a *closeted* hopeless romantic)

Wants to help you with the fact you can only see the future.

Visibly rolls his eyes whenever Nightmare is ordering you around.

Literally cannot stand the fact Nightmare is just using you, but he can't do anything about it... I mean, who in their right mind would argue with NIGHTMARE? Not him. That's for sure. But he will offer you comfort.

Horror:

Doesn't really care about your powers, but he does find it interesting.

Doesn't ask you as much questions as Dust does, but he does ask a bit about it.

He's probably the second one you get close to, and that's mainly because he sticks to Dust a lot, so he's basically a part of y'all's conversations. (Except he doesn't say anything 💀)

He doesn't want to use you for your powers, simply because it doesn't benefit him. (And he also doesn't think it's right.)

He WILL be pretty mad that Nightmare's using you. Will try to fight with Nightmare over this, but Dust stops him. (We all know that that wouldn't end good.)

From now on, Horror will always stick by your side, ready to defend you or help you out whenever! (Congratulations)

Error:

He actually thinks that your powers are dope.

He also wants to see your powers in action, similar to Nightmare, but he doesn't want to use you.

You might be asking, why? Well, his ego is bigger than the fucking sky, so he comes to the conclusion that he doesn't need for you to tell him the future, because he.."can predict Ink's move", he's also technically not part of Nightmare's team, it's basically just a part-time for him. (Whenever he's needed, or he's bored🤷‍♀️).

He's probably the last one, (not counting Nightmare), you get closer to. It's mainly because you don't see him often though.

He still lives in the anti-void, and spends a lot of time there, that's why. But you're not on bad terms either. (Don't have any reason to.. yet.)

Not much to say, really. You two don't interact much. But you can change that 😏

[sysmedsaresexist]

As someone who remembers how vile syscourse was just a few years ago, when I heard this blog experienced character devrlopment, I was shocked at first. When I found some posts explaining it, I was even more intrigued.

If anyone is open to it, I wouldn't mind a link to any explanation of how you fell into sysmedicalism and how you started unlearning it. I'm genuinely proud of you for that development, because changing your entire outlook on a topic is difficult, especially when you have people who support that old view but not the new one behind you. This isn't meant to be condescending, in case it is read that way.

Syscourse has only gotten more vile, honestly.

This ask kind of comes at an interesting time. Last night, I made a post about the TPA and my extreme hatred for them (that'll never change), but I linked a post from my second Twitter account, which brought me WAY back to my first active move in syscourse.

First off, hi, it's not condescending. I found it's a lot easier to talk about than I thought it would be. It doesn't hurt as much as I thought to say, "I was wrong and being hard-headed." I was expecting ego death, but instead, everyone has been so kind.

I was asked what made me switch sides, but as for my humble beginning...

I spent a good couple years just lurking and watching. I was out in therapy and quietly taking all these questions to my therapist. "Are endos real? Is DID really trauma based? Could I be endo? Is that what you become when you heal from DID?"

Suffice to say, not the healthiest questions. There was a lot of misinformation out there. Through talking to my therapist, I believed I was in the right, and I debated for a long time getting involved to talk about some of the more prominent myths about DID.

But then.

Then.

I met Bethany.

Well, I didn't meet her. She blocked me immediately. She was a social worker, and a pro endo, DID system, but I really didn't like the way she talked down to CDD systems.

She was actually huge on Twitter, she had her own website and everything for sex positive therapy, she was doing interviews, she made wild claims about what kind of work she had done in the field, sob stories about clients that didn't make it. She had just started something called the Dissociative Society of Canada.

She was BIG.

And she was a liar.

I'm actually genuinely curious if anyone remembers this, it was seriously a huge, DESTRUCTIVE event to hit BOTH communities.

The Dissociative Society of Canada was real. She started it. But she was not a social worker. Her stories weren't real.

Having done all the same schooling myself, in the same province, with the same rules, I knew she was lying, and I called her out for it.

The pro endo AND CDD community attacked me HARD. I was told I was harassing and stalking, I remember reading the post that called for people to mass report me and I remember the emails starting to flood in from Twitter from countries that required the email be sent for reports. The only posts I had made on Twitter had been about Bethany, but people were talking about who I must be as a person and why I was so angry and jaded and terrible.

Eventually, Bethany admitted it. She never publicly apologized. She made her board of directors do it for her in a letter about shutting down the society (they hadn't known either). I was able to get her listed as an unlicensed therapist to avoid (she's still on there). The Dissociative Society of Canada was shut down after only a year.

And I felt terrible. I hated myself. The posts that came out afterwards about how much people had loved Bethany and how their trust had been destroyed, people that had done therapy with her and were permanently damaged by the lie. She had given a lot of people hope, but it was all a lie.

That was my fault. If I hadn't said anything, I don't think she would have been caught. She was still in school to get her education, she wanted to become licensed, she just wasn't yet.

But it was illegal for her to be providing therapy and telling everyone she was a social worker. She used this title to shut down anyone who disagreed with her, even when she was clearly wrong.

It was a clusterfuck. I came out of it DESPISING endogenic systems for the harassment and misinformation, and the lies about ME. I hated the desire to ignore her unlicensed, illegal actions simply because she had been a prominent voice for the pro endo community (seriously, people wished I hadn't done it, that she had never been called out and had continued her work).

This was my first real interaction with the pro endo community. A lying POS and a bunch of endos lying about me.

I started JAS around that time, and we all know what happened from there. My first post was about the myth of the 10% non-traumagenic in the DSM (it's a misquote).

I don't want to say I wanted to replace Bethany-- I wanted to show how someone who wasn't licensed could still advocate without lies, I wanted to provide that same level of educated discussion, I actually heavily considered putting together a licensed team to start another dissociative society. I debated getting licensed to do it myself.

Unfortunately, life doesn't always work out that way.

I did get her Twitter url out of it when she deleted, though. My trophy.

Ending on a sad note, I suppose.

I was distrusting of the endo community, I was angry. I didn't trust anyone for a long time after this. Who would just go online and lie like that?

It took a really long time to get over it and let go of that anger and hurt.

Remember, don't trust anyone or anything on the internet. Fact check everyone and everything, even if you think you already know the answer, or think you know who someone is.

If she hadn't been such an actual bitch to people, I wouldn't have noticed. Seriously. This was the tweet that caught her, no therapist should talk like this to anyone. The concerns raised in the first image mirrored my own exactly, and I would not have appreciated being spoken to that way. I thought, if she IS licensed, she should be reprimanded. But I couldn't find her license, and thus began the downfall of Bethany Killen.

TL;dr if you're lying on the internet, be nice to people :)

While I didn't always live up to my own standards of civility (I can admit that), I TRIED to speak to endogenic systems as respectfully as possible, and my only goal was to NOT be like Bethany. Sometimes I failed, but at least I never claimed to be licensed.

The point is that I'm trying to be better every day. Finally admitting that I was pro endo made it a lot easier to be nice. I wasn't trying to hold up this charade anymore.

And finally, I want to remind everyone that it's not just "the other side" that can do damage or spread misinformation. Our own community can do damage if we don't call each other out, too.

The most damaging thing I've ever seen in syscourse came from another CDD system.

I think I've rambled enough, thank you!

[tamelee]

i just saw a posts about novels that went like

sarada told sasuke he has lipstick stain, sasuke tries to wipes it off and she says he doesn't have one and sakura doesn't wear lipstick.

how do they defend this novels with their lives? it confirms sasuke never kisses sakura and doesn't know if she wears lipstick or not and kisses someone else who wears lipstick. it also confirms naruto likes to wear lipstick XD.

Please. These novels are ridiculous. Kishimoto already confirmed they’ve never kissed in Gaiden. Twice. 

(* something nicer = meant the forehead poke)

Though I wouldn't believe anyone if they said they actually like these novels, because the story (or lack thereof) is complete shit, but it’s fine if they do. A good story isn't the intention unfortunately. I genuinely wish that people understood what exactly it is they are defending. I’m writing a post for someone who asked something regarding canon, but I need to take brakes from it because it pisses me off that this happens constantly to franchises— not just Naruto. 

And in this case it’s even worse, or perhaps it’s just a prime example, because Jun Esaka (writer for some of these novels) made such a fool of herself on twt by making it all too obvious what her intentions were by writing them. (If it wasn’t already obvious.) First, when people pointed out the many flaws, she admitted that it’s “just her story” and “just her interpretation” (she had only read 'Naruto' for the first time a few months before that), but when other ss-shippers started to defend her and said she was a better writer than Kishimoto (as there’s 0 love between SS when he writes), she basked in that glory and went along with it. Even to the point that she completely disrespected Kishimoto, the story, the craft, openly made fun of other characters (mostly Hinata) and ships like NH and demanded her other novels to be animated as well. It’s unprofessional af. And then when fans asked her for a nsfw novel for SS she agreed and told them to harass the company about it. (She didn’t say ‘harass’ exactly, but come on you can’t be that dense given their reputation with staff.)

What are they defending? 

How can you defend anything when the motive is so obviously just personal bias/gain and/or financial profit to a company where both in this case don’t give a shit about the original story. It's not about shipping though, it happens all the damn time to all my favorite franchises and I'm genuinely sick of it. And it's not even about a writer writing about what they want either because I already expected that, but Esaka did her absolute best to try and disprove the bond between Naruto and Sasuke and change narratives completely even for individual cases for the sake of telling her "story". SNS-moments weren’t romantic to her and she quite literally made fun of it by copying them in her story to point out its "irrelevance", but give them to her het-ship and now all of a sudden it is romantic???? She basically calls Kishimoto a liar because ‘Sasuke Retsuden’ in particular is a direct response to ‘Gaiden’ (made by Kishimoto). She blatantly tried to disprove anything he said and indicated about her ship. She wrote about characters that, yes, have the same name as those in ‘Naruto’, but are so out of character it hurts. It took me months to recover my lost braincells. 

I don't think my post about it is still up, but to name a few things in that novel if you're interested: Sasuke resents Naruto and his test-tube daughter because he’d rather travel with Sakura, his wife whom he loves so much. But he has to do stuff just because Hokage Naruto said so and his daughter wants to stay in Konoha so he has no choice but to comply. Being apart from his wife-(did we mention he loves her so much? because he does. so much.)- makes him feel so very lonely and he misses her body so much because he knows it so well. He fails to do anything other than being jealous about the women-deprived prisoners going after the new hot doctor, Sakura, who is his wife btw. that he loves a lot in case you missed it. and he rather stares at trees that remind him of her than helping his friend Naruto who’s apparently dying from his own chakra or whatever kind of bs. Sasuke lets himself be bullied by prison-guards that aren’t even Shinobi, for having long hair and looking like a girl, though Esaka makes sure to mention how so very handsome he is and he looks like a cat. Sasuke loses a battle against an overgrown lizard and tries the same damn jutsu 4 times(!!!!) before realizing it may actually not work, I think because he forgot how to fight, but he can however create anything from ice like Elsa (Frozen), or from dirt like some Gaara-hybrid to make Sakura a ring because he loves her so much ofc… oh and he’s now a healer too. Sasuke sacrifices people’s lives even when it’s not necessary at all bc ig Esaka thinks he's a killer, and also he wouldn’t mind being brought back with Edo Tensei if it means he can stay with Sakura, because fuck everything they’ve been through in the original story, yeah? They also immediately forgive the bad guy cuz he's so relatable even though he just murdered I dunno how many people. SS kiss while an injured Naruto is squished in between them because SS-shippers have some sort of “Naruto has to watch our ship being in love to really make it legit because that’ll learn him for getting in between!”-kink (that's real actually) and according to Esaka, Sasuke is so worried about his daughter and in fact did meet up with them during those 10+ years because he loves them oh-so-much and fuck you Kishimoto that’s why. 

Be so fr right now. It’s such a joke. And these are just the few things on the top of my head that I remembered ;-; ...

Again, what are they defending exactly? It would be nice to just have a genuine fan of the story write an actual story. No other motive other than "I really like the story and would love to explore some options while respecting Kishimoto's work because it'd be fun!" Except, that's unfortunately not very marketable and ffs it's just sad. (I know there's a Kakashi version and I personally really want to know more about his role as Hokage and what he's done etc, but alas.)

[rosedforbes]

I've been working on this for an embarrassing amount of time, but i finally mustered the courage to post it! this a gift for @galvanizedfriend , my favorite autor, moot, and dare I say friend, on tumblr! Yokan, I'll never stop saying that your fictions are the only thing keeping me sane at the moment, and they've always been a tiny lantern during some tough periods of my life. I really hope you'll like this little Drabble about Kleve 🙏

DISCLAIMERS: Eve is NOT my character, she's from Yokan's series The Wolf ! also, this is my first time ever writing a fan fiction, and English is not my native language, so please, have mercy.

maybe there's a god, after all.

That's the thought that has been crossing Klaus' mind for sixteen years, every single time he looked at his little girl.

After his experience with Marcel, Klaus has realized that raising a child into his own reflection is not a smart move. In fact, if Eve had turned out like her father, it would've been the very end of the whole human - and inhuman - species. Luckily for everyone, his beautiful princess is essentially the mini version of the only woman who shares the custody of his immortal heart with her: Caroline.

They couldn't be more similar if they tried. Like mother, like daughter.

If it wasn't for some specific details that Eve couldn't have taken from anyone but him, Klaus thinks that people would start questioning if Caroline made Eve by herself, without the contribution that is usually required to create another living creature.

That, is all him.

Even if he's quite proud – and grateful — about how Eve's turned out just like her magnificent mother, Klaus can't help but smile when he witness the appearance of one those details he mentioned before: the fondness for art, the passion for swords duels — a voice in the back of his mind reminds him of something Caroline said about this specific factor, "it's called fencing, Klaus. You don't need to kill your opponent anymore to prove your victory." or something along those lines —  the constant presence of dark humor and sarcasm in any of her conversations, and her gigantic, stormy blue eyes that are accompanied by a pair of dimples and a wicked little smile whenever she got something on her mind.

Something that Eve clearly hasn't taken from him though, is her way of showing emotions. Just like his wife, Eve wears her emotions like a second skin, which leads to her being a terrible liar. If she's happy, then the room will light up as soon as she enters it, and everyone can't help but be drawn to her joyful behavior. On the other end, if she's feeling sad, angry, or any other kind of negative emotion, then... Well, she would keep her mouth shut and open it just to make salty remarks, keeping an annoyed — yet adorable, if you ask him — little pout on her face.

That's how Klaus knows that something is wrong.

As soon as he sets foot in the compound, he's greeted by a very common view: Freya and Eve, sitting around the table of the living room, reading and chanting spells.

Normally, Klaus would walk towards them just to make them aware of his presence and to steal a kiss on his daughter's cheek as a brief salute, but he soon realizes that Freya is the only one writing down something in witch gibberish, while Eve is just quietly looking at her aunt, with a frowned expression all over her face.

His little wolf is so caught up on Freya's doing that she doesn't notice him until he's behind her, trying to understand what kind of spell his sister is casting, with a hand gently touching her shoulder. Eve tenses up at the touch, turning her head to look at him almost as fast as a regular vampire. As soon as she sees him though, she relaxes a little bit, offering him a tight lipped smile.

"Hey, Daddy," she says, voice so quiet and hoarse that he probably wouldn't have heard her if it wasn't for his vampirism. " 'm sorry, didn't hear you coming in."

Hearing Eve talking with such a tired and low tone makes his heart explode with concern. She's pure sunshine, his daughter, this cloud of negativity does not belong to her. Nonetheless, he tries to mask his thoughts with a tight lipped smile, looking down at Eve, "Don't worry, sweetheart," He says, moving his eyes to his sister, who hasn't left hers from the grimoires spread around the table even as he introduced himself, "Freya, care to explain what's happening or do I have to guess?" He asks with a tone that indicates nothing but irritation.

Klaus arches his brows in confusion, his gaze switching between Eve and Freya, as to ask for one of them to elaborate what he just heard.

Freya finally looks up, if only to send him a not-so-friendly glare, but before she can snap right back at him, Eve takes word, looking at him like she's about to have a nervous breakdown "Apparently, I'm on house arrest until the Jury," she indicates Freya with her eyes, before turning her attention back to him, "tells me otherwise."  She concludes, and the exasperation of her tone is almost touchable.

It's Freya the one that, with a sigh, steps in. "Some witches have been messing around with a kind of magic way too difficult for them to understand, leading to an imbalance that covers all New Orleans." She explains, rubbing her hands on her temples. "Long story short: right now, every witch in New Orleans is having trouble controlling their magic, especially the younger ones like Eve. In addition, being the tribid gives her an enormous amount of power which is hard to control on a good day, so it's better if we keep her under control, in a limited and safe space."

Eve rolls her eyes as soon as Freya concludes, shifting her position to show him the magic-restraining bracelet on her wrist. "I haven't seen this freaking bracelet in years. I thought I was finally free, but no, some dumbass witch thought it was a good idea to mess with something way too big for them to understand, turning me into a fu-"

"Language." Both Klaus and Freya interrupts her, giving Eve a warning look.

she glares at both of them, visibly annoyed.

"turning me into a freaking bomb." she grumbles, looking down at the pages of the grimoires.

Christ, Klaus thinks, he's losing points as the cool parent.

"Dad?" Eve says, looking at him with an arched eyebrow, like she's expecting something from him. "Are you still here? You haven't threatened anyone since you heard of this, and it's more concerning than a bunch of low-level witches messing around." She concludes.

Klaus takes a long sigh, pulling out his phone from his pocket to send a message to Caroline and the rest of the family. It takes all of his willpower to not storm out and look for this gang of inconsiderate witches, accompanied by nothing but his fury, showing them the treatment that is reserved specifically to the ones that put his daughter in a bad mood, but he recognized the fact that this situation is already unsteady, and there is no space for his impulsiveness, yet.

Well, the sarcastic remarks are only funny when they're not directed at him.

"Trust me, Eve, I have lots to say, but none of it is appropriate in the presence of a child." he retorts, switching his attention back to Freya. "I've sent a message to Caroline and to our siblings, they should all be here in about 40 minutes."

Freya simply nods, gathering all the magic stuff from the table. "I'll call Vincent." she stands up, giving a kiss on Eve's head. "I'm pretty sure he's more informed than us at the moment. Besides, another witch would be helpful."

"what am I? a ghost?!" Eve snaps when Freya disappears in her own bedroom. "I can't use magic, I'm on house arrest, this handcuff is back around my wrist and I haven't even had my daily bignets!" she explains desperately, curling on herself, resting her chin and arms over her knees.

Klaus can't help the low chuckles coming out of his mouth, something that earns him a dirty look from his little wolf.

"I'm glad you find my misery amusing. Father of the year, really." Eve says, enunciating her pout even more.

"Not at all, sweetheart. To be completely honest, I would love nothing more than to go fetch those witches myself and show them what happens when someone dares to upset my daughter," Eve promptly rolls his eyes at that, but he sees how she's trying to bite back a smile.

"However, Your mother would eviscerate me if my impulsiveness took place in a delicate situation such as this one."

"Then what do we do while waiting for mom to come home?" Eve says, and truth to be told, patience has never been a strong suits of her.

"Well, I did get that new painting set you've mentioned lately." He says with a grin, observing how Eve's pout changes to a wide smile between record time.

"The pink one?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"You're the best!" she chirps, jumping from her chair to wrap her arms around his waist, the bad mood evaporating completely from her body. Klaus can't help but smile when he looks down at his daughter, holding her close to him. Oh, how he wishes time would stop, just to remain like this for at least a decade, with his little girl safe, sound and happy in his arms, where no bad intentions can reach her.

"Come on, sweetheart," He says, grabbing her hands "let's see if those colors actually blend on their own." he concludes with a wink, leading her towards the art studio. He knows this happiness is going to be short-lived, but the least he can do is to keep Eve's mind occupied, distracting her from the stress of this situation. As he enters the room, Klaus notices that he's running out of dark red acrylic.

Well, it appears those witches are going to be useful, after all.

[ca-suffit]

It's really funny (read: disgusting) how #some people still act like Louis' POV will be "disproven" or whatever. Like, so in the books slave owner white man Louis lies outright. He will say a thing and then contradict himself in the next sentence. But then come the later books the only thing anyone calls Louis out for was 1) downplaying the emotional reciprocity of Loustat (TVL) and 2) the contested NOLA meeting (TVL & ToTBT). Obviously the show's NOLA meeting will not be contested because let's be so fucking serious right now 🙄 so... Going off both the show and the books, which #they say they do, what's the fucking lie? Because the show's Black man Louis catches himself when he says something untrue and corrects himself. He gets Daniel for a second interview (leaving Armand and why he went along/what he wanted out of this aside rn) because he wants to remember! "It is how it happened." "I've downplayed my part in it." etc. But somehow, the show's Louis, who seeks to reexamine and uncover and work through his (manipulated?) memories will be exposed as a "liar" by the show's Lestat because... in TVL Lestat corroborates everything white Louis said except for one lie that we already know can't be a lie in the show. Like who would Louis even be lying to? The interview is over. He's lying to the present day scenes' impartial third person POV? Exactly. Exactly. Because he's Black!! And they're still waiting for the show to go stop right there! ☝🏿 Lestat never dropped Louis. The placée and the quadroon killed their white head of family for insufficient reason (because years of microagressions and cheerful tone-deafness and cheating on Louis and Claudia's 3D surround sound abuse don't matter to #them). Like when the drop first happened I hated it but I actually love where the show has taken it. And I finally get that the show runners were right. Racist audiences wouldn't have sympathised with Louis and Claudia if it weren’t for the fucking drop. That's why #they are still hung up on it and LOUDLY implying it will be retconned or whatever. Fuck. Looking at one of the most beautiful story's of survivorship and tragic story of family and love with the future up in the air wrt reconciliation and community (Jacob mentioning Sonoma in that Autumn interview!!) and going EYE think the nigger's lying 🤔 FUCK how do people not read the shit #they write and immediately realise that #they are a United Daughters of the Confederacy franchise?? I don't understand how book fandom tolerated them for so long either their takes on the books suck too like I'm so fucking glad I spent the past 20 years as a fan OUTSIDE the fandom like this is ludicrous. Addicted to racism my god - 🦁

.

[dwangan-wonpwa]

11 things that kokichi ouma hates, in no particular order:

literal murder

absence of free will

being vulnerable

meaningless violence

lying to oneself

lies made for absolutely nothing but the sake of seriously hurting people on purpose—malicious lies, to put it short

people who make said lies

boredom

when you manipulate a trustworthy person to kill another person you were cooperating with, and in the trial you "realize" the former is "lying" so well that you—someone who's talent is based off of your ability to read people—can't even detect their tells, meaning that they were so much smarter than you realize, but despite their intelligence they still choose to play the "façade" of a clueless, innocent idiot. so you condemn them, to try to corner them out of their lies—out of disdain for being deceived this whole time, out of fear for having lost control since you can't see past their act, out of pity for someone that has been hiding behind a falsehood like the same way you have for the entirety of this killing game, or out of the desperate need to prove yourself wrong, that they were a liar to be kind to people, like you, like DICE, you can't pinpoint the reason why. maybe it's some, maybe it's all of them. either way, they don't let go of their "mask," insisting that they don't know anything, they're a gentleman, and gentlemen wouldn't kill people, honest! again and again, the same illogical attempts at a defense that everyone else just accepts. you wonder: why are they sticking to this front so stubbornly (you're asking that?), when they can just play along and defend themselves with a lie to incriminate you further? almost everyone would believe them anyway. what you've saw, what you've done, what you've realized, everything that's been happening… it's too much. you snap. if they understand that, then why aren't they doing it right? argue back already. use your head and make logical arguments to reach the verdict both of us want. just make an excuse or whatever. they still don't relent, and they go with the same answer: i don't know anything. you're so sick of hearing that, it's what they've been saying this whole time. you yell and scream at them with frustration, your composure breaking, before the detective reveals a truth that explains their behavior: they don't remember killing anyone. at this point, you know it's over, since the detective is bound to figure out the truth, and everyone is listening to him, so you speed up the trial to end it as quickly as possible. you antagonize your former partner, to ensure they die with hatred towards you, if they didn't already. but they don't. they don't hate you, even asking everyone to remain be friends with each other, including you. they get sent to death with tears and guilt, without knowing why they killed in the first place. you manipulated someone so kind into murder, berated them, and sent them to their death.

pig feet

those little monokub cunts

[thatswhatsushesaid]

more salty commentary about.... salty fandom commentary, but for a fandom i'm not really involved with

ftr this is about the gay-ass (affectionate) vampire show

squinting at some of super vitriolic anti-armand commentary that tumblr's algorithm keeps throwing at me like 'this? you want this one bestie? no? what about this one instead?' when in fact i want none of these takes, actually. "i don't believe a word that comes out of that lying liar's mouth!!" "of course he could have stopped claudia and madeleine's murders, he's the most powerful vampire in the world!!" (uh, i'll come back to that one later. maybe. if i feel like it) "he was onboard the 'let's murder claudia!' train from the very beginning!!!" etc. if you're even peripherally keeping your finger on the pulse of this fandom's discourse, you've probably seen some of this, too.

and... okay. bearing in mind two things:

it's been about 20+ years since i read the original novels, and

the show's relationship to the original novels, as well as the 1994 movie, is both conversational and subversive,

two seasons into this delicious mess, how are we still collectively failing to recognize that the central conceit of amc's retelling is that, intentional or not, all recollection of louis' past is both catharsis (for louis) and performance (for ???)? that all of louis' recollection of his own actions, as well as the actions of the other vampires in his orbit, is filtered through the lens of his own feelings about those vampires in that moment? like this isn't a subtle storytelling device, this is something the show is repeatedly bashing us over the head with again and again and again: louis' reliability as a narrator of his own experiences can't be trusted even when he isn't so consumed with rage that he tries to drain twenty year old daniel molloy dry for the unforgivable crime of /checks my notes, mouthing off at him like a dumbass, or goes into vulgar detail describing to lestat precisely how he is going to kill him, cut his head off, and then feed his decapitated head to lions at the zoo. which, it bears mentioning, is not the version of events that we were presented with during s1, but it is the version of events that louis himself comes to reluctantly believe is the more accurate recollection of the past.

does that make lestat into The Real Victim™️ who did nothing wrong to louis or claudia, ever? please tell me you're not actually asking me this question. be serious.

the point is that louis is right in the thick of feeling his intensely passionate vampire feelings about armand in real time, in the present day, while looking backwards through time at the 77 years they have spent together, and he is questioning everything. justifiably so, for the record! why wouldn't he question the actions and motivations of the supposed love of his life after discovering that such an important memory from his and daniel molloy's shared past was erased from his mind? but seriously, if you have reached this point in the story and your takeaway from the last episode boils down to "THIS TIME louis' recollection of the past is definitely 100% accurate! the rose-tinted glasses are OFF and we can see the TRUTH about you now armand!!!" then i just. i don't know what to say to you. lmfao.

anyway rather than getting into the weeds with anyone actually in the fandom about which of these diva vampire daddies is right, actually, find me hanging out with claudia and madeleine's ashes giving all of them the proverbial finger. because honestly, fuck all these vampires (affectionate).

[poppystain]

𝐼𝐓'𝐒 𝑂𝐊𝐀𝐘 𝑇𝐎 𝑁𝐎𝐓 𝐵𝐄 𝑂𝐊𝐀𝐘 ( 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎 )  tv  drama  series   /  feel  free  to  change  pronouns  and  subjects  as  you  see  fit  !

❛ in all my fairy tales, the witch is always the one that's pretty. ❜

❛ who told you all princesses are kind and pretty? ❜

❛ she hates everyone apart from herself. ❜

❛ who cares about destiny? if someone shows up when you need them, you call that destiny. ❜

❛ my father's soul is dead, but he's physically alive like a zombie. ❜

❛ don't forget any of it. remember it all and overcome it. if you don't overcome it, you'll always be a kid whose soul never grows ❜

❛ you remind me of someone i used to know. a woman whose eyes completely lacked warmth. ❜

❛ i want you to be my safety pin. keep me under control so i won't explode. ❜

❛ there's something we always say to patients who recover. "hope i never see you again." ❜

❛ you're not avoiding me. you're just running away because you're scared. coward.❜

❛ but today, for the first time, i suddenly thought maybe i was just running away because i wanted to. ❜

❛ you see, when life is unbearably hard the easiest way out is to run. ❜

❛ some things can't be torn apart no matter how hard you try to do so. ❜

❛ how can you define a relationship in just one word? every encounter we've had was awfully dramatic, being an inch away from death. ❜

❛ every moment we crossed paths, we surprised each other. if such coincidences, one after another, somehow led us here, how would you define our relationship? ❜

❛ it'd be such a cliche to say that we're destined for each other. ❜

❛ i hope you read a lot of fairy tales and wake up from your dreams ❜

❛ don't look up at the stars in the beautiful night sky. look down at your feet that are stuck in a filthy sewer, accept your reality. ❜

❛ do children have to be useful to their parents? ❜

❛ what do you think i really wanted, satiating my hunger or feeling someone's warmth? warmth—this is what i truly wanted. i didn't want to be just fed. ❜

❛ your lies carry a sense of sincerity. it makes me want to believe them. ❜

❛ it's fine even if it's fake. putting on a smile isn't so hard to do. ❜

❛ is everything yours once you set your eyes on it? if you can't make it yours, you would even destroy it to get your hands on it. ❜

❛ you call that love? that's just obsession and greed. ❜

❛ don't bother wasting your emotions on me. i don't deserve any of that. ❜

❛ i'm sorry for running away when i was the one who liked you first.i regretted it the moment i turned away. ❜

❛ i'm done with being someone who is needed by others. ❜

❛ but the heart is a liar. it stays quiet even when it's hurting. ❜

❛ if you want to be fashionable, you must be uncomfortable and stubborn. ❜

❛ "get lost." do you know how many times you've said that to me? ❜

❛ last night, it sounded like you were begging me not to leave. ❜

❛ last time i ran away, but today i thought i should stay with you. ❜

❛ i think that's why we're meant to be. you're patient and i'm volatile. ❜

❛ like a bomb and its safety pin, we go hand in hand. we're meant to be together. ❜

❛ i feel like you're taming me. ❜

❛ i keep doing things i wouldn't normally do because of you. ❜

❛ he doesn't have anything to offer. i must've thought i could be the one to fill up his empty life. ❜

❛ she has the face of an angel, but there lives a demon inside. ❜

❛ if you keep a secret to yourself, you end up getting frustrated. you need to tell someone in order to relieve your stress. ❜

❛ your rationality can never win against your desires. ❜

❛ she's very lonely, but she doesn't want anyone to know that so she pushes people away. ❜

❛ i told you that i can no longer hold myself back. i guess i can't run away anymore.❜

❛ i dreamed the impossible dream. i should've known my place. ❜

❛ you were like a firecracker to me. a one-time event. i had my fun, so it's time for you to get out of my life. ❜

❛ i'm not a firecracker. i'm a bomb! i don't disappear once i explode. i blow up and kill everyone! ❜

❛ you're not taking me away from him. he now has one more person who will stay by his side. ❜

❛ i don't care who it is. i will not forgive anyone who messes with my family. ❜

❛ are all parents automatically forgiven for all the bad things they did before they die? ❜

❛ the one who neglects and turns a blind eye to the abuse is worse than the abuser.❜

❛ when i see you smile at me, i forget everything else. ❜

❛ stop pretending like it doesn't hurt. stop pretending like you're okay. ❜

❛ you pretending to be okay and me seeing that masked face will make me walk on eggshells around you. it'll suffocate me. i'll be tormented. ❜

❛ the one that torments you can also be the one to save you. ❜

❛ if you can't erase it, you just need to cover it with something better. ❜

❛ you belong to yourself and i belong to myself. ❜

[canirove]

Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 27

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Masterlist

“So, are you ready to make coffee for your favourite player one last time before the little man arrives?” 

“Declan, just because I'm going on maternity leave doesn't mean I'm not allowed to make you or anyone else a coffee, you know?” I laugh. 

“I was talking about Jack, Liv” he smirks over facetime.

“You… urgh” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“But good to know I am your favourite player” he winks. 

“Maybe not anymore” I say, trying really hard to stop my cheeks from turning bright red. How can his wink affect me even through a screen? Like… how? 

“Liar” he laughs. “Anyway, there was something I wanted to ask you before me and the boys arrive tomorrow.”

“Ok.”

“Now that my family and everyone at Arsenal knows about us… About having a baby together and all that…” he says, biting his lip. He had never done that before, and it is… dear God. It is the hottest thing ever. “Would you mind if I also told the people here?”

“What?” 

“I just… It's going to be very tough to see you and not be able to act normal around you. To have to fake in front of everyone and hear them talk about you and Alex, or about him being the father of my son.”

“Alex is sick, you won't have to see him.”

“How convenient, uh?” he chuckles.

“That's what I said, yes. He's a coward, he doesn't want to have to face you.”

“Good. Because if we crossed paths and he said something to me, I don't know if I would be able to contain myself and not break his nose.”

“Leave the punching to me, please.”

“Ok” Declan smiles. “But Liv… I think it would help us both be more relaxed, you know? And it would be a way to avoid the boys who already know about it saying something they shouldn't or someone hearing them and starting a rumour.”

“I guess it makes sense… But the idea of Jack Grealish knowing about it isn't the most comforting one. He doesn't seem to be the most trustworthy person, you know?”

“Jack is a good guy, Liv. But if you don't trust him, we won't tell him anything.”

“Thank you. I don't trust any of his club teammates, to be honest.”

“Liv!” Declan laughs.

“What? Don't you read the news?”

“Ok, fine. We won't tell anything to the City boys.”

“Good. I don't like Henderson either.”

“Olivia!” he laughs again.

“It's not my fault that your teammates suck, Declan” I shrug.

“I think it would be easier if you sent me a list with who is banned and who isn't.”

“Good idea. When were you planning on telling them?”

“Liv, I was joking” he chuckles. “But you aren't.”

“I'm not, no. I'm about to have a baby for the first time, and that's scary enough already. I don't want to have to worry about people I don't like telling their wives, lovers or whatever it is they have going on, and it ending in the press. We have enough with your ex’s crazy fans.”

“Yeah, that's true” he sighs.

“I’ll send you that list later today, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Thank you, Declan.”

“No. Thank you, Liv, for allowing me to do this. I know it isn't easy for you.”

“Yeah, well… But they are your friends even if some of them are a bit questionable” I shrug. “No one is perfect.”

“I'm really close to it, tho” he smirks.

“So humble, Declan Rice.”

“The most humble one.”

“Olivia, lunch is ready!” my mum calls from downstairs.

“I have to go. I'll send you that list as soon as I can, ok?”

“Ok” he nods. “But we still are talking tonight, aren't we?”

“Of course. I wouldn't miss our night chats for anything in the world.”

“Neither would I” he smiles. And even though I like all his smiles, this one is my favourite one. Because it is a real and honest one, one that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It probably is the one that made me fall in love with him. “See you tonight, Liv.”

“See you tonight, Declan.” 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Liv!” 

“Hello, Harry” I smile as he walks into the cafeteria.

“Oh my God” he says. “Look at you! You look beautiful!”

“Oh, stop it” I say before hugging him. “How are Kate and the kids?”

“They all are good, feeling more and more at home in Munich.”

“So glad to hear that. Tell them I miss them and that I'm looking forward to seeing them soon.”

“I wil” he smiles. “But let's talk about you! How are you feeling? And the little one?”

“We both are doing great. I get a bit more tired every day, but that's normal towards the end.”

“It is, yes. May I?” he says, nodding towards my bump.

“Of course” I smile.

“It is amazing, isn't it? You still haven't met him, and you already love him and would do anything for him.”

“Yeah” I say, trying to not get emotional.

“Declan told me you still don't have a name.”

“Nope. And if you are thinking about suggesting yours… Too late. He already did.”

“He told me you are being quite peculiar about it” he chuckles.

“Peculiar or stubborn?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.

“Well…”

“It's ok, don't worry” I laugh.

“Can I confess something?” Harry says. 

“Sure.”

“I'm glad Declan is his dad and not Alex. I've known Dec for a long time and he is one of the good ones. One of the best. He may have made some mistakes in the past, some very big ones…” Oh, he knows. Of course Harry knows about everything that has happened between us. Declan looks up to him, he is one of his role models. And he has known us both for years, basically seen us go from teenagers to adults. So if Declan was in need of advice or needed to vent, he was the perfect person to go to. “But you won't find anyone with a heart like his, Liv. He will do anything for you and the baby, to make sure you both are safe and happy. Alex, on the other hand…”

“I thought you liked him.”

“He doesn't like me, and I don't like him either. But unlike him, I'm a gentleman.”

“Touché” I chuckle. “And the others are coming” I say, looking at the door.

“I believe not everyone knows, right?”

“Yeah… I just…”

“Don't need to explain yourself, Liv. I'm their captain, I know what we are dealing with” he laughs.

“I… umm… Thank you, Harry.”

“You're welcome, Liv” he smiles, kissing my hand before some other players join us. While they all congratulate me and start talking about how the baby will be a future Tottenham star knowing how much my dad loves football and the club, I look for Declan around the cafeteria.

When I find him, he is with Bukayo and Mason, two of the people who know about us. While they talk, he is just looking at me, smiling. And it is that smile again, the one he gave me over facetime the day before and that makes me feel all the butterflies. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Olivia, is that a piece of cake?”

“Shit!” I say, the fork slipping from my hands. “What are you doing here, Declan? Isn't the bus leaving already?”

“In five minutes” he says, picking the fork from the floor. “They needed to check something and I told them I had to go to the bathroom.”

“You are in the wrong place, then.”

“Liv, I lied. I wanted to see you before I left. Maybe get a good luck kiss?” he smirks.

“A what?” 

“Oh my God, your face just turned the same colour of my Arsenal shirt” he laughs. 

“Not funny!” I say, kicking his leg.

“Hey, I need that for later today!”

“Sorry” I shrug, eating another bite of my cake. Our chocolate cake. The national team had thrown me a little goodbye party the day before and Declan had told them to get it for me as a present because it was my favourite. Though it turned out to also be their favourite, and I had had to ask Olga to hide some slices in the kitchen just for me.

“Anyway, can I get a good luck kiss or not? On the cheek, of course.”

“Of course” I say, my face still burning. “Do I have to get up? You are too tall, Declan.”

“Ok, I'll bend down” he says, kneeling in front of me. “Better?”

“Much better, thank you. Which cheek do you prefer?”

“I don't mind. But before you do it” he says, one of his hands suddenly cupping my face while the thumb of the other moves over the corner of my mouth, making me gasp. “You have chocolate here, Liv.”

“Oh” I say. Oh. That's all I'm able to say. Because he is too close. And you all know what happens when he is that close. His eyes, his perfume, my brain and body shutting down…

“Liv…” he whispers, his thumb now over my lower lip, moving even closer. He is going to kiss me. He is. I can see his eyes moving from mine to my mouth and back up, hesitating, kind of like asking for permission.

“Declan” I whisper back, closing my eyes and hoping it will tell him that I want it. His kiss. Him. I want him. 

And when I feel his lips brushing against mine…

“Deccers!” someone calls from outside the cafeteria, making us both jump and quickly get up. Though in my case maybe not so quickly. “Deccers, where are you?”

“I… I have to go. That's Jack and…”

“Yes, of course.”

“I… umm…”

“Good luck, Declan” I say, giving him the kiss on the cheek we had agreed on once I've finally managed to stand up. 

“Thank you, Liv” he replies, still not moving.

“Deccers!” Jack says, opening the cafeteria's door. “C'mon, we are waiting for you, bro!”

“Yes, sorry, I just… I…”

“He had forgotten his ipad here earlier and came to get it back” I quickly say. 

“I don't care. Can we leave now?” Jack says.

“Jerk” I say under my breath.

“Yes, of course. I… Umm… Take care, Liv.”

“You too you, Declan. And good luck.”

“Thank you” he smiles, hitting a chair as he leaves.

“Bro, careful!”

“Sorry” Declan says, looking at me one last time before he and Jack disappear through the door, leaving me alone with my cake… and another almost kiss.