#another case of writing for the audience in my brain and no one else here in dot land

[fastcardotmp3]

Tulip

The Hawk (S01:E01) | 5.2k words | "The Bear" AU

The tulip on her arm has only been there for two months, stretching from wrist to inner elbow in black ink and mirroring the knife stretching up the length of her left. Two months. All but fresh ink. All but still tender. Even still, Nancy has a restaurant to run.

read on ao3 | excerpt under the cut

Most of the people the Wheelers consider family aren’t even Wheelers themselves. 

Secondarily, most of the people the Wheelers consider family are people Nancy is shocked they would ever consider family if they had the choice not to. 

Well, maybe not most. But definitely Murray Bauman. 

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“You were— you invested,” Nancy grouses, “your name is on half this shit, Murray, how could you not?” 

“I gave a kid a shot and she did— whatever the fuck all this is,” he waves a nonsensical hand around the restaurant, “but I was just money. I was just money, which I am still owed, kiddo, and I dunno how to help you—”

“The money trail is fucked!” Nancy throws her hands up, immediately crosses them over her chest to hold them still, still, still as can be, good girl, good girl, just hold it together, don’t blow up, stop making a scene— “So all I’m asking is for a little help in straightening out the mess.”

“You might not need my help with that if you’d’ve bothered offering all this cute expertise of yours when she needed—”

“I might not need your help if you all had told me something was wrong—”

She cuts herself off that time, snap of her teeth around the snap of her words, abrupt shake of her head as her gaze falls to somewhere around the center of Murray’s chest instead of his face. 

It’s embarrassing, the way these people make her feel fifteen years old all over again when she’s going on thirty. 

It’s embarrassing, being able to see the pieces of an old self come through and not be able to stop them. 

It’s embarrassing, knowing that the old self never really went anywhere, that this is just the nature of the world, her world, the world after. 

Tulip on her arm. 

Two months old. 

When Barb had first gone missing, everything else that mattered stopped mattering. 

Jobs and bills and fucking feeding themselves, it had all fallen to the wayside and this– she– had taken precedence. 

Or at least, she had to everyone in the country; she had to everyone who knew something was wrong. 

Nancy feels sick most days, if only because chefs are frequently cursed with stomach problems from all the only eating when they taste test and extreme stress of it all, but also because of the all-encompassing guilt. 

Barbara Holland. There are some things that can’t be fixed, a lesson Nancy started learning at a young age just watching her parents' marriage fall apart in slow motion, but this is one of the bigger ones, one of the more unfixable. 

“Just—” Nancy takes a deep breath, hand up as Murray opens his mouth because she has to stop him before he reminds her that she should have been here, that if she’d been a little less preoccupied and picked up the phone more often she might have seen it coming, that if anyone could have prevented it, it was her and she neglected that duty the minute she took a job that literally made her hair fall out, “Just tell me where she put all that money.” 

She looks up through her lashes, doesn’t want to plead with Murray Bauman of all people but does it anyway because what does want matter anymore. 

But Murray just lifts his brows, cocks his head, gives her this look like she’s a kid he’s still teaching how to spot the difference between real and counterfeit currency at the family barbeque. 

And he says the worst thing he could in that moment:

“Would if I could, kid.” 

[synnamonroll666]

Hello! I noticed that you’re taking requests and I hope you don’t mind doing mine…

Request: could you write headcanons for Syzoth with a fem!reader from Earthrealm who’s also in a circus as an acrobat who mostly does aerial silks? (Once I heard about him being in a travelling, my mind went ding! and produced this idea)

Ohhhhh, this is so cool! I always wanted to do something about the reader being in a carnival too. And when I heard about Syzoth being in a travelling carnival, it ticked that idea off in my brain as well. 😅 I love the idea of the reader being an acrobat who does aerial silks too! I have always been fascinated by it. 😍 Anyway, here are the headcanons!

⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒

Syzoth X Fem!Reader: In The Carnival

⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒

I had worked at the carnival for quite a few years now. Acrobatics were my life—my passion. I couldn't imagine doing anything else.

But my favorite act was the aerial silks. Being up in the air with all my limbs wrapped in silky ropes like a butterfly caught in a spider's web gave me a feeling like no other.

It was a day like any other when another carnival came to town. The newcomers decided to have a visit and watch the shows me and my colleagues would perform.

I was a little more nervous than usual before performing. My audience was one thing, but these people were in my profession, and I could help but worry about their judgment.

Either way, I still pushed through and did my work. It didn't take long before I was swinging in the air like an angel of their entertainment. Listening to their gasps of awe was like music to my ears.

I was pretty tired after the show, so I only said hello to a few of the newcomers before heading back to my tent to rest. Though I wished I could visit for longer—due to feeling quite lonely at the time—I just did not have the energy for it. But just as I sat down, some of my boxes that were stacked came crashing down before me.

Startled, I jumped up from my seat and yelled. My reaction must've scared the unseen intruder as well, because only seconds later, a person appeared out of thin air.

I screamed, grabbing for my pepper spray. Having something to defend yourself with was crucial when being a carnival performer due to the risk of robbers and other unwanted individuals regularly stopping by for a visit.

But lucky for this guy, I waited for just a second before attacking and saw his hands go up in defense. I hesitated, but I kept my little weapon up just in case.

"I-I'm sorry! I-I just w-wanted to come say hello, but I was too nervous!" He frantically tried to explain, his words coming out glued together to make one huge sentence.

Hearing this, I lowered the pepper spray, understanding the situation. I was quite shy as well, so how could I blame him for disappearing the second the chance to socialize came up? If only I had his ability...

"Y-You were invisible. Are you a magician of some kind?" I asked, genuinely curious and wanting to learn more.

He visibly began to relax and let out a faint chuckle, amused by my question. "No, I'm a shape-shifter."

"Shape-shifter?"

He nodded his head and then gave me information that blew my mind away: that he wasn't even a human. I begged him to show me his true form, and after a moment of hesitation, he revealed himself before me.

He was shaking slightly, as if he expected me to hurt him. But that was the complete opposite of what I wanted to do. He was so beautiful—an 8ft reptilian beast. He was something to be cherished, not harmed.

I couldn't contain myself and reached out to pet his nose. His crimson eyes widened, but he allowed it, quickly melting into my touch as I brushed my fingers along his scales.

After that, we spent the entire night talking. There was no sleep; slumber was replaced by facts about our lives and curious questions. By the morning, I felt as if I knew him more than anyone else in the world.

He told me that he was a Zaterran and that his race was from Outworld, as well as the fact that his people banished him for his ability because he was different. My heart broke for the poor man.

However, I reassured him that he was not a freak in my eyes, and I would like to keep in touch. His whole face lit up with joy, and he agreed that he would also like to continue our friendship.

When it came time for the other carnival to leave, I promised dear Syzoth that we would meet again. And I fully intended on keeping that promise. We said our goodbyes, and then I was lonely once again.

Not only that, but my heart then beated with a new desire. I had to see him again someday... I just had to...

⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒

[atamascolily]

There's a game I play as a writer that I call "Story Problems" -- I'll stop an episode or a movie halfway to three-quarters of the way through and try to sketch the ending I think the writers have in mind based on what I've seen thus far. Obviously, this is much easier with self-contained mysteries and ten-minute one-shot children's cartoons than extended dramas, but through regular practice, I've learned to pay attention to all the clues dropped in the exposition and how seemingly unrelated details are woven together into a coherent narrative whole.

Some people use the term "Chekhov's gun" for these hints, but I prefer "set-up and payoff". No matter what you call them, writing is essentially a sleight-of-hand performance, where the writer tell the audience exactly what they're going to do while simultaneously distracting them so that they're too busy focusing on other things to notice until the big reveal.

All this is a roundabout way of saying I've spent a lot of time thinking about the "story problem" represented by Walpurgis no Kaiten and how it might unfold.

First and most importantly, why bring Walpurgisnacht back in the first place? What role can a seemingly defeated witch (however mysterious) have in PMMM going forward? What are we, the audience, missing that would allow us to make sense of this? What in her story remains incomplete or unaddressed?

I sympathize with those who wanted Walpurgisnacht's nature to remain a mystery, but I think that ship sailed the moment SHAFT decided to bring her back for the sequel. If indeed Walpurgisnacht is returning--and why name the movie after her if she isn't?--then she must be somehow connected in some way to the main cast beyond her role in the original series as the Final Boss, or else why even bother?

(Seriously, if SHAFT wanted Walpurgisnacht's presence to be a surprise, they could have titled the movie literally ANYTHING else, but they didn't. That was a deliberate choice on their part, so I not only assume that Walpurgisnacht must be important somehow--central, even--but the big twist is not THAT she returns, but HOW and WHY.)

Cut to several years of radio silence after the initial announcement, giving me plenty of time to think. One night in the fall of 2022, the following conversation played out in my head unprompted:

Brain: Hahahaha, you know what, I bet they're really going with the whole 'Homura is Walpurgisnacht' twist after all! "L'audace, l'audace, toujours l'audace", and all that. Plus, can you imagine how angry this will make people on Reddit? Me: Okay, but why are you telling me this NOW?

Brain:

Me: crying You sick son of a bitch.

To be fair, improbable plot summaries have something of a history in this franchise--if I were to travel back to 2012 and tell people that Homura becomes a witch and traps everyone in her labyrinth and then turns into the Devil, I don't think many people would have believed THAT either until it played out in front of them. But this one was particularly disheartening because the "Homura is Walpurgisnacht" theory*--which was initially popular when the series was released--was seemingly discredited in Rebellion with the appearance of Homura's witch Homulilly. To say otherwise was going to be one hell of a hard sell for a lot of people.

(*I know, I know, I know, Walpurgisnacht is a composite super-witch made of multiple entities, but I need a shorthand way of describing it, even if it's not as technically accurate, so bear with me here.)

But even though my assertion seemed counterintuitive on the surface, I was convinced that it would eventually prove to be the case for several reasons:

1) Another game I like to play as a writer is called "The Worst Thing That Could Possibly Happen" (alternate title: "Put That Character In A Situation"). Essentially, I try to imagine what would hurt/challenge the characters the most for maximum drama or effect, and then I make it happen. Based on Homura's history and her relationship with Walpurgisnacht, what would be the worst thing that could possibly happen re: Walpurgisnacht's return?

Well, given how much Homura has invested in protecting Madoka from this witch--from reliving the same month hundreds of times over to becoming the self-proclaimed embodiment of evil just to make a world where Madoka could be happy--the worst thing that could happen to Homura would be that she discovers that everything she's done, all that she's fought and sacrificed for, has led directly to the one thing she's been trying to prevent this whole time: the (re?)creation of Walpurgisnacht herself.

In other words, this tweet:

I mentioned my theory to someone recently, and their response (paraphrased) was that they felt the original series had already covered this particular form of dramatic irony and they hoped WnK would go in a different direction. Fair enough, but this is a series that thrives on revisiting the same scenes from different angles, to the point of a shot-for-shot remake of Madoka with her family at the beginning of Rebellion to mirror the original series! So just because they've done similar things before doesn't mean it's necessarily off the table in the future--to me, that makes it even more likely, actually. And frankly, I think some amount of revisiting the past was inevitable the moment SHAFT decided they were bringing Walpurgisnacht back in the first place.

Given PMMM's obsession with cycles and repetition, I'd go one step further and make it worse: not only are Homura's actions what bring Walpurgisnacht back, these same actions are what lead to all the Walpurgisnachts in the past, so that Homura created the very monster who killed Madoka and caused Homura herself to become a magical girl in the first place. Essentially, Homura becomes her own ancestor in a massive time loop/bootstrap paradox with no beginning and no end (or at least, that's how it seems at first--I doubt that's where the story TRULY ends, though it would make for one hell of a cliffhanger).

It would be bad enough if Homura directly or indirectly created Walpurgisnacht AND created a time loop, but you know what would make the situation EVEN WORSE? What if the enemy that Homura had been fighting for so long wasn't some other external force outside of her, but her own SELF-- if Homura not only created her own enemy, but also WAS that enemy, too, becoming the thing she feared and hated the most? I've talked in my previous posts about how PMMM excels at making the metaphorical literal, as well as its proclivity for turning characters into their opposites, so this would be a logical next step in that direction.

Given that Gen Urobuchi's nickname is "the Urobutcher", I think it's safe to say he knows how to make characters suffer. Thus, I'd be deeply surprised if he doesn't play the same game that I do--and if so, he might draw similar conclusions to the ones I've outlined above.

2) A major twist in every installment thus far has been that Homura is not who or what we think she is--first a time traveler, then a witch, then the Devil. If this pattern continues, what new revelations would surprise us about Homura? In order for the story to continue, it's likely that she must grow and change beyond her Devil persona--what might that look like? A transformation into the massive super-witch that was her enemy would certainly answer both questions and then some, although it may not be the answer people want.

(If nothing else, Homura will likely have at least one new outfit in Walpurgis no Kaiten so that SHAFT can sell the merchandise, lol.)

3) Not only do Homura's actions drive the plot of PMMM, the franchise is deeply concerned with her emotional life, and she is the center around which everything revolves (although this is not always immediately apparent due to the way each installment is structured). Thus, it's likely that Homura's relationship with Walpurgisnacht is both central to the plot and deeply personal--and what could be more personal than this?

4) In a show with excellent visual design, where every detail is selected with care, and usually means something (even if that meaning is not immediately apparent), there are far too many visual and narrative parallels between Homura and Walpurgisnacht to be a coincidence. Having the two be connected in this fashion would explain all of this in a concise and satisfying manner.

5) One of the things I admire about PMMM from a storytelling perspective is how efficient it is--every character and detail has a purpose, and nothing is wasted. Having Homura be/become Walpurgisnacht is not the ONLY way to establish a connection between them, but it is undeniably the simplest and the most efficient from a purely technical angle, as it only involves one character the audience already knows and cares about vs. adding an entirely new entity to the mix.

That was my answer to the story problem of "What is Walpurgis no Kaiten about?" in late 2022, based solely on the limited information available to me (i.e.m the title of the movie + everything that has come before). But while it seemed abundantly clear to me--almost inevitable--that Homura would somehow become Walpurgisnacht, I didn't have a good explanation for HOW this might come about beyond "timey-wimey reality-bending and/or multiverse shenanigans"--which, while adequate for my purposes, was not enough evidence to convince others of my argument, and so I let the matter rest.

Then the key visual dropped in September 2023, and I burst out laughing the instant I saw the second Homura, because I knew how SHAFT was going to solve the problem that had stumped me: one Homura would create/become Walpurgisnacht and the other would attempt to stop her (and probably fail, at least at first).

Homura is such a complex and multi-faceted character, I think it's a bit simplistic to say that one of the pair will be purely good and the other evil. Suffice to say there will be one Homura that we're rooting for (the one with ribbons) and one that we're probably not rooting for (the one with the headband) and leave it at that for now.

I'll freely admit that I still don't fully understand the mechanics of how and why there are two Homuras or how Walpurgisnacht arises from the actions of one or both of them, but I don't need to: everything we need to know is contained within the framing of that key visual. Homura will be the source of all her problems in this movie; that's all that matters. Everything else is details--delicious, to be sure, and I look forward to analyzing them in great detail, but the core (heh) conflict of the movie is already apparent.

Of course, you could make the argument that my original gut feeling was wrong because the second Homura doesn't "count" as Homura. To me, that's semantic hair-splitting--for my purposes, if she looks like Homura and is voiced by Chiwa Saito and retains all of Homura's powers, abilities, and associated symbolism, then she IS Homura in all the way that really matter, but I'm sure people can and will disagree with me on that. In the end, when it comes to PMMM, it's Homura all the way down--and I think Walpurgis no Kaiten will make that literal before the end.

(not gonna lie, the idea that all the Clara Dolls turn into Homuras too, so that Walpurgisnacht is made up of nothing but Homuras is pretty delicious--but so is the idea of the doppelganger Homura somehow hijacking or corrupting the Law of Cycles, which we know is full of witches, and turning it to her own ends. Or both, both is good, too!)

I know a lot of people hate the "Homura is Walpurgisnacht" theory, but I think it keeps popping up for a reason, and will continue to do so until Walpurgis no Kaiten finally gives us sufficient information to either make it canon or lay it to rest for good. Personally, I love the idea--as a quick browse through my "#vein of gold" tag will attest, I love when characters are forced to confront their shadow selves, their dark sides, and their doubles; I love when the call is coming from inside the house. For me, Homura becoming Walpurgisnacht wouldn't be cliche or boring, it would be a plot twist that would explain everything we've seen to date while simultaneously re-framing it, making it a Greek tragedy of incredible proportions. And a lot of people hated the whole "Homura becomes the Devil" twist when Rebellion came out, so why should Walpurgis no Kaiten be any different in this regard?

One of the things that I love about this franchise is that it's never been afraid to go big and bold and cosmic while simultaneously remaining deeply personal--and solidifying the connections between Homura and Walpurgisnacht would be all of those things at once and then some. I don't know why this particular idea has captured me, or why I feel so strongly about it, but in the end, I don't have any inside information, just an intuition that refuses to let go.

Ultimately, I suspect whether you like this theory or not comes down to whether you think the primary conflict of Madoka Magica is external (characters battling an enemy outside of themselves) or internal (characters battling an enemy within). My gut feeling is that Walpurgis no Kaiten will be an internal battle playing out on an external stage, essentially making this a "both/and" situation, and it will revisit many elements of both the original series and Rebellion while simultaneously breaking new ground.

It may well be that Urobuchi and SHAFT have a different answer to this particular story problem than the one I've outlined here--but if so, I can't see it. In the end, all I can do is imagine the story that I would write based on the clues I've been given, which may or may not be the same as the one they are planning. We'll find out if there's any truth at all to my intuitions or if I'm barking up the wrong tree when the movie finally comes out.

And hey, if I'm going to be wrong, I'd rather go out with a wild and crazy idea than playing it safe with some half-assed guessing. If I can't be right, I might as well be INTERESTING. And there's always fanfic to fall back on if the movie ends up going in a radically different direction and I still feel strongly about this by then.

[frangipanilove]

i believe beth is alive but im so confused about the symbolism you guys believe it. i really find hard to believe it. So i'm wondering why you believe it. “ im new fan so i don’t know that much”

Hi friend, I’m so sorry it took so long to get to this, it’s been a really busy summer.

So, I think the first thing to be aware of when first getting into Team Delusional theories is that everyone has their own favorite type of “evidence” they follow and believe in. We all probably have our individual favorite types of symbolism we track. Having said that, most of us probably have in common that we noticed a pattern of “irregularities” around Beth’s “death” that we didn’t really see around the deaths of other characters. When a character in TWDU dies, we usually see a number of markers indicating that this character is definitely dead and will not be resurrected. Sometimes we get to see them take an emotional farewell with loved ones, providing closure for the characters and the viewers alike. We typically see them being put down with a knife through the brain, making sure they won’t be reanimated. If a beloved character has died and reanimated, we typically see them being put down and laid to rest in a peaceful, respectful manner. We often see burials. Basically, we often see these types of ritual markers indicating the end of this character’s story in TWDU.

We didn’t see any of that with Beth. Her “death” feels unresolved and incomplete. There was no closure, not for the characters or for the audience.

Adding to that, there are clear parallels between Beth’s “death” and the death fake-out of for example Rick. Meaning, in Beth’s case, her “death” had more in common with the “death” of characters that were later resurrected than characters that remained dead. For me, that’s one of the first things that comes to mind when asked why I believe she might come back. I’ve written many posts on that in the past and more recently, I’ll link some of them below.

I talk about Sirius symbolism a lot, and in these posts I lay out the theoretical foundation of it all. These posts (here and here) are old, and should probably be updated. Also, English is not my first language, which really shows in these older posts. But they´re thorough, and most of what I reference these days is explained here.

I also reference Noah's t-shirt theory quite a lot. Again, it's old, but we still see a lot of the bird symbolism on the shows, and this was the first time I elaborated on why that's important.

I reference the three/tree/trunk symbolism a lot (here and here). Again, it's old but always relevant.

While these are old posts, I think they're still relevant for most of what I write about today, becaus this is the symbolism I like to track, and in my opinion, the show is still full of these types of symbolism, even after all these years. It's all connected.

I've recently been very preoccupied with the symbolism around cars, which ties directly into how many of us believe Beth originally survived after Coda (here, here, here, here), and I guarantee you there are more car posts in my drafts, because it's been coming back in a BIG way lately.

Finally, I'll link to the Fighting Fire With Fire posts, which deal with a lot of the same as the older posts I linked to above, but with the added insight of multiple more recent seasons (here, here and here, plus here's another one about how this is tied to Beth (here).

If there's anything else, feel free to ask again, and I promise I'll try to not take weeks and months to answer like I did with this ask, lol I'm so sorry;-)

[otogariado]

barbie movie was kinda bad to be honest.

if you're super attached and sentimental abt this movie you might not wanna read this bc i don't really pull punches with this one. but here is my first impressions rant lmao. i might come back to it when i've collected my thoughts more and let it stew a little (and maybe see it a second time just by myself at home?)

the way the movie ended was really bad and it left a sour taste in my mouth (📌), but even from just earlier in the movie i already felt like smth was off. and i mean, it's not like i wasn't excited for it even if i tried to avoid a lot of the stuff to not overhype myself (and i usually like going in blind anyway). but even as the movie started i already got the feeling of, oh this is what kind of movie it's gonna be. and for the most part it proves that initial assumption right.

and by "this" i meant like.. a really shallow preachy "feminist" tone. y'know, those kinds of movies/shows that pretend like they're going to say something meaningful about a mature topic but they end up just being shallow and mostly filled with platitudes and such. it's just kinda weird cz i expected more. but it felt like the movie was just using every character as a direct mouthpiece to the audience, and it could still work i guess if they actually had something to say. i think the movie was kind of a mess. i don't know what kind of lesson i was supposed to take away from it at the end, especially when they just start word vomiting at you. at some parts of the movie i wanted to turn my brain off but i still paid attention in case it was gonna pick itself up but like, it really didn't.

i think the rest of the movie was ok. the cinematography was enjoyable still, but the writing was just. so shallow that i couldn't bring myself to fully say i had a blast watching it. it felt like it was more interested in going through a checklist/outline of feminist things to say without being interested in elaborating any of it. it felt like they had too much they wanted to talk about that it just felt scattershot; i feel like it would've had stronger writing if they had just picked a topic to focus on and spent more time with it. they had the chance to explore something more—heck, they had this pretty diverse cast, why exactly did it still need to be focused on "stereotypical barbie" if they really wanted to explore something else? plenty of movies have been successful with an ensemble cast... it wouldn't fix their issue of splitting themselves amongst multiple things they wanted to talk about, but it could help with the focus. maybe have one barbie deal with one topic or throughline then another barbie with another topic, etc. idk. i also found it weird to make a snarky comment about how "if the movie wanted to make a point about barbie not needing to be [conventionally pretty] then they shouldn't have cast margot robbie for this" and like?? you're right lmao. you don't get to be cheeky by saying "guess we were wrong about this one :9 shrug". if they weren't interested in addressing this issue then they shouldn't have just called attention to it in the first place. it just makes it worse. feels like saying "ha! you can't criticize us for this decision because we already did it first."

i also have a problem with the thing near the end of "how about normal barbie? barbie doesn't need to be extraordinary! why can't she just be a regular person?" umm. the point of barbie wasn't to make women feel like they should be extraordinary to be accepted?? the point of barbie is that anyone can BE barbie. you ARE barbie no matter what kind of path you choose. it's kinda like spider-man in a sense that, "anyone can be under the mask." ANYONE can be barbie. i feel like the movie made a strawman out of misconstruing the original intent behind the "empowerment" of barbie. the point of multiple versions of barbie and the different playsets and shit comes from the appeal that she can be ANYTHING you want her to be. who are you fighting against, movie?? that type of misogyny where women should excel otherwise they don't matter certainly exist in the real world but like, i feel like it's a bit disingenuous to pretend it's what the barbie franchise wanted to convey as well. (i am by no means a barbie toyline history expert so i'm open to be corrected on this.)

and the whole... storyline with ken/the kens?? like i get what they're trying to do, have "the boys get a taste of their own medicine", but it's just. It's Just Weird. what did they wanna accomplish with it? i feel like this movie suffers from a shallow understanding of how sexism and misogyny and toxic masculinity actually works... like "oh teehee what if men were the ones oppressed by women instead and women were the ones oppressing men?" but they didn't do anything interesting with it, they just switched sexes and that's it. it's still the same except you just switched the men and women label now. (and the movie has a very black and white view of sex and gender. but that's another point to discuss entirely.)

what makes it worse is that the kens rise to power because they craved more appreciation from the barbies, but then they get knocked down a peg by the barbies and they "lose" like they "deserve". like, what is THIS meant to convey if we try to use it as a parallel for real world feminism, if kens = RL women and barbies = RL men?? that women shouldn't demand to be seen and appreciated more by men and that if they try to take on equal footing and power they should get pushed back down the hierarchy or something??? like WHAT??? and even if you could argue that the kens lost because of their egos/pride/toxic masculinity, it still feels off. because yes, there is a certain "masculine brand" of being too prideful but like. anyone is susceptible to getting too egotistical for their own good. idk??? the way they just handle it is so messy. it's not even like, ambiguous in the "open for interpretation, there are multiple readings of this possible that all try to say something different" kinda way. it's ambiguous in the messy, "we don't know what we wanna say" kind of way.

another thing i wanna talk abt is the teenager character. and the mom character too. i feel like they could've done more with them tbh. they hardly feel like actual characters—the mom got more than her daughter, but the daughter is so stereotypically rebellious "i hate feminine stuff" teenager. so much of this movie feels like telling instead of showing. the mom feels undervalued and depressed and she's struggling. yeah, but so what? we don't actually SEE any of that. even if you can argue that the movie tries to tackle stiff happening IRL so it doesn't need to show any of that any more, that's just bull. you still have to establish the setting in your movie's universe and you still have to do actual character work for your characters even if they're meant to represent real people. ESPECIALLY if they're meant to represent real people. like yeah, we do get some flashbacks of her daughter not appreciating her near the start, but that's it. they're just flashes. and that wasn't her only problem that she mentioned. why didn't we have the mom try to pitch ideas to the executives early on, have that be her introduction scene? have the executives belittle her ideas bc they're misogynistic chauvinist asses? like yeah, from context clues of the whole boardroom being men we can see the irony there and we can tell they don't value women enough to give them positions that high up the ladder. but still, implying the lack of something is not as good as actually demonstrating the lack of something. i feel like it wouldn't have been that hard to include at least one scene of the mom pitching her ideas, and then cut to her scribbling sadly on the desk like she was when she was introduced cz they didn't listen to her.

the sentiment of "they hardly feel like actual characters" extends to the rest of the cast, too. like, i wouldn't expect something substantial and be disappointed if they weren't marketing themselves like "all barbies are important :) this is an ensemble movie :)" like no... not really. none of the other characters matter that much and they didn't get a lot of actual distinguishing features aside from their actual job titles. which just feels reductive lmao. maybe that's the point. maybe they're all just meant to be bit characters. but it just adds to the shallowness of the movie i feel like. just bc the point is they're bit characters doesn't give it a free pass for not going anywhere w any of them. i saw someone say they felt like all the other barbies and kens were mostly just there as set dressing and you know what? that's undeniably true. which AGAIN i maybe wouldn't have as much of a problem with if it weren't for how they marketed this movie.

the previous paragraph also ties into what i mentioned earlier abt the quip they had abt casting margot robbie (and by extension, ryan gosling) as the lead(s). like... why did the lead HAVE to be the "stereotypical barbie"? why did the white, blonde, presumably cishet* barbie (and ken) HAVE to be the leads? hell, the mom and daughter characters are women of color and they don't even do anything with them (aside from some jokes abt how the white dad sucks and is very inconsequential?). i'm just saying... it feels like the diversity casting (not just when it comes to being people of color but also in other areas, like having a barbie in a wheelchair and a pregnant "barbie" (even though she's not barbie) and whatnot) of the other barbies and kens was just that. Token Diversity. fodder for The Typical White Leads. idk. i'll say this again but if they didn't advertise themselves the way they did with all those barbie and ken posters making it sound like they were actually gonna give a shit about any of the other colorful cast of characters then maybe i wouldn't be this harsh with them. this didn't feel like an ensemble movie to me at all.

*(bc i don't think this movie was made with any genuine queer intentions behind it lmao. and ik people latch onto the aroace "coding" of the characters and like. if you're aroace and you like it then power to you. but i think this is more of a "technicality"/"by semantics" type of """coding""" so i honestly don't think it counts, speaking as someone who's some flavour of aroace)

idk i feel like I'M word vomiting now too. maybe i'm picking on this movie too much. but tbh it's just. eh. it just feels shallow. it's a shallow nothing movie tbh. it just feels like a movie filled with quips without any interest in exploring any of the topics they bring up. i wanna list specific examples but tbh it's hard to remember them because of just how overloaded it is, like they just keep shooting talking points at you but there's no meat to any of them. i wouldn't be this harsh on this movie if it didn't hype itself up so much. like, i WANTED to like it coming it. i WAS excited for it ever since it was announced, even though i wasn't a super fan and wasn't buzzing about it as much as most people were online. because it had a lot of potential behind it, but it ended up just. being a mess.

📌 i think it's funny that the ending (as in the last scene of the movie) left most people confused, but the most interesting thing abt it is the takeaway i got from my cis mlm cousin where he's like, "oh barbie chose to be a mother at the end and she's pregnant and that's why she ended up at the gynecologist". like. I Guess??? that can be your take??? but it's a weird scene to end your movie on.

like idk what i'm supposed to feel about it. she's a real human now because she has genitalia?? the genitalia was the last crowning step for her to achieve the "human" status? that's kind of reductive. she's a real woman now because she has a vagina?? that's just straight up transphobic. like. what am i supposed to get as my takeaway here with the last scene??

[golbrocklovely]

I’m gonna say that it scares me how bullying other people has been normalized on the Internet to the point that people with morals and brains who do not really even like the person that is being harrased are made fun of for simply trying to stop the hate.

I am not even here talking about the whole sam and katelyn situation. I am talking in general. I’ve noticed that in many fandoms harrasing people online that we do not like, making fun of them in every possible way has been so normalized that a person who praises them will appear as a “silly” for a bigger audience of fans. Like what? Like f.e this has been a thing rn in yr fandom (idk if you watched the show). People have been targeting E and hating on him for having a gf (literally… same thing as snc lol) and making fun of people who are being just supportive and lovely.

I, like everyone else also have people i dislike. But what the heck is the point of bringing it to the Internet and basically sending those people hate? And that applies to everyfuckinhone. Sam, Colby, Edwin, idk Katelyn, Malia, Katrina etc etc. If you do not like someone… just shut up and rant to your bestie about it on private. Why bring it into public space when everyone can see it ? INCLUDING the person you are making fun of /hating on. There has been sooo many cases of people trying to commit s*icide or committing it only due to online hate they received and i wonder how many more of it will take for people to finally reflect that what you put on the Internet and how you treat others can have very big influence on how they are feeling and things can turn really really bad turn. Or are we are just gonna stay as immature wannabe “cool and savage” mfs, who are just mean and sad and one by one gonna all k*ll eo either is literally or metaphorically (like kill eo happiness and personalities)

i agree with you so much, anon.

it's so odd to me how easy it is for certain ppl to hate someone they truly don't know.

and look, i won't pretend to be a saint. plenty of ppl know who i don't like bc i've talked about it. however, i have never in all my years of being on the internet (both in this fandom and not) have went to someone's page and hated on them directly or dmed them. i don't wish harm on those i don't like or disagree with. but so many ppl do and it's truly upsetting.

do i complain on here about ppl that aren't on here? yes. but i'm not gonna go to a site they are on and @ them and say "hey here's why i don't like you" bc that type of behavior to me is hella weird.

truly i think more ppl would benefit from just buying a journal and writing shit out there. bc too many ppl feel embolden to be as rude as possible, as if there isn't someone else on the other side of the screen.

bullying online never makes sense to me bc… what exactly do you want the end result to be? for them to hurt themselves? deactivate? never come back online? i just don't understand what thought process you have to think that harassing someone is gonna make them bend to your will, whatever that might be.

and no, i don't watch the show you're referring to, but i can believe that 100%. that happens so often to any male figures in literally every form of media. it's so odd. hell, i know i used to act that way when i was younger and in the jonas brothers fandom. but even back then i didn't @ miley cyrus and say she didn't deserve nick jonas lol

this is the first time in a long time i've ever actually considered leaving the fandom. not only has this harassment of katelyn really been eye opening to me, but also just the way sam went about all of this too. it all has left a sour taste in my mouth. but i'm trying to just remember that surrounding myself with nice ppl in the fandom (or those that are reasonable enough to not harass another person) is the better option than just up and leaving. bc i do love snc, even if rn i'm disappointed by them.

i just wish ppl would be nicer. maybe it's bc of my depression or past issues with bullying, but it's so disheartening to see all of this play out the way it has. and while i know i haven't always been kind, i at least try to be. but i feel like so many don't even do that. and that's a real shame.

[penig]

"But dear Madam Mina, are you not afraid; not for yourself, but for others from yourself, after what has happened?"

Headcanon/interpretation confirmed. She is definitely pregnant and the tension in this conversation ramps up a notch with the certainty.

Mina ascends to Mother Goddesshood on October 3, which is very Victorian of her. Even Renfield worships at her altar and turns on Dracula before the end for her sake. I will leave indignant and horrified reactions to the way his death is handled by the author and the characters to others. I’m sure they’ll do a bang-up job. It occurs to me that if his round of the Tumblr Sexyman contest had come after this scene rather than before it he might have won it - which is a fairly horrible thought all it itself. But no, I’m here to talk about Mina, Our Lady of the Files.

Mina clearly thinks quite a lot during the course of the day, to come out with the “compassion for Dracula” speech at the end of it. What else had she to do? Well, begin making another copy of the journals, for one. Her foresight in making multiple copies (extremely tedious work, as those of us whose work lives began before photocopying became common office tech recall) paid off when Dracula ransacked the study and, now that they’re back down to one copy and she desperately needs something to occupy her hands and mind, making a new backup seems called for. Such an occupation would provide exactly the right state of mind for thinking the kinds of thoughts she’s been thinking and working out the points she works out, as the content of what she copies out would be so familiar as only to take up a small part of her brain, leaving the rest relatively free but focused on the topic occupying that part. Anybody who’s done this sort of attention-heavy, cerebration-light work for an extended period knows what I mean.

Presumably the alternation between journals and the small amount of overlap in this entry indicates the editing out of redundancies to make a coherent narrative, so the audience knows Mina survives long enough to edit them, which probably wouldn’t occur to anybody else on the team and would be done less seamlessly by them, if it did. It also indicates that yes, despite the emphasis on inclusiveness, Mina does judicious omitting, which strengthens the interpretation that she may have omitted small parts of Jonathan’s diary, indicating that Jonathan has already been fed on and forced to drink blood at the castle. Even if not, the hints the Count drops to Jonathan about his joining the brides in his little vampire family must be leading her to consider the possibility that a shared fate awaits them even if she doesn’t take him down in her own fall, so in putting the case for mercy to herself being extended to Dracula, she is also putting the case for extending it to Jonathan. But she’s not going to say any such thing out loud. Jonathan’s hair has already gone white overnight, and it seems likely that only the pressing need for action and the self-imposed writing therapy have held off collapse all day. It is a theory, not a fact, and one she can’t help bearing the weight of but need not impose on him.

This probably looks masochistic and far too similar to the counterproductive shutting of Mina out of council that we just got past, to many people; but it something I do regularly myself. You will, too, someday, if you haven’t yet; many disabled people live like this all the time.

When one person is having a crisis, their loved ones take care of them; when everyone is having a crisis, constant calculations must be made concerning who can bear what weight when. My husband and I both have a lot of Health Crap, and when we both feel bad we have to run a comparison study to determine which of us is presently feeling less-bad in a way relevant to the task in hand. I had to take myself out of a podiatrist boot three days early because I couldn’t manage the back stairs to the kitchen in it and my husband lost all mobility recently; but I’ve also been too unbalanced to go downstairs at all for a month and my husband took care of all downstairs business for me during that time without once complaining about his aching back and feet. Our Year from Hell - not 2020, as you might be thinking, which was comparatively a doddle, but 2005, during parts of which I was 50% of the abled members of our support network - was marked by a serious emotional and mental crisis on my part, brought on by events early in the year, and which could not be resolved without my husband’s participation as it directly related to the marriage; but my attention had to be focused entirely on the fact that my husband would die if I couldn’t take care of him properly and he was not strong enough to handle his part of the crisis. Nor could I discuss it with other people, even within our support network, until I had discussed it with him, because it concerned him so closely. So I wrapped it up tight in a knot in my chest and carried it for about six months until he was strong enough to deal. Meanwhile, I was also doing constant calculations concerning what I could do for other people in the support network and who was in a state to be given certain information or asked for what kind of help, and the other people in the support network were having to deal with emotional distress and make the same kinds of calculations concerning us, without having the information I withheld in hand!

And this is more or less the state this vampire-hunting team is in right now, except that they are all focused on one overarching major crisis in the form of Count Dracula. Which at least simplifies the calculations. No one here is operating at 100% capacity, though. Mina and Jonathan are obviously the worst hurt and most in need of protection, but everyone has seen things and done things and been helpless to stop things that are significantly traumatic. All the judgement calls, good and bad, made from here out will be made under these difficult conditions, and we may expect a bill to come due to every survivor after the end of the book.

[etraytin]

First Lines of Fic Game

First-lines-of-fic meme! Tagged by @beingatoaster!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway

Whoo, it's been awhile since I did ten fic, but let me dip into the archives here. Most of what I've been writing lately is Minecraft stuff because it is kind of fun to play in a universe where all the physics are made up and the biology doesn't matter. Here we go! (I have decided to take the concept of "first lines" very liberally and go with sort of "first idea of the fic.")

Number 1: We Could Be Sleeping in the Flowers (Hermitcraft) It could be worse, Grian thought to himself as he grimly scaled the wall of his base to attach another few strands of glow lichen. He could have come down with much worse diseases.

Number 2: This Heart of Mine That's Guilty, Not Remorseful (Hermitcraft) “I’m sorry, Grumbot,” Father whispered, and Grumbot didn’t understand. In the darkness of predawn, his sensors could barely detect the small Player crouching under the screen that made up Grumbot’s “face.” Other Father did most of the maintenance on Grumbot, but he could sense the faint discomfort that was someone meddling with his interior components.

Number 3: After One or Two False Starts, I Believe We've Found Our Stride (Double Life) “So do you and Scott still have something going?” Tango asked one night.

Number 4: Do You Know How To Go To The Heaviside Layer? (Double Life) Pearl should’ve just ignored the noise from the forest. She had so much to do! Her precious doggies were well-fed for now, thanks to the meat rotting in Ren and BigB’s abandoned home, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still time for hunting!

Number 5: Set You Sailing From My Harbor (Double Life) Grian went to Scar in the first quiet moment he could find that first day, the first moment he was sure that the implacable attention of their audience was turned elsewhere.

Number 6: Put Out All Your Strength of Arm and Heart and Brain (Double Life) Pearl woke to the sound of Tilly barking. That was odd in itself, since Tilly rarely barked, but what could be bothering her inside their own base?

Number 7: I Hope You Blink Before I Do (Double Life) Pearl told herself that being alone wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t as though she needed a partner for a simple survival world anyway. She’d done this dance a thousand times on her own.

Number 8: Brick By Brick and Heart By Heart (Hermitcraft, Third Life) The swamp was peaceful at night, Grian thought. Maybe not all swamps but this one certainly was, just a little wedge of nature left tucked between Larry the Snail and the magical village.

Number 9: Isolated Cases (The West Wing) “Does my face look flushed to you?” Josh demanded.  “Well, you’ve been yelling for the past ten minutes, so...” Donna pointed out.  Josh frowned, leaning closer to his laptop. “No, I’m being serious. Do I look flushed to you? I feel hot.” 

Number 10: Cause Problems on Purpose (The Good Place, Untitled Goose Game) It was another perfect day in the Good Place, seventy degrees and sunny, no clouds, no bugs, and no pollution. Around a thousand years ago Janet had changed the neighborhood algorithm to allow for occasional rainy days and a month here and there of perfect summer, autumn or winter, but for the most part the Good Place was a world of beautiful late spring weather.

There's a real big jump in time there between numbers 8 and 9, because I basically didn't write at all after the start of the pandemic (except that one particular fic) until spring of 2022 when the writing bug bit again. Number 1 is a WIP that has been lingering for months now since my mom had her stroke and life got real weird again for awhile, but I'm planning on finishing it up very soon. There is more writing to be done!

Let's see, I'm gonna tag @smallblueandloud and @tanoraqui and @stars-inthe-sky and anybody else who wants to take a little walk down Fic Memory lane. It's fun!

[splathousefiction]

SH Cosmology: The Council

Oh shit, I did say I’d write another of these didn’t I? Hey, to be fair, I said it would be when I got around to it. Which is now apparently as insomnia strikes me again tonight. 

Welcome back to Splathouse Cosmology, where I attempt (again, infrequently!) to explain some of the ongoing lore surrounding this rather lengthy narrative in a more digestible form. If you missed our last entry, you can catch it in the collection here. 

This time, I thought it was pertinent to both explain The Council (RIP) and explain why they’ve been disbanded and (in some cases literally) buried. Let’s go. 

In The Void, The Lady Was Lonely…

During Heavenfall, the acts are broken up by Gospels spoken by none other than Micheal the archangel of War himself. The purpose for this was twofold: One, to flesh out Micheal and his motivations for doing things a lot more. But also to give weight and merit to an idea that had felt toothless for a while. The Council of Wizards was a longstanding idea I’d had, and had attempted to implement the year before when Baphomet approached Jack in “Jack’s Birthday Burning”. But why have a council at all? Why should I-someone who has vocally spoken about being an anarchist-institute any form of government, tribunal or authoritarian body in my fiction? 

Let’s start with the hard, real, world-of-meat reality reasons: 

I needed and wanted the world to be bigger than just the office. Introducing Jenazebelle into the lore helped, but the boys more or less hadn’t left the office unless it was for comedic purposes (Notably, Jack gets tossed through a window at an unnamed bar and drunkenly yells at the owner). There’s constant mentions of things beyond the office-going out for beer, getting pizza-but the boys never leave. I wanted to give them a legitimate reason-and that meant expanding my scope for the narrative beyond this dilapidated farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. It meant helping Jack realize he wasn’t the only one gifted in the craft.

There’s entire years of Splathouse Audio where it’s two guys in a room with a recording booth, just taking requests from the audience and haphazardly slapping something together. It’s fun, it’s goofy, vibrant and silly. A few of those audios still have my absolute best, queerest lines in them. But as the scope of SH itself grew for me, so too did what I wanted for the boys. If the council accomplished absolutely nothing else as a narrative device except freeing them from that room, then I can say with full faith I’m glad I did it and I have no regrets.

Likewise in a very western american-brain rot way, it was the next logical step in “what does the spinning gears of this world look like”. Growing up in the rural south, we had the phrase “god and country” drilled into us every single day of our lives. At school, at boy scouts (Surprise! I was a great boy scout!), at church and more. But always in that cadence. God first, country second, and boy howdy you better not question either of them. If The Lady was first, the world she made would need people in charge of it second.

In no way, shape, or form does being appointed, favored, gifted or otherwise noticed by the lady mean you’re a good person however. Just like in real life, people can be appointed to positions and absolutely, whole heartedly not be qualified. Greed, generalized corruption and more can warp the best of hearts and souls like a vice. It’s a tale older than anyone reading this, and with these concepts in mind I set forth to create a foundational government for the SH cosmology-that of the angelic, the legion of beasts, the church, and the grand performer.

(Less Than) Intelligent Design

It was incredibly important to me that “The Council” not be some sort of monolithic, obfuscated thing. Not a singular identity, but independent heads convening as a whole with conflicting ideals, wants and desires. Simply put, a government at war with itself is way more interesting to read/write/perform about than a dictatorship. “We kill everyone who opposes us” is a child’s supervillain ideation (in fiction. In real life, I can personally confirm it’s horrifically terrifying). 

Plus, it gave an opportunity for some of the biggest power-players in the narrative to change. Characters would have the opportunity to be elected to a seat, usurp it through violence and more. This dynamic, though it hasn’t changed a whole lot, means there’s risk associated with everything in SH from the top down. If a voice speaks to you in the dark, are you sure it isn’t some kind of trick or boon from a council member?

I chose four different seats based on the four cardinal directions:

 “Up/North” was the domain of ‘Heaven’, and the Angelic-a horrifying, multi-eyed birdlike(?) people with a propensity for righteousness, purifying burning light and strength. Their numbers are very limited, and rumor has it just seeing one can make you go mad. Most angels have a domain or calling they occupy, such as “the Angel of War”, “the Angel of Mercy” and “the Angel of the DMV Line”. As of this writing, very few mortal souls have ascended to heaven, and even fewer became angels. In the entire history of Splathouse, only one canonical angel has appeared-Lord Micheal, Angel of War, with their wings a whirling storm of bullets, blades and gunsmoke. The gates to this realm are currently closed, and nobody knows why…

 “Down/South '' was the domain of Hell, and populated by the Nephilim, a multicultural group of cloven hoofed, horned people who asexually reproduced by plunging the souls of mortals taken there into their massive brood pits. There’s 666 different lineages of demons in hell, with the most well known for our audience being the Infernalus, marked by their red or blue hair, shaggy legs, sapphire skin and kind demeanors. Given the circumstances of “rebirth” in hell, a large number of mortals find their way here to begin another life when they die. In particular, the Infernalus are well known for aiding the trans community.  Currently, Hell is being led by Lord Asmodeus Infernalus, heir apparent to the Legion of Beasts and assumed patriarch of the Infernalus clan.

“West/Left '' was The Church, a theocratic organization devoted to study of The Lady and her teachings. As a mortal-ran group, this unfortunately means getting quite a lot lost in translation from Her original intent. While several multiverses feature The Church as an altruistic and morally “good” organization, this isn’t a universal constant. In our universe in particular, this culminated into The Church Of The Infinite Grin, a collective and maddening hivemind that inspires its members with euphoric mania that often leads to violence. The Lady’s teachings of love and boundless empathy was something TCOTIG thought should be spread at the end of a knife and with fear. After all, the entire world needed to learn to smile. 

The Church was formally run by Primarch, an insane octogenarian with the powers of precognition, divination and a propensity for slipping mind-controlling slugs in the ears of anyone that would listen. Hilariously, the one thing he didn’t see coming was Jack slipping The Vorpal Blade right through his heart. Given the by-laws of TCOTIG (“Whoever kills the leader becomes the leader”), the current head of the Church is…well, Jack. Jack however thought that would be super lame, and has encouraged its members to “go out into the real world, get to know people, be nice to each other”. The last known gathering of members was for Jack’s carnival in Heavenfall. They haven’t been heard from since, and are considered disbanded in our reality. 

And at last, we have “The Sorceress” or “The Grand Performer” to the “east/right”. This seat fills a dual role depending on the needs of a particular universe. Sometimes the world needs magic in a metaphysical/spiritual sense, or needs that magic to be a spectacle. In either case? The sorceress/TGP tends to be the voice of the common denizens of earth, and often is some sort of folk hero. Sometimes, in the case of twins or loving long term partners, the seat is offered to both parties.

This is also the only council seat to require a unanimous vote from all other active chairs before it’s offered to a potential suitor. That suitor can reject it of course, but usually accepts. While absolutely any talented magician has the potential to take the seat, it’s not uncommon for certain high magic families to be carefully considered or be kept under watch by the council for a suitable candidate. 

With regards to our story, The LaCroix family was one such group. Merle LaCroix, Jack’s father and mentor, had a propensity for magic he kept hidden until they met each other again in Limbo briefly. While it was strong enough to wield the Vorpal Blade, it wasn’t enough to fill the seat. That wouldn’t occur until Jack himself displayed his talent at the age of twelve for bending reality. The Council (Then led by Primarch and Baphomet as the only active seats) decided to keep a close eye on the boy, with Baphomet later offering Jack the seat in person. Jack refused-at first, then later took the seat when pressed. 

As the current chair member, Jack has eschewed all responsibilities to his seat and had the audacity to get into a fight with another chair member. Can you believe he sent them both hurtling through the void? Gods, what an idiot! 

However,

He wasn’t the first person to take that seat in our story.

Crowmother, Daughter of Odin, And Other Names…

Yaga is perhaps the most intriguing villain in SH lore, and also was a former council member. Her shift from that to her other names and titles was the result of a chaotic life and creative process. 

Before there was a council, before I dared to bring The Lady into my fiction, there was Yaga. Inspired by the myth of Baba Yaga and classical crones, Yaga lived within a dense forest in a chicken-footed hut. She would lure people there with her incredible beauty-then pin them down with her prehensile hair and rip out their hearts. Which she would eat. Because hey, metaphors about obsessive lovers or something. 

Yaga’s original lore served a solitary purpose: To give Jack an adversary, and perhaps one that the audience would lust after. I know how much you all enjoy powerful women. Then the audio work took off, and Yaga took a back seat in my brain for a long time. As the boys finally left that recording room, Yaga came hurtling back to the forefront of my head. She was my first Big Bad Evil Villain after all, and hey! I could do fem voices now! Why not bring her back, right? 

However, just having some evil witch show up, targeting Jack felt kinda silly and lame. I was also afraid at the time that without a solid motive and reason for what she did, Yaga would appear to be a sexist portrayal of a trope. The Big, Evil Woman is coming to take our (male) hero down, oh no!  I sat back, and really turned over what I wanted Yaga to be and represent before bringing her back. 

As The Council had just been introduced, I decided to seize the opportunity by making her formerly a part of it. Doing so would give the Council legitimacy in-universe while also giving Yaga herself something she lacked from the onset-a verifiable, real reason to be angry, to be evil. There were elements of her character I wanted to keep-her affinity for crows, the fact she ripped out and ate hearts. But why did she do these things, and more importantly-to whom?

The lore (and current canon) I came up with was this: 

Yaga was formerly known as The Sorceress, answering to the title only. A nature witch, she was revered by people all over the world for feeding them and ensuring their crops were bountiful. Electing her to the council was a natural choice carried out at the direct wish of The Lady. Soon after joining the Council, Yaga would befriend one of the original Grand Performers-a fellow who wore a smiling mask, an enormous top hat and a long tailed black coat. She didn’t know his name, his true one. But neither did he. 

That didn’t stop them from falling in love. Not even a little bit. In time, the names didn’t matter as much as their work, their deeds-and their boundless, endless love for each other. The Lady approved their union, and soon the two were never seen without the other. The Performer would always ensure The Sorceress had a grand entrance (sure to trounce even his own), and Yaga would always surround her husband's lapels in vibrant wildflowers. She brought color to his life, and he joy to hers. 

What a shame the smiles they bore were wholly their own. This angered Primarch, who couldn’t fathom a world where joy sprang from WITHIN ourselves instead of his holy seat. As Baphomet was distracted with some silly thing the humans called The Crusades, Primarch decided to seize an opportunity to send a message to The Sorceress. He crept towards her home while she was away, slew her husband and burned her house and field of flowers. Upon her return, Yaga saw the face of her husband carved into a hideous grin. She held him, even as the fires raged and the world they built together burned.

It’s said that the wildfire chucked enough ash into the sky to paint the entire world over in a dark, gray pallor. Gone was the birdsong, the bountiful harvests, and the verdant green. In their place came the carrion eaters, the scavengers-the swarming, endless murders of Crows. It was a puzzlement to people who had formally dwelt in such a beautiful, colorful place-even more so to Primarch himself. He knew there would be fallout-but nothing quite like this…

How could any of them know, though? How could a single one of them know that their beloved Sorceress learned her craft in another world, under a different name and guise entirely? How could they even begin to guess that the being who now held such a seat of power was none other than a child of a death god?

Long before she held the title that replaced her name, Yaga had another-Crowmother, daughter of Odin, successor to the throne of Asgard in the event her father ever truly, actually died. A title she seized once more as she vowed to rend the hearts of all that opposed her, just as she herself had experienced. 

Her vengeance engulfed entire worlds and rendered them to ash. In her rage though, she began to notice odd synchronicities-there was always a council, always those same seats. What’s more, someone that always reminded her of the crooked smile of her beloved.

But they never were him. Just a pale imitation, a ghost that was repulsed utterly by her. Their hats weren’t right, their masks horrific instead of joyful. That is, until she came to our particular section of reality.

The rest is pretty well known to most of you now-instead of fighting her, Jack heard Yaga out. He sought vengeance on her behalf towards Primarch, upending the council and angering Baphomet. Yaga was utterly befuddled by this, as it was the first time anyone tried for her since her husband. Yaga would return to Asgard, not to be seen or heard from again until The Jarl And The Thief.

So why do I mention any of this? It’s important, I swear. Yeah, I know this entry is getting long, but I promise we’re almost done…

Titles matter. They always have been, ever since the first upload. They can indicate everything from moral alignment to a profession to a talent-and it’s common for beings with titles to hold council seats. Jack himself held the title of “the Warlock” long before he became a council member in any way (or, what’s more, a vessel for a god in the sense we traditionally think about warlocks from DnD and such). Odin’s introduction was via his names (“the spear shaker”, etc) before he ever mentioned his name. If a character gets a title, however informal, it carries weight, significance and magic of its own. The logical reason for this is simple-it’s easier for an audience to remember a character if a nickname reflects what they do in the narrative. The creative and canon choice for this is that titles inspire a sense of belief in a being, an association and connotation with their abilities that wasn’t there before. 

If anyone gets a title in an audio or narrative, pay attention. It’s going to matter later, even if it seems insignificant. Beedleboop, the grand master of the breeding pits in hell and Asmodeus uncle, is the entire reason the Infernalus bloodline experienced a revival at all. Asmodeus asked him because nobody else had the kind of mastery necessary to aid so many souls. 

When Yaga was The Sorceress, she was a champion of people like me and you. When she was Crowmother, she was the scourge of all, a sure sign death was near. And now…

Well.

I suppose we’ll see just what she goes by now at some point, won’t we?

Empty Seats, And Filling Them

So!

The Council, which originally played a pretty big part in our story, is mostly non-existent now. Baphomet was revealed to be Micheal in hiding, and his whereabouts are unknown. Primarch is dead. Yaga is currently chilling in a hut in Asgard. Jack just got home, and oh god, there’s this alternative being popping up.

Where does that leave our council? 

Wholly empty, their seats gathering dust. 

As the creator, I can’t firmly say the Council won’t reform at some point. Perhaps with way, way better people. Nicer folks at least. From a narrative standpoint, I would like reintroducing such a thing would be a negative sign-something has gone horribly wrong, and these powerful, conflicting bodies decided to unite to stop it. Heavenfall already showed such a thing wasn’t necessary. Given that Jack has started a new magical awakening in our universe though, it’s hard to say if a few people with “bright ideas” won’t emerge to claim those titles once more…

And that’s all you’re getting for now ;)

Have a good one folks. 

Next time, we’ll probably either talk about the concept of multiverses in our cosmology, or a random neat thing like The Vorpal blade. I’d also like to talk about how and why the SCP organization has shown up in my fiction at all. But! We’ll go where the spirit leads us, meaning hey leave a comment down below. 

-j

[books]

Writer Spotlight: Adam J. Kurtz

Happy New Release Tuesday, Booklr. We've got a very special treat for you today. To celebrate the launch of YOU ARE HERE (FOR NOW), we asked writer, artist, and designer Adam J. Kurtz (@Adam JK) about his process, the new book, and what to do when change comes for you. Adam's illustrative work is rooted in honesty, humor, and a little darkness. His books have been translated into over a dozen languages. His offbeat creative work has been featured in NYLON, Adweek, Vice, and The New Yorker.

Read on for Adam's answers and a very special giveaway treat at the end ;)

~

Can you tell us a little bit about YOU ARE HERE (FOR NOW)?

YOU ARE HERE (FOR NOW) is a collection of art and essays around themes of change and personal transformation—basically, the way we navigate change and intentionally grow, either because life threw some shit our way and we have to adapt, or because we realize we want something more, or something different.

My goal was to make a book that feels like staying up late talking to a friend about life and purpose and wanting so much more, and your fear of fucking up, and why everything is so hard sometimes, and umm, is it normal if I slightly want to die sometimes and wondering what comes next.

But you know, it’s chill. I’m not an expert, I’m not a therapist, I’m trying to work it all out too, and I do that through my art. I needed to change some things, so I made my life into an ‘art project’ so I would be forced to actually do it. And surprise, it helps.

YAHFN combines essayistic musings with visual artwork. Can you tell us about your work process? How do text and image speak to each other across the pages?

I’m kind of most known for my shorter writing style and aphorisms. I boil down bigger emotions into a bite-size catchphrase, then print it on balloons, planners, and keychains as weirdly personal but highly accessible art. This book combines a lot of the shorter writing, the handwritten reminders, with longer, themed essays wherever I realized I had more to say this time. The book’s art is composed of a series of folding sequences photographed step-by-step. A sheet of paper transforms into a ribbon, or a star, or confetti. I wanted to represent the way we all start out as a blank slate and are bent, rolled, and torn by reality—until we eventually emerge transformed but no less whole.

What’s something that’s good to remember about being a human person when overwhelming change happens?

Comparison isn’t helpful, BUT I like remembering that everybody has experienced difficult, scary, complicated shit. Even me, before this. And if I was able to find my way through then, I can do it again. Life is hard, and yet so many of us are HERE and DOING IT and PRETTY okay, and that can and will be the case for you, too.

When it comes to mental health, the number one thing to remember is that just because it feels real doesn’t mean it is objectively real. If there’s a way to safely step outside of yourself, it can help. Get another opinion! Talk to someone else you can trust. And no offense, but science is real. Like, brain chemistry is a thing, and you can’t just ‘toughen up’ until mental illness goes away. So ask for what you need.

Who do you write for? Do you imagine speaking to a specific person/type of person/audience while writing?

Honestly, I kind of write for myself and then try to open it up to others. I’m not sitting down to write in the voice of whoever I want to connect with (I’m literally not smart enough). I just write the way I speak, and it’s just sort of honest and full of dad jokes and a little nerdy, and I hope that’s okay because too late, I’m already this person.

Over the years, through my other books, social media, and public speaking, I’ve heard from enough people who DO get me that it is helpful to hear something so close to their inner monologue communicate the same things they’re thinking or worrying or obsessing about. I’ve come to embrace that my power is in being comfortable opening up, putting something in simple words, pairing it with graspable visual metaphor (it’s paper and pencil, we get it!!), and sharing it.

How do you practice self-care when juggling the different creative processes of writing and making visual art, as well as being a person?

I just don’t!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I mean, jk, but like, sometimes I am a real asshole to myself; I drink three coffees, and then I’m like, “wait, why is this happening to me,” as if I don’t exist in a physical body. It really comes down to balance in everything. Balance doesn’t mean I’m going to be exactly 50/50 on the scale. It just means that if I tip too far one way, I need to work to tip back. Most of the time, I’m too far in either direction, so there’s a lot of swinging.

The answers are easy: Drink water, get enough sleep, go for walks, wear clothing that is comfortable, sit up straight. It’s the questions that are more complicated. We’ll talk about it in the book.

What’s your favorite place to write? Why?

It seems like the answer is “anywhere that isn’t my desk,” based on where I wrote this book. I wrote the first draft of seven chapters on a 12-hour train ride from Oakland to Los Angeles while pretending to be a famous author who can afford to live off their books (lmao).

Later, I got a major reality check when we moved in with my husband’s parents. I wrote a lot of the book on their patio, and I did all the artwork from my sister-in-law’s childhood bedroom at a child-size desk I had to sit sideways at to fit. I did all the photography in a pop-up photo tent on the bed.

I guess my point is that you don’t need fancy shit to make your art, which is something I am always saying but really experienced in a super immediate way for this book.

There’s something incredibly touching and nourishing about YAHFN. What do you hope readers come away with?

It gets better because you get better. And if you’re not better yet, imagine your better self, then work backward to create actionable steps to get there. At least that’s what I’ve heard. In the meantime, here’s the book version of me sitting on your couch, drinking tea and talking about life and the universe and everything until we realize we haven’t checked our phones in a while and how the fuck is it 2 a.m. already?

What are you reading/writing about/making right now?

Beyond the book, YOU ARE HERE (FOR NOW) is me creating a big obvious reminder for myself to keep going. So I’m pushing it in a few directions. I’m currently wrapping up a podcast series of the same name and preparing larger-scale artwork for a YAHFN art show in Honolulu that opens in November. It took so much work to get here, to this moment, now I want to stay for a little bit and see what happens.

Thanks for taking the time, Adam! YOU ARE HERE (FOR NOW) is out today! If you'd like your very own copy, either head to your nearest book store or reblog this interview and tell us about a time you overcame a challenge—however big or small! Adam will select 10 winning responses from US-based participants. Each winner will receive a copy of YOU ARE HERE (FOR NOW).*

*Open to US residents only. You must also be at least 18 and the age of majority in your jurisdiction. The giveaway will begin at 10 a.m. EST on October 19, 2021, and will close at 10 a.m. EST on October 20, 2021. Our editorial team will reach out to winners via email to facilitate sending out copies. One entry per blog. No purchase necessary. Void where prohibited by law. Sponsor: Tumblr Inc.

[wroteclassicaly]

Sending you a request from the hate prompts because they were just too good.

Eddie x reader with the prompt "take your time, darling. hell's happy to wait for you."

Love your writing by the way 💕

First off, thank you so much for sending something, because it’s cheered me up immensely! ^_^ Second, thank you for the compliment! Much ♥️

I’m not sure what this is, but it’s the scenario that wouldn’t leave my brain alone, lol. Does it make sense? I hope so! Hope you enjoy, anon? And everyone else, as well?! <3

Prompt is from here

Feel free to clutter my inbox, y’all! ;)

~*~

You watch him, eyes hazy with the anticipation of further observation. He is taller than you’d anticipated on the up close front, his long hair even more curly from the summer weather, one ankle crossed over the other, that bandana dangling from his back pocket, his silver chain resting against his thigh. He’s muttering to himself as he always does, laughing at his one man audience, fingers flipping through another set of cassette tapes you’d recently attempted to organize. A slight irritation brims you, causing you to outwardly sigh, moving from around the counter, stopping short. What exactly do you plan on doing that you haven’t already done before?

“You know that you can just come over here and approach me like an actual human being, Y/N.” He snarks, admiring your startle with a wide smirk, but still not sparing a glance your way. “Also, I’m not effecting your precious organizational skills here, I swear on my shriveled, dark heart.”

“Eddie, what the fuck…” It’s not the best comeback, doesn’t even make much sense, really, but it is all you’ve got, feet finally working to carry you to where he stands by the bins.

“What are we what-the-fucking, Y/N?” His fingers have a tape pinched between, those damned doe eyes finally meeting yours, cheesy little pursed smile pressing his defined features.

It would help if he wasn’t so otherworldly looking…

Hands planted on your hips, you force an eye roll. “You and this shit.” You yank a tape from his hand, noting, without surprise, that it’s Black Sabbath. “You’re forever coming in here and talking to yourself and fucking up my work. Besides, don’t you already have this one?”

He’s still grinning with those pearly whites, so hard that you fantasize about kicking him in the shin. Why is he so cocky sometimes?

“Not for me, it’s for a friend.” Uncrossing his ankle from the other, he steps closer, not invading your bubble, but enough that you can smell him. Weed, leather, rainwater, Marlboros, and some thick spice—Eddie Munson. He snatches the plastic casing back, gripping it in his palm, rings clattering noisily across it, lips parting to speak. “You remember my buyer’s history? I’m impressed.”

Is he chastising you? Nah, Eddie isn’t the crudely cruel kind. He may get under your skin (in more ways than one, if you’re being honest), but he isn’t nasty to you. Not really. You’re zoned out a bit too long, and he’s done walked away from you when you’re back in focus.

You turn around, arms crossed beneath your breasts, name tag scraping your skin, following him. “I’m supposed to know my customers, Munson. That’s what a good employee does.”

“Or an ass-kisser.” He sing-songs, still walking even further ahead of you.

“Mister-gets-his-dick-hard from anything Metallica related is really going to mock me for knowing what he likes?”

You wondered if his eyes could get any darker. Seeing those chocolate irises vanish into a cavern of black-blown pupils—you now have your answer. You’d gotten a rise from him. Good.

He strides until he’s towering over you, arms outstretching on either side of you, knuckles pressing into a metal rack. He licks his lips, voice considerably low for your ears and yours alone. “Oh, honey, you think you know what I like?”

Your jaw nearly drops. You snort, pushing him backwards. “Go to hell, Eddie. You know what I meant.”

“Only if you promise you’ll join me. S’ not a party without you, Y/N.”

You choose to ignore him, taking heavy steps back to the front counter, busying yourself with organizing bags. Eddie’s footfalls are easy to familiarize, his presence so damned infuriatingly daunting, that he doesn’t have to say anything—a gravitational pull pivoting you into his awaiting stare. His hair is frazzled, elbows propped onto the counter, cheeks resting on his palms.

“Jesus Christ, what?!” You snap, tossing the bags in exasperation.

He says nothing, briskly nodding to the tape he’s placed in front of you. You sigh, clicking your tongue, letting it slick against your teeth as you ring him up. When you’re handing him his change, he lets his fingers linger—waiting, nervously glancing for your reaction. You don’t pull away, curling your fingers into a fist after you drop the coins into his palm. He wraps his digits over yours, his rings pressing into your knuckles, a warm smile pattering his mouth.

His very delicious mouth…

“You need a ride after work? Supposed to rain the rest of the day.” He speaks in a sudden softness.

Flabbergasted, you’re unsure how to answer for a moment. Eddie shifts in, keeping your hand in his, awaiting your response, his voice honey-hot when he says, “Take your time, darling, hell’s happy to wait for you.”

[sortasirius]

What the Fuck Happened to the SPN Finale?

Okay so here it is, my Charlie Kelly style manifesto.

Before I get into it, I recognize that I will look like this to many of you, and that’s okay, I understand:

Secondly, your personal Takes about the writers don’t interest me, I don’t need to hear them. This, as I’ll explain, is going to remain a writer positive blog, and that’s the end of it.

Third, and most importantly: some of what I’m going to talk about is fact, and some is highly educated speculation. I will notate what is speculation, just so there’s no confusion or hot takes in my inbox that I’m a conspiracy theorist or stirring shit up for no reason.

A list of what I’ll be discussing

The episode in regards to the rest of the season

The episode issues: length, editing

Scene placement and speculation of scenes cut

The scrubbing of Jack, Cas, Eileen

Network involvement and general timeline of when things were cut

Misha: theories on where he was, official company line, why we can’t expect to hear anything directly

The silence of the cast post episode (in Misha’s case, mid episode) and what this might mean

Jensen speaking with Kripke about the ending: why it doesn’t mean what you might think (also why kripke remained positive on the ending)

Walker, and why this episode had a major shift

Why the network would do this or get involved

Why the writers of the show simply aren’t the bad guys here, and what I “want” out of this post, since I know it’ll get asked

This is very long and under a cut, but I hope you’ll give it a read.

The Episode In Regards to the Rest of the Season

So, I’ve discussed this already here, but it’s the most obvious thing to me, and that’s the way this episode simply doesn’t fit with the rest of the season.

These people in this room have, truly, been nothing but consistent when it comes to their arcs, especially this season, and the marked dropoff in quality for the finale episode is just too sus to discount to me.  Dabb’s whole focus has been character-based.  In his seasons, we’ve moved far away from MOTW and bro-codependency, the found family taking it’s place.  Does it really sit right to anyone that that was all thrown away in literally the last episode of the entire show?

This is speculation on my part, but as a writer myself, there is no way I would be happy or willing to stamp my name on something that I didn’t think would, at the very least, wrap up the season+ character arcs that I and my team had been crafting.

And before anyone comes in here saying, “well GOT did that!”  Bruh.  The writing was on the wall for GOT long before the final episode.  You could tell that the showrunners just wanted to be done (not only from the plot, but from the fact that they lobbied for a shorter season).  Miss me with that, it doesn’t apply here.  Andrew has, besides Singer and J2, been with the show longer than anyone.  He cares, he is meticulous and detailed, and this ending feels worse than anything Bucklemming has ever written, let alone Dabb.

Additionally, I’ve seen a lot of people say that Dabb was never behind Destiel, that it was all Bobo and Meredith and no one else.  That is reductive to the point of insult of the work Dabb has done to get this greenlit.  This man did not write the s13 Dean grief arc to be slandered like this.  That being said, YES, Bobo and Meredith were the leads on the DeanCas arc this season, but ANDREW IS THE SHOWRUNNER, TO GET EVEN THE CONFESSION APPROVED BY THE NETWORK HE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE THEIR BACKS.  AND HE DID.

Finale Issues

So, now that we’ve gotten the fact that this episode doesn’t hit on any of the major themes the show was barrelling towards all season, let’s discuss the fact that the episode is just...weird.

Not only is it shorter than any other episode (I think with the intro and the credits/crew thing at the end, it was around 38 mins), but it was also...idk, 90% filler?

One of the lovely humans in the POLOL server did the legwork here, and broke it down:

This is weird, y’all.  Most series finales are LONGER than normal (Lost, SOA, Longmire are the ones I can think of off the top of my head), and for the final episode to be this?  I saw more than one person point out that we only really needed 19 episodes, what was the point of 20?  AND THAT’S EXACTLY IT?  WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS FINAL EPISODE IF THIS WAS ALL WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET?

It simply doesn’t make any sense, the first half of the episode was rushed, a final monster hunt gone wrong, but in the second half?  Nothing really happened?  Sam lived his entire life and Dean just drove around.  It doesn’t make sense to have all the emotional arcs left unaddressed in an episode that definitely needed some kind of spark.

Here’s the speculation I have: the episode seemingly went through a lot of changes between the initial inception of the final season and when we actually got it, but I think it would have been passable (as in, we wouldn’t be sitting here asking each other why each arc feels incomplete) until the editing room got ahold of it.  The only think that makes this episode make sense is network fuckery.  Truly, that is the only thing.  It explains the weird, cuts, the rushed pacing of the first half followed by nothing in the second half, the double montages of “Wayward Son” back to back, and Dean just...driving around for the last half of the episode.

Scene Placement and Speculation of Scenes Cut

Before I get into this section, the info of the shots in the episode I have come from a source that @occamshipper​ got a week or so before the finale.  She’s talked about this here.

So here’s what Min was given:

1-5: 1 INT MEN OF LETTERS – DEAN’S ROOM Dean is greeted by Miracle

6-10: 6 INT MEN OF LETTERS – HALLWAY/SAM’S ROOM Sam has his routine

D1 1 11-15: 15 EXT FARM HOUSE Establishing

N1 1/8 16-20: 19 Dad’s journal, marker, drawing of masked man in journal.

21-25: 23 INT IMPALA – PMP Driver picks the music

N2 1 3/8 1,2 26-30: 28pt2 INT BARN: A face from the past

28pt3 Sam and Dean say goodbye

28pt4 Shot early for technical reasons, presumably the overhead shot

N2 31-45: 41 INT MEN OF LETTERS – SAM’S ROOM Sam’s alarm goes off D4 1/8 1 46-60: 56 INT N7glasses for Sam, laptop.

So...it all fits right?  It all tracks with the actual episode, where it lands, etc.  The issue is between shots 29-40 which were apparently “too big to spoil.”  Uh.  Where are they?  And where’s 28 pt4?

After Dean dies, the next scene is Sam burning him, then shot 31, the shot of his alarm going off.

So.  Where are those 11ish shots?

PLUS we have the boards, which are scenes we KNOW were actually shot:

As well as scenes for 20 that were shot in 19.

It’s just...weird, it’s weird and again hits on the fact that the episode is so short and like 80% montage.

The Scrubbing of Jack, Cas, and Eileen

So now we have to reckon with the fact that Eileen was last mentioned by Sam after she got snapped by Chuck, Jack’s last mention is that he’s off being God somewhere, and Cas’ last mention is a ~knowing look~ between Dean and Bobby.

I’m sorry, make it make sense:

????????  That’s the end if it?  They don’t need to be discussed after this???  It’s just simply not something a writer would do, they would not introduce these characters, these arcs, without thinking there’s going to be some kind of follow through here.

So not only were three major characters (including two leads and both of the original characters’ love interests) completely wiped from the finale episode, it was as though Sam and Dean never even needed them, which just...ain’t it.

So why Eileen and Jack too?  Why not just take Cas out of it if they were afraid of the gay?  Because, ultimately, the episode went back to Kripke’s original story: just the bros, they only need each other and no one else.  They don’t want anyone else, they don’t need anyone else.  Easier to go back to something they knew was successful than trust the writers and their audience and take a big leap.

Alex even said he shot for 20 with “some of the guys” here.  What happened to that footage?

The complete 180 of it all still shocks me, I still cannot believe that we were essentially at the finish line, and the network just stopped short, and decided to go run another race, at the expense of the arc of this fifteen year legacy show.

Network Involvement and When Things Were Cut

Okay, now into the juicy stuff.

So I’ve pretty well established that network fuckery is clear, but how much did they get involved, what was the original intent?

Well again, we may never actually know what Andrew’s original script was, but I think, at the least, it would involve Dean speaking his truth to Cas and Sam living a life with Eileen.

Now, it seems today, that Misha said that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale in one iteration of the script, and while initially my brain was like “that truly makes no sense and he’s either straight up lying or telling a half truth,” I think what may be happening is Misha talking about as much as he can right now.

So Jimmy right.  Weird as fuck.  Why would he been in the Roadhouse and not Cas?  My current thought (this is about as reachy as I’ll get) is that Jimmy had no lines, could he have been in the Roadhouse as a red herring, like it said “Jimmy” in the script but it was just Cas in human clothes, a way to get around the network saying Cas couldn’t be in the final scene.  Also, you’ll notice that Misha didn’t say that Cas wasn’t supposed to be in the ep at all, just Jimmy in the last scene.

All this to say, there have clearly been multiple versions of the script, getting lighter and lighter with Cas and Eileen as the network pulled further and further back.  Remember, Dabb has to get things approved before they get shot, and if the network kept asking and asking and asking to cut Cas and Eileen, he had to find a way to work around it.  Granted, I still think that if we had been able to get a Dabb script that wasn’t torn to shreds in editing, it wouldn’t be so bad.  It may not be what a lot of us wanted (Dean speaking his truth to Cas and a reciprocation), but doing everything he could to give it to us in subtext or visual clues.

Plus, in all honesty, my man can’t keep his story straight anyway.  He said twice in his panel that the Empty and offscreen Heaven ending weren’t his original ending either.

In addition, remember that Jensen did ADR post episode 18, AND said in a meet and greet last weekend that Dean’s reaction to Cas’ confession was “cut down.” (Source here).  Many of us clowns got excited when we first heard about ADR, because we thought it would be upping the ante on Dean’s reaction, but I remember being a little sus when it was just crying.  My speculation on that is that they cut out Dean actually SAYING something, @winchestersingerautorepair​ spoke about that here.

The biggest sins were, in my opinion, committed during editing, where the network got too gun shy and sliced the episode until it was nothing but a heartless bro-fest of a finale, not mentioning anything about the other major characters that we all love, and letting the boys just suffer in separation until Sam died and finally joined Dean in Heaven.  The editing came by cutting all the major emotional beats between anyone other than Dean and Sam, leaving the skeleton of the story intact, just shorter and less...poignant than it was ever supposed to be.

Misha

We know Misha was in Vancouver, we know he quarantined, but we also know he wasn’t in the final scene, when he spoke about being in the last moment of the show months ago.  We were not crazy, he was there, he quarantined, and, in all likelihood (speculation but fitting with the timeline), he actually may have shot something (not much, but something).

I have sources here, here, here, and here showing where Misha was at that time.

Remember, the man was completely open about coming back until they finished shooting (look at this thread).  The switch happened, just like everything else, halfway through them shooting.

Please also remember Jake Abel posting his “Where’s Misha” video here.  Jake isn’t malicious, he isn’t being nasty here.  Misha was there, and everyone that’s trying to convince people he’s wasn’t just...isn’t telling the truth about it.

This is one of the things that makes me really mad, because they’re literally attempting to gaslight people into thinking, “oh we were totally wrong he was never supposed to be there” WHEN HE WAS THERE, WE KNOW HE WAS THERE.

So we’ve already heard from several people (Meghan Fitzmartin, Jay, a PA on the set of 19 (WHO WAS NOT WORKING FOR 20), Misha himself) that this was all down to Covid restrictions.  Ultimately, as this post says, we’ve heard FIVE versions of where Misha was.  None of it makes sense, but the Covid protocol seems to be the company line that others are repeating.

You may ask: why?  Why lie to all of us when we have questions?  Why, in Jay’s case, say that we’re all spreading false lies to stir up trouble, when we just have questions and things that do not make sense.  Simply?  Warner Brothers is absolutely massive.  These people have their careers to protect and are likely all under NDAs.  They want to work for WB again and don’t want to burn bridges, including Misha.  It sucks, but that’s why it’s unlikely that we’ll hear someone come out and say, “yeah we’re lying to you.”

Silence of the Cast Post Episode

So this is...probably the worst part of all this, at least in my opinion.

The guys had all been pretty excited about the end of the show (especially Jared, but Jensen’s panel last week was Jensen as happy and jokey and positive as I’ve ever seen him.  He was so excited about episode 18, about what it meant for Dean and for Cas, and I just cannot buy that he would have been that excited unless he thought there was something more in the episode.

Misha live-tweeted the episode, and was watching it with his kids.  It’s well known that Misha and the kids don’t watch the show because it’s too scary, and let’s ask ourselves, why would he have them watch an episode that he’s barely even mentioned in?

He also stopped live-tweeting at a very specific point in the episode (Dean’s death) and has not mentioned Supernatural since then. 

None of them, not Jared, Jensen, Misha, or even Alex, said anything about the episode for nearly 36 hours, when Jensen posted a salty photo on instagram.  It’s just...not what you’d expect for the end of a 15 year show, when the cast and crew are so close to the fans, so close to each other. 

My theory?  They didn’t know.  They thought Misha was, at least, going to be in the episode in some way, and when he wasn’t, they decided not to say anything.

You really think that Jensen “Heller” Ackles would have been so excited about the end of the show last week if he thought Cas wasn’t going to be in it at all?  Nah son, doesn’t make any sense.

Even today, in Jared and Misha’s panels, they seemed sad and...more than a little careful, both saying that there were things they couldn’t say, both talking around things that we all have questions on.

Jensen Speaking with Kripke

So this is where a lot of people are getting fodder to take shots at the writers, saying that Jensen hated it from the beginning, but I don’t think so.  I actually think I know what Jensen went to him about, and it wasn’t the lack of Cas or the weird pacing or the montages (which I don’t think were there when Jensen got the script); I think it was the manner of Dean’s death.

I know a lot of people were upset about that, upset with how...normal it was, coming off an episode where they literally beat God.  I actually didn’t mind it, I thought it was an interesting thematic take to be like: you can be a hero all your life, but sometimes shit happens, and you just die.

But imagine how hard that was for Jensen to read.  He would run to Kripke for that, because for him, Dean dying by being impaled by a piece of rebar had to be tough to swallow.

So, why didn’t Kripke say that?  Why didn’t he say, “oh well he had a problem with Dean’s death, none of that other stuff was in the script.”

Guys.  Why would he get involved?  He’s not going to burn bridges any more than anyone else is.  He said the ending was good because it’s the easy thing to do, it’s simple, will cause him no problems in his career, and he can just ignore the people trying to engage with him on it.

Walker

Something else to talk about is the major shift this episode had from the rest of the season: the shift from Dean to Sam.  I am NOT saying that Sam isn’t important, he definitely, absolutely is, but it was DEAN who really needed to wrap up his arc, Sam just needed to move on, get married to Eileen, become the leader he was always meant to.  So what changed?  What was with the shirtless scene, the Austin number and random case there, most of the episode being heavily Sam focused, going through his entire life in a montage?

Anyone else notice the 375 Walker promos, or Jared’s little spiel about Walker and how he hoped SPN fans would “come along for the ride.”

It’s...kinda obvious?  CW wanted to appeal to who they think the key demographic of SPN and Walker is: rural areas in the South.  It would explain a lot, why so much editing, why so Sam focused, the Austin number, the number of Walker promos, all of it.

I’m not saying this is fact, I don’t know that it is, but it is a little suspicious that even in Jared’s panel today, he talked A LOT about Walker and how he hopes SPN fans will watch it.

Why Would the Network Get Involved?

Simply put: $$$

If they think Walker can be the new SPN, and that those crazy SPN fans liked it originally, it’s a lot safer to go with the “original intent” of the show than do something risky (like making one of your two original leads queer).

And?  They don’t care.  They don’t care that the episode didn’t make sense, they don’t care that all the emotional arcs were left hanging, they don’t care by (potentially) smashing together two of Dean’s monologues (one to Sam, one to Cas) that it came of as...gross. ( @curioussubjects​ wrote a beautiful post showing how part of that death speech was likely meant for Dean here).  They don’t care, they never have, they just want to make their money and move on from the too-loud fandom that fought for representation too hard for too long.

It can’t help but feel insidious, which, honestly, it might be, but it really all comes down to the next cash cow, which, they think, is Walker, even at the cost of the fifteen year legacy show.

The Writers and What I Want

So here it is, all this weird, sus shit laid out on the line.  And you know what?  To me, there is no way to blame the writers, because they didn’t want this.

I don’t think Dabb and Bobo would have gone ahead with the confession in 18 without thinking that there would be some closure to that arc, they wouldn’t have done that not only to the fans, but for the sake of their own story as well: no writer wants to start something that they can’t finish. (And this applies to both Cas and Eileen).

Here’s a basic rundown of what I think happened: they had a clear arc from 18-20, ending in reciprocation at some level from Dean, Sam marrying Eileen, Hunter Sam as the new Bobby, Dean in heaven with Cas and big roadhouse reunion at the end. Covid prevented a good amount of that. Network had to stare at big gay 18 for six months, got cold feet. Thought about Walker, target audience and alienation of the rural areas if it went full gay. Misha quarantined and likely shot something (not much), he was then cut by execs and went home. They likely added in lines referencing Eileen and Cas to make it clear but more subtextual. They wrap, editing gets it and hacks it to pieces, so we get a shorter episode that’s mostly montages and jarringly bro-centric with nothing else. Arcs are left hanging. Dabb gets episode but it’s too late, there’s nothing he can do. Actors aren’t told so they can continue to do positive PR for the ending, they all found out at the same time we did: hence almost complete silence about the finale.

And you know what?  They warned us.  I talked about it here, but they’ve been telling us all season that Chuck wasn’t the writer, he’s the network.  I don’t think, still, that they thought it would be cut up like this, into something so unsalvageable that it’s been panned by almost everyone, even people who didn’t care much about Dean and Cas.

Finally, a masterpiece can be ruined by editing, and while I’m not sure even the script they ended up shooting on was a masterpiece (due to the network meddling already), but to me it’s blatantly obvious that it’s no one but the network that caused this, that took away closure for Dean, Cas, and even Sam.

So what do I want?  Nothing really, there’s nothing we can do, but I wrote this mostly to show people that the writers are not your enemy.   In fact, to the people trashing them?  You’re doing exactly what the CW wants you to: blame the obvious targets, blame Misha, blame Jensen and Jared, blame Dabb.  Scream and yell at them on Twitter and about how the show is ruined because of them.  The network keeps their engagement levels high, they don’t get as targeted for their behavior, and just keep moving along.

Just, please, think about who did this,  Mourn the show, be angry, but not at the people who fought tooth and nail for this for literal years, not the people who wanted it more than we did, not the people who cannot say anything because of their careers and the NDAs they’re bound by.

Someone is going to spill eventually, but until then, we just have to wait, and continue to be loud.

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x8 thoughts

I am so lucky that the creators of Ted Lasso decided to make this entire show specifically for me. #blessed

If last week felt like a bit of breathing room (albeit tense, poignant, character-progressing breathing room) with distinct narrative lines, this week’s episode was a chaotic yet tightly-written swirl of pain and hope and sadness! No neat subject headers for this one, y’all. Just my brain and heart in the inadequate form of a bulleted list. It is the medium available to me at this time.

I am going to remember the moment when Ted calls Sharon and tells her his father killed himself for the rest of my life.

(I could say a bunch of stuff about his face and what he says and how he tries to hide his tears from Beard right after and how insanely much I adore this character and ahhhhhhhh but I’m just going to leave that scene there in our collective memories.)

Jamie. JAMIE. Higgins has given some great advice about love on this show, but his musings about his up-and-down relationship with his own father were not helpful in the context of Jamie’s dad, who is an abusive piece of shit. I really adore that all of the main AFC Richmond staff members are realistically a bit hit-or-miss with their advice and life philosophies (some are mostly miss this season, of course).

And I am completely in awe of the moment when Jamie punches his father. The way he just stands there after Beard kicks his dad out of the locker room. The way you can hear a pin drop. And Roy—Roy who is learning in so many areas of his life about his influence on people, learning that the things he needs aren’t necessarily the same as the things other people need—is the one to cross the room and hug him. Hold him, really, with the tenderness Ted used when he hugged Rebecca outside the gala in 1x4. God.

I’ve thought a lot about how s1 was about giving people a soft place to land. There’s always an angel there when you need one. There’s always an opportunity to be kind. If you look for someone, you find them. If you look for the good in someone, you find the good. And as everyone works through their individual journeys in s2, that can’t always be the case anymore. But there are still so many moments of angels on this show, and it’s not about chance and serendipity and fate [not that it was about that in s1] but about the effort it takes to become someone who can be there for someone else. Or who can be there for yourself. I’m so proud of Jamie for physically fighting back against his father. I’m so proud of Roy for being the one who recognized what Jamie needed.

I have every feeling in the world about how Ted is almost totally frozen both times (s1 and s2) he witnesses Jamie’s father abusing him. In s1, he was still there for Jamie after, and I have every reason to believe he’ll be there for Jamie after this incident as well, but that frozen stance HURTS. He’s in so deep with his pain about his own father that it’s like he physically cannot snap out of it to act in the moment. It seems entirely outside of his control, and it breaks my heart, because Ted wants so badly to be a good father, a good coach, a good friend, a good partner, a good patient. He’s there for people in all kinds of ways, even in his current less-than-capable state. He takes care of Sharon post-concussion and even gets her a new bike! During the disastrous match at Wembley his coaching is ineffectual and everything is chaos but he’s the last one standing on the pitch! But this really awful thing keeps happening to Jamie and Ted is just…frozen in the face of it. Like one of those nightmares where you’re running in place.

The frozen-in-place nightmare also kind of applies to the way the total separation between Ted and Rebecca feels, too. I have never for a moment doubted the writers’ intentions in setting these characters up as soulmates on parallel journeys, and I’m actually really digging (on a story level) how disconnected they are right now. It is IMPRESSIVE that their absence in each other’s lives feels like such a glaring loss, one we cannot forget even as there are so many other things happening onscreen. It is 100% not just shipper goggles making me process information about Ted while thinking about Rebecca and information about Rebecca while thinking about Ted. I know there are a lot of really angry and frustrated people in the fandom right now (both T/R shippers and T/R antis and non-shipping fans who don’t get why s2 is different from s1) and while I understand being frustrated by choices characters make, and frustrated by the feelings the show makes us feel that we just want to feel more of or less of, I continue to agree with pretty much every narrative choice happening right now.

Agreeing with the narrative like this?! This is such a unique experience for me as a viewer—to feel like I’m on a ride that is at once absolutely wild and incredibly sensible and well-crafted, and to feel simultaneously completely invested and anticipatory and speculative but also totally willing to trust where it goes. I long for Ted and Beard to really talk. I long for Ted and Rebecca to stop missing each other. I long for Roy to have a serious conversation with Ted about what’s happening with him. I long for Keeley to find a vocation, something that drives her beyond her projects. I long for so many things! But I wouldn’t long for them if this show was less good. If the show was less good, I wouldn’t have a wish list a mile long because I wouldn’t be so attuned to the details and potential lurking in every scene. THIS IS SUCH A GOOD SHOW, I CANNOT HANDLE IT, I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

(To that end, a great deal of the Ted Lasso tag and so many Twitter reactions reactions to the show feel super stressful right now and I am kind of just trying not to look?! I love this fandom so much because of the amazing conversations that happen and because of brilliant fic and because there are some awesome people I never would have encountered were it not for this show. That little bubble is wonderful and I’d stay in this fandom no matter what in order to keep experiencing those things. But fans’ catastrophic reactions to every little thing that happens, every little choice a character makes that isn’t the “perfect” choice? The takeaway that the writers—on this show of all shows—wake up in the morning ready for another day of torturing shippers rather than another day of writing a beautiful story they genuinely want to write? I do not enjoy those parts at all. I would like to opt out of those parts. I’m having such a magical experience watching this show and talking about this show and listening about this show and writing about this show with a variety of people who feel all kinds of ways. I truly wish I could somehow transfer the energy of this experience onto all the people who are hating it right now. I don’t mind at all that people are having vastly different reactions to this show and are sharing their honest feelings, including the really angry ones (I can appreciate something and disagree with it!), and I get that sometimes the language of fannish reactions is intentionally, ironically hyperbolic. But there feels like this very serious trend of people legitimately thinking writers on this show are targeting shippers and have lost respect for their characters, and I just feel like an alien from another planet when I see that stuff. I guess I just feel like people make art because they want their art to be visible to other people and to themselves, but that doesn’t typically involve specifically catering to or torturing a subset of that audience?)

I am more fascinated by Sharon Fieldstone than ever before. I have been running through every single action with her and Ted so many times. The confirmation that she’s living in club-provided housing (that could not look more different from Ted’s club-provided flat). Ted clearly noticing the many bottles. Sharon’s face while she tries to casually recycle them. (Sharon could legitimately have a more problematic relationship with alcohol than Ted does, and I find that extremely interesting and am very curious to find out what happens there.) Sharon leaving him voice notes while she’s concussed, probably because she’d been thinking about him shortly before the accident. The way Ted calls her and does all the funny voices and it’s not frustrating like all the times he uses his silliness and allusions to deflect during their prior conversations because this time, those behaviors are just a part of him showing care for another person. The way they stretch each other, and Ted is still wrong about the things he’s been wrong about, but they both grow all the same.

While it is pretty much impossible for me to imagine that this show would include an actual romantic relationship between Ted and Sharon (it would be beyond unethical even if they could write it well, and Sharon in particular is so professional and committed to her work, and it would erase so much of the powerful message about the importance of seeking therapy from a professional who is not your friend or partner, and I would totally hate it), watching this episode was the first moment I had this queasy little feeling that it’s possible that Ted could end up developing really complicated feelings about Sharon since, at this point, he’s been honest with her about things he’s hardly spoken about before and you can really form an attachment to people you feel safe with in a new way. (I mean, I’m sure Michelle knows what happened with Ted’s father, but I’m not even certain if Beard does.) He’s so broken right now, and Sharon is such a great person and so different from anyone else in his life (even though Rebecca is also different, and Beard is also different, and Roy is also different, and so on), that I could see things getting really fuzzy for him. I continue to have faith in the way the storylines on this show are handled. I’m just. Putting this here.

(In saying that, though, I also wanna make it really clear that I don’t just automatically assume anytime a new female character is introduced that they’re going to end up becoming a romantic complication. Like, Phoebe is allowed to have a teacher who is an attractive woman and AFC Richmond is allowed to have a sports psychologist who is an attractive woman and Keeley is allowed to talk to Jamie Tartt without it threatening what she has with Roy and all these people can exist as human beings without the introduction of romantic drama.)

Isaac gives every player one haircut per season, OH MY GOD. The JOY during the haircut scene. YES.

KEELEY AND REBECCA. Their text thread. The affirming video call right before Rebecca goes into the restaurant. The way Keeley sits all snuggled up against Rebecca in her office.

I was pretty thoroughly spoiled for the Sam and Rebecca plot through 2x8, and I was bracing for something far more problematic and tortured than what happens in this episode. The words I would use to describe their scenes: awkward, cute, cringy, and understandable. There are a million reasons why this relationship isn’t sustainable, but I felt completely understanding of both their choices here. This show has a lot of thesis statements, but I keep going back to the idea from 2x1 that there are people who enter your life to help you get to the next point, and I think it’s entirely possible that Sam and Rebecca will mutually be that for each other.

I find comparisons between Rupert and Rebecca super upsetting. There are absolutely meaningful things to say about the irony of ending up in a situation with an uncomfortable resemblance to certain taboo elements of an ex’s situation. But that ex is abusive and manipulative and cruel and Rebecca has exhibited NONE of those behaviors, and it makes me really sad to think that people feel that the writers on this show have betrayed Rebecca in giving her this storyline.

As always, I reserve the right to keep blathering about this show. I’ve had a headache for a couple of days, but my head is also so full of 2x8 thoughts that I couldn’t keep them in even if the circumstances for writing this were not ideal. I kind of hate that I’ve included frustrated fandom thoughts within the analysis of what I felt was an absolutely gorgeous, complicated, heartbreaking, near-perfect episode of television, but if ya can’t be a little dramatic on your own tumblr while you’re feeling raw and under the weather, where can ya?

[in-superbloom]

did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? (a.i.)

right where you left me: prologue

pairing: ashton irwin x olivia jones (oc)

warnings: uhh a kinda grieving theme i guess? but no deaths. it has a sad tone overall, but nothing major (in this chapter hehe). foul language because i can't help myself. the tiniest mention of alcohol, but as a memory. think i should probably warn you that this contains a very sad ash. also not much dialogues. this is mainly for explanation and introduction, but very important for the story. if you find anything else that might be triggering, please let me know so i can add it here !!

author's note: oof okay. so. this is the prologue of a series very very dear to my heart that i've been working on for what it feels like my whole life but really it's been just a few months. but i'm in love with the story (which rarely happens with my own writing) so i hope you can enjoy it too !! this is also my very first time posting a fic since 2013 so pls keep that in mind <3 no i am not shaking as type this ofc not also: although i have the full story ready in my head, this is the only chapter that's written. i wanted to wait until i had at least a few ready before posting this but i'm too anxious for that lmao just saying this bc it will take a good while until i have any more chapters, so <3 (p.s.: i went over this thing a million times since may so if you find any errors pls look away, i'm not fixing this thing anymore. thanks <3)

another note: anna from the future here to say that i completely forgot about the playlist i made for the story lmao here it is in case you're interested k thanks bye <3

credits: title is from taylor swift's song right where you left me. model in the picture: paola locatelli. banner by me.

i also wanted to take a minute to thank some really nice friends that i've made here over these past few months & that i'm extremely grateful for @wastelandcth @suchalonelysunflower @littledrummerangie i cannot thank you babes enough for inspiring me the way that you do & for letting me yell about this to you && for encouraging me so much 🥺 i'll never be able to explain just how much this means to me, so i'll have to settle for saying thank you at any change that i can get <3 i love you all 💜 also gem my baby, thank you for the inspo with the banner 💚

@bluesdelis look babe i did it 😌 you know how grateful i am for you & for you letting me have a breakdown every week about my writing for the past 8 years so let's not dive into that or else i will write something bigger than this prologue jsjsjdjd love you 🖤

i hope you all have a good reading and a nice day ♡

let me know what are your thoughts about the fic ! ♡

word count: 4.1k

☆☆☆

Cold. That was the first thing that Olivia’s brain processed.

Still with her eyes closed, she buried herself more into the duvet, while her arm blindly reached for the furnace in human form that she calls boyfriend. However, as soon as her arm was only met with cold sheets, her eyes shot open.

Blinking the sleep away, she sat up on the bed, searching for the infamous red clock resting on Ashton’s bedside table that was supposed to look like a vintage alarm clock. Olivia had ordered it online at an auction website a couple of years back, as a gift for his 23rd birthday, since it was something he had mentioned multiple times prior that he was looking for, but still hadn't found. But when it finally came in (two weeks after the due date), it looked nothing like the picture she saw on the website. Feeling beyond frustrated, she wanted to send it back immediately and ask for a refund and maybe leave a not so polite review on the seller's page. But Ashton stopped her right away, laughing like the situation was absolutely hilarious to him, while saying, 'I like it, it’s quirky'. So, the clock stayed and found a home right next to him in their room.

Some days, however, she would wake up at some ungodly hour because of the blaring noise of the only ringtone the clock had. But whatever annoyance she could feel towards the object, it always vanished as soon as she felt Ashton's lips gently touching her face in a good morning kiss before he would get up to start his day, leaving her to catch some more hours of well deserved sleep.

As the furthest from a morning person as a touring musician could possibly be, Olivia had always feared that living under the same roof as Ashton would turn her into an early bird like him, but she's thankful that it never happened (not that he needs to know about that).

When she sees the red clock, she smiles at the sudden but welcome memories of them flooding her foggy brain, but frowns slightly when she realizes it reads 12:13 pm. Ashton rarely lets her sleep past 10 am.

Gathering all her strength and will, she rises up from the bed, smoothly picking up a grey wool sweatshirt from the chair (way too baggy on her slim body, but it smells like him), pulling it over her head and relishing on the soft material warming up her body. Making her way to the door and calmly going down the stairs, she can’t help but stop for a minute to admire the picture frames on their walls, one in particular catches her attention – probably one of the most prized pictures and memories they had. It felt older than it actually is, but it was around 4 years ago, she's sure – a little while after the two of them met. The picture was of their group of friends that still remains the same: Ashton and his best friend, Luke; Olivia, her best friend, Calum and their old hometown friend, turned into Calum’s new friend at college, turned into everyone’s friend, Michael; and her then newly band members, Suki, Eli and Ravi. Together, their group was the life of the party through all their college years, and it showed by the big smiles and drinks in hands they all had in the picture. It was a very special night, the first time Olivia’s little band played for the public – for a small audience sure, but it was a wonderful night nonetheless. What a long road it had been since that night.

Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a shiver that went through her whole body, and it made her realize how oddly cold the whole house was, not only their bedroom. Which, granted, it was November in New York and the weather was just getting colder, but that’s exactly why Ashton always made sure to keep the house warm enough. As much as she loved the chilly season, the warm weather always reminded him of his hometown, and who was she to deny him that?

The smell of fresh made coffee could be sensed even before she reached the kitchen. Arriving there, the curly haired woman still found no signs of her boyfriend, so she went straight after the coffee maker pot sitting on the far left corner of the cream marble counter. Smiling softly at the tons of memories of Ashton's sleepy figure making their favorite beverage, she reached for a coffee mug on the cupboard on top of the counter and poured the remainder of the hot liquid on it (it's her favorite mug, if she must choose – it was a gift from a fan, and it had printed on it a collage of the pictures of her and Ashton that were posted on social media through their first year of relationship).

Moving to the glass doors that lead to the mini garden they cultivate, she didn't have to open them to spot the 6-feet-tall man sitting on a bench outside, looking oddly small in his oversized clothes, coffee mug tightly held between strong hands. Something about his figure made Olivia frown, however: he was staring with an unwavering look at her small but eye-catching pot of yellow daffodils that were almost as much of a pet to them as Stitch at this point. Sensing that there’s something definitely off about his semblance, she made a mental note to talk to him and find out what’s wrong later. So she goes back to the kitchen, knowing that he might need this quiet and private moment for himself.

She lost count of the minutes that went by (couldn't have been more than five) before she hears the garden's door opening and closing, and then his bare feet are dragging his brawny body to her. Except, he goes over to the sink, walking right through her, not showing any sign that he even saw her hunched figure over the counter table in the middle of the room.

Alright, someone's in a mood.

Olivia tries to swallow the annoyance already bubbling inside her – he knows how much she hates to be ignored, no matter how mad he might be – by trying to think of what she can say that won't piss him off. This is always a hard feat to accomplish when Ashton gets in these moods, but there’s a reason for them to work so well together.

“I missed my favorite body heater when I woke up,” she says in her best sweet voice, knowing how quickly his resolve crumbles when he hears that voice.

Still, no reaction.

That settles a worry at the pit of her stomach, because Ashton is never like this. Even when he's not in the mood to talk, he always gives some kind of reaction to her words; it doesn't matter how small, just enough to make her feel acknowledged.

When he's finished washing his mug and the few scattered dishes across the sink – she noticed that he already had lunch, if the lone plate in the drying rack is anything to go by –, he dries his hand in a towel, turns around and throws it on top of the same counter Olivia was leaning up against. Once again, he walks away not even sparing her a look.

Indignant, she leaves the now empty coffee mug on top of the table and follows him as he walks up the stairs, any determination to not aggravate his mood now well gone.

“Hey! In case you didn't notice, I'm right here. Whatever got you in this sour mood, I'm certainly not to blame, so can you stop being a child now and talk to me?!”

Ashton just keeps walking – more like sluggishly dragging his body – until he reaches their bedroom and suddenly stops just merely two feet inside the room, looking around with vacant eyes; like he was expecting to see something that wasn't there.

“Okay, that's really mature of you. Are you planning on ignoring me all day then?” Olivia questions exasperated, staring angrily at the back of his neck, where the condor tattoo lives – her favorite of his, but that sight doesn't bring her any peace today like it usually does.

Her glare only breaks when she hears the familiar sound of dog tags swaying on her right side. Shifting her gaze to the direction of the sound, Olivia notices Stitch, their small, black & white French bulldog – who she thought was outside in the garden – slowly trudging his way from around the bed until he stops at Ashton's feet, looking up at one of his humans with sad eyes. That realization only makes the worry in her stomach grow uncomfortably.

“Hi buddy,” Ashton's voice cracks a bit from the lack of use, but he smiles softly at the sweet dog, and crouches down to pet him.

Olivia can't help but gasp as she notices three things all at once that leave her overwhelmed: first, how she didn't even notice Stitch was in the room when she woke up – which never ever happens, in fact, most days he wakes her up whenever he deems her bedtime as finished and can't ever contain his excitement when she finally gets up; second, how the windows blinds are closed, which, again, rarely occurs under their roof, not if Ashton can help it. And third, how sad and melancholic the whole scene in front of her is – how sad and melancholic Ashton is. Pointless to say by now – that's also a very rare occasion.

A chill creeps up Olivia's spine, putting her body into high alert and also serving as a reminder of how everything looks out of place today. Trying to keep her head from spiraling down way too soon, she wraps her arms around herself and crouches down beside her two favorite boys, trying once more.

“Ash? Can you hear me?” even with her throat closing, she softly asks, purposefully putting her face in Ashton's point of view. Her only answer is the low whispers he's letting out to Stitch, while cradling the tiny dog in his arms, spreading gentle kisses on his head.

“I know, bud, I know. I miss her too,” is the only whisper she could understand and immediately wishes she hadn't. The weak wail that comes from Stitch's throat seems to fit perfectly with how the three of them feel.

Ashton then looks up and for a couple of seconds, and Olivia can swear he’s staring right into her eyes. But when he shows no reaction, she knows he’s just staring ahead and not at her, with that look that says there’s too much going on inside his head. She feels the urge to embrace him and get him to talk about whatever is on his mind, so they can share that weight like they always do, but when Ashton gets up from the ground and settles on the bed with Stitch, Olivia can physically feel the crack in her heart caused by the feeling she’s left with.

While Ashton is pulling the duvet over him and the dog, with clearly no intentions of getting up anytime soon, Olivia stands up on her feet with a new-found determination – she needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

This nightmare had to be just that, right? Nothing but a very vivid dream – she's had those before. Scary sure, but they always go away, and soon enough she's back into Ashton's arms, with Stitch jumping on the bed ready to lick their faces off. She just needs to wake herself up from whatever fucked up dream this is – right?

She's running down the stairs this time, frantically in search of something, of what exactly, she doesn’t know – but she knows she needs an answer. The more she looks for something, the more desperate she gets, not knowing what to look for. Then suddenly, something catches her eyes.

The white and blue calendar that's held up by magnets on the side of the fridge. She knows their calendar is red and yellow. They got it from their favorite flower market. Slowly, as if scared of what it might be there – “It's just a calendar, for fucks sake” – she approaches the damn thing. Upon inspection, she deems it as a normal calendar – she really doesn't know what she was expecting – until.

She knows what's wrong with it now.

It's November. She knows it, because the Asian and last leg of her first world tour is about to begin November 21st, eleven days from today. Right after Mike's birthday, she knows this.

Then why does the calendar say today is January 14th?

☆ ☆ ☆

Ashton woke up with a jolt. He quickly sat up, frightening the little Frenchie that was asleep right next to him on the bed. Trying to make sense of his surroundings, he roughly rubbed his face to get some sleep off of it and soon reached for the dog that was staring at him with sleepy but sad eyes. Ashton is sure Stitch understands far more than a dog is supposed to understand about their current situation.

The room is covered in shadows, almost pitch black, but he can see the sunlight even through the thick dark grey blinds covering up the windows. Ashton knows he won't be able to sleep again at that moment, so he gets up from the bed – much slower than he used to. His heartbeat is still out of control because of the nightmare that woke him up, but he can't bother to pay attention to it when Stitch is softly wailing beside him. Ashton lets out a ghost of a smile when the dog rests his head on his right upper thigh, looking up at him with an expression Ashton knows all too well.

“C'mon you little ravenous creature, let's feed you,” the bulldog excitedly jumps to the ground, already running his way down the stairs, not even waiting for Ashton to get up.

That gets a real smile out of him, but it vanishes as soon as he glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It reads 5:13 am, nothing out of the ordinary for him. But that small and inoffensive clock, with its red paint peeling off, holds a lot of memories for him. Memories that two months ago would bring joy to his heart, but now he almost wants to throw the object across the room.

It was a stupid thing, really. He had been wanting a vintage alarm clock and Olivia got one for his birthday. But the product they received was definitely not the one she bought, and if he's being honest, he didn't like it as much as he made out to. But seeing her so excited in the weeks before it arrived, and how disappointed she was when it did, he couldn't help but try his best to make her smile that luminous smile again. It's part of his nature by now.

That's also the reason why he lets her think that he doesn't notice when she wakes up at some ungodly hour (her words, not his) along with him, because of the annoying and only sound the alarm clock is able to produce. He always leaves soft kisses in every inch of bare skin he can find on her sleeping figure, so she goes back to the dream land and doesn't wake up before 10 am. No one wants to deal with that kind of bad humor, not even him.

As much as he likes being a morning person and absolutely enjoys her company in the mornings, he knows she'll take any and every extra hour of sleep she can get before starting the day. And that's why he loves that she's so stubborn that his early bird tendencies never got to her – he knows she feared that this would happen when they moved in together, but he met her like this, fell for her like this. He wouldn't change a single thing about her.

Ashton drags himself out of the bed, wincing slightly at how cold the wooden floors are under his bare feet. He doesn't bother putting some socks on, or a sweater – the cold weather in the house is uncharacteristically comforting to him. Nothing feels warm without her anyway.

While descending the stairs, he mentally curses himself for not being strong enough to look past the picture frames on the wall. One in particular catches his eyes – a picture from the night of Olivia's first concert with her band. The memories of that night are still painfully vivid in his mind: the laughter among their group that eventually infected everyone at the pub, Suki and Luke's first kiss and the silly smile that didn't leave his best friend's face all night, the standing ovation Olivia got after her three-songs set, and her captivating and breathtaking smile that made him realize right then and there, while watching her sway to the music, that he was definitely falling in love with her and there was nothing he could do to stop it – not that he wanted to.

So many memories held up on that wall, in the relatively short time since they met, that he can't help but wonder if that's all they'll get in this lifetime.

Ashton is abruptly taken out of his thoughts by Stitch's barks coming from the bottom of the stairs. He quickly jogs down the few steps left and goes straight after the dog's food in the kitchen's cabinet. After Stitch starts to happily devour his breakfast, Ashton goes to make his coffee, doing enough for two people like he always does, since Calum drops by most days for a chat or to drop Duke before going to work. Although all three of them know he just can't bother to make food for himself in the morning, while Ashton is the group's elected chef. Ashton always says he just needs a boyfriend – Olivia says Calum already has one who makes him breakfast every day.

He grabs an apple from the fridge and makes his way outside to their garden. Even though a lot of their memories took place there, the garden is the only space in the house where he doesn't feel like suffocating all the time. At least here, he can breathe some fresh air and look at the sky when he's feeling overwhelmed – which is basically all he's been doing for about a month now.

Yet, a lot of the garden has Olivia's name written all over.

He remembers vividly the day she came home after spending two weeks in LA doing some pocket shows, with a pack of daffodil seeds and the largest smile. She excitedly told him that a friend gifted it to her when she mentioned the little garden they were planning to build together at their new house. The friend told Olivia that daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, so as the good lover of symbolism that she is, Olivia loved the idea of having those flowers to symbolize their new beginning.

Ashton, on the other hand, wasn't a fan of the flowers at first – he just didn't see the appeal to them. But nonetheless, he indulged her, letting Olivia plant the seeds near the bench they used to sit during the quiet and unrushed afternoons, so they could admire the sunset, and she could happily look at the daffodils.

Pointless to say – the damn flowers grew on him.

Now, however, looking at them without Olivia and her contagious joy next to him, they were back to be as dull as they were before, if not more so.

Still lost inside his head without any sense of how much time went by since he sat down, Ashton doesn't hear the front door closing, and doesn't notice that he's no longer the only person inside the house until someone sits next to him on the bench. Yet, he doesn't show any sign of acknowledgement to them.

A few minutes go by before either of them speaks up.

“Luke said you didn't go to see her yesterday,” Calum starts softly, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the morning.

Ashton takes a few seconds to respond, “No point in doing that.” The black haired man licks his lips while thinking carefully about his next words.

“You know staying inside this house all day by yourself won't help either,” Calum turns his head to his left and takes a good look at Ashton's uncharacteristically hunched over figure, and immediately thinks that anyone can tell this man is not himself anymore. His second thought is that Olivia would hate seeing him like this.

“And what exactly do you expect me to do? Move on with my life like nothing happened? Like I'm not slowly and painfully losing the love of my life? Just because it’s easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for me.”

Calum closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows Ashton doesn't mean it, it's the anger and frustration talking. He knows it. Doesn't make it sting any less.

“I'm not telling you to move on with your life, because that's far from what I'm doing, and I certainly don't expect you to do it. I'm just saying you need to occupy your mind or else–”

“I'll go insane? Think it's a bit too late for that,” Ashton interrupts with a bitter tone that doesn't belong to his usual chirpy voice.

“You know it's not,” Calum sighs and drinks the rest of his coffee, moving his body slightly, so he's facing the blonde man, “I got a job interview for you at that school you talked about so much last summer, the principal said you can go any day this week. I went ahead and sent her your resume as well as explained everything that she needs to know about Olivia, so you don't have to. You just gotta put on some decent clothes and show up.” he sees Ashton's face softening a little and takes it as a victory. A few beats go by and then, “Maybe take a shower too. That's gonna make you feel better.” Calum leans in closer to his friend's personal space and takes a sniff, causing Ashton to deflect from him slightly, but not to push him away – another small win.

“Definitely take a shower, you stink. When was the last time your hair saw shampoo?”

“Fuck off,” is Ashton's only reply to the younger man's inquest. But Calum can see a smile creeping up on the blonde's face, which brings out a smile of his own.

“I'll send you all the details later today,” he checks the hour on the watch on his wrist and gets up, “Just please, Ash, go. I can't lose you too.”

Calum gently lays a hand on Ashton's shoulder and squeezes a little. The man doesn't look up, but gives a curt nod to his friend, who's satisfied enough. Calum stops on the threshold of the garden glass doors to give some kisses to Stitch – who came to make Ashton company as soon as he finished his food –, and then he puts the coffee mug on the dishwater. And soon enough, he's on his way out of the door. But not before snatching a tangerine from the fridge.

Ashton is left by himself once again. As he hears the sound of the front door closing, he thinks that this might be his life from now on. Just him and Stitch, trying their hardest to make it through another miserable day without the love of their lives. While everyone else comes by just to make sure he's still breathing. Breathing, maybe, but alive?

Swallowing the tears, he looks up at the sky. It's a deep, beautiful mix of orange, pink and blue, but he knows that it won't last long and soon the rain will be pouring down. He thinks about how much Olivia loves the rain.

God, he needs to pull himself together. She would hate to see him like this. Maybe he should take Calum's offer after all, he really needs to occupy his mind.

Making a mental note to thank Calum later, and also to apologize for how rude he was to him this morning, Ashton slowly gets up from the bench to put his mug on the sink and makes his way to the living room, with the small dog loyally following his every step. He puts on some cartoon that for once doesn't remind him of her (she always lovingly made fun of him for still watching those) and cuddles with Stitch on the couch. He can take a shower later.

Not half an hour goes by, he falls asleep and has a good dream for a change. He dreams of the days he spent with Olivia in the Philippines last February, right before her first world tour started. Some of the most magical days of their lives – surrounded by delicious food, a whole new culture to learn about and the warmth of the sun. Infinite counted days full of love and passion, where they were the only people in the world.

Even his subconscious knows to hold on to that brief moment of happiness, because he might never live that again.

[kosmosguk]

Bloody Artistry (M) ~🥀

pairing: celeb! kim taehyung x journalist! reader; minor pairings: jungkook x reader, coworker jimin x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 8K

Summary: when the scrutiny of fame becomes too much, perfect kim taehyung finds his peace within a lavish bathroom located two blocks away from the nearest club, a corpse in the bed with him. the fans have never questioned his behavior, not when his company is much too good at cleaning up his mess to not have done it before, but when a reporter with too many questions threatens to break the peace he’s established, he finds himself in a tango with the devil that he can’t bring himself to want to break.

[Warnings: MURDER, death, literally Taehyung being a sick bastard 25/8 (but only in fiction), company corruption, violence, yandere themes, mentions of noncon smut (intoxication, mentions of being drugged, fingering), blackmail, obsession, stalking. EVERYTHING that happens in this fic is FICTION; plz don’t go busting nuts for serial killers]

A/N: Thank you to yoongissugarmommy for requesting this! Part 1 of a short series starring Taehyung. Was going to do smth similar to Lineage with him, but this has been staying in my drafts for too long (like i wrote most of this before I even wrote Lineage, which is why my writing for part of this is a bit different from my current one), and I feel like going a bit modern now to take a break from Lineage (taking a bit to write pt. 4 just because it’s the end of the main story). Thank you for 2.9k followers! We’re only less than 50 away from 3K which is so wild to think about; kisses and hugs to everyone who’s supported my work! 

“Today, in the studio, we have our nation’s golden boy, the first love of all of our viewers: Kim Taehyung. Everyone, please clap your hands for him!’’

The MC turned to grin at the audience as the audience cheered loudly; her glossy black hair swept down and framed her face delicately in perfect shiny strands. The lipstick that coated her unnaturally wide smile was a deep shade of red, stark against her pale white skin. Dressed in her primly pressed suit, she looked lovely, like a blooming rose, but as she turned to face the guest star, his presence seemed to easily outshine her own.

“Thank you for having me. It’s an honor to have an interview here and have an opportunity to see all of my lovely fans,’’ Taehyung’s deep voice rang out as he smiled in his heart-swooning way, flashing pure-white teeth handsomely in a carefully maintained and practiced way that made all the fans, both in the studio and watching from beyond a screen, unable to resist letting out shrieks and screams.

“Now, Taehyung-ssi, with a record-breaking album that topped the charts as soon as it came out and a modelling gig that sells out magazines faster than before, how does it feel to have really made it? It must stress you out. Any tips on how to relax?’’

Taehyung leaned back slightly in his seat, his smile flashing coy for a brief second before settling into a rehearsed contemplative expression. He shrugged his shoulders, letting them drop out, as he made a soft hmm noise.

“How I relax? It’s not that big of a deal, really, but that’s an interesting question to ask, noona,’’ Taehyung widened his eyes slightly, looking ever so much like the golden boy persona he had stickered upon his reputation,’’ When I’m really, really stressed, I like to play with Tannie, my dog, and eats lots of yummy food that my mom sends to me when I get stressed. Also, my manager Namjoon is a good person to talk to when I’m really stressed; he always knows what to do and say.’’ Taehyung tapped the tip of his nose lightly, scrunching his face in an expression that made fans coo in adoration. “I also like to think of my fans and read all the letters they’ve sent me. I saved all of my letters from my beloved fans since my debut, and I like looking through them.’’

“Hey, Kim Namjoon, fucking hurry up,” Taehyung hissed into the cellphone pressed against his flawless cheek,” My shoes are going to get stained at this point. You know blood is a pain to properly get out of letter.’’

“Were you at least careful this time? We don’t want rumors getting out,” Namjoon’s voice crackled over the receiver, barely a hint of emotion in his voice. The beeping and honking of cars on his side of the phone call signaled the rush his manager was making towards his location.

Taehyung huffed in agitation, clicking his tongue sharply in annoyance as he skimmed his nails for any trace of dried blood. “Oh, come on, you think I really even care at this point? With the way the company takes care of everything, you’d think perfect ol’ me was…well perfect. But still, aren’t you guys way too good at this job? 7 girls and not even a peek from the public. Who else do you do this for, huh? Suga-sunbae? J-hope-sunbae?”

There was no reply. Taehyung threw his gaze over to the practically mangled body. Too bad, he thought to himself, she was really pretty this time. Red lipstick, silky black hair, wanted to become better acquainted with such a famous celebrity after her little interview, the whole fanatic spiel tied with a pretty bow of the title of an mc. She would’ve never thought that she’d go from being a bed-warmer to being so cold.

“I must be right then, huh? Suga-sunbae I can see, but J-Hope-sunbae…’’ Taehyung whistled lowly under his breath. “I thought you’d at least deny that. It’s the bright ones you gotta watch out for.’’

A dial noise was the only response. Did…Did this bastard hang up on him? Taehyung grimaced before three knocks rang on the door of the hotel suite, a signal from his asshole manager that Namjoon had finally arrived. Taehyung rolled back his shoulders, his joints crackling a little, and made sure all of his jewelry was perfectly back in place before he opened the door.

As Namjoon shuffled in with some of the staff members, Taehyung clasped his silver watch around his wrist with a soft click. He rolled his neck, trying to get the stiffness out of it, and exposed purple marks and bruises from the bites the now dead girl had given him when they had been fucking earlier.

Finally, his headache was gone.

You chugged down a cup of stale coffee and wiped the dribble of liquid that escaped the corner of your mouth as you clicked off some article about a newbie mc receiving slander after rumors of her making moves on a popular idol was exposed and disappearing to avoid the backlash. Squinting at your screen with dry eyes, you pursed your lips and snapped the laptop shut, pushing the device away from you in an agitated huff.

“Wbat’s got you in the gutters, huh? Let me guess…,’’ Park Jimin, your desk mate, rolled his chair over to your side, his glasses askew on his nose,” Ah, your favorite celebrity go into a dating scandal? Let me think, who was it that recently go into a scandal… Oh, is it that pretty boy from a new idol group?’’

You gave him the stink-eye, and your sigh this time was even louder.

“You’d think there’d be something more…interesting going with these celebrities that we could get our hands on. Too much money, lots of stress, yet no story that’ll really seize the audience by surprise, and don’t you dare say a dating scandal would do it. Boss’s been on my case for the whole week on writing an article to shock the audience and wants me to release a major headliner story in two weeks, or that asshole’ll fire me. Damn it, Kim Seokjin!” you hissed out before slamming your forehead onto the desk.

“Man, be careful with your volume; if he hears your tone, he’ll chew you out for another hour that you could be using to research. Boss Kim is picky like that with everyone because our company’s a small piece of seaweed in a system dominated by crustaceous predators.” Jimin poked you in the side jokingly, his plush lips spread in a wide smile that lit up his exhausted face. “Just think really hard; use that big brain of yours and focus on a celebrity. Come on, no one’s perfect, even that one super famous idol Kim Taehyung must have some flaws, so don’t sweat it.”

“That golden boy? Man, the whole nation’s pussy-whipped for him. He couldn’t possibly be anything bu—,’’ you sharply inhaled before pushing your seat back and rapidly swiveling to face Jimin,’’ Park. Fucking. Jimin. Oh my God, you’re a fucking genius! A whole career with not even a speck of dirt… Come on, even pure-faced idol Soyeon was caught with a scandal last month. There must be something on the nation’s golden boy!’’

Jimin’s eyes widened in surprise with your sudden outburst, and he opened his mouth to speak. “Be careful about the way you go when you try to fish out info on him. His company’s security isn’t something easy to get through, and not a single celeb from that company has gotten into a single scandal. No reporters been able to get any dirt from them…”

“Which means that…there’s something sketchy happening. Jimin, Jimin, have I told you I’m in love with you?’’

You turned around quickly in your chair, spinning in glee. Jimin dropped his mouth open to sputter something, and his cheeks were tinging red, but you weren’t looking at or even listening to Jimin at hat point, having already cracked open your laptop to furiously type Kim Taehyung into Naver. This was it! Your big break! Your motivation sky-rocketed, and you felt the first rush of energy that wasn’t fueled by some caffeinated drink in a long while.

Two hours later, you were ready to throw up.

All of the results were sickeningly the same bullshit, as what was expected for someone as beloved by the nation as Kim Taehyung was. You couldn’t fathom the amount of fancams and magazine spreads of him posing on some brown leather sofa and fact pieces—hell, you even knew what kind of socks the man liked—that you had spent the past hours scrolling through.

Realizing that the office was nearly empty, and that the sky was dimming into a dark hue, you were about to shut down your laptop and call it a long fucking day when a tweet on someone’s SNS caught your eye.

@truth-teller: kim taehyung? nation’s golden boy? are you all really sure about that nonsense?

The tweet was spammed with angered replies, so many that the thread seemed to stretch on for at least a mile, but your interest was piqued. This was the first word of slander you had ever witnessed against Taehyung. You quickly pounded out a message to the account.

@name_01: hey, I saw your tweet about taehyung! Do you perhaps have any more information on him? I find him suspicious too.

You tapped send and waited with bated breath for a reply. Minutes crept by, and you were about to turn off your phone and head out of work when you noticed three dots pop up, dancing before disappearing.

@truth-teller: you fr? I had to suspend my acc because of all the spam I got. No one’s believed me on it, but I have proof

You chewed on your lip. What if this was a joke, and you were just wasting your time on some internet troll with too much time on their hands. It seemed like you were taking too long to reply because another message popped up.

@truth-teller: if you don’t believe me then that’s fine. I don’t have to waste my time

@name_01: WAIT! Sorry, it took me a second to comprehend this information… Please tell me more.

You were worried that the account wouldn’t reply anymore, and that you had ruined your opportunity before the three dots popped up again and another message was sent.

@truth-teller: ok, if you want to find out more let’s move to a better messaging platform, just in case my acc gets suspended by more fans. here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxxx

It was a gamble to send some stranger on the internet your number, but at this point, you were too desperate to really give a damn. There was a story just out of the reach of your fingertips; you would be a fool to deny the carrot on a stick you were being provided.

@name-01: okay, I’ll message you.

Name: hey! Truth-teller right? This is me from the messages

JK: yeah that’s me. I prefer JK when I’m not on sns tho

Name: I’m (y/n). I don’t mean to sound like I’m hurrying you, but I want to hear what you have to say about Taehyung.

JK: lol r u a reporter or smth? Real bossy of you keke

You sucked in a breath. Should you reveal that?

Name: haha would it be bad if I said I was?

There was no response for the next 15 minutes. Exhaling a long sigh, you decided that you should at least maneuver your way home; the office had been cleared out completely during your conversation with this JK, and you couldn’t help the creeps that the emptiness gave you. If anything, the walk back to your place would give you some outlet for the nervous energy radiating throughout you. You were nearly at the door of your apartment when your phone vibrated in your pocket, signaling a message.

JK: just checking. Makes sense that you’re one though. It’d be nice if you could break this story out, but I hope you trust me enough after I tell you what I know

You clicked the door shut behind you, your eyebrows creased as you stared at your phone screen.

Name: don’t worry. I trust you!

You dropped your bag down onto the sofa before throwing your body onto the seat. The three dots under JK’s name popped up for several minutes before disappearing. In the place of the three dots, a long message had been typed out.

JK: I didn’t really think much of taehyung when I first heard about him since he’s the nation’s golden boy or whatever bs title they call him nowadays, but my sister’s friend was a big fan of him. she went out with my sister and they met him in some shady club in gangnam. my sister’s friend got to talk to him exclusively and my sister got separated from her and got a text from her friend saying that she had smth come up and she already went home. she tried to contact her friend the day after, but she got a text back saying that her friend wasn’t feeling well. my sister’s friend was “best friends’’ with her but she didn’t contact my sister again until a week later saying she got a job opportunity overseas and already was about to board on the plane because it was important she got there fast. my sister’s friend didn’t contact her again like she dropped off the face of the earth

You pursed your lips in contemplation as you tapped out a message back, your nails clicking against the screen.

Name: ?? Are you sure that isn’t a coincidence?

JK: yeah, I thought so too but it was rly sus that my sister’s friend who had known my sister for 12 years to suddenly go overseas for a job opportunity without telling her at all. and when my sister tried to get new contact info from her friend there was no reply. but I got curious and since I do some computer work for my job i wanted to see if I could track the ip address of her phone but there was nothing. her last previous ip was all the way back in gangnam and my sister’s friend lived in incheon. that was a red flag so I decided to go talk to the landlord at my sister’s friend’s old apartment and the landlord said he didn’t see her come back since before that night but woke up to a fully paid lease and the apartment cleared out 

You squinted your eyes at the screen, unable to properly process the information that this so-called JK had just given you. Chewing on your lip, you closed your eyes briefly before opening them back up and typing back a message.

Name: anything else? Sorry…just seems a bit far-fetched.

JK: think whatever then. I have to go to work now

Right when JK’s message popped up, another message pinged on your cell. You refused to let yourself ponder more on JK’s last message as you clicked on your friend’s text notification.

Platonic LOML <3: BAE, R U FREE TONIGHT? I’m lonely n want someone to come with me to this club— ik you’re not into clubs but pretty please

You were about to reply with a refusal when JK’s words came up to your mind again. You didn’t know why, but there was a sharp feeling in your gut that told you that you couldn’t miss this opportunity Call it silly intuition or some coincidental fabrication spurned by your mind, but that feeling persisted until you typed out a reply to your friend.

Name: okay fine. Come over in 30.

Taehyung swirled the liquid in his glass, watching the deep burgundy of the wine stain the glass a soft pink. His head was hurting again, and the new medication he had been taking for them on advice of the company didn’t work.

He scanned the dim, musty club, watching the pulsating lights cloak the dancing bodies in sallow shades of pale yellow. This club was a downgrade from his previous celebrity-exclusive club that he had gone to the previous week, but his manager had told him that if he really wanted peace, he should choose an area where no one would really know him.

Taehyung knew the real reason why his manager had insisted on this. Deaths of other celebrities were much harder to cover up after all.

Pity he actually followed his manager’s advice for once. The wine in here, despite the bougie price tag, was complete shit and provided him a slight buzz at best. And there was no one who really caught his eye out of the crowd of people. As he was about to get up from his seat and leave the club for somewhere with better—he contemplated going back to that celebrity club just to fuck with his company—pickings, he caught sight of someone entering the club.

You looked absolutely gorgeous, swathed in a black shift that you kept fighting to keep over your ass—and god, was it a plump ass too, the kind that made Taehyung’s cock hard in his tight black pants—with hair framing your face in a breathtaking way that showed glimpses of sparkling jewelry. Your friend, some chick with dyed green hair that Taehyung didn’t bother paying attention to, was clinging onto your arm, dragging you near the dance floor.

Taehyung knew.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

His head seemed to clear from the mind-numbing throb it always had when he spent too much time without another victim to take his aggression out of. Feeling the cool metal of the blade he always had tucked near his body, Taehyung sat back down in his seat, a playful smile perking at the edges of his lips. Funny enough, the blood thirst that never seemed to properly leave him was gone from his mind, an occurrence that was as rare as the pills the company liked shoving down his throat actually working for once.

You maneuvered your way over to the bar, to him, your friend pouting as she noticed you leaving before melting away into the crowd of grinding bodies. Taehyung swore then and there that the attraction between you and him was absolutely magnetic, with the way you seemed to pull the other towards one another.

He watched as you ordered some pretty-colored martini, adorably scrunching your face as the burn of alcohol coated your tongue and hit the back of your throat with a singe.

Maybe, Taehyung though to himself as he propped his chin lazily on his palm, he should really start listening to his manager more often.

Your mind was in a haze, and you didn’t even notice the man next to you until he was nearly pressed to your side, barely leaving a gap of space between the two of you.

You glanced at him, your tipsy mind suddenly sobering up as you realized who the man sitting next to you was. Kim Taehyung? What the fuck was he doing here?

“Another drink for a pretty lady?” Taehyung’s teeth showed as he charmingly flashed an award-winning coquettish smile at you, his already extremely handsome features seeming to increase in beauty from the grin.

You remembered JK’s words and a chill ran up your spine. God, his messages didn’t seem so implausible now, did they? Goosebumps rose up on your skin, freezing you to the bar table. Were…Were you his next victim?

You swallowed dryly as you tried to calm your racing heartbeat. The side of you that was a reckless journalist wanted to take a nosedive at the headliner just out of reach, but the rational side of you knew that leap of faith had a much bigger chance of you ending up disappearing off for a new job opportunity overseas, as Taehyung’s company would have it. You couldn’t write a good story if you were dead, after all.

“Thank you, but I can pay for my own drinks,’’ your lips twitched slightly as you forced them into a hopefully convincing gentle smile, refusing his offer softly before moving your body casually a few inches away from him,” Having drinks bought by strangers isn’t really my thing.”

Your smile must’ve looked a hell of a lot less nervous than you actually felt and a lot more convincing too because Taehyung’s shoulders, which had previously been winded like he was a predator getting ready to pounce on prey, seemed to relax at your words.

There was a dark gleam in his eyes when he again invaded your personal space and pushed his body near yours. He leaned in and whispered softly into your ears, his voice clear despite the early 2010s hits blaring from the speakers by the dance floor.

“If you’re scared of strangers, why don’t we get to know each other a bit?’’

Your fake smile grew stiff on your face. You felt like you were going to hurl the convenience store meal of ramen that you had scarfed before coming to the club all over the bar and Taehyung’s expensive luxury bran clothes. You could feel a sense of dread in your bones, the kind a prey animal would feel as a predator focused its carnivorous attention on them.

You forced a fake laugh, trying to drive the message that you were just not interested to Taehyung as loud and clear as you could manage.

“No thanks; I have enough people I’m close to. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve left my friend alone for far too long on the dance floor.”

You pushed yourself off the bar table, flashing a strained polite smile before you headed over the dance floor, trying to keep your pace slow and steady instead of breaking out into the outright run you wanted to do.

Taehyung inhaled the linger scent of your perfume, a natural smell that sweetly layered itself over the damp musky air of the club. His eyes, even as you tried to focus on the pounding music and forget the fear embedded deeply in your gut, never seemed to leave your form. Even when you burrowed yourself deeply into the crowd away from his view, you could still feel it.

You found yourself painfully sober after that encounter, trying to look normal in front of your friend for the rest of the night that seemed to painstakingly drag on for eternity. Even when you had the short 2-minute walk from the cab you took to your front door, you didn’t stop looking over your shoulder, still feeling the chill that came with the thought of Taehyung’s gaze. When you got inside your home, the bubbling nausea in your stomach took control over you, and you ended up heaving your dinner down the toilet.

When you managed to somewhat pull yourself together, you typed out a quick message with practically shaking fingers to the only one you could think of in that moment would understand what you were feeling, You stared at your unsent message before hastily pressing send.Name: I didn’t know who to talk to, but I saw Taehyung at the club today. I think you’re right about what you said about Taehyung.

Name: I didn’t know who to talk to, but I saw Taehyung at the club today. I think you’re right about what you said about Taehyung.

Ping!

You barely managed to fall asleep that night, and your eyes painfully ached when you peeled your eyelids open, hurriedly grabbing your phone and turning it on to check your messages.

JK: what happened? Sry for late response. Job keeps me busy all night

Your fingers flew over the keyboard as you typed out your message, furrowing your eyebrows in concentration as you tried to relay the events of your night in hopefully comprehensible words.

Name: I went with my friend to some sketchy club idk what area at this point but I went to the bar and I felt someone come up to me ?? I turned and realized it was Taehyung, and he offered to buy me a drink but I declined. Makes me sick how I could’ve been his next victim, so I tried to leave and go back to where there was more ppl in the club, But I can’t stop thinking about the look in his eyes. There was something sickening in them, I couldn’t put my finger on it.

JK didn’t respond for a bit, and you exhaled a trembling breath when his message popped up.

JK: be careful. Im glad you managed to get away

Name: I’m scared. I didn’t know what to do, but hopefully I’ll never see him again once I get this scoop out.

JK: stay safe. Thx for telling me. Text me if anything else happens.

You let out a shaky breath before clicking your phone off, your nerves still rattled but slightly more calmed down after talking with JK. You had to get ready for work, but at this rate, you weren’t even sure how you would be able to get through the day. Maybe you should take a sick day? No, you couldn’t.

The elevator dinged closed behind you as you stepped out of it into the office. As you were about to take a seat at your desk, your boss rushed out of his office, relief, something he never showed to you, evident on his expression once he caught sight of you.

“(Y/n)! Come into my office; I have an important job for you,’’ your boss ushered you into his office without another word, practically pushing a baffled you into the room frantically,” You know the company that manages Kim Taehyung? They reached out and agreed to an exclusive one-on-one interview with Kim Taehyung only, and only, if you agreed to the interview.”

You stiffened, your body frozen as you tried to process the words your boss had just spoken. Your brain seemed to be running a marathon as you computed the words your boss said, and you could only meekly respond with a limp,” Why me? Can’t somebody…Can’t someone else take over? Boss…you know I’m not that experienced.”

Boss Kim barely paid any attention to your words as he rested a hand on your shoulder with a confident look on his face.

“Then, use this opportunity to get more experience. You want to show the world that you’re a journalist by getting a scoop? Then take this interview! You know the company never agrees to exclusive one-on-one interviews unless they’re all staged, but there wasn’t even talk of this being staged at all. If you can use this opportunity and get something big, won’t this be your biggest step towards a great journalist career?’’ your boss exclaimed,’’ If you back out, another chance like this won’t come again!”

As much of an asshole Boss Kim was sometimes, you could find the logic in his words. Besides, it must be a coincidence that Kim Taehyung wanted you specifically to give him an interview; maybe he wanted a newbie, so they wouldn’t have much experience trying to fish out personal details and twist his words.

That’s right. There was no way he even remembered what you looked like. You guys interacted for, what, a solid 2 minutes last night. And if you did this interview right, you could use it as a building block as evidence for the headliner you intended to release with what JK had told you.

You exhaled, nodding your head firmly.

“I will. I’ll take this interview.”

Boss Kim’s face brightened, making him look much more like the stereotypical handsome CEO character found in dramas. Since he always looked exhausted and stressed out, he always seemed more intimidating, an aura that seemed to scare off any thoughts about how gorgeous he actually was. You had to admit: your heart did flutter a bit at his face.

“Excellent! He’s waiting in the meeting room right now! You only need, what, six hours to prepare, right?”

Fuck, you take back that heart flutter. Boss Kim was an asshole.

“S-Sir,’’ you sputtered,” I can’t…’’

Before you even finished your words, Boss Kim was already ushering you back out of the office.

“I believe in you! You got this!”

He closed the door behind you. You swallowed back the mouthful of swears you wanted to spew before scrambling towards your desk.

You weren’t prepared, but you knew you would do anything for a scoop.

Exactly 6 hours and seventeen seconds later, you were primly seated in front of Kim Taehyung.

The seats were annoyingly too close, and you cursed Boss Kim in your heart, knowing that the reason why the chairs were placed in such an unprofessional manner was because Boss Kim wanted to create the perfect intimate setting for no cost. If you tried to extend your legs, you’d end up smacking them straight into Taehyung’s legs.  

You, although disgruntled, had to admit that there was a reason why so many major brands wanted him as their model. He was handsome under the shitty lighting of the musty club last night, but here, with his hair and makeup carefully done despite the fluorescent lighting of the room, he was every synonym of the word beautiful combined into one person.

Blond strands of his hair brushed his chiseled features, and his eyes, curved attractively and framed with delicate long wisps of eyelashes, was intensely focused on your face. He looked ever like a marble statue, carved with attention and detail to be the most perfect specimen artistry could ever create. But he wasn’t perfect; that was what you knew. And that would also be what would you get just one step ahead of him.

You swept a piece of hair and tucked it behind an ear as you scanned your hastily scribbled notes. His eyes clung to that movement, as if he was mesmerized by your every action, and you peeked a look through your lashes. Your eyes met, and you forced a stiff smile.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you rolled your shoulders back into a proper posture, gingerly extending a hand out for him to take,” Good morning. It’s an honor to be able to do an interview with you.”

The edges of his lips tilted upward, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as his previous fiercely predatory state melted into the façade he put up in front of the public. He reached out and took your hand, throwing you off guard as he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

“Likewise, it’s an honor to have an interview with you, (Y/n).’’

Yuck, you were going to have to wash your hands later. Anyways, what kind of person even kissed the back of people’s hands nowadays? This was the 21st century for fuck’s sake. You somehow kept your grimace to yourself.

You nervously laughed as you practically yanked your hand back out of his grasp. You casually wiped the back of your hand on the fabric of your skirt, disguising the movement as simply brushing off dust. Taehyung’s eyes didn’t leave any of your movements, and he laughed a little as he realized just what you were doing.

Oh, you were so interesting. You weren’t like the rest of them, the fans that threw themselves at him adoringly; hell, he was sure you weren’t even a fan. He was entranced. When he was close to you, the headaches seemed to fade; he didn’t want to drown himself in another body when he was with you. He didn’t want to kill when he was with you.

You ignored his burning gaze, breezing through the beginning parts of the interview. Finally, you reached the part that you had been anxiously preparing for.

“So, I heard that you’re trying out a new actor role. As a model and an artist and now an actor, we have to admit that your talents are incredibly versatile, Kim Taehyung-ssi.’’ You continued speaking. “Could you tell us a little more about this role?’’

“You flatter me too much, (Y/n).’’ He purposefully had left any formalities to the wind in this interview, a move that made you want to grind your teeth. “Yes, I was offered one of the leading roles in a new thriller movie. I’ll be acting as one of the charismatic but complex characters. I hope to show you and all of my fans a new side to Kim Taehyung.”

“Ah, a new side,’’ you nodded lightly,” Your new role as a charismatic serial killer who targets his admirers is certainly what many would call…complex. How do you go about preparing for such a twisted role?”

“Hmm…,’’ Taehyung’s lips curled up menacingly for a brief moment before fading away into a breezy smile,’’ It’s quite difficult to immerse myself into a role in which I have limited experience in, so I like to read through the script and make a map of what the character is like. What motivates him; what makes him so…complex, as you called it. I pretend to be like the character. How do I make myself think like him? That’s the question I like to try to find an answer to.”

“Ah, this is simply my personal opinion, but to truly play the character requires some true life experience…Is it possible that you’ve ever done anything similar to what the character has done in real life?”

A pin seemed to drop in that very moment from the silence that crowded the room. Everyone in the room froze and stared at you, their glances less than pleasant. You bore it all as you stared intently into his eyes. Slip up, you prayed, do something that will make you slip up. There was not even a brief soft sound in the 10 seconds that it took for Taehyung to respond.

He was rigid, the smile plastered on his face barely fading. Come on, you begged, expose yourself just a bit.

“Your response is lagging for just a bit, Kim Taehyung-ssi. It makes you seem guilty just a bit, doesn’t it?’’

He snapped out of it right then and there.

“I was simply contemplating my response. Your impatience is something not so befitting of a formal interview. To answer your question, isn’t a role just a role at the end of the day? If you think about it, I’m not the only person to have played a role like this. Many actors and actresses have done so without any thought of relating it to their real life. After all, a role is simply an imaginary self.”

You both stared into each other’s eyes, and you felt the gazes of other people around you burn into you.

You settled on a retreat. It was fine; this interview was just the first building block. You laughed lightly, throwing off the previous tense silence easily.

“Of course! We wouldn’t expect nothing but, right? We hope to see your talent truly shine through in this new role!’’

The tenseness in the room seemed to slip away right then, and the deathly gazes on you flitted away, like they were never there in the first place.

You let out a sigh as you left the interview room. God, that was terrifying, but you knew that you had to do what you had just previously done. What you had just done asserted the theory that you had. His company was hiding something about him, and that something was nothing less than downright horrific.

JK, you thought to yourself, I’m going to expose this story, just you wait.

“You weren’t just going to leave, huh?’’

You heard a familiar voice speak behind you, and you quickly spun around.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you forced out of your throat,’’ I believed you had already left.”

“I was going to, but I wanted to speak to you about the interview. The company rarely lets me do interviews, so it was really refreshing to have one done with you. We worked so well together, and I would like to thank you for the pleasant experience you had given me with dinner. You must be starving, right?’’

You had been starving earlier, but one word from Taehyung left your stomach churning in nausea.

“No!’’ your voice was a bit too loud, so you hastily softened it,’’ No, that’s not necessary. You don’t need to thank me.”

Taehyung took steps closer to you, and you unconsciously took a step back. Noticing your movements, he looked at you and flashed a grin that might’ve looked harmless to others but outright menacing to you.

“Are you scared of me?’’ his voice was almost like a purr. You fought back a shiver, straightening your back and looking him straight in the eyes.

“No,’’ you stabilized your voice, keeping a waver out of it,” Why would I be scared of you? You’re not some higher being than me just because you’re a celebrity. You’re human, after all. But, as you can see, I have work to do, so I will have to politely decline your offer.”

“You can have the rest of the day off.”

You spun around on your heels, your gaze colliding with Boss Kim’s. When did he arrive?

“Sir! Boss! No, if I skipped out on work, I’d be a burden to everyone. Besides, I—,’’ your voice was cut off by another voice.

“It’d be good to establish a positive relationship between your company and ours. Your boss would usually be the one to go to a dinner, but I believe he already has plans. Any work you were unable to fulfill today will be taken care of.”

The voice seemed to chill you to the bone. You turned to make eyes with a man. Was he…Taehyung’s manager? Although he was handsome, the kind of handsome that was comparable with Taehyung’s, something about him churned your stomach. While Taehyung was like a predator waiting to pounce on his prey, the man behind this voice was already sinking his teeth into the neck, wringing out the… You snapped out of your thoughts.

Snap out of it, you mentally scolded yourself.  

“How about it?’’ Taehyung’s manager coldly smiled, his tone like glaciers.

You opened your mouth to try to refute, but with the burning gaze from your boss, you could only dip your head in a bow, your voice low.

“Thank you for the offer. I accept.”

They couldn’t kill you, right? It’d be too obvious.

You followed them out, and when you passed by Boss Kim, you made a panicked glance at him. What greeted you made you halt briefly in your pace.

When Boss Kim made eye contact with you, he patted your shoulder in what should’ve been reassurance. His lips spread out in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t disappoint me, hmm?’’

His words, spoken low and steady, left a chill in your veins as you kept walking, and the sliding doors of the elevator dinged close behind you, effectively trapping you with Taehyung and his manager.

You somehow made it out of the elevator and through the tense car ride alive. Now, you were seated next to Taehyung himself in the private room of a restaurant. Smoke rose from the grill, briefly obscuring your view of his manager from across you.

You tried to think positively of the situation. If Taehyung was drunk, maybe he’d slip up, but…you made a furtive glance at his manager from across the grill, slightly jolting when your eyes collided with his own. The fear that nearly overcame you made you nauseous.

“A drink?”

Taehyung’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned to see him already raising his glass. You stiffly smiled, barely managing to keep the nervous twitch out of the curves of your lips.

“I don’t drink.”

“It’s impolite to decline a friendly offer. Come on, a toast to a wonderful…partnership.” Taehyung chuckled, raising his glass, as he leaned his chin onto the propped palm of his hand,” And we wouldn’t want a bad start to it.”

You were panicking by now, but you could imagine what Boss Kim would say if Taehyung’s company pulled out because of something so miniscule. You couldn’t afford to lose your job, not with the way you had fought tooth and nail to get your position; you wouldn’t last a month without your job or the meager protection it gave you.

You made your decision, a decision you would’ve done anything else but avoid, and tilted the glass up, clinking it against Taehyung’s glass. Turning away, you made it look like you were lightly sipping the drink, but you only allowed the liquid to slightly wet your lips. You set down the still-full glass and smiled pleasantly.

“I can only drink this much. Anymore, and I would experience terrible side effects.”

Taehyung didn’t seem even irked by your feeble attempt at pretending; instead, his eyes filled with amusement. He didn’t stop staring at you, and the threatening vibe of it caused you to unconsciously delve into your habit of gripping your glass of water and drinking it in an attempt to calm your nerves.

You placed the empty glass back down before resuming anxiously picking at your food. A pair of chopsticks—specifically Taehyung’s chopsticks—placed a piece of barbecued meat on your bowl of rice.

“Not feeling hungry? You need to eat. Skipping meals is bad for your health,’’ Taehyung beamed as he watched you carefully pick up the piece of meat and eat it. It would’ve been delicious any other time, but the churning in your gut made it taste like sand in your mouth. You dryly swallowed it.

“I’m heading to the restroom.”

You heard Taehyung’s manager speak in his flat tone, and you threw a skittish glance at him as he stood up and walked out of the private room, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

“Ah, now that that nuisance is out of the way, why don’t we talk more?’’ Taehyung’s tone was playful, and you flinched as he leaned closer to you, his breath brushing against the outer shell of your ear.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you gritted the name through your teeth,” Please respect my personal space.”

He laughed lowly before he dropped a hand on your thigh. You were about to make a move to push him away, but your body suddenly felt tired, like you weren’t quite in control anymore.

“Come on, do what I say, and your little news company will do so much better. Your boss didn’t tell you this, but your company’s going bankrupt. One peep from me, and your company will rise in ranking, but I can only do that if I’m in a…happy mood.”

Taehyung pressed even closer to you, his nose against the curve of your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply in. His hands moved from his side and he ripped open the buttons of your shirt, groping your bra-covered tits. You let out an incoherent mumble in response, trying to flimsily kick at him.

Where was the waiter? Why was his manager taking so long? They planned this!

Disgust and heat coiled in your gut, but you were too dizzy to move. Something…that bastard…Did he spike your water? You were too careless, fuck. Taehyung moved one hand to tilt your chin up before his lips met yours. Despite how sloppy of a kiss it was, you could tell he was experienced, practically tasting every inner crevice of your soft mouth with his tongue, and you should’ve continued to be revolted, but whatever pill in your system had you melting into his mouth.

Taehyung seemed to sense the turmoil and conflict in you and the soft give of your will, and that seemed to make him even braver. He slid a hand up your skirt, his touch hot even through the fabric of your stockings, and you let out a startled moan against his lips, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth. He pulled back, and you could barely see through the teary haze of your eyes. It had been too long since the last time you had a good fuck. You just wanted to be touched…wanted to be fucked so hard his cock would press against your womb.  

“I just want to see you let go a bit, baby,’’ there was the triumph of domination in his voice. The sober part of you wanted to rebel, wanted to push and scream and kick him away, but you weren’t sober, weren’t clear-minded. Your legs spread as if begging for more of his touch.

He ripped his fingers through your stocking, and the material easily gave way underneath his strength. You could feel the damp spot on your panties, growing as he rubbed his fingertips against your drooling pussy. You shivered slightly in delirious pleasure as his finger rolled over your throbbing clit.  

“Mmph!’’ you let out a sound as he pushed your soaked panties to the side and pushed his fingers deep into your pussy. You couldn’t object, not when your pussy was stretching with a spine-tingling ache around his fingers, and especially not when he begin to set a teasing pace. He pushed his fingers in, and you shut your eyes in shame as your moans grew louder.

Your toes curled as his movements grew faster, reaching deep into you, and you were so, so close. Oh my god you could feel…and you were cumming hard. Your walls shivered and twitched around his still moving fingers, and you murmured a dazed plea as he finally stilled and pulled his fingers out. You, still twitching from how hard you came earlier, were ashamed to see the way his fingers glistened with the remnants of your arousal and orgasm.

The sound of his pants being unclasped drew you out of your drugged state. No, he wasn’t going to…Come on, snap out of it, snap out of it.

He drew back closer again, and you sucked in a breath, trying to push through your daze. He leaned in. You managed to bring your arms up to the table, grabbing the nearest object that you could reach. Your trembling fingers closed around your nearly empty water glass, and you took it, raising it and smashing it as hard as you could over his head. Water, ice cubes, and glass shards struck as the glass broke. Taehyung, not expecting the blow, had a temporary moment of weakness, and you managed to push him off you.

You shoved yourself up onto shaky legs, wrapping the ripped blouse around your weakened body, and forced yourself into a run outside of the room. The hallway of the restaurant around the private rooms was empty, devoid of any person. You frantically looked over your shoulder, relieved that you didn’t see him coming after you. This was a public place, though it was late at night, and you knew Taehyung wouldn’t risk his perfect reputation. But still, you remembered his manager was still out there.

You couldn’t let them kill you…You had to survive! You broke into a blind run, ignoring the strange looks and the calls you got from the restaurant’s staff as you pushed out of the restaurant into the street. You kept running despite the dizziness of your mind, and you could barely see what was in front of you before…You crashed into someone, slamming into their body so hard that you were sent sprawling to the ground.

“Please…,’’ you choked out, your voice strangled, crying out a desperate plea as you grabbed onto their clothes,’’ Please help me.”

Your mind was dizzy, splotches of colors splattering your blurry vision. Your body had overexerted yourself, and you prayed that you wouldn’t end up a dead body on the news as your grip around the clothes went lip, and you collapsed into the road. Through the buzzing of your ears, you could hear a startled voice call out, feel a firm touch grab your shoulders and try to shake you awake. Some strange hope rose in you; maybe…maybe…?

You murmured desperately one last mumble, your words barely making sense, as you spiraled into unconsciousness.  

“JK…please help me.”

A/N: if you want to be added to the taglist for the next part, reply with a  ❤️. If you enjoyed the story, please leave a comment or a detailed review below <3

Next work will be a fic for Jungkook’s upcoming birthday. Poll will be released soon for what kind of plot it should have! 

[simpsiren]

the deformed all-rounder;

lee donghyuck x reader

At first glance, you would think that he’s just the class clown. If you’ve never seen him out of class, that would be your only perception of him. But in truth, he’s one of the most well known guys in school. Part of Dream, he’s always the talk of almost everyone’s day— everyday. But not mine. I see nothing more than an arrogant, playful and annoyingly confident guy who wants nothing to do with the rest of the school other than his friends, but girls are constantly falling on their knees for him and I can never understand why. But like any other seemingly perfect student who’s living the life, they were bound to be rough around the edges, some edges digging deeper than others.

genre. angst, fluff, strangers to friend to lovers, an extreme slowburn

warnings. none!

word count. 15.3k~

description. I never wanted to get involved with him. I never liked him from the start. His presence in class has always made my eyes roll due to his nature that I just never seem to be fond of like the rest of the school. Personal problems led us to meeting in detention. But when Haechan could have possibly slipped out something he shouldn’t have, and our instances of meetings got more often, coincidental or not, as much as I couldn’t tolerate that unique nature that sets me into flames of anger, the world has its ways of bringing us together regardless. And my curiosity got me to know that there was much more to him than what meets the eye.

!as they should masterlist!

My eyes stared at my laptop screen, which only showed the five sentences I’ve typed out long minutes ago. My fingers couldn’t bring themselves up to type on the keyboard. Even if it did, it’ll simply hover above them for minutes as my mind remainded blank. I wasn’t able to think of anything to write. How was I able to type those five sentences when I didn’t even have a rough plot to go off by?

I was sitting alone in the quiet morning. I was able to get the keys to unlock the classroom since I’ve always been one of the little few that comes by very early in the morning. Silence made itself comfortable, the sound of the wind softly blowing in from the windows. Nothing came to mind. No ideas, no plot, no inspiration— nothing. Why wasn’t I able to write? I’ve faced such days when my brain would malfunction since I simply wasn’t in the mood. That was the case for most days. Today’s definitely not like that. Today was new. It’s not that I wasn’t in the mood, I just had no motivation. Why’s that? Since I didn’t have an idea. And who did I have to blame that for? No one but myself. And that’s what I didn’t like, not having to know the root cause of my inability to write.

I’ve tried to suppress my frustration, telling myself “It’s fine. Think deeper. You’ll find something to write. Just think.” But that sliver of encouragement was of no use at all as the inner voices of my self-disappointment popping up and attacking my confidence in every corner, and that was all I could think about. I instantly slammed my laptop shut, groaning out loudly and grabbing my hair. I leaned forward, elbows supporting my upper body as I balled fists in my hair. I took deep breaths in an attempt to stay calm. It worked, but I assumed it’ll only be for a short while.

I closed my eyes, thinking of them resting them awhile after being blinded by the screen’s light for almost an hour. Just then, I heard footsteps walking by. Instinctively, I looked up to the windows on the right hand side of the classroom that allowed us to see the hallway. Someone walked past. I couldn’t figure out who it was. It’s a guy. What seemed to be the only thing that stood out in the darkness was his somewhat bright orangey brown hair. Other than that, it was just his dark figure walking past. I glanced down on my phone. I still had thirty minutes till the school turned on the lights. Who is he and what was he doing here so early? From what I know, no one in this building comes to school early other than me.

I let out a sigh, shaking my head. For a moment I thought I had seen a ghost. But, I don’t believe in such things. The possibility was there though. Either way, I slid my laptop back into its leather case and placed it under my table. I waited in silence as I pressed my palm on my cheek, looking out the window. The trees swayed camly in the wind, the sun yet to rise and so the light that shined on the trees and school field gave off a grey hue. The sound of birds chirped softly in the distance. I slowly put my eyes to rest, as well as my brain before I get back to fighting another tiring day of school and making myself suffer even more by coming up with something to write, as well as other stressful things regular students go through.

I snapped back to reality once my classmate strolled in. So the day has started and I wasn’t able to enjoy the peacefulness of the morning any longer. It went by as usual. With the help of my friends making me laugh through each one hour class, I was able to keep myself fully awake. Then came History. The few subjects I liked most, but also hate. It wasn’t the subject’s fault, but the teacher’s. I had a strong dislike towards the way Mister Low taught History. I much rather preferred Miss Jenkins. But she only ever came to class as a relief teacher if Mister Low wasn’t around. To which was why I always prayed that something would happen to him so he wouldn’t have to clock into class. Luck wasn’t on my side today.

I said goodbye to all my other friends, taking my History materials and moving over to the classroom next door since the rest of my friend group took Geography, which I had zero interest in.

Mister Low barely thought us anything today. We were simply only told to write essays as time practice for our exam that wasn’t even coming in months time. I was hungry for content, to learn more about the topic that we were just barely a quater way done with. But he wasn’t giving any of it. I looked at the clock, thirty two more minutes. I glanced at my paper. I was already done with the essays, quickly pushing through it with the mentality of “Just get it done and other with.” That self-made motto was what got me through these three years. I then adverted my attention to Mister Low, who was sitting down at the teacher’s desk and typing away about who knows what, teacher things I guess.

The classroom was silent. And obviously it wasn’t because we were well behaved. I turned around, scanning my eyes over the classroom. Everyone was doing anything else but the task to be completed at hand. Majority were on their phones. They didn’t even bother hiding, their phones all out in the open on the table. Some were even holding their phones high up with their elbows on the table. The rest were either sleeping, drawing, or listening to music on their wireless earpieces.

I puckered my lips. My eyes shot to one person that caught my eye. Lee Donghyuck. Or what everyone else calls him by, Haechan. No one has called him by his real name before. Even the teachers call him Haechan. He was at the back, the farthest row of tables. His bright brown hair stood out to me. Was he the one I saw this morning?

Haechan was talking with some others at the back. They were having their own little group session, only their voices were being heard in the silent classroom as they huddled up. I faced back to the front but immediately turned around and glared when Haechan’s loud laughter spreaded across the room. Why wasn’t anyone bothered by them? How could anyone be fine with the fact that their annoying chatters and laughter constantly disrupted the class’s peace?

“Oi! Mister Low!” Haechan voiced out, making everyone, and I mean everyone, even the ones that are usually in their deepest sleep, turn their heads in sync to face Haechan. Mister Low lifted his eyes off his screen. “Yes?” He questioned with a tilted head. Haechan stood up from his seat and slowly made his way to the teacher’s desk, fingers interlocked behind him as he casually stride down the gap between the row of tables. He bounced on the balls of his feet slightly with each step.

“Can we get released early?” Haechan’s question made everyone turn their heads to each other and exchanged looks. “What is he thinking?” “Will he actually let us go?” “It’s Haechan. Let him do his thing.” Those are what I envisioned the students telepathically saying to each other. I however was shaking my head. There Haechan goes again. Being the all teacher’s pet and horning his ability to take advantage of each one of them, even the most strict ones. Mister Low was on the lenient side, the dumb lenient one to be specific— the pushover teacher.

“No. You still have twenty minutes. What would you guys do then?” Haechan laughed, clapping his hand once and keeping them clasped together in front of his chest. “It’s not like we’re getting off school grounds. Majority of us still have lessons after our late lunch. As you can see, all of us have already completed our essays. So I don’t see why you need to hold us any longer.” Haechan’s voice flowed in a formal and engaging way, just like an orator who can easily grab the interest of his audience. I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “I can’t belive he’s actually doing this.” I mumbled to myself.

This proposal was taken into consideration as Mister Low didn’t give a reply, but was looking up elsewhere thoughtfully. After a moment, he sighed in defeat, lazily swirling his hand in the air. “Okay, okay. Go. Put your essays here.” Mister Low called out to everyone.

No one even bothered to greet Mister Low. Or give in their essays. Everyone packed their bags as quickly as ever and ran out, desperate on getting out of this hell-hole of boredom. Haechan muttered a “Thank you, sir.” skipping back to his acquaintances and they all gave him a pat on the back. Mister Low has already exited. And I was the only one left sitting there, frozen in shock. How did he even get Mister Low to agree to that? All he had to say was a few sentences. The amount of persuasion he brought to the table was incredible. But I didn’t like it. He had good speaking skills, that I know. But he’s using it for the wrong reasons.

“Aren’t you leaving?” The familiar confident voice rang in my ear. Just when I was deep in my thoughts, I looked up, seeing Haechan standing in front of me as the rest walked past. This was the first time he’s ever spoken “Yeah.” I whispered. It was also the first time I’ve ever spoken to him. I stood up, blinking twice. I gathered my things and made a run for the door. I would never want to talk to him again. Just from his voice I could tell he was annoyingly confident, a feature that is commonly seen from those popular guys in rom-com movies. He wasn’t a bad boy per say, just... over the top stuck up.

I got back to classroom after walking around school for the rest of the minutes. I didn’t have to do that if Haechan hasn’t released the class early. I had nothing to do. I could just stayed in class if it weren’t for Haechan. “You look dead.” Yiung said, coming up from behind and placing a hand on my shoulder. I dropped down to the floor after placing my materials on the table, covering my head with my arms. I was completely brain drained at that point. “History shot me flat out.” I replied, my voice muffled.

“Are you staying here for lunch again?” I felt a presence beside me. I lifted my head up, seeing Mina squatting down while Yiung had her arms folded. I hummed in response. Mina placed a hand on my back, rubbing it up and down slowly. “It’s okay. I’ll get you gummies to eat during Biology.” Mina reassured me. She stood up and called out to Yiung, the both of them waving at me and sending me mental support as they left.

I was sitting at my study table, completed homework neatly stacked and pushed off to the side. The only thing left in front of me was my laptop, opened and glaring at me with its bright screen despite setting the brightness down to its lowest. My eyes never left the blank screen, an empty white simply looking back at me as it waited to be loaded with words. As much as I tried squeezing out every idea I had, I realised that it was all too boring. Too cliche, too predictable. It wouldn’t stand out like my other works do if I were to publish the piece of writing.

I glanced at the time shown on the bottom right of the screen. 6:05AM. I could get ready and head out now. I did stay up all night, but I took a nap immediately after coming home and ended waking up at eleven. My sleep schedule is all over the place. I lifted myself off my chair, turning my body here and there to stretch out my back and arms, instantly making my way to the bathroom.

I entered the school, greeting the security guard as he handed me the classroom keys. I placed my index finger through the key ring, swirling it around as the keys made its sound while it dangled and moved around. Just when I was about the enter the building to my classroom, I paused in my tracks. A familiar figure stood in front of another security guard. With squinted eyes, I went forward and pushed open the door.

“Hey.” I said, not directing it to a specific person. They didn’t respond and instead kept their stare on each other, which made me look at them weirdly. I shrugged and walked past them, slightly offended with their zero reaction. Due to the silence of the hallways, I was able to hear their conversation clearly, though they kept quiet the moment I came in.

“You aren’t suppose to do that. You’ll be reported to the principal. This is major.” The security guard lectured Haechan. “Honestly, I don’t care. Do what you want. I’ll settle it my own way.” I heard Haechan’s footsteps coming. Fast. He was storming. And in a matter of seconds, he was ahead of me, going a few more classes down, unlocking his classroom and furiously swinging open the door, disappearing out of my sight.

My steps to class got slower, my eyes not wanting to leave the opened door of Haechan’s classroom. Questions began circling in my head. What were they talking about? What is Haechan hiding that he had to keep it a secret from anyone who walked past them? Something major?

I took out my laptop from its leather case, turning it on and heading over to Google Docs. The stress of not having anything written settled in, but it somehow got overpowered by my thoughts and curiosity about Haechan’s situation. It was suspicious. Haechan talked to the security in a completely different manner. He was normally seen as the sun of the school. Bright, cheerful, always happy and living the life. But I felt the coldness of his words. It was so hard-hitting that I could feel it from when I was walking to class.

“Honestly, I don’t care. Do what you want. I’ll settle it my own way.” I shivered, closing my eyes and shaking my head. He was rough and harsh with his words. I was still shocked by it. However, as I looked at my screen again, something clicked in my head. I slowly brought my fingers up to the keyboard, they hovered above them for a moment before I began to type.

Major. Possibility of being reported by the principal. Keys...

I clicked on the period key at least twenty times before finally ending it with a question mark. I exhaled sharply, leaning forward against the table and allowing my elbows to support my upper body as I interlocked my fingers together and allowing my chin to rest on them. Why couldn’t I stop think about it? What was it that struck out so much that I couldn’t shake it off? It wasn’t even my business so why was I eager to find out?

“Wait.” I whispered. I thought about how this gave me the opportunity to come up with something. Thiller, mystery type of story. I’ve never written in that genre before, mostly being romance and fantasy. But Haechan’s suspicions behaviour moments ago peaked my interest. I could write something about that. I’ll use what I heard as guidance. I didn’t have an exact plot. Nor was I fully settled and happy with the idea, but I’d still be able to write the introduction with this mystery.

My fingers began typing away, faster than ever. The satisfaction of hearing the keyboard made its sound while I quickly pressed on each key. I was feeling that adrenaline to complete the introduction before the start of class. Something in me apparently fueled. But it wasn’t my motivation. I was simply typing. I didn’t feel anything. Aren’t writer suppose to be emotionally drawn and attached to their own book? It’s as if I’m writing to simply put words on paper without any other agenda, staying in the stagnant state of nothingness.

Later that day, I was met with the dreadful History class yet again. It’s the only lesson I had this week so might as well “Just get it done and over with.” I mumbled to myself as I made my way to the classroom next door. Everyone was doing their own things. Once again Haechan’s group of acquaintances were at the back chatting as loudly as ever. I call them acquaintances since I’ve only ever seen them hang out with Haechan during History. Other than that, Haechan doesn’t give a damn about anyone, besides the other Dream members.

I rolled my eyes and sat down at my table. Seconds later, Mister Low came in. We greeted him and sat back down. “So class today we’ll be doing another time practice after I go over some key point. I’ll be handing out the essay questions now. You’ll have to complete by the end of class.”

“You can’t be fucking serious.” I growled lowly, watching him handing out the papers to the first row in front. As he headed to my row I couldn’t help but feel the anger rising up in me. We aren’t actually going to be doing this right? When the student in front of me handed me the papers, I took one off the stack and passed it on to the back. My eyes looked down it. In annoyance, I scrunched it up in my hands, now smashing it to a small ball in my palm.

More than half an hour has already passed. He’s taking forever to go through the things that we learned, despite it not being a lot. I furiously pushed myself off my seat, the loud noise getting everyone’s eyes and attention on me. I looked down, teeth gritting as I tried taking in a deep breath before looking back up to Mister Low, who gave me a blank expression as his eyes travelled from the crumpled paper in my hand and back to me.

“I’m not doing this shit. What the hell have you been doing, Mister Low? You are barely giving us any content to learn and study. We’ve been doing time practices for weeks. I get that it’s important, but we aren’t even halfway done with chapter seven. Not to mention that we still have chapters eight, nine and ten to finish by the end of the fucking year!”

I was breathing heavily now. My arms were stiff and my stare on him fired with fury was intense. “Fuck your time practices.” I simply said, not giving a flying care about my consequences at that moment, throwing the crushed up paper past Mister Low and into the dustbin behind him. I ran a hand through my hair, turning around and seeing how everyone had mixed expressions. Shocked, satisfied, scared? Most probably all of the above. Haechan however had the widest smirk on his face. I swung my head back to Mister Low.

“I’m gonna have to give you detention for that, Miss _____.” I scoffed loudly, folding my arms and cocking up a brow, the corner of my lip lifting up ever so slightly to a smirk. “Do it. Give me hours of detention. More of your stupid practices. But you better teach this class something before I report you to the principal about how much you suck.”

Just like it was on cue, the school be rang, signalling that class had ended. I jerked my head slightly at Mister Low as I packed my things, everyone doing the same and rushing out.

“The fuck did you do?!” Lucas sat down beside me at the lunch table. Yiung and Mina were completing homework last minute and being the kind friend, I fed them chips whenever they opened their mouths for it. “You’re so busted.” Mina muttered, shaking her head in disappointment. “I shouldn’t be laughing oh God I’m sorry.” Lucas tried to suppress his laughter but wasn’t able to achieve it for even one second, bursting out laughing so loud. I slammed my hand palm down on the table.

“Someone had to do it! We can’t just be writing essays forever. We needed to learn the content but the idiot refuses to even do it. How’s that being a good teacher?” I angrily spoke, seeing Yiung opening her mouth wide. I shoved a chip in her mouth as she hummed in satisfaction. Lucas glanced down at his phone. “You’ll be getting the notice for detention in nine minutes.”

“Oh by the way...” Lucas started. I turned my head to him while Yiung and Mina still had their heads down, but their ears wide open. “I got some tea on Haechan.” A big mischievous smirk crept up his face, giggling ever so softly. I tilted my head and widened my eyes. Could this be related to what happened this morning? “Spill.” I said in a firm tone. Lucas nodded, leaning in close to me as his shoulders raised up till his ears. “I heard that this morning Haechan was seen with the principal in his office. I’m not sure what it’s about, but it must be serious since no one’s talking about Haechan today.” 

Mina gasped loudly and lifted her head up from her worksheet. She pointed her pen to Lucas and nodded her head vigorously with affirmation. “You’re right! The fact that no one had talked about Haechan today weirded me out so much! What I’m most shocked about is that no girls had even approached him today.” Mina whispered, joining in on the conversation as well and leaving her incomplete homework. 

I furrowed my eyes. That was indeed weird, and very out of the ordinary. I would always see girls gathered outside of Haechan’s classroom, waiting desperately for him to walk out and chasing him to shower him with gifts and presents. Most girls used that chaotic situation to confess to him, knowing very well that the answer from him would be a flat out “No.” I still don’t know why they even bother despite knowing the outcome. It’s as if every girl in this school has fallen under some kind of spell that make them act like vampires wanting to suck the life out of the unbothered Haechan. It’s ridiculous and immensely dumb. Explains why I don’t have that any other girl friends than Yiung and Mina. 

“Is it weird that I want to know what’s going on with him?” I questioned awkwardly. Lucas shrugged. “I guess that’s just your journalist side of you showing.” He simply replied. “Why did you quit writing the school’s newspaper when you are still going to write books? It’s the same thing.” I let out a disappointing sigh. “What you write about is different, Mina. How many times do I have to explain it to you guys.”

Suddenly the cafeteria that was loud and rowdy seconds ago has been put to silence instantly. All of us turned our head to the doors. It swung open, revealing the Dream. The school’s normal reaction would be to swoon over each one of them and having a fangirl session as they across their area. As cliché as that sounds, it is what usually happens. However, as expected due to the new information I acquired from Lucas, no one gave a single reaction to them, Instead, their eyes followed them warily with each step they took. They were quick to grab their food and leave. If the pin drop silence wasn’t enough, the atmosphere changed completely too. It was cold and deadly, as if a serial killer who  kept us hostage just came waltzing in. 

The moment they left, whispers and murmurs filled the room. The four of us looked back at each other, exchanging unrecognizable looks. “That was...”

“Interesting.”

After lunch, I was notified to head to the detention room once I ended school. I found it unexplainable. I screamed at the teacher and basically called him useless and this is what I get? Just detention? I mean I’m glad I didn’t have to do anything more, but I also thought about just how poorly this school manages its students, settling every problem with clearing up detentions hours. Any student could walk in with an empty mind and come out the exact same. It made no difference. 

I stepped in, only one teacher I was unfamiliar with sat at the teacher’s desk. I assumed she was only here for detention since I’ve never seen her around before. And because this was my first time in detention. She didn’t bother looking at me and instantly jerked her head to the tables, urging me to sit. I raised a brow. What else was I going to do?

I picked a seat, fully out of random. “Uh excuse me?” I asked, trying to sound polite as I pulling my chair in. The teacher looked up at me, her eyes narrowed with her eyes furrowed. “What?” She asked back with a rude tone. I arched one of my eyebrows in a questioning look. “Can I use my laptop?” 

“Do whatever you want.” 

I breathed a quiet laugh and nodded my head. “Well that was easy.” I whispered to myself. I took my laptop out of my bag and turned it on after placing it on the table. While waiting for it to start up and keying in my password, the door opened. I simply thought it was just another student who had detention. However, I could already tell from how their footsteps sounded that it wasn’t just any student. 

“Haechan. Nice seeing you here.” I looked up from the keyboard. I noticed how the woman flashed a bright smile as Haechan bowed his head slightly and making his way over to the tables. “I’m only here for an hour, right?” He asked, as if I wasn’t sitting in between their conversation. The woman hummed happily. “Yes, of course. It’s what I can do to repay you for your hard work.”

Haehan chuckled. “I’m glad.” He decided to take the seat next to mine, placing his bag on the chair and sitting down. He then turned to me, having a wide smile till his eyes formed a thin line. “Nice seeing you here. Care telling me how you ended up here?” Haechan questioned me in a playful manner. I took my eyes off him and to my screen, proceeding to head to Google Docs are per usual. I heard Haechan let out an exasperated sigh. “Nice meeting you too.” He muttered. 

Only a few minutes of silence have passed and the woman has already left the room since she had “personal matters.” to attend to, which left the room completely unattended and unsupervised. I assumed that she wouldn’t be coming back either. While I was thinking of how to continue my writing, I looked over to Haechan, who’s taking out a very large and full pencil case along with a stack of paper that had a very small grid. It looked like one of those papers that neat girls used for their notes to make it look aesthetic. 

He proceeded to open his pencil case and fished out for something. It was a felt tip pen. Or a calligraphy pen. I couldn’t exactly tell. He leaned forward and started writing on the paper. Seconds later, he took out a textbook from his bag. I noticed it was the History textbook.

“What are you doing?” I asked, suddenly getting curious the moment he took out the History textbook. He raised both his eyebrows, staring at me for a moment before lifting the textbook up slightly. “Making notes.” He replied very simply. I peeked over at his table, his other notes were scattered around. I was indeed impressed. “They’re... pretty.” I complimented awkwardly. Haechan chuckled. “Want to buy one?”

“Excuse me?”

“Eight dollars per paper. But the cost vary depending on the topic and subject.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

Haechan turned his body to have me, his arm resting on the back of his chair as he gave me an unimpressed expression. “I’m selling you my notes. What else?” He asked dryly, rolling his eyes and paying his attention back down to his notes. I blinked my eyes twice, trailing them from the notes and back to Haechan. What was he even doing? “You sell your notes...?” I asked softly. Haechan nodded firmly. “Indeed, I do.” 

“So do you want one or not?” “No.” I replied quickly, turning back to the front to focus on my writing.

Nothing else could be heard other than the typing of my keyboard, Haechan dropping his many pens on the table constantly as he switched between them every second and Haechan tapping his feet to unrecognizable beats as he listened to music on his Airpods. As I continued on with my writing, I realised that I’ve come to the part where the character had to know the truth about what actually happened, or in this reality, what actually happened to Haechan.

I looked over to him, he was flipping through another textbook now, getting ready to write another set of notes. I reached out, poking him on his shoulder with my index finger. He raised both his brows and took off one side of his Airpods. “Hm?” He asked questionably. “I have to know why you’re here.”

“You mean what got me into detention?” I nodded my head. Haechan took in a deep breath, letting a loud and lazy sigh escape his lips. “Everyone’s curious about that. Not just you. What right do you have to gain special access to know the truth?” I brought my head back, my mouth gaping slightly as my face went blank. That was true. I had no right. Everyone was curious about it too. It may not be seen in the hallways, especially when Haechan walks by. But rumors have been spreading behind closed doors. 

“People are talking about you.” Haechan scoffed, leaning back into his chair. “Of course they are. It’s an everyday thing.” I furrowed my brows, surprised at just how delusional he was being. “I meant that people are spreading rumors about you. I get that you’re the it-boy of school or whatever you’d call it. But I don’t think you realise that your reputation is slowly going down the drain.”

I paused for a moment, tilting my head a few angles down as a small smile, which later grew into a more satisfied one as I slowly watched Haechan being thrown off guard by my words. “I also happened to hear you talking with that security guard about the classroom keys.” I was now smirking, my eyes never leaving his. “It’s not even a big deal.” I huffed loudly. “Must be if the principal’s involved.”

Haechan glanced at the door, he was suddenly acting cautious and wary, as if someone would jump out to get him if he didn’t keep his eyes on the door. “They found out that I got stole a spare of classroom keys.” Haechan blurted out. I puckered my lips and nodded, bringing my hands back to the keyboard to record his words. “What the fuck? Are you some reporter?”

“No but I need to type this down. Could say it’s a habit. I used to write the school’s newspaper afterall.” Haechan arched a brow. “So you’re planning to tell this to the newspaper team?” I gave a half-shrug, shaking my head. “I quit two months ago. I thought you knew. It was in the newspaper.”

“I don’t read them.”

“Because you’re sick of seeing your face in it every week?”

“Could say that again.” I chuckled lightly. “I just need it for inspiration on a story I’m writing. Anyways, continue.” Haechan gave me a skeptical look, eyeing me up and down with suspicion before pinching his temples. “I didn’t exactly stole them. I made them.” His words made me widened my eyes. “H-How?” I stuttered, purely curious and somewhat amazed at the same time. 

“Chenle brought a 3D printer once. It could copy and make the exact replica of anything. I simply used it to make a spare key just so I can come here whenever I wanted to.” Haechan inhaled quietly. “But they also found out I used that method to gain access to other things... That’s as far as I want say.” For some reason, instead of freaking out, I sat there in silence, staring at him as I couldn’t move an inch. I didn’t know how to react. “That’s... Wow.” No matter how hard I tried to find words to say, those were the only two that came to mind. 

“If you use it for other things, why aren’t you getting a more severe punishment? We’re literally just serving detention hours when I thought I’d be doing community service for talking shit about Mister Low.” Haechan chuckled lowly, running a hand through his soft-looking hair. “You nit not worry about that.”

“What do you mean?” I whispered. “Mister Low is about to get fired since the other students in our History class are complaining to other teachers about how you’re right and that he really couldn’t teach. Word gets around in the teachers’ office and so.” Haechan bobbed his shoulders, not needing to complete to full sentence as I already got the memo. “And I have my own ways for settling my problems.” He was saying the same thing he said to the security guard that morning. “How, exactly?”

“The world is tipped in favour of the rich and powerful. Don’t you think?” Haechan smirked widely along with a giggle. “You use money to get what you-” 

“Calm down. I was just joking. I wanted to make your story more interesting.” Haechan laughed. He began packing his things up, slinging his bag on one shoulder. “My time here is up so ciao.” Haechan said in an instant, as if wanting to get away as fast as possible while trying to look casual. He walked away, lifting a hand up and waving it while using the other to open the door and left. The room was met with utter silence. “What the hell just happened?”

For the rest of the day I couldn’t help but wonder if his words were true. What else could he have done with 3D printer? What if it was something more than just replicating classroom keys? He said it was just to help with my writing, but what if it was actually true?

I never got Haechan out of my mind as I took reference from the points I’ve taken down while he talked to me for my writing. It helped, nonetheless. I had a flow of a proper plot. However, I was not fully satisfied with it. The way Haechan structured his words were weird, the possibility that there’s more to it got glued to my mind and was the main topic of my thoughts every day. 

One afternoon, I chose to stay back at the library to do my assignments. I had the sudden motivation to be productive at school. While making my way there, I passed by a dark corner. I stopped in my tracks and walked back, as for a split second I thought I had seen a shadow of some sort. Indeed, I was right. Two people were standing there to be exact. I was all too familiar with one of their figures, noticing that it was Haechan. The other I assumed to be a regular student. They stood at the furthest end of the dark hallway. Anyone could have walked past and not realise anything. I hid myself behind the wall, my head peeking out just a little that only my eyes could be seen. 

“I need more.” I heard the student beg. Haechan folded his arms, weight shifting from one leg to the other. “Can’t do. You’re lucky you bought my notes. It should be enough for the test.” Haechan whispered, leaning in towards him. The student looked down at the plastic bag, eyes staring at it for a moment before slowly trailing them up to meet Haechan’s. The student let out a defeated sigh, holding the bag up in front of him. “Pleasure doing business with you.” He bid Haechan goodbye, shoving one hand into his pocket while letting the bag hang on the index finger of his other hand that fell down to his side. With a leaned back posture, he slowly made his way out of the hallways. With quick and brisk steps, I speed walked forward, turning a corner and hiding there till he walked past. 

I decided to stay there, cautious as to whether Haechan was about to walk past as well. However, I heard his footsteps, but they weren’t coming to my direction. I peeked my head out of the corner once again, this time a little further with confidence of him not coming my way. Haechan was walking towards the opposite direction. I wasn’t sure what drew me into doing so, but I decided to follow him. Where I ended up was seemingly unexpected. 

I was steps away from the door. Tilting my head upwards, I was met with the sign above the door. Music room. I’ve only been here once, to interview the student that was about to perform solo for a concert we had last year to showcase the performing art curriculum. I slowly made my way to the door, the window giving me a clear view of the room. I looked in, seeing Haechan sitting  by the piano. His fingers hovered above the keys, just like how mine would float above the keyboard when I had no idea what letter to press. I couldn’t see his face due to his hair that covered till his eyes. 

Either way, I gulped and placed my hand on the handle, pushing it down and going in while clearing my throat. Haechan shot his head up from the piano and to me with a blank expression. I quickly closed the door behind me and awkwardly placed the hand behind my head. “Hey. It’s our second time meeting.” Haechan greeted, letting his forearm rest on edge of the fall board, leaning his upper body. I hummed as I slowly sidled my way up to him. “It is.” I simply said.

“So why are you here? Did you follow me?” Haechan asked, tone filled to the brim with suspicion as he squinted his eyes on me. I opened my mouth, but words couldn’t come out. I wasn’t able to speak as I tried to come up with an excuse. “I- Uh was headed to the library when I walked past and saw you in here.” 

“So? You have no reason to want to come in here.” Haechan replied dryly. I mentally rolled my eyes. I felt as if I couldn’t keep up a conversation with him without wanting to burst due to his rudeness. He had no reason to be this cold towards me. Does he always have to be like this?

“The libraries in the opposite block. Our classrooms aren’t even here.” Haechan breathed out, eyes scanning across the keys of the piano before shooting up to me. “What’s your actual reason coming here?” Haechan’s voice grew lower with each word till it became a faint whisper. His eyes were piercing into me deadly, as if I was meeting the grim reaper that’s about to take my soul. Once again I tried to speak but I couldn’t. Even if I did, I would be slurring through my words as I didn’t know myself why I chose to follow him here. 

“I... I want to know more about you.” I blurted out. I wanted to give myself a smack in the head. I sounded too weird, like a stalker. I had millions of other ways to phrase that but I chose to be too straightforward. Haechan jerked his head, hissing when he puffed his chest up as he inhaled. “Do you like me?”

“What? No. Why would you even-” “You wouldn’t have followed me all the way here if you weren’t interested. This is the first time I’ve seen you having the urge to talk to me.” Haechan cocked an eyebrow in my direction, to which I responded with a loud huff of amusement. “My intention was to know what else you are doing with that 3D printer of yours for my story.” I stated, matter-of-factly. I ran a frustrated hand through my hair. 

“You’re a writer. Aren’t you suppose to be creative?” I took a deep breath. Breathe, just breathe. I was actually about to explode like a volcano that was about to erupt at any second. Why did he have to be so hard to talk to? On instinct, I slammed my hand on the keyboard, the loud sound coming from the keys I pressed down pierced through my eardrums. “Listen. It’s getting really fucking annoying to talk to you. Answer my questions, and I won’t needing to see you again.” 

Haechan had zero reaction to my words. It’s like he had a bullet proof screen in between us as I fired my words in anger. “Incorrect. We have another session of detention on Wednesday. Three hours to clear, and it’s just the two of us. Sounds fun, don’t you think?” My blood was boiling. With each second that passed, I bit my lower lip as I tried hard to not slap his face. “I highly doubt you’ll be a good enough student to attend anyways. Besides the damn point, just tell me what you’ve been doing with the printer.”

“You know some things should be kept private. Like I said before, you have no right to force it out of me.”

“But you were willing and gave me some information at that time.” I could tell in Haechan’s eyes that he was taken off guard, but he was able to skillfully bounced back. “Because I was kind enough to wanna help you with your writing.” At this point, we were constantly firing words at each in a matter of seconds. It was like a war zone, keeping our eye contact and never breaking it once, our voices growing higher with each comeback. 

“You know what? Fuck it. I’ll find out myself. Since you’re unwilling to tell me anything at all, it must mean that you have something going on. I’ve already been suspicious of you from the start.” I stormed my way to the door. Forcefully grabbing onto the handle, I turned around sharply as I muttered a “Watch out.” before walking out and slamming the door shut. I needed to put the story on hold. I won’t give up till I find out what Haechan’s onto. I had to know, I just had to. To satisfy myself with solving a mystery that I unconsciously got myself into. 

The very next day, I chose to get to school earlier than I normally would. If I wanted to discover what Haechan was doing, I had to be ahead of him. This was just the start.

When I reached my classroom, I looked down the hallway., my eyes slowly looking up to the sign of Haechan’s class and back down. Absentmindedly, I took small and wary steps, walking up to his class. I glued myself to the walls when I got there. My mind slowly began to wonder why was I even digging deeper into this trivial matter that wasn’t even any of business. Perhaps it was due to me  not being able to complete the story myself, losing all my creativity in one go and I have yet to know why. Or was it perhaps because I was curious as to who Haechan was? I’ve only see Haechan as someone perfect to the eyes of society. It was only natural for him to not be perfect behind the shadows. Perhaps I wanted to know that he was human as well.

I peeked my head ever so slightly, just a few centimeters. I was quite shocked to see Haechan there, sitting at the back of the class. Just how early does this guy come to school? And for what? I saw another unfamiliar person stood next to him, hand on the edge of the table as he leaned forward. What I found to be the most weird and out of the ordinary was the fact that there was some kind of light being illuminated on the table. Due to the guy who was standing up, I couldn’t tell where the light came from. The dark classroom made this look a hundred time more eerie than I expected it to be. 

“We need to do this quick.” I heard Haechan’s mutter. He was attempting to keep his voice down. He looked extremely cautious ad he kept looking out the window. I had to pull my head away and rely on my ears for information. He was too skeptical of his surroundings. “Chill. It’ll be done in ten minutes. You know how fast this baby works. When are you going to do it?” The other male spoke in a normal voice, which make Haechan groan and let out a loud “Shh.”

“Keep your fucking voice down. No one should be hearing about this. Especially her.” I heard the male scoff. “Ah that girl...” Was the last I’ve heard. I slowly peeked my head out once again. “Maybe after detention on Wednesday. I don’t know.”

“Well you better be quick.”

They were both looking at whatever was on the table. It was dark but the light coming form it didn’t help me recognise it at all. From what I could infer, it was probably a machine of some sorr, from the way the other male called it “baby”. Was it the 3D printer? I had no solid evidence that it was. What was Haechan going to do? I was indeed clueless. But was Haechan referring to me?

Throughout the school day, I had my eyes on Haechan the whole time, watching his every move. Where he went, what he did, who he talked to. I was all eyes and ears on him. He didn’t seem to be doing anything weird. And the school was back to normal too. Girls were back to screaming his name wherever he showed up, he was back to being the all-rounder student he was. I still doubt he was an all-rounder at all. Maybe a deformed one. A deformed all-rounder. Well, that was new.

“Sorry guys but I have to stay a little while to spy on Haechan. Head home without me.” I said to the gang as we walked down the hall, on our way to the main gates. Lucas stopped, making Yiung and Mina do the same. “If you get more information, you should tell it to the school’s press. Who knows? Your story on Haechan could be a hit.”

I thought about it for a second. And for awhile I was starting to consider. I could simply put the author and Haechan as anonymous. It’ll send the school to an uproar, desperately wanting to know the identities of the people involved. On top of that, I missed the feeling of investigating and trying to gather information. It was something I did often as a writer for the newspaper. It felt good to have that surge of constant curiosity as more factors come to play the more you find out, and more questions that had to be solved slither out.

“I actually might consider it.” I said, the side of my lip rising just a little. I sent them off to the main gate and waved them goodbye. One thing I instantly realised was that I completely missed Haechan. I forgot to keep track of him and now I didn’t know where he was. I groaned silently as headed back in school. The first place I checked was his classroom. Of course he wasn’t there. Lights turned off, door and windows locked. Not a single person on sight.

The next place I checked was the music room. Lord and behold, he was there. Again sitting by the piano. This time, he was scribbling onto what I assumed was a music sheet. He was doing it in a rather furious matter, which got me worried for second. Suddenly, Haechan threw the pencil on the floor, screaming at the top of his lungs and slamming his head on the piano. Out of pure shock and instinct, I opened the door and ran up to him.

“Are you okay?! Why the hell you do that?!” I sat down the the empty space beside him and held onto his cheeks to lif his face up. His eyes fluttered open slowly, my hands feeling the warmth of his cheeks. “And what are you doing here again?” He said in a tired and hoarse voice. His eyes trailed downwards to my hands. For some reason, I didn’t let go. My hands were still against his skin which felt extremely soft. Something about this made my heart skip a beat. Why was I feeling this way? That for a split second my hands cupped his face perfectly, like were meant to be there.

“Having fun keeping your hands there?” Haechan broke me out of my thoughts with his words. I quickly pulled away, rubbing my palms on my shirt awkwardly. “You seem to always show up and meeting me here.” I gulped, avoiding eye contact as I tried to look everywhere else but him. “You seemed to be stress.” I said, making a poor attempt at changing the topic. I could tell from his soft and short breath of laughter that he knew what I was doing, but decided to go along with it mumbling a, “Yeah. I was.”

“With what?” Haechan didn’t give an answer. He blankly stared down to his lap before smacking his lips and jerking his head up to the music sheet thatw as propped up. “Just like how you write stories. I write songs. And just like you, my brain does not want to function at all to come up with something.” Haechan sighed ever so softly.

Silence settled in the space between us. We were simply there, not a word exchanged as I let his sink in. Were we the same? Though I find that hard to believe, I felt it. His struggle. I could feel it from outside the room moments ago. Haechan slowly brought his fingers up to the piano. Starting to press a key, he began to play.

Though I wasn’t a piano player or an expert in any way, it didn’t take me long to realise that he wasn’t comfortable sitting on this very piano, like how his fingers weren’t meant to make contact with the surface of the white, lagging and messing up a few notes that made whatever he played sound improper. He was out of place. Yet, the produced a beautiful twenty or so seconds of music. Despite the slip-ups, it sounded amazing. But he wasn’t playing with feeling. He was emotionless, stagnant.

“That’s all I have.” Haechan chuckled weakly. I frowned. “It sounded fine.” I whispered softly, eyes not leaving his fingers that rest itself on the keys. “Fine, but not great. Not meaningful. I didn’t feel anything while playing that. And that’s the worst part of it.” Haechan was biting his lower lip. His eyes were being welled up with tears. He quickly wiped them away.

“Don’t cry. I’m not the type that knows how to comfort people.” I laughed softly, trying to joke around to lighten the mood. Haechan responded with a small laugh, making me smile with sincerity. “It’s fine.” He simply said.

“I get what you mean. I’ve been feeling that too. Got the general idea but never know where to go from there. The creativity’s run out and I’m left with nothing. I’ve lost the urge to do what I love most.” I fiddled with my fingers on my lap, head tilted down. The room got quiet instantly. We were just sitting there in silence, deep in thought as we let ourselves sink into our complicated yet somehow similar situations.

How did I even up here? Sitting down and having a deep conversation with Haechan. Why was I feeling the connection with him? The connection of similarity as we felt each other’s pain. How did it only take one observation of Hechan playing for me to see the emptiness and hole that dug around him? I came here wanting to know his hidden secrets, digging into his weird behaviour beyond the light that he always stood in. But I guess there were aspects of him that were more hidden, and he chose to show this side to me.

It’s funny how we opened up to each other, not knowing each other at all. We were practically strangers. People that we only see as we walked by very occasionally. We weren’t someone that would be engraved in our minds the moment we saw each other. But it probably gave us a sense of escape, thinking that it was better for us to open up to someone who barely knew us so they wouldn’t judge who we were. I guess that was more coherent for Haechan.

Our class was the first few to arrive at the cafeteria since our English teacher is one of the very few that releases us on time. I decided not to have lunch since I didn’t feel like eating. Or maybe I was but too lazy to get any food. Only a few hours of school have passed and I was already walking like a dying corpse on my way here. I looked down and used my phone, continuing the read the online book I just purchased recently.

Suddenly, a bunch of high pitched wailing and shouting was heard. I tilted my head up and followed the noise. I expected it. Haechan, walking into the cafeteria, confident as ever, owning it all. He had such a bright smile. It’s as if the deep and lost Haechan I saw just yesterday disappeared entirely, a simple ‘poof’ and it’s gone by the wind. He waved to his other friends at the table which was just a few tables apart of ours with excitement, walking with long strides. I couldn’t believe just how thick Haechan’s mask was. After seeing him yesterday, I couldn’t help but wonder so long how those two completely different sides of him become one in his being. It was hard to picture. It was such a drastic difference that it became too hard to visualise it in my head.

“Look at Jaemin being all flirty with her.” Mina came up from behind and gagged as she jerked her chin to the direction I was looking at. However, I adverted my focus from Haechan to Jaemin. A girl was standing very closely behind Jaemin, occasionally trailing her fingers in a teasing manner down his shoulders. Jaemin bobbed his shoulders, shooting a glare that luckily she didn’t notice. However, he turned around and quickly flashed a soft smile to cover up his annoyance towards her. His action made me laugh and chuckle softly. “I don’t think he’s enjoying it.”

“Just how can he look so normal after what he did? I still can’t believe it.”

“What are you talking about?”

I grew silent, not wanting to explain the situation I had with Jaemin. It was a far distant memory which should be kept out of my mind and away from me, something I wouldn’t have the courage to face. I was over it, but I’d never want to encounter it again. It’ll send me down the loophole again, and that is something I’d much prefer not to remember and go through again.

Lucas raised a brow. “Hello?” He asked, trying to get our attention. Mina cleared her throat after swallowing her bite of food. “Ah you weren’t here when it happened. It’s fine. We shouldn’t be talking about it.”

“It’s a story for another time.” I lied, blurting it out.

I looked down to my phone once again as the our table grew quiet and ate in peace. As if thrown an asteroid was thrown from space, an object went flying to the side of my head, hitting it hard. It didn’t hurt that much, but it was so sudden that I couldn’t help but wince from the attack. “What the hell was that?!” I half-shouted, my brows furrowed with confusion, scrunching up my face as I picked up the object that landed beside me.

Everyone had their heads up and towards me with looks of concern. “Are you okay?! What hit you?” Yiung brought her hand up to caress my head softly where it hit. I brought the object up to my face. “Pack of grapes...?” I whispered, blinking my eyes rapidly. I scanned my eyes around the area near me, wanting to know who threw it at me. Oddly enough, Haechan had his head poking out from the table. He was looking at me, and urging me to look at the grapes. I shot him a weird look and trailed my eyes down to the grapes. It had a note.

“Why aren’t you eating? You still have detention later. See you soon.” I read the small note that was taped to the plastic wrapper to myself, mumbling. I lifted my head up to Haechan, noticing that he was already back to talking to his friends happily, laughing away. “Who threw you that?” Mina asked. I stared at the note for a moment, reading over his words and imagining his voice. I shake my head and looked back to Mina. “Must be a secret admirer.” I joked. They didn’t have a big reaction to this and continued with what they were doing with a shrug. I didn’t want them to know that I was getting close to Haechan.

Either way, getting free snacks was always a bonus. I didn’t hesistate to open the wrapper and plopped a grape into my mouth. Throughout the rest of lunch while shoving a grape into my mouth immediately each time I swallowed one, my eyes were glued to Haechan. Though he wasn’t fully visible due to his other friends crowding around him, it was as if he’s the only one in my view, with everyone else fading away.

I hadn’t forgotten my agenda. I still had to know more about Haechan’s secret that was about to unfold after I remembered that he was going to do something after detention later. If it’s going go help me write my story, I’d want to know as much as possible.

I made my way to the detention room, lazily opening the door. Haechan was seating somewhere near the back, deeply concentrated with writing something and wearing his Airpods. I looked over to the woman who laid back in her seat as she played with her phone. I nodded my head as I took in the situation, walking up to sit beside Haechan.

“What are you doing?” I asked Haechan while sliding the straps of my bag off my shoulders and putting it on my lap, only to find Haechan not hearing me at all as he continuously nodded his head to whatever song he was playing. I reached out to poke him on the shoulder with my index finger, making him flinch at the sudden action and removing one side of his Airpods immediately. He leaned back as he realised that he was looking at me. “Oh you’re here.” Haechan smiled softly, proceeding to continue writing. I moved my head a little to notice that he was writing notes again.

“Selling more notes? What are you, an illegal business?” Haechan responsed with a chuckle, placing his pen down and facing his body to me. “Perhaps I am. It’s not like I can get caught though.” He shrugged and placed a fist to his cheek, resting his head against it and leaning sideways. “But what did you get caught for?” I copied his posture, sending him a cheeky smile.

Haechan scoffed and shake his head. “Can’t say. How many times do I need to drum it in your head?” Haechan threw a sharp glare my way, exasperated. “If you don’t tell me, at least help me with my story.” I said, unintentionally sounding desperate as a slight tone of begging shined through my words.

“You really have lost your creative touch, huh?” Haechan faked his amusement. He already knew that from the time we were in the music room. “And you can’t write your songs either. So you’ve lost it as well.” I smiled grew bigger and more mischievous, giggling ever so softly. “If you want, maybe you can use the 3D printer to print a world of your imagination. And when you finish making it, it becomes a real place for you to go and release yourself from reality.” Affer unlocking my laptop and waiting for it to start up, I looked to him after he said that, but his eyes and hands were concentrated on making his notes.

“Is it because that’s what you want to do?” I asked softly, opening up Google Docs and seeing my long paragraphs of nothingness. It meant nothing. They were simply words to be displayed on the screen. I read it over while I waited for Haechan’s answer. It was bland, nothing like the ones that I wrote with much enthusiasm and drive. It disappointed me how I could stoop this low to such a level, to the point where I was slowly loosing interest in what kept up my sanity all these years.

“Shouldn’t you be asking yourself that?” Haechan stared into my eyes, pausing for a moment. “It’s your book that you’re writing. You need to make it personal somehow. You can’t always be relying on me as your direct source of idea.” I thought about it, long and hard, his words resonating in my head again and again as I tried to force myself to think deeper. “What if I can’t make it personal? What if I don’t know what’s personal to me, I don’t know who I am...” My two fingers played with the touch pad of my laptop, scrolling up and down mindlessly.

“Use my idea as inspiration. What can happen when you build and enter that fantasy world made by a 3D printer?”

“The entrance collapses and I get trapped there forever.” Haechan smiled. It was a small, almost transparent, but sincere smile, painted on his face. “There you go. You have a conflict to write about now.” I instantly typed down the information in point form so that I could elaborate on it. As much as I got the energy and adrenaline to start writing now, I wanted to focus on another matter. For some reason, I just wanted to know.

“How’s your song doing?” He avoided my eyes, licking his lips, seeming to be deep in thought, trying to construct a sentence. “I’m thinking of abandoning it to be honest.” Haechan said in a nonchalant manner. He can’t actually not be bothered by it. I saw it. His frustration, stress, the negative energy that centered around him in the music too. He can’t actually want to do that.

“But it sounded good.”

“I just need a fresh start. Who knows, I might come up with something better... Hopefully.” He dragged on the last part slightly, the tint of of doubt flowed through his unstable voice. He sighed loudly, pressing his fingers on both sides of his temples. “I’d ask for your help, but I’m guessing you aren’t exactly creative in this art form.” I nodded my head agreeably, though I felt the embarrassment.

“We’re going to be stuck here for a long time.” I said with a bored sigh, dragging on the word ‘long’ for emphasis. Haechan laughed at my statement. “I don’t think we’d have to stay here long.” I turned my head to him, an eyebrow arched. “Why’s that?”

Haechan pulled his chair close to mine and leaned in, close to my face. “We’ll get to go out once something to do. Which is what happens every day.”

Though I was listening, I couldn’t help but notice just how close Haechan was to my face. Too close, than a normal person would when wanting to whisper something. My heart began to race and my breath hitched in my throat. I looked at his eyes, ones that had so much emotions and feelings that can never be expressed, helplessly trapped, then to this nose, and finally his lips, soft and lushes, one that’s disconnected to his brain, inability to say what he thinks and needing to think twice to protect his reputation. Yet, it was all perfectly structured, carefully and beautifully, no matter how much he might be going through. I never realised how good looking he was till now. And it felt like a huge crime seeing it now.

“Are you hearing me?” Haechan whispered. I lifted my gaze from his lips and back up to his eyes. But it was now he who had his eyes down. I followed them, and they were on my lips. “Y-Yeah. I was.” Haechan instantly pulled away after a moment, chuckling awkwardly or shyly as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I don’t get the use of detention. It’s not going to change us, no matter how long we stay here for.”

“This school really doesn’t manage us properly yet our reputation is still high on the list.”

“Maybe it’s because of you and your friends.” I said, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. “Is a school’s reputation depended heavily on the looks of students?” Haechan scoffed, huffing as he ran a hand through his hair. “That’s shallow.”

“It’s the world we live in.” I simply stated.

“Oh, she left.” Haechan turned his head, and I followed along. The woman have left the room. I was shocked at the fact that we didn’t even notice. Haechan and I turned our heads to each other in unison, laughing. “Looks like we have the place to ourselves.”

Though you would think that we’d be going crazy and having a party of two while blasting music through the room’s speakers, the room was quiet. Haechan was silently listening to music while doing his notes and I typed away on my laptop, the satisfaction of the sound being produced at a fast rate. I wore my headphones too. I jumped and turned when I felt a tap on my arm.

“Hm?” I asked, taking off one side. “Should we just go?”

I paused for a moment with hesitation and contemplation, but it didn’t take long for me to blurt out, “Let’s please do so.”

We ended up going to the cafeteria. Haechan offered to buy me whatever snack I wanted. Was it bad to say that I am surprised at his generosity? It was weird in a way, I never thought of him as someone like he is now. If I could describe Haechan, he was like a book. One with a cover that was plain, unoriginal, stereotypical. You’d read the synopsis and think “The story plot is too expected.” But it’s not. The plot, characters and words change entirely, opening the reader to a whole new world that was definitely outside the box. And the more time I spent with Haechan, the more pages I flipped and read, new words and phrases pop up every which way. He slowly opened up, showing me that there was more to his all-rounded nature that he held. 

“Why are we here at the garden when we can go in the library? I’m desperate for the air condition.” I walked beside Haechan and pointed to the library just a few steps away from the small garden we were headed. Haechan skipped his way down the pathway to the one bench table that was surrounded by plants and flowers. 

“I like it here. Being surrounded by books can drive me insane.” I laughed at his comment, sitting down on the opposite end. I placed the snacks on the table, Haechan doing the same as we opened our snacks and took a bite in silence. “We should do this more often.” 

“Do what?”

“This. Impromptu hangouts. It’s... fun, refreshing.” Haechan whispered, looking up and sighing softly with his eyes closed. He opened his eyes, locking them with mine as I hummed in response, still chewing. “Refreshing.” I repeated back to myself, nodding my head. “Actually... I have an idea. A present, if you will.” I took out my notebook from my bag, flipping through a few pages till I reached the page where it had notes. I placed it on the table and pushed it forward. 

“In a way it’s a thank you gift. For helping me write again. You didn’t even say much but it made me think and turn my gears.” Haechan brought his head close to the notebook, his eyes scanning very slowly over each line. Haechan looked up, mouth opened but I decided to continue before he could say anything. 

“At first my words were meaningless. The story was leading to nowhere and I had no idea where I was going, no road, no guidance. But you unintentionally, but also intentionally later on gave me ideas. A shoulder I could lean on, something I could depend on. I don’t think I have the need to dive in deeper into whatever shit you’re doing. I’ll respect the fact that you don’t want to share.”

“These are song lyrics...” Haechan whispered, holding to the edge of the page with his index and middle finger. He was completely silent and frozen, as if my words had hit him right in the heart like an arrow. “They’re... so me.” He said simply, a short chuckle leaving his lips. 

“I noticed a few things about you. One, you really aren’t like what you seem to be. Living the perfect life with friends, grades, popularity. Everyone would think you had it all. I, however, started viewing you from a different angle, a new perspective. I didn’t even have to know what you hide to know that you’re transparent.”

“It shocked me, really. It sounds cliché, I know. But you are the one that has a cliché life.” Haechan and I laughed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to. It’s a trade. You to me, and me to you.” Haechan’s eyes lifted off the paper. We didn’t say a word. Instead, we let our eyes do the talking, the most bare and deepest sense on our expression. “Eyes are the gateway to your soul.” I really felt it. He was stripping me bare with his stare. Nothing was left to hide between us. And this all happened in the span of just a few weeks. 

Time flew by in a blur. The thought of Haechan’s mystery that I delved so deep into became a distant memory. I never really got to know the truth. Maybe I was being too skeptical about it and perhaps it was just a simple matter that Haechan could not share. We went along with the pact of going on impromptu outings. One of us would text the other during the last period and go out immediately after school just to hang out and have each other’s presence to admire. We’d never talk in school. We wouldn’t greet each other if we walked by in the hallways. Our lives were completely separated in the school’s setting, as if we’ve never made a single contact, like our lives had never crossed paths. In simple words, strangers. 

Today’s outing was at a cafe. We decided that this week, we’d travel around the city and go cafe hopping, visiting a new cafe and try out places we have never went to. I was utterly shocked when I found out that Haechan had never visited the cafe that I was extremely obsessed with. Despite the place being on the other end of town, the drinks and desserts are worth the trip.

“What would you recommend?” Haechan asked, the two of us looking at the menu above the counter while we sat down on the table. “I love their red velvet cheesecake. Oh! And caramel frappé.” I said with a happy giggle, tapping my feet in excitement as I already envision the delicious dessert on the table in front of me.

“You love cheesecakes that much?” Haechan gave an amused laugh. I nodded with a gleeful hum. “It’s my all time favourite dessert!” Haechan glanced down and shook his head, a smile shying through. “Get something else while I try the cheesecake. We need the variety.” Haechan pressed his fingers together as if pinching something, puckering his lips as he mimicked the popular meme. I bursted out laughing at his weird act. “Alright, alright. I’ll get the chocolate soufflé.”

I brought out my wallet from my pocket. Before I could even slide a note out, Haechan gripped my wrist and closed my wallet shut. He didn’t need to say a word, holding up his own wallet and jerking his head to it before turning around to walk away. I sighed, a slight frown forming on my lips. He’s always been paying. It always made me feel bad. I’d be at the edge on loosing all my money yet I’d still have that urge to pay.

Haechan was waiting by the counter for the food. He turned around. I abruptly locked my eyes with his, absentmindedly not realising that I had my eyes on his back the whole time. Haechan threw me weird and goofy faces to my way, quietly laughing while his shoulders bobbed. I shook my head, once again getting second hand embarrassment. Though it wasn’t a bad thing at all. It brought me joy from his weirdness and humour.

Minutes later he came back, carrying two plates and going back to grab the drinks. He sat down after and clapped his hand once, looking down at the food as his mouth shaped an ‘O’ at the sight.

We ate, chat and laughed. There wasn’t a moment of silence. Our conversation flowed as smoothly as the waves on a peaceful day at the seashores. We’d be able to change topics so quickly that we didn’t even know how we ended up talking about roller coasters at amusement parks.

“Should we go anywhere else?” I questioned. Haechan raised both his brows and leaned forward. “Anything you want.”

The two of us looked up at the sky, painted with shades and tones from red to yellow and hints of purple shining through. The beautiful sunset that we caught today was certainly lucky. It’s not everyday a sunset can look this incredible and perfect to the eye. It was one of those moments when you just needed to silently bask in the sight, embracing the comfort it brings you before the sun fully sets and the night starts to settle in.

I heard the sound of grass moving. I took my attention off the sky and to Haechan, who had his phone out and going to his camera. He snapped a picture, taking the time to position his phone and making sure it captured the whole scenery. He turned to me, a smile plastered on his face. “Moments like these should be permanent.”

I turned back to the sky, my chin lifted up and I took in a deep breath, eyes closed, taking in every ounce of calmness and relaxation. I suddenly heard the sound of Haechan’s phone, signalling that he took a picture. I fluttered my eyes open, looking over to Haechan who had his phone faced to me.

“You are something that should be permanent too.”

As days inched closer and closer to exam week, Haechan and I started meeting less and less, which was to be expected. I was holed up in my room, getting on my study table immediately coming home after showering and having a light snack, not having a break till it was time to sleep.

The stress settled in, and I had to put off my writings. I wasn’t a genius who could multitask to such extremes. I’d eventually go insane. Though I already am with the amount of content I had to fit in my brain.

Knocking down one day at a time, exam after exam, we finally ended the week. It feels the same with every end of the year exams. You’re just stuck in that loop of studying and screwing your heads into textbook and notes. But once it’s all over, you go into complete shut down mode and your brain will grow rusty and not as functional and efficient over the holidays. And the cycle repeats once you start the new school year.

Funny enough, Haechan and I stopped going out together. You’d expect us to meet all the time due to the free time we’d have during the holidays. But for some reason we jusy didn’t contact each other. Maybe we were too concentrated with our studies that not having Haechan by my side became something neutral. I didn’t feel anything about it. It is what it is. We drifted apart, with no reason whatsoever.

I was laying down on my bed, thumb tapping on the screen at a fast rate as I skipped through everyone’s stories on Instagram. However, I immediately stopped when I got to Haechan’s stories. My thumb was pressed hard on the screen as I saw Haechan’s face. He was out with his friends, seemed to be like a party. I chuckled to myself in amusement.

Was Haechan just my dream? Just a short period of filled happiness that wouldn’t stay with me for long? Was he temporary? The moments I’ve spent with him flashed by me like a movie tape that lasted in a second. I overlooked at myself, my situation. I was helplessly staying at home. Being the homebody I am, I never really go out unless someone invited me to. Haechan’s out living his life, back to being the all-rounder, as if I’ve never been in his picture ever.

Months passed since school has started, and we never made contact since. We wouldn’t even smile to each other in the hallways. We were invisible to each other. We were back to simply being strangers. We were never in each other’s lives. We have never opened our hearts to each other. It felt like none of that happened, like none of it was even real.

The bridge made by Haechan that helped me to get back on track in my writing was still there, but the work he did to build it felt like nothing. Just like how no one remembers the fact that it was the workers that worked hard to build and construct the bridge. It just never came to mind anymore.

I just got home. Making my way to my bedroom and tossing my bag at the study table, plopping onto my bed and sinking my body into the soft sheets. I turned around, back on the bed as I took out my phone. The first notification I saw was a text from Haechan.

I instantly sat up from my laying posture, eyes narrowing to his name showing up on my lockscreen. I had to unlock my phone to see the message. I was blankly staring at it. Why did I suddenly feel nervous? I opened my phone, which immediately brought me to iMessage.

Haechan: if you’re free, text me and head to the Winstar park

I tilted my head at this. I gulped, bringing my thumbs up to the screen. However, it was hovering over the key pad, not sure of what to type. I realised that I was being too cautious as if I needed to make a good impression through the text, when all I had to do was type a simple, “Sure. Meet you in an hour.” I exhaled sharply and got off my bed. I tossed my phone on the bed and started to get ready to head out.

While I stared out to the window on the bus, the city came to view. High skyscrapers, high end shops and buildings, bustling and busy as ever. But the bus drove past it. Immediately the scenery changed. It was quiet, not a lot of people to be seen. Only the sound of leaves and branches swaying in the calm wind.

Perhaps that’s why Haechan and I liked the park so much. The silence it held gave us a moment of distraction out of our lives filled with much complexity and complication. Our time together wasn’t energy draining. We had each other to thank for that, but it was also the absence of the fast moving pace of the world that gave us a time of rest, peace. Even if it was for a short period of time, the feeling is still there, though it’s being suppressed by other by our realities.

I came walking through the park’s entrance. My legs walked me to where Haechan and I used to sit when we last came here. I didn’t even have to think for my body to be drawn to him. His back came to view. He wore a black leather jacket and jeans. His brown hair glowing under the sunlight.

On one end, I felt the need to just run up and embrace him fully. It felt like a calling, a sudden need. However, I also felt hesitant to even take one step closer. What if we weren’t as close as we used to be? What if the Haechan I knew isn’t in front of my eyes right now? Anything can happen within the span of months. People change.

That dilemma and contemplation made me stand in my spot for far too long. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Haechan as my gears began to turn, more doubts floating up from the depths of my overthinking. What I didn’t notice till now was the fact that he had a guitar case beside him.

I shut my eyes for a moment, hands clenched tightly by my sides as my chest puffed up while taking a deep silent breath. Just do it.

I tapped Haechan on the shoulder lightly, making him jump and turn around. “You took forever.” He said, flashing a smile. At least that didn’t change. It still sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach like it did last time. It made my heart ache in the best ways possible.

One look in his eyes and a whole tsunami of our memories came crashing and attacking my mind and heart. It flashed through my eyes. Every little moment, though it may seem meaningless to some, was what made my whole relationship with Haechan gain its meaning.

“Sorry about that.” I simply said. He placed the guitar case on his lap, motioning with his free hand to take the empty space next to him. I sat down, the two of us met with comfortable silence for about a minute.

“How was your exams?” I asked, not being able to handle the fact that we weren’t talking. “Great. Except for Chemistry. I can never do it.” He chuckled, shaking his head while smiling to himself on the floor. “Could’ve asked me. I aced it.” I bragged, flipping my hair with much sarcasm which made him arch a brow. “I could have. But I didn’t want to bother you.”

“At that period of time, I wished you had bothered me.” I bit my bottom lip. His eyes narrowed down on me. “Really, now?”

Haechan’s phone suddenly dinged. He took it out of his pocket. With one glance he scoffed loudly and shoved it back in. I gave him a weird look. “Just another girl texting me. It’s the fifteenth this week. I’m lazy to delete their messages.” Haechan shrugged lightly.

“Anyways, I asked you to come here for a reason.”

“You never did anything without a reason.”

“But you do. Always showing up coincidentally at where I’m at.”

“That was last year. Stop talking about it.” I punched Haechan lightly on his arm as the two of us giggled in unison. I missed this. Why did I have anything to fear? It felt as if we’ve met up just yesterday.

“You’re going to be the first person who hear this. And for your information, you should be thankful. When an artist plays their song for the first person to hear, it means that they value them a lot.” Haechan whispered after his laughter died down. Slowly, he took out his guitar from its case. He placed it on his lap. It fits and settled right on his lap perfectly.

I pressed my hands on my thighs as I waited for him to adjust a few things on his guitar. Looking up, I noticed the shades of orange and yellow coming into view. The sunset, again, was just as beautiful as last time we were here. It really did feel like nothing has changed, as if that very day had repeated itself and teleported me to this very moment.

I heard Haechan strumming the guitar once, making me turn to him instantly. He took in a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment for looking down on the guitar and placing his fingers on the right strings.

He began to play. The strum pattern was simple yet calming. Then came in his voice. True enough, I’ve never heard him sing, ever. To hear his voice washing over me like a huge wave, I felt the goosebumps on my arms, my face tightened and my breathing stopped for a moment. His voice was beautiful. It’s one that you can listen while you fall asleep. The perfect lullaby.

I noticed how he sang the lyrics I made with very little knowledge of lyric writing, yet it still sounded as if it was made by him. He made those lyrics of mine his own with his voice. I smiled softly as we looked to each other, he sang his heart out, full of emotion and love. His talent, passion, everything came up to the surface with just a short song. He ended the song with “This world is better with you around.” Which hit an arrow right on my heart. My heart ached in the most best way possible. The feeling of my heart sinking as I tried to absorb all that beauty.

“So do you like it?”

My words were at a lost. I had no idea what to say, what to think. The mixed emotions surrounded around me like a whirlpool. I had a lot of things to say, but I also didn’t, not having a clear idea to speak about. He probably noticed me simply being awestruck, retrieving his eyes back to the sunset that was already about to come down and welcome the night sky.

“That was my gift to you. I’m sorry, for not talking to you for so long. For a moment I thought you were just my escape, someone that could give me freedom whenever I wanted. But I didn’t forget you, I couldn’t.” Haechan exhaled sharply, a frown forming on his lips.

“I was able to find my way back to my love for writing songs, singing. I didn’t have to knock my head against the wall trying to figure out what lyrics to write. I was stuck and I thought I had hit a dead end. I know you’d be thinking I just gave you lyrics. But what I’m thankful for was the fact that the lyrics matched me so well. It’s as if you dug out all the thoughts that were shoved and hidden at the back of my mind. Like you knew me inside out.”

Haechan turned his head slowly to me. I opened my mouth, but no words could come out. They were all stuck in my throat. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to. You’re part of this gift exchange is your book. I mean I don’t like reading but I’d love to read yours. Me to you, and you to me.”

So, did I ever find out about Haechan’s secret? No, not at all. Turns out it was all a lie he came up just to play with me. The more important thing is the fact that I finished writing my book.

The deformed all-rounder; the story of transparency and the lost that was to be found. It all started when a 3D printer came to doorstep of a boy. He didn’t know what it was used for but he knew how 3D printers worked. But this one worked, quite uniquely. It could made things you thought weren’t possible, like a world.

So he made his own. One that was filled with happiness and joy, no fear and negative energy to be found. It was his own little world, what he wanted his reality to be. He went in, and though he enjoyed the days there, his heart shattered to pieces when the door back for reality crumbled down. He was trapped in a world filled with too much joy and glee. It was suppose to be a place brightness and everlasting greatness. But it didn’t feel anything like that. It was lonely. He eventually grew crazy due to the overdose of seeing butterflies and rainbows every which way.

Then came a girl who was the complete opposite of this world. Dark, mysterious, anger. Every negative feeling you could think of all in one person. The contrast between her and his world was drastic. How did she even end up in the world? Beats him. But she came strolling in with the most stuck up energy ever. It irritated him, of course. They never got along.

But slowly and surely, through harsh times of trying to get along with each other, they accepted the drastic difference. The world that revolved around the boy now began to take notice of this unknown girl’s personality. Further down the road, he realised that they were the same, a balance of good and bad. That was the reason why the gateway crumbled. There was no balance, no give and take of between the light and dark. With that solution, they were able to get out of the world.

He wanted to crush the 3D printer, never wanting to face it again so that he wouldn’t have to go through whatever that had just happened. However, he chose not to. Because it housed the memories of him meeting the girl that changed him entirely. His reality was a whirlpool of mess and obstruction, his printed world was seemingly perfect and filled with all things lovely. He could travel between the worlds, but there would be no point to it. As much as he could assume the world he made was perfect, he knew it wasn’t. It was made by a human. And humans were never perfect. She helped him see that there were bound to be rough edges, some only digging deeper than others.