#especially if she really did only serve for a short period

[mycological-mariner]

I’m going through my copy of The Lady Tars and this was just incredible.

William Brown (birth name is unknown) may have been the first black woman to serve in the British Royal Navy. While the book here says Brown served for 11 years as captain of the maintop (others say capt. of the foretop), there’s another conflicting account that has her rated as a landsman in the ship’s muster. The Times wrote about her and this is the main source that she was a foretopman. The paper also says that Brown intended to enlist again as a volunteer and it’s completely plausible she did. However, it’s completely unknown either way. What is known indisputably is there was a young black woman from Granada going by the name of William Brown serving on the H.M.S. Queen Charlotte in 1815.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[6:19 pm]

cw: mostly angst, i said shit a few times, read more bc she's a little long

Being in a relationship with Jeno was much different than being just friends. He still knew you better than anyone else thanks to many years of friendship, but that didn’t mean there weren’t difficulties in the relationship, especially so early on.

There was the issue in the first few months of lack of affection. Going from friends to lovers was simple sure, the titles changed, but Jeno was still treating you like a friend at first. He showed you almost no affection which made you question whether or not you were really even in a relationship. You both talked it out, and the problem was resolved.

Now there was the very apparent issue of being busy. When you were just friends it was easy to just take a break from each other until the stress was gone or you were both less busy, but that’s not how you wanted your romantic relationship to work. You weren’t trying to point fingers at just Jeno, you were busy too, but it had come to a head about a month ago when Jeno had forgotten your birthday.

You were never one that was for big celebrations on your birthday, but you were kind of excited to see how your birthday with Jeno as your boyfriend would be different. The difference had been that he miraculously remembered the dinner he had helped plan with your friend group and showed up 30 minutes late. He was able to recover from that with a lot of groveling, apologies, and a day fully dedicated to you.

Needless to say he felt very bad and had promised to never make a mistake like that again. But here you were, on your one year anniversary sitting in your favorite diner, alone.

You had both agreed on nothing big, your anniversary fell in the middle of the week and he had been so stressed and busy with work. You hadn't seen him in person for just over a week, just facetimes and text conversations that were always short because he fell asleep 90% of the time.

You had both made the plans for dinner a few days ago, he had confirmed the time and told you that he couldn't wait to see you, only after he made you promise you hadn't gotten him anything. You had lied, of course you got him something, he just wouldn't be getting it today now.

You gave him a 20 minute grace period, maybe practice was running long and you'd be getting a text soon. Then 40 minutes passed with no communication and you just ordered for yourself. Then an hour later with nothing from Jeno, you paid your bill and went home. He hadn't responded to any of your texts and your calls went straight to voicemail.

Unfortunately for you, you could tell from Instagram stories that Jeno was very much safe and having fun with his friends drinking beer and bowling like it wasn't your anniversary. To say you were furious would be an understatement. He made the plans, he wanted to go out even though you insisted on just doing something intimate at home, he left you sitting alone in a restaurant feeling sick to your stomach with nerves over whether or not he was ok.

The next day, you ignored his texts, letting him know with one text that you were fine but needed some space from him to clear your head. He had spammed you with confused texts asking what he did, if there was anything he could do, if there was anything you needed, which though sweet, just deepened the hole he dug for himself. He still had no idea.

Now, you were sitting on your couch watching your favorite guilty pleasure reality show when there was s series of heavy knocks against your door. You heard your name, "Can you just let me know that you're ok? You've been ignoring me all day."

You scoffed, he didn't like it when the shoe was on the other foot? Serves him right. He persisted with his knocking making you sigh with a roll of your eyes before you walked over to the door and pulled it open.

"Oh, thank goodness. Why have you been ignoring me? What did I do?" Jeno questioned.

You turned and grabbed his neatly wrapped gift, pushing it into his chest, "I don't know, how about you ask the guys? Happy anniversary, Jeno."

The door closed, as he stared blankly at the door with his jaw hanging. Shit.

He started again with the knocking, his mind running a million miles a minute trying to think of some way to fix this. Of course you didn't answer. Hell, he wouldn't open the door if he was in your shoes either.

The knocking had stopped, which saddened you because Jeno had put so little effort into fixing things. You felt like you had done a good job at stopping the tears, but now you couldn't help it. Maybe you were better as friends, maybe being in a relationship had completely ruined all the history you had together, maybe that was Jeno leaving your life for good.

You openly sobbed, doing nothing to fight the endless stream of tears or loud sobs.

You didn't even know how long you had been crying when a knock came from the door. It was probably one of your neighbors begging you to shut up because your ugly sobs were getting irritating.

You wiped your face and stood straight, ready to apologize when you faced them, but it wasn't a neighbor. It was Jeno, "Can I come in? Please."

You stepped aside, watching as he paced across the length of your living area. "I don't know where to start," he mumbled to himself.

"Ok, then I'll start. Do you even want to be in a relationship with me?" You asked.

He froze, looking up from the carpet with a hurt look on his face, "Baby, of course I do. Why would you even ask me that?"

"Things were easier when we were just friends Jeno, you have to admit that. There was less pressure on us to put any effort for anything. There have been so many issues between us since we started dating, and I don't know if I want to keep putting our friendship at risk if I'm going to keep getting disappointed and hurt."

"Keep hurting you?" Jeno questioned out loud.

"For the first four months of us dating you wouldn't kiss me or hold my hand and I was the one who planned all our dates. Even though you were the one to ask me out and you knew how hesitant I was for things to change between us. You forgot my birthday and showed up to a dinner you helped plan half an hour late, and a year into this you ditched me on our first anniversary to hang out with our friends when you planned the date. I was worried sick wondering if you were even safe, blowing up your phone only to see that you were perfectly ok getting drunk while I sat alone in a restaurant." You told him.

He sighed, taking a second to gather his thoughts, there was no use in him arguing, because you were right. "I know me saying sorry isn't going to fix things, but I still feel like I should say it. You're right, I've been a shit boyfriend, but I want to be with you."

"You keep saying that but then you continue to mess up bigger than the time before and I get more hurt, I don't want to keep getting hurt Jeno."

He pulled you into his embrace, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, "I don't want to keep hurting you. You deserve so much better than me, I know that, but I also know how much I love you and it will always be you for me. There is no combination of all the letters of any language that could put into words the way you make every time I think of you. You're on my mind every second of everyday, I see you in the sunshine on a sunny day, I see you in the flowers that bloom in the warm weather, and the plant you make me keep in my room. I see you in all the little things that make life so great. I never want to lose you."

You shed a few tears, tilting your head back to look him in the eyes, "I need you to show me that then Jeno, I need you to try because I don't know how much more I can keep letting you get away with."

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, "I'll make it up to you and be the best boyfriend and best friend all in one. You're it for me baby, and I'm going to show you that."

You nodded against his chest, "I'm trusting you with my heart, Jeno."

[tumbleweed-writes]

Death and the Lady: Chapter Four

Previous chapter found HERE

This chapter is slightly nsfw. So, 18+ only.

-----

Chapter Four: An Arrangement

Deputy David Hale usually didn’t make Y/N Y/L/N feel any sense of anxiety. To be honest, most of the time she was around him she just felt a little annoyed.

Her past interactions with the Charming police were a mixed bag.

Back when she’d been going through her wild phase with SAMCRO her interactions with the local police usually ended with her in handcuffs. Now that she was back in town and operating as a local funeral director, her interactions with the police tended to involve making arrangements for police escorts for funeral processions.

To be honest her feelings towards Charming’s local P.D. were quite conflicted given her past indiscretions…and her current ones. 

She’d always found Deputy Hale to be arrogant and just a little too self righteous for comfort.

David Hale had been in the same grade as both her brother, Jax Teller and Opie Winston when she’d been growing up. All four guys had been five years older than her, so they’d not really interacted outside of the interactions all three men had shared with her older brother.

Of course, that had changed once she’d gotten older and her brother had his accident. After that her interactions with Hale weren’t pleasant and her interactions with Jax and Opie were chaotic. 

Before the accident, her elder brother had been childhood friends with Deputy Hale all the way up until middle school when it had become obvious that her brother was finding new friendships with Jax and Opie.

It had become clear that David disapproved of Daniel Y/L/N’s newfound friendships. 

Even as a teenager, Hale seemed to carry around the notion that he was superior to the kids of Charming’s white trash biker gang. 

Y/N had gotten a certain level of respect from Hale as had her brother as their father was a respected member of the community…well they’d gotten respect before they’d rebelled and proved they were comfortable interacting with the white trash biker gang. 

Hale himself came from one of the more affluent families in Charming. Generations of the Hales were politicians, lawyers, and doctors.

David Hale had seemed to believe that his family background meant that he was somehow far better than the new friends Daniel Y/L/N had acquired. 

In Y/N’s opinion the Hales were nothing special. Everyone was equal in death after all. She had very little tolerance for people who tried to pretend they were somehow more important than anyone else. She didn’t care for snobbish people especially when she knew they’d wind up on her embalming table right where the same people they’d looked down upon had laid as well.

From what she could remember David Hale had been the All-American boy. He was the kind of guy who knew he wanted to grow up and serve the community. He was a boy scout. He played baseball in the spring and summer and football in the fall for the local high school. He attended church on Sunday and volunteered at the nursing home as a teen. 

She guessed she shouldn’t be shocked that even as a man in his thirties David Hale was still just as pious as he’d always been. 

If this had been any other scenario she’d almost find it funny to find that Hale had maintained the same short hair cut he’d had since he was a teenager. She’d always thought it made him appear a little boring especially when they’d been teens. Wasn’t being a teen the time where you did stupid crap to your hair after all? 

Standing near the Deputy sheriff, a few other members of Charming PD’s finest, and a borrowed modest forensic unit from Lodi near an open grave made her feel less than amused at the moment though.

She’d felt sick to her stomach when she’d received the call early this morning that another grave in Charming’s cemetery had been robbed. This was the second one within such a short time period.

Both graves had previously been occupied by men she had buried and embalmed. She’d been asked to come out by the Deputy and at least give her insight on what had happened. 

She hoped and prayed that the look of astonishment on her face, as she arrived at the cemetery, read as someone who was simply horrified by the situation and not at all aware of exactly who was responsible for this.

She gazed down into the empty casket both astounded and relieved to see that the sacks of dry concrete she’d filled the casket with were long gone. 

It seemed that whoever had done this had been smart enough to make it appear as though she’d buried a body in the casket and not sacks of concrete.

She knew the concrete had been a risk, but it had been necessary for the funeral. A full casket weighed more than an empty one. She’d just been relieved that she was right that the man’s family had no desire to see what laid within the casket. 

The man’s funeral had actually been quite sparse. From her interactions with the family regarding funeral arrangements it had seemed that the man had not had many friends in life and wasn’t the kind of guy that warranted a room full of mourners. She hated to talk ill of the dead, but she’d gotten the impression he’d not been the nicest guy. 

She hated to admit it but the information had made her feel less guilty about the fact that she’d technically loaned the guy’s body to the local MC.

She knew of course that the thought was a weak attempt to mentally absolve herself from her guilt. 

She’d be lying if she tried to claim she hadn't had a few nightmares about what she’d done. Most of the dreams featured her walking through the cemetery at night following a Son who she was sure might be Filip from what she could see through the pitch black night, only to have hands shoot out from the ground below her dragging her down screaming before she could escape.

She’d woken up in cold sweats hyperventilating more times than she cared to admit over the past month. 

Y/N didn’t need to be Sigmund Freud or Carl Jung to figure out the symbolism behind such nightmares. Her brain was taunting her both about her guilt over her actions and her newfound involvement with a group of men she’d thought she’d moved on from. 

As she stood over the empty grave she was overcome with the notion that she knew just who was likely responsible for the scene in front of her. 

Jax and Chibs had apparently not been lying to her when they’d reassured her that the favor she’d done for the club would not lead back to her.

It was clear they had done this to make it appear as though any discovery of the missing bodies was a result of a simple grave robbery and she was the stunned funeral director who genuinely had no idea how such an awful thing could happen.

She took a deep breath feeling a little anxious as she’d watched the one lone forensic scientist who’d come out to investigate, swab the inside of the casket. She knew well enough that the body had resided in the casket at one point. 

The man’s father had wanted one view of him in the casket before he’d insisted that a closed casket funeral was exactly what the family wanted. 

Any DNA would lead back to the dead man. Bodies did at times leak despite the best efforts to embalm.

She knew if there were any traces of concrete that might have leaked out of those bags she could play it dumb and blame it on the casket manufacturer. 

She highly doubted she’d have to play stupid in some interrogation though.

She tried to keep her face neutral as Hale turned to face her he quick to speak. “What do you make of this?”

She kept her voice even hoping it didn’t betray her with any signs of deception as she spoke. “I have no idea. He was there the last time I saw him.”

“And when was that?” Hale replied, gazing at her clearly studying her in a way that made her feel as though she was under a microscope.

She sighed adjusting the light black wool coat she’d worn over her black dress today. Even if this was just to come out and stare at an open grave she knew she had to look like the town’s funeral director. “When I screwed the casket shut before the funeral service. The family made it clear they didn’t want to see him like that. His father asked that the casket be sealed shut in case someone tried to go against the family’s wishes.”

She wasn’t lying. That had been the order she’d been given from the deceased’s father. Although there hadn’t been many mourners it had been clear that those who did attend were part of a somewhat dysfunctional bunch who didn’t seem to get along.

Hale nodded his head placing his hands on his hips, the action making him look all too self-important in her opinion. “Did anyone else have access to the body other than you?”

She sighed nodding her head back at Skeeter who’d recently gotten back in town the night before and seemed clueless as to what he’d come home to. She’d almost felt bad for the guy when he’d found out he’d have to tag along for this little adventure. “Skeeter was out of town. He’s usually the one who helps me set up the final touches on things prior to funerals. Old Charlie helps out a little too, but he’s getting up there. He’s nearing seventy soon. I highly doubt he’s going to start robbing graves when he’s been around this long.”

She paused thinking of the old man who was her father’s longest associate. Charles Olsen or Old Charlie as he insisted on being called, had developed a limp from arthritis but that didn’t stop him from doing a few of the more labor intensive jobs around the funeral home. He’d been a practical partner to her father in the business at one point, but he insisted his days of embalming were behind him as his body was beginning to feel worn with age. He had a harder time being up on his feet for the amount of time it took to embalm.

Of course that didn’t stop him from wanting to help out in other ways. He’d always been fond of her and she guessed he felt he owed it to her late father to help out any way he could. He’d practically watched Y/N grow up. He'd always been there. He'd been loyal to her father and now he was loyal to her. 

She was always willing to treat him well in exchange for his loyalty. Lord knows with the financial struggles she’d had, Old Charlie and Skeeter both could have found better jobs by now with funeral homes that were doing much better.

Her way of appreciating the loyalty tended to be shared bits of casserole she’d made for dinner and the occasional bought lunch or dinner especially if they had to be out late for a body pick up. 

She spoke again, shrugging her shoulders hoping she sounded honest. “The only other people who had access to the decedent were the gravediggers hired by the city.”

Hale let out a huff seemingly disappointed that she didn’t provide him with any information that could break the case. He spoke up nodding at the empty casket. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

She sighed, being honest this time around. “A couple of times. It’s not a common occurrence. I saw it once or twice back in New York. Usually it’s old graves that are hit though…usually just edgy teens breaking into a crypt to steal a skull or something.”

She paused, shaking her head. “People are sick.”

“That they are. The deceased was found in Lodi, along with the other occupant of that first grave that was robbed…looks like someone used them to stage a crime scene. Doesn't seem odd to you that it took this long for someone to notice that this grave was disturbed. The cemetery groundskeeper spotted that first disturbed grave pretty quickly.” Hale remarked he once again seemingly studying her. 

She frowned, not liking that he was clearly watching her as though he was awaiting some kind of tell that she knew more than she did. She pushed back the thought telling herself that she was being paranoid.

“You don’t say? That’s something new. I can't say it seems odd, in my professional opinion. This is an older section of the cemetery, so less mourners. The deceased's family lives a few cities over, so I imagine they haven't been out to the site since the burial. I'm sure if anyone passed this one by they may have assumed that it was just an empty grave for an upcoming burial. In my experience deputy, most people don't peek into empty graves. So, they wouldn't have spotted the empty casket. Plus, the city only does landscaping in the cemetery every couple of months...Seems reasonable to me to think this could have sat unnoticed this long. I can't believe someone would go to all that trouble just to stage a crime scene. Who’d do such a thing?” She remarked, almost proud of herself for being able to conjure up the shock.

She knew her reaction was genuine of course. It wasn’t as though SAMCRO had let her in on their intentions for the bodies they’d requested from her.

Hale let out a small scoff he fast to reply. “I have my suspicions of who might be the culprits.”

She raised a well manicured brow tilting her head to the side playing dumb. “I'm safe to assume it’s confidential information? Given the obvious investigation and all.”

Hale practically glared straight through her, he fast to respond. “It’s out of my jurisdiction. Lodi P.D. doesn't seem to be interested in what I have to say. As far as they’re concerned this is some sick prank done by some very disturbed individuals. They’re looking into a few suspects of their own…local freaks who’ve been caught loitering around cemeteries in their area.”

She nodded her head trying not to show relief that Lodi’s police weren’t interested in any of Hale’s input. “I hope they find the responsible parties. Things like this are bad for business. I can’t have the bereaved of Charming fearing their loved ones are going to yanked from their final rests. Something like this has the opportunity to sow chaos and paranoia. I’m sure you’d agree.”

Hale sent her a look that could only be described as stern, his lips tight and his eyes narrowed. “Yeah, bad for business.”

He paused, deciding to push a little more. “Speaking of the business. How is that going?”

Y/N pushed a stray bit of hair behind her ear, the bit of hair having managed to work itself loose from the twist she’d put her hair into this morning. “It’s going. It’s been a challenge. My father’s health left a few things around the funeral home in disarray. I think it’s turning around though. Business has been good lately.”

“And how is your brother?” Hale dared to ask watching Y/N straighten out her dress under her coat.

She resisted the urge to glare at him, her brother not entirely a favorite subject of hers to discuss. “He’s fine. He’s started new meds.”

She spoke again, a sigh leaving her. “Is that all you needed, Deputy? I should get back to the funeral home. I have a few phone calls to make regarding this entire mess. The family has already left me a few voicemails I’m sure. I need to do damage control and promise that I will either rebury their loved ones or help them transfer their business to a new funeral home if they desire once the bodies are released back to the families.”

She knew it wasn’t a lie. She was so not looking forward to those phone calls. She was sure she’d be refunding some money so that she didn’t get sued though she had a feeling the families would more likely sue the city given they were in charge of the cemetery and she’d done her part on burying the dead as far as anyone knew. 

“Of course, I do have some concerns though.” Hale replied, deciding to push a little harder.

She cleared her throat hoping any annoyance she showed was more over this situation than the practical interrogation she was enduring. “Yes?”

He spoke knowing she’d probably bite his head off for this. “I know before you left town you weren’t exactly on the straightened arrow Y/N. Am I right in assuming you aren’t going to fall back into any old habits?”

She glared at him, her voice tense and sharp. “I don’t feel that this is an appropriate line of questioning, Deputy. My past is exactly that, in the past. I’ve not gotten as much as a speeding ticket for almost ten years now. My behavior as a teen and in the first year of my twenties is not at all reflective of my conduct as a grown woman. I don’t appreciate being treated like a common criminal especially when my biggest sins consist of underage drinking and some mild misdemeanors. I have worked very hard to clean up my act. I highly doubt it’s the local P.D.’s job to go around condemning innocent citizens for past misbehaviors. If that’s the case then you need to go down and arrest George Goldstein for spray painting the water tower when he was sixteen and maybe arrest Judy Mitchell for the pot she was busted with when she was fifteen.”

She cringed a bit knowing she sounded defensive but she couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t believe he’d had the audacity.

Though a voice in the back of her head told her he was right to have the audacity. After all, she’d made contact with the very people who’d encouraged her bad behaviors back then. 

She had done far worse now than some underage drinking and a few public nuisance charges. 

Hale held his hands up in defeat he quick to reply. “I don’t mean any offense Y/N. I promise. I just had to ask. I am happy to have you back in town, especially seeing as you seem to have matured since I last saw you. I’m happy to see you’ve cleaned up your act. Your association with Jax Teller and SAMCRO did always trouble me, given our history.”

She scoffed quick to reply. “We don’t have a history Deputy. You hanging around my brother until you guys were thirteen doesn’t create some weird bond between us.”

She paused, taking a deep breath cooling her temper reminding herself that she couldn’t let him get her all riled up. She had to keep her calm and play the role of a totally innocent funeral director who knew nothing about the local MC or what they’d done with those bodies. 

She spoke, clearing her throat. “As I’ve said, I need to be going. I have a busy day ahead of me. If you have any further inquiries about these graves please don’t hesitate to reach out. You can reach me at the business number for the funeral home.”

With that she turned leaving Hale behind her not noticing that the deputy did have the sense to look a little browbeaten by her comments.

She clenched her fists as Skeeter opened the door to the transport van , they usually used for body pickups, for her before he got into the driver's seat. It was obvious he was more than sure his boss was too pissed to be behind the wheel of a van.

Skeeter didn’t speak until they left the cemetery property. “Are you as innocent as you proclaim to be?”

“I could ask you the same thing?” She remarked adjusting her seatbelt around her neck , the seatbelt was always sitting too high on her body and cutting into her skin.

Skeeter let out a huff at the comment he fast to reply. “Touche.”

He spoke again, shaking his head. “Do I need to be concerned?”

“About what?” She asked, staring down at her nails making the mental note to get a manicure tomorrow she could use a refresh though she usually just had her nails trimmed and painted with gel polish. 

It was a luxury she allowed herself along with the occasional pedicure.

Skeeter sent her a small stern glance fast to respond. “You know what.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

Skeeter let out a huff, his hands gripping down on the steering wheel. “That’s what I used to say when I helped out SAMCRO too.”

She felt her stomach drop guilt flooding her, knowing she’d essentially stolen Skeeter’s side gig right out from under him.

She spoke, keeping her voice even and collected. “Everything is fine.”

She paused, shaking her head a small smile crossing her lips though it was weak. “You don’t need to fret over me. I’m a grown woman. I don’t need some man to come along and handle all my problems."

She let out a small laugh fast to speak again. "You know, If I didn’t know better I’d assume your concern meant you were sweet on me.”

Skeeter let out a scoff at the comment, shaking his head a small smile eventually crossing his features. “You aren’t really my type…You’re a little too…”

“A ball buster, a cold hard bitch…oh, a shrew, a C You Next Tuesday with a stick permanently lodged up her ass, a domineering witch with control issues a mile long who must constantly be PMSing. A spooky bitch.” She remarked, the small smile still on her lips remaining she finding humor in poking at her associate about just what kind of reputation she had among the local male population.

Skeeter rolled his eyes quick to reply. “I value my job too much to give any confirmation.”

She chuckled, giving his arm a small pat the words that left her genuine. “And I value you too much as a friend not to be offended by any confirmation.”

Skeeter shook his head as she removed her hand, his voice once again taking a serious tone. “I don’t like you being involved with SAMCRO.”

“What’s good for the gander is good for the goose.” She replied her voice picking up a mild tone of offense over the implication that he was implying that she shouldn’t do anything he might have done. 

“I know, I’m a hypocrite for saying it…just be careful Y/N. You aren’t just my boss…I do care about you. I know just where the Sons can lead you.” Skeeter replied, his voice still holding that serious tone. She couldn’t ignore the hint of dread underneath the tone.

She sighed, shaking her head. “I know, I’m being as careful as I can be. I know SAMCRO well enough. I think we’re both aware of my history.”

Skeeter cringed knowing he’d been around during her wild streak. He’d been apprenticing under her father then. 

She spoke as she reached out, turning up the air in the car. “We both have our indiscretions, Skeet. Let’s just leave this conversation at that.”

He sighed nodding his head, his voice still so serious. “I know.”

He spoke again, shaking his head as they turned down the road heading towards main street. “I feel bad for saying it, but it's kind of a relief for me…The cash from those favors for SAMCRO, it was a little too dangerous to have in my hands.”

“How’s it going…you avoiding triggers?” She dared to ask, well aware of the man’s gambling problem.

She was always worried it would interfere with his ability to work, but he managed aside from the occasional favor he did for SAMCRO that she was all too aware of. 

“It’s going.” was the only response she received.

He glanced over at her needing to say it again. “Just be careful, okay. I don’t want you getting in over your head. Try to learn from my mistakes.”

“I won’t get in over my head. I’ve got it covered. Like I said, everything is fine.” She insisted, uncertain if she was trying to convince him or just trying to convince herself.

—--------------------------------------------------

The news of the empty graves had spread fast and weeks later it was still buzzing around town.

Y/N as the town’s most prominent funeral director was getting sick of the unprompted questions she was being asked by her fellow residents of Charming.

She tried not to grimace as she accepted the fresh cut of skirt steak from the local meat guy at Charming’s biggest grocery store, which honestly wasn’t that big at all. 

The butcher who she was sure was named Oscar spoke looking almost giddy to get to grill her for information. “You find out who robbed those graves yet?”

“No, I’m pretty sure Lodi’s police have it covered.” She replied, trying to keep her voice level and hide any signs of irritation.

He spoke all too eager and ditzy enough to keep the questions coming. “I guess you must see a lotta sick stuff at your job though. I mean you hear the stories.”

“What stories?” She asked, widening her eyes slightly giving a false sense of innocence knowing her best course of action was to play dumb and let him maybe reflect on just how inappropriate this all was.

He shifted in place a bit, his cheeks growing dark enough that they almost matched his thinning red hair. “Uh, you know…you hear stories bout folks who wanna dig up corpses for…uh companionship.”

She cringed her stomach turning at the implication he was making. She spoke a tone of disapproval in her voice “I haven’t heard those stories in my line of work. Any reports of…that happening in the industry are greatly exaggerated.”

With that she tossed the meat into her cart turning to leave she still feeling a little queasy about the entire exchange.

She took a deep breath reminding herself that people had all sorts of wild preconceived notions about people who were attracted to her line of work.

She kept her mind focused on her grocery list. 

For once it seemed that she actually had the budget to buy more than top ramen and produce. 

The payouts from SAMCRO had helped her put money towards a few debts she’d had hanging over her head both relating to her brother’s health issues and improvements her father tried to make around the funeral home.

Her father had spent more than he’d made at one point trying to upkeep the home and now she was left picking up the tab.

Business had picked up as well. It seemed that even with the wild stories flying around about grave robberies that Charming’s residents were willing to use her services.

She’d had enough funerals lately to put some money in her bank account. There had been a car wreck with two casualties, a widow who’d died of a stroke, and most recently some teen had drowned out at a lake up near the Chigger Woods.

She felt bad knowing that people’s losses were her payouts. She knew though that this was the reality of her line of work.

When business was good, that most likely meant someone else was suffering.

She wasn't rolling in money, but she felt like she was close to breaking even. She felt comfortable enough to buy some decent groceries and she felt like she could kind of breathe. She knew she wasn't entirely financially stable, if any surprise expenses came up she might be in trouble. She wasn't fretting over money as much as she'd been though before she'd accepted the Son's payout.

SAMCRO had not come knocking for any more favors. It was something that gave her relief but troubled her.

She wasn’t exactly kicking down her door wanting to see Jax Teller or Tig Trager again, but the absence of SAMCRO after the favor she’d done for them made her feel uneasy.

No one had even shown up to address the obvious grave robberies when both she and they knew just who had done it.

She couldn’t help but to feel a little bitter knowing SAMCRO had disappeared without a trace and had left her to deal with the fallout.

She should have known better by now.

Y/N also had to admit she was missing the presence of a certain Scotsman. 

It was a strange realization to have. She barely knew the man aside from the surprisingly pleasant conversation they’d had in the cemetery that night almost a full month before.

As hard as she tried to deny it, she had to admit Filip spiked her curiosity.

She found him contradicting in a way. 

He looked rough. She’d be blind to deny it. The scars, the general unkemptness, the intense and clearly dangerous energy surrounding him…it was all parts of him that should send her running in the opposite direction.  

He’d seemed so concerned about her that night at the crematorium and the cemetery though. She had a feeling it had something more to do than any worry about her wandering the cemetery after dark. She’d picked up on the implication that he almost seemed to care about how she was coping with everything that had been asked of her. She could remember the little looks he’d sent her throughout the night especially when his brothers said something uncouth. He’d been so quick to make a show of smacking Juice for being so insensitive during the cremation. It almost seemed as though the Scot cared what she thought of him. 

Her brain kept flashing back to that conversation they’d had as she was digging a hole for those cremains. It was small talk honestly, but she’d never had small talk with someone about the beauty of the stars.

In a strange way it almost felt like he was trying to connect with her.

She felt absurd for the thought. 

A voice in the back of her head told her all men were the same; especially men in the MC.

They classified women into two groups: girls they wanted to fuck and girls who they didn’t want to fuck.

A bitter voice told her that any attention the Scottish Son had given her was more likely him hoping to charm his way into her pants and that she shouldn’t read too deeply into it.

Another little voice piped up that him getting into her pants wasn’t such a horrible thing was it?

She’d been frankly going through a dry spell for a few years now. Her bedroom was quite frigid. Usually she had to seek out a bit of self release for her frustrations. 

She had a hard time dating. Most men ran screaming when they realized what she did for a living. Her dating life consisted of men who worked in her industry. Her longest relationship had been with a fellow student during her time at mortuary school. She’d found that her partners disappointed her though. If they didn’t run screaming they just seemed like they didn’t click with her. 

The Scotsman didn’t seem to be running…though he’d not contacted her since that night in the cemetery.

Even with the radio silence lately she could remember he’d been quite flirty with her. It had felt different from Jax’s methods of flirtation. 

There was something kind of charming about the Scot. His little flirtations had seemed genuine and not just a means to get something out of her. It was so unlike the way the flirtation had always felt with Jax. 

She would be a liar if she tried to pretend that the phone conversation the Scotsman and she had about the Son’s use of the cremator that night didn’t send a thrill through her. 

It was alarming that the sound of his voice alone and a little pet name like love could pull that reaction from her. She’d tried to deny it but she did feel a certain heat spread through her under his gaze. She was almost certain her clit would throb like a broken tooth just from his gaze and voice alone, and she didn’t want to even think about those  dimples or the intensity behind his eyes.

She’d maybe noticed he had nice hands too; sort of elegant as strange as that sounded. He had long fingers and she had to admire the golden biker rings lining them. She had noticed and appreciated the fact this nails were neatly trimmed. In her opinion most guys neglected their nails. There was nothing grosser than dirty fingernails on a guy who expected to shove those fingers in more delicate areas. 

The Scotsman’s hands seemed strong and as though they understood a hard day's work. She had to imagine the roughness of his hands might feel incredible against her soft skin. 

She found herself distinctly remembering a roommate she’d had for a short while when she’d first moved to New York. The girl had praised the wonders of older men in the bedroom.

She’d remarked that Y/N’s disappointment in the bedroom stemmed from the fact that she was relying on boys to do something a man could do a hell of a lot better.

Y/N had hated to admit it but the comment did seem likely. She’d lost track of the times she’d laid in bed after a sexual encounter and found she’d not reached her end, but her partner had definitely got there all too quickly. It was made worse by the fact that she’d had to fake it so as not to bruise the poor guy’s egos.

She’d not had many partners back in New York, but the few she’d had had been a let down.

A voice claimed that the Scottish Son would not let her down in bed. Filip seemed old enough to have figured out how to please a woman by now.

She groaned, tossing a jar of peanut butter into her cart as she neared the check out lane. She did not need to be going down this road.

She once again mentally scolded herself that Filip was not getting anywhere near her bed nor any other surface for that matter.

She’d outgrown the desire to spread her legs for bad boys on Harleys. 

She ignored that obnoxious voice that piped up that Filip was no boy.

Y/N began to drop her items on the conveyor belt at the check out probably a little too harshly but she was tired and annoyed both from questions from seemingly everyone about grave robberies and her own mental dilemma about her feelings towards a certain Scottish Son.

She felt her stomach turn as she heard a voice behind her. “Y/N?”

She turned trying to seem as though she wasn’t ready to have a nervous breakdown as her gaze met the gaze of Dr. Tara Knowles.

She spoke her voice tight hoping the good doctor would read her expression as general sleepiness from errands. “Tara.”

“How are you?” the woman replied clearly happy to catch up.

Y/N cleared her throat placing a bag of spinach on the belt. “I’m well, just busy lately, tired, and you?”

“Same. Though I can’t imagine how stressed you probably are. I don’t blame you for being tired. Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask about the graves…I imagine you’ve been asked enough.” Tara replied the comment soothing Y/N slightly.

She shifted in place as she watched the cashier scan her items, the older woman moving at a snail's pace. 

Y/N wasn’t entirely sure if Tara knew about her history with Jax Teller. Tara had been long gone and had left Charming by the time Y/N had begun hanging around SAMCRO.

Y/N was all too aware of the hole Tara had left behind in Jax Teller though.

Y/N had easily realized she had at times operated as a place for Jax to fill that void if only for a short moment. It had become clear from the very few encounters he’d had with her that she wasn’t the woman he wanted underneath him.

Y/N had been upset about it at the time not because she had held any romantic notions for the Prince of SAMCRO, but because she’d allowed herself to be used in that way.

It was one of the many reasons Y/N had pulled from that world.

She almost found it strangely amusing that two women who had both run away from SAMCRO were standing side by side. Two women who were similar in more ways than they realized.

Tara spoke, nodding her head. “I’m sorry to hear about your father. It seems like you’ve got the home running though?”

“I have…I’m sorry about your father as well.” Y/N remarked, still having to admit she wasn’t entirely accustomed to the showings of sympathy when it came to her late father.

The funeral had felt surreal and she’d barely registered the words of the mourners who’d shown their respects.

A small part of her had to wonder if Tara had felt the same about her own father. She almost wanted to ask, but the question felt far too sensitive for old acquaintances. 

Tara had been around back then of course, hanging out with Y/N’s brother and Jax and Opie.

Y/N had been younger though, not entirely prone to tagging along with the older kids.

Tara cleared her throat as she responded Y/N placing the divider down between their groceries. “Thank you. It’s strange being back here…it’s like some things are exactly how I left them. I’m sure you know the feeling. I mean, you’re back as well.”

“I am…it does feel like some things about this place exist in a vacuum…things outside change but everything within remains.” Y/N replied having to admit she felt the same in more ways than Tara realized.

Tara cleared her throat again as she spoke, placing her own groceries down on the belt. “I don’t suppose you heard about Jax?”

She raised an eyebrow, paranoia running through her. Why was Tara asking her about the Sons?

Tara spoke again, shaking her head. “I mean, I know you probably haven’t seen him in years…I know Danny was close to us all…before the accident.” 

Y/N glared down at the pears as they passed by her on the conveyor belt, the mention of her brother and who he’d been before the accident making her feel terrible. “I know.”

Tara spoke again, smart enough to realize she’d struck a nerve. She seemed eager to get on with it and make sure Y/N knew this wasn’t some way to bring up her brother and make her feel awful. “Uh, Jax is a dad now.”

Y/N widened her eyes at the news, it hitting her like a brick to the head. She never would have suspected. She sighed, shaking her head. “Didn’t even know he got anyone pregnant.”

“His ex wife…she’s in bad shape. It’s not my place to share it, but the baby…Abel, he’s premature. I’ve been taking care of him up at Saint Thomas.” Tara shared she resisted the urge to go into too much detail.

Tara certainly wasn’t going to explain Wendy’s medical history nor the antagonism from Gemma Teller Morrow.

Y/N furrowed her brow at the information. It seemed that things in Charming hadn’t stayed as in a vacuum as Tara and she had been discussing. 

She felt a chill run down her spine at the mention of Abel Teller. Her line of work meant she’d taken care of a few premature infants who didn’t make it.

It was a depressing reality about her profession; children died.

She had proven to be quite proficient in dealing with infant and child mortalities. It was something the funeral director she’d apprenticeshiped under in New York had praised her for.

Y/N was capable of providing a nurturing environment to mourn for parents and keeping her wits about her enough to get the job done.

Everyone had a talent. Y/N kind of hated that one of her talents consisted of comforting and tending to bereaved parents and their dead kids.

She spoke hoping and praying that she wouldn’t be attending to Abel Teller. “How is he?...the baby?”

“It was hit and miss at first. Only time will tell.” Tara replied she biting her tongue, resisting to spill her heart to Y/N about everything she was feeling.

She had a feeling it was mostly due to the fact that Y/N was also returning to her hometown after the death of a parent. 

Tara had a feeling that Y/N might be able to relate on that issue, even if Y/N’s issue didn’t exactly also include SAMCRO and a history with it.

Y/N cleared her throat as her final item was scanned and it was time to pay. “I hope for his sake that time will do him well. I hope my services won’t be needed.”

Tara felt a chill run down her spine at the comment. She was suddenly reminded that Y/N, as sweet as she looked, could be intense. She guessed it made sense though. Y/N was casual about death as Tara was about surgical procedures.

Y/N sighed as she began to roll her cart away from the register. “I’ll see you around Tara.”

Y/N didn’t wait for a reply, her mind feeling thick and exhaustion peaking up in the deepest parts of her soul.

She just wanted to go home and take a long bath, maybe have some wine.

Little did she know though fate had a different plan.

============================

The Acura started sputtering not long after she left the grocery store. She groaned knowing that this wasn’t an entirely new development.

Given her debts, she had maybe put off car maintenance. She knew it was foolish. She saw the deadly results of poorly maintained vehicles thanks to her job.

It was easier to preach automotive safety when you weren’t broke though.

She grimaced as the car drug it was obvious it wouldn’t make the trip home, and even if it did it wouldn’t make any other trips.

She sighed knowing there was only one automotive shop close enough for her car to make it.

She cringed as she pulled the sputtering vehicle into the lot of TM Auto. She tried to ignore the fact that the automotive lot was located on the same lot as the Sons clubhouse.

It was a place she’d spent far too much time engaging in debauchery almost a decade before. She was too close for comfort to a piece of her past.

Chibs Telford noticed the familiar Acura drag its way into the lot. He moved a little too quickly to approach it.

He felt a giddy sense of excitement hit him at the realization that he’d be seeing Charming’s local funeral director quite soon.

He’d not forgotten his silent pledge to solve the puzzle that was Y/N. It was just that shit with the club had gotten so hectic that he’d not had the time to properly devote to his goals.

He’d debated using the number he’d saved in his flip phone to give her a call, but he’d feared how that interaction would go. Besides what would he say?

He’d been debating his next move while trying to keep his mind focused on the rebuild of the warehouse, issues with the supply of guns from the IRA, and other numerous issues that had landed on SAMCRO’s feet.

He’d be lying if he tried to pretend that she hadn’t been on the back of his mind constantly for almost a month now. He’d even maybe picked up the habit of reading the obituaries in the local paper that was always delivered to TM Auto trying to pretend that he wasn’t searching for the name of her business. 

He felt like a man obsessed and knew this action was a sign of his infatuation. He didn’t want to get shit from his brothers about the fact that he’d taken such a liking to their new funeral home connection. 

It seemed that fate was throwing him a bone by placing the very woman he’d been thinking about right on his path.

He approached her car, opening the driver's side door, he hoping he sounded as charming as he was attempting to. “Lass, long time no see.”

She peered at him through a pair of oversized sun shades almost tempted to point out that he and his brothers had left her high and dry to deal with their little grave robbing antics.

She held it in though reminding herself she needed these idiots to fix her clearly dying car. “I’m having car trouble.”

She tried not to eye the name embroidered into the work shirt he was wearing: Chibs. So, she guessed not everyone called him Filip. 

“Aye, when’s the las’ time ya took it in?” He asked not shying away from jumping into assisting her.

She shrugged her shoulders making a small joke, finding it easier to use humor to deflect how unhappy she was to be back in her old stomping grounds. “You’re supposed to maintain it? I’ve just been putting a post it over the pretty lights on my dash. I find them distracting.”

He rolled his eyes not showing that he found the snark kind of endearing. “I’m guessin’ it’s been a while then.”

She shrugged a sigh leaving her. “The oil has been leaking, but I’ve not had the time to do anything about it.”

She left out the last part of her statement or the funds.

“Aye could be yer head gasket that’s causin’ the oil leaks. The sputterin could be anything from the exhaust system to the spark plugs.” Chibs replied not missing the grimace on her features.

She ran a hand through her hair, a sigh leaving her. All she heard was bills bills bills, more debt to throw into the pot.

He spoke nodding his head. “It’s nothin’ I can’t fix though…might be costly and take some time.”

She cringed, rolling her eyes speaking more to herself than to him. “Great another bill…At least I have the old hearse to get around town. It’s retired from using in the business but my father couldn’t part from it. I guess his packrat tendencies for funeral equipment saved me at least transportation wise.”

“Aye, good thing we gave ya that payout though…should help with the bill.” Chibs remarked not missing the comment about the hearse or her father’s habit of hoarding funeral equipment the information both fascinating and a little worrisome.

She let out a scoff, turning her gaze towards him for only a moment before she stared down at her nails. “I had to invest every last penny of those lovely payouts in my debts. I can probably manage a bill from my legit earnings from work, but if it gets too expensive I might be fucked.”

She sighed not liking the slight hint of pity in his gaze. She spoke once again partially talking to herself working her anxieties out outloud. “I may have to let the stupid car go. I mean people around town already treat me like a pariah…in the most polite, condescending way possible…I may as well just drive a damn hearse in my day to day life. I might as well become a walking talking stereotype of a mortician. Who knows how long the old hearse will last though. I might wind up back here with another ruined car.” 

Chibs spoke the words leaving him before he had a chance to stop them. “As far as payment goes…I’m sure we could figure out an arrangement fer a lower bill.”

She frowned another scoff leaving her as she spoke her voice low though she knew the few people within their earshot weren’t paying them any mind. “I’m assuming by arrangement, you mean the next favor I do is on the house.”

Chibs cringed admitting the idea had crossed his mind. He was sure Clay would be delighted to have Y/N owing a favor on the house. Clay would be proud if Chibs came up with a way to get a favor from SAMCRO’s newest asset in exchange for car repairs. 

Chibs hated the concept though, it seemed kind of like a dick move. Chibs was no stranger to dick moves, but he wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of using Y/N’s car as a way to coax her into doing another favor for free.

He spoke, pulling a cigarette from the pocket of his work shirt, a sudden idea entering his mind. He had to hope she wouldn’t slap him for presenting it. “Ya could have a date with me. Tha’ coul’ be the arrangement.” 

She glared up at him, interpreting the offer completely the wrong way. Her voice rose as she began to chastise him. “I don’t know what Jackson or any of your buddies told you about me, but I am not a club whore, buddy. I am not the kind of girl who spreads her legs in the clubhouse dorm. Fuck you, if you even think I’m sleeping with you in exchange for car work. You can shove that arrangement right up your Scottish ass.”

He stepped back having to admit he was equally mortified, amused, and even a little turned on by her reaction. 

He held his hands up in defeat as he cleared up his statement. “I don’ mean a date like that lass. I mean…I wouldn’t turn ya down fer the offer ta sleep with me…I aint askin fer ya in my bed in exchange for autowork though. I may be a prick, but I ain’ that big of a prick.”

He paused, relieved to see that her claws seemed to be retracting. He spoke nodding over at the car. “I’m jus askin fer a chance to take a pretty lass out fer dinner and me fixin her car is jus a bonus.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Doesn’t make me feel any less like I’m prostituting myself for car repairs.”

He spoke, shaking his head, his hand daring to reach out and caress her arm relieved that she didn’t yank from his touch. “Ya ain’ if it makes ya feel better ya can pay a reduced bill, if it bein' free makes ya feel like shite then I’ll take payment as well as a date.”

She sighed, tempted to once again tell him to shove it up his Scottish ass though a voice in the back of her head perked up that it was a nice backside. 

She ignored the warning bells and harsh voice in the back of her mind telling her this was a bad idea. She ignored the voice that told her a date with Chibs would mean she was right back to being the club hangaround.

She stared up at him trying to read if he was absolutely full of shit or not. She had a feeling he was, but not in this instance at least. 

What could one date hurt? 

“Fine, it's a date. You call me with the plans. You can reach me at my business number.”

He smirked quick to speak. “I already got yer personal cell number love, ya do member our talk awhile back.” 

She rolled her eyes wanting to snap that of course she remembered. She was tempted to scold him for saving her number behind her back. She wanted to scold him for a lot of things, some things that weren’t technically even his fault.

She resisted the urge, resigning herself to her fate. The sooner she agreed to this hairbrained date idea the sooner she could go home and take that bath she wanted. “Okay, now can I get someone to give me a ride home…preferably someone with a car…I have groceries in the back of mine that are spoiling as I stand here listening to your nonsense.”

He smirked having to like that she once again had to find a way to give him grief. He found it less annoying and more delightful. It had been a long time since a woman had given him so much crap and he’d genuinely found it appealing.

“Aye, Gemma’ll give ya a ride. Jus’ head into the office let er know yer here with a wrecked car and ya need a ride.” He replied,  a joyful feeling settling over him. He had a date with Charming’s resident funeral director.

She cringed at the order not looking forward to coming face to face with the Queen of SAMCRO.

She grabbed her purse from her car refusing to glance back at Chibs even as he spoke that flirty tone clear in his voice. “I’ll call ya tonigh’ with those dinner plans lass.”

She let out a huff wondering how she got herself into these messes lately. Why did SAMCRO insist on making her life more complicated than it needed to be? 

[stoopid-turtle]

Consuming Candies Pt 2: DD ❤️ GG and GG ❤️ DD

ALL FAKE. I'M MAKING SHIT UP FOR FUN. DON'T BELIEVE ME.

Intro post for this series

Once I convinced myself that DD and GG are some variety of gay, the rest is honestly not hard to conceive of. Two gay guys filming a BL adaption on a set that was open to same-sex relationships who got on really well...it's not hard to believe they'd "get together".

3. DD and GG had "a thing" around the time of the TU production. This could include the time period during filming and through the promo period. Actual timelines and details of the nature of the relationship are secondary.

If an actor and an actress hit it off as well as DD and GG did, it'd be easy for people to see that they were an item. For some reason, people struggle more to see that with two men (okay, I know the reasons, but I'm not getting into that here).

By the time I'd established 1 and 2, I'd seen enough bts and other footage to buy in to 3, as well, but here's the list of moments/candies that just nail it for me. It would be impossible for me to list out all the moments that simply scream "They're in a relationship!!!" because there's, just, a lot. So here's the short list, again, in order of most inarguable to more open to interpretation.

a) Old cow eats young grass.

That's it. That's the clip. There is no het explanation for that. I guess you could maybe claim DD was referring to GG liking younger women, but that doesn't flow with the rest of the conversation they're having. Especially with GG's comment about paying for new brake pads,

They did the gay together. More than just casually. They were an item at this time. Hands down. Case closed.

(Again, I'll get to the argument that this is all fabricated fanservice at another point)

b) The bts of DD getting into costume where he's quizzing the costume-jiejie about what GG said about him in an interview.

This is straight-up, cliche, 'shows up in freaking romance novels' behavior when you have a crush. Nobody's that concerned about what their friend is saying about them in interviews. You only care that much when you're trying to get a feel as to their feelings for you.

Also, the costume-jiejie is hilarious about it. Asking him about his response in an interview and then teasing him about not remembering what GG said about DD. She clearly has served as a sounding board for DD about his crush before, and she's amused and encouraging and teasing, all at the same time. Hats off, costume-jiejie.

c) Happy Camp moments: jealous!GG and the necklace.

I don't usually put much stock in the jealous GG/DD stories, but the instance with GG going grimdark as DD wriggled through the hole with another guy is just...again, I'm struggling to think of a context that would make sense that isn't "they are together and GG is jealous".

(I don't find jealousy cute, tbh, so I'm not jazzed about the moment. I don't know what was going on between them that led to that, but I'm glad they seemed to clear it up).

This leads to the other Happy Camp moment, seen only in fancams. The ox-head necklace that DD had been wearing scratched up his neck during the game. GG's stunned reaction to DD's injuries and his concern, plus clearly telling DD to take it off...none of this makes sense unless GG gave DD the jewelry.

Like, okay. I have a necklace my bff gave me, and I wear it a lot. It's really meaningful and sentimental. But if it were scratching up my neck, I'd take it off. If she were there while it was scratching up my neck, she'd joke about it and agree that I should take it off. She wouldn't look distraught.

My wife, on the other hand...

c) DDU's 11th anniversary episode

There's no way to describe this episode except that it really felt as if DD was having his new partner meet his fam. The fact that DDU stopped throwing women at DD after that speaks volumes.

From a), it's clear that their relationship was pretty serious (and extended after the end of filming), and having GG meet DD's DDU brothers is another indication of where their relationship was at. That's not a trivial thing.

d) GG's lack of chill during promo interviews.

I get the vibe that if they were in a relationship, GG was a lot more scared/nervous about it than DD was. He also had less experience with interviews and such. There are numerous moments where GG misunderstands, overreacts, or just acts weirdly during interviews that are hard to explain away.

- The "It's been a year" video, where DD points out that the camera is recording and GG balks at whatever he'd been saying. Cue the nervous laughter and whispered conversation between them. - The backwards pants interview question. - An interviewer asking him if being in a relationship means the end of his career (right after asking about his marriage plans--a question that made dd mad). - His weird denial of DD's waterfall story

In each case, something startles GG into a panicked silence. Then DD usually intervenes and so then GG has some nervous laughter.

Plainly, there's something he's afraid of being revealed in interviews. So much that he's seeing danger, even when it doesn't exist. Given the nature of the questions, we can see that the "thing" he's afraid of is

- him being in a relationship - something involving DD and him and a waterfall - and accidentally wearing someone else's clothes.

All involve DD. In all, DD is the one who relieves the panic and calms him down while smoothing over the interview.

It's not a leap to guess that he's in a relationship with DD that he's afraid people will find out. Sure, he'd want to hide a het relationship too, that makes sense. But then there's the pants question and the waterfall question. And the only way GG and DD's reaction to the question of whether being in a relationship would be the end of GG's career is if...GG and DD were in a relationship.

e) Hot pot.

Okay, this is where I start sounding crazy if I discuss this without prefacing with everything above ^^^. But the fact that their tastes in hot pot shifted over time to more align with each other is significant. I've read about the regional differences and how DD's sudden taste for spiciness could only really be attributable to GG, who's from an area with spicy hot pot.

This resonates with me, especially, because I was a hella picky eater when I met my wife. Like, embarrassingly picky. But then I met my wife, and she cooks and is a foodie and eventually, my palate just expanded. Now I'm a freaking foodie (and a vegetarian, like her), and our eating habits are pretty closely aligned.

Merging is real in longterm relationships. It looks like this. In my case, my wife demystified food for me with her cooking and likewise, it seems as if GG taught DD how to handle spicy stuff.

This wouldn't be significant on its own, but in conjunction with everything else *waves hands*...well, it's convincing to me.

In summary, it is blindingly obvious to me that they were a committed couple at some point after TU filmed and aired (when that commitment started is unclear, but I'm not gonna get into that here). Even after 227, it's clear that they're romantically together. I'm 100% convinced of this. Since I started drafting this, I've come across older mentions of (now gone) bts that just...there's no doubt. They weren't hiding it on set. They were just out there, exhausting everybody around them with their chaotic flirting/mating dances. It's insane and I love it.

4. DD and GG are still together.

Me: So I've been watching behind the scenes for The Untamed, and I think the two actors maybe had a thing? There's just...a lot going on there. My wife: Sounds gay. Me: I mean, some people seem convinced that they're still together because of shoes or something. That gets real out-there. But I definitely wouldn't be surprised if they had a thing during filming. My wife: (who only watched the show) I could see it. They had that chemistry.

(2 weeks later)

Me: Honey, I swear I sound crazy but I'm not. These two guys were totally together and I think they might still be together. My wife: Because of shoes? Me: I SWEAR I'M NOT CRAZY, HONEY, JUST BELIEVE ME My wife: Yes, dear. Their shoes make them gay. Me: *sobs*

When I first started dipping into things, I felt a great sadness watching older videos of them, because I'd heard that they weren't allowed to interact in public, that they probably didn't even talk to each other anymore, etc etc. YouTube's full of this, and the fans who say they're still together look, well, crazy.

It's easy to conclude they're not together anymore given that so much early evidence of their relationship is based on videos/audios. The bts, joint interviews, fan meetings, etc. We were spoiled with up-front and personal visuals of their dynamic. It's not a surprise that in the absence of that, most people just assume they don't talk or interact much anymore.

Not to mention, wandering in some years later, you get a massive dopamine hit with the bts and the promos and then there's a drop when you try to look for more recent stuff. When we could see it, their relationship seemed to alive. So real. So undeniable. But in the absence of that, the immediate instinct is to assume that lack of visibility = lack of existence.

But we have only ever seen a small slice of their lives, most of which has been selectively shown to us by them or by production companies. Both DD and GG have full lives when we're not around to see them. They each have their own career trajectories. They have vastly different hobbies and both of them have their own friend groups. We only get a glimpse of all of that, but that doesn't mean that's all there is. Especially now, when they're sharing fewer personal posts and China is cracking down on the entertainment industry.

No doubt, we only know the tiniest, most tailored portion of their personal lives these days. But back in 2019-2021, they were clearly together. Their relationship was clearly serious. They joke about shared financial decisions, get introduced to each other's on-screen and off-screen family, visit each other's set. Both of them seemed in it for the long haul.

Given that, I don't see why we should assume they have broken up just because we're years later and we don't get the joy of seeing them together anymore.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think a break-up is impossible. Couples break up. Even couples that have been together for a while. Even couples who adore each other and try to make things work. It happens.

But there's no reason to assume that they're broken up just because we haven't seen them together recently.

I do have a couple "reasons", but this evidence won't convince anybody who doesn't believe they were ever a couple. It's only when you accept that, yeah, these 2 BL actors are actually gay and in a long-term relationship, that this seems reasonable.

a) The bone necklace.

I'm pretty well certain that the ox-head necklace was a gift from GG. The timing of the bone necklace's appearance, plus DD's attachment to it (similar to his attachment to the ox-head necklace), makes it a decent guess that the bone necklace was also a gift from GG.

We can kinda guess at the meaning. I've only seen one clip where GG has called DD gouzaizai, so I don't know if that's an actual "thing" between them. (though it's not outside the realm of possibility that they are influenced by bjyx fandom).

In any case, the bone necklace is still around. Still being worn. That's notable to me.

b) They could end this ship if they wanted to.

They have both had other pairings shut down. The fandom wars between turtles and solos is intense and causes disruption, something neither of them need. The solo fanbases are huge and it'd be a no-brainer to jettison the CPFs if you want to cut down on the type of fandom upset that gets unwanted government attention.

But they haven't.

They could have the supertopics shut down. DD could avoid being anywhere near the number 3. They could both dive into a bush rather than be around the color yellow or a turtle. DD could take a video of himself melting down the bone necklace or giving it to a pretty woman. They could starve the fandom.

But they haven't.

They keep around their gay CP, despite not publicly interacting with each other in years. They take down articles about them breaking up, pull down hot searches about them with actresses, and continue to feed the fandom with candy.

Most recently, GG went to work late on the days DD was out sick. That's not even an intentionally thrown candy. That's just us noticing a couple taking care of each other. If they weren't together, then GG, whose team certainly knows about DD being sick, could have avoided doing anything that would make it seem like he was involved with DD during that time.

But he didn't. Either their teams don't care about turtles, which seems difficult to believe given the conflicts that have arisen within the fandoms, or the teams (notably, gg and dd) want to keep turtles around. At this point, years past the point the show is out, years past the time the two have even been seen together, there's no rational business reason to hold on to the turtles.

That's not neutral. They're not keeping turtles engaged for economic reasons. They're not keeping turtles engaged just for shits and grins (the joke has run a little long for that). They're keeping turtles around because they're getting something of value from having us around.

Honestly, I think having a huge contingent of cpf cheerleaders is probably comforting when they aren't allowed to express their feelings for each other publicly. It's probably weird and sometimes probably intrusive, like most stuff with fans, but they still have millions of people who embrace them as a couple when they live in a country that is hostile to their relationship. Who in that situation wouldn't want to keep that?

In sum, I had to get past the "too good to be true" hurdle. The automatic dismissal of BL fangirl fantasies. I mean, BLs often market to those fantasies, so a healthy dose of skepticism seems reasonable. I don't honestly blame people for dismissing it when they only have a passing familiarity with the whole thing.

It took a lot for me to see past that, and to see that this is the one case (that I'm aware of) where the fantasy is real. I think it's notable that this "fantasy" doesn't actually look like the fanservice fantasy often served up in BLs. I mean, ggdd have their moments, but they're also snippy, jealous, possessive, lewd, awkward, and just plain weird sometimes. They're real and that's messy and that makes it even more real.

In the next part of this little series, I'll talk more about the fanservice question, plus fanfic, and The Timeline. That post requires more editing, so it probably won't go out until next week.

Just remember it's all fake and nothing I say is true.

[lilahisntsadanymore]

Ever since Y/n became a Shelby and entered the business, especially the dodgy part of it, she decided to be tough.

The reader pronouns: she/her

Pairing: John Shelby x reader

Words count: 1k

Tw: mentions of violence, blood, a person being shot

No certain time when it happens (just after the war), no Peaky Blinders spoilers. Partially inspired by this quote: "Please, I'm begging you go to a doctor." "I'm sorry is this OUR stab wound? Stay out of it."

For the sake of this fanfic, John is childfree.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

A Shelby meant-to-be

(gif not mine)

Once you become a Shelby, there's no going back. Y/n knew about this before marrying John, Tommy made it clear to her, and she willingly accepted that.

Y/n was excited about everything the marriage was going to bring into her life. She was more than eager to do jobs Tommy and sometimes Polly assigned to her. It was dangerous, but fun. In fact, danger was exactly what made it fun.

Because back when Y/n was still a Y/l/n, she hadn't known real danger. Her family was a bunch of law obedient citizens, so it could get a bit boring sometimes. But when she met John Shelby, he showed her what fun looks like.

The adrenaline, the gunshots, the racing heartbeats, it all was like a missing piece of Y/n's life. She enjoyed every part of this and wouldn't want to trade it for anything.

Due to that and the beautiful feelings Y/n shared with John, they quickly decided to get married. Y/n's family was negative about this, they knew the Shelby brothers are trouble and thought that the whole family is cursed. Besides, Y/n knew John only for two months before announcing the wedding.

Another reason to why the couple got married in such a short period of time was the war. The vision of it was widespread, rumours were being passed from mouth to mouth among ordinary people. If the war was to happen, John would have to serve in it along his older brothers. Thinking about the possibility of him not coming back, John and Y/n came up with the idea of getting married.

Without John by her side, Y/n became a different person. The threat of his death only added up to her transformation into a colder, much more reserved person. She helped Polly with the family business, but it wasn't the same Y/n Polly knew. She did the jobs because she had to, she promised that, but she didn't find fun in the adrenaline anymore.

The relief Y/n felt when all the Shelby brothers came back after the war finally finished wasn't possible to describe with words. Knowing John is alive and having him back home brought back the youthful joy in Y/n. She loved life again, she again remembered why she loved being a Shelby.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

It was a late November evening and those could get really cold and dark in England. Tommy was sat at his desk in his small room at the betting shop. His brother and Y/n had been sent for a job, but haven't come back yet. It was taking them a suspiciously long time.

Tommy took a drag from his cigarette and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs properly. Why aren't they back yet?, was a question that echoed in his head. It was a particularly dangerous mission, but if there were people capable of accomplishing it, these people were Y/n and John.

After all, Y/n had dealt with jobs equally dangerous alone back when the Shelby brothers were at war. Y/n didn't even need any help with today's job, but John insisted on going. Just in case something unexpected happened.

Suddenly, loud clamour sounded in the main room of the betting shop, reaching even Tommy in his office. It wasn't a good kind of clamour, that was what trouble sounded like.

Tommy quickly stood up from his chair and rushed out of the room, previously putting out his cigarette.

John and Y/n were back. But the problem was - Y/n got shot. It happened for the first time since she got into the Shelby business, which was a bit surprising that she managed to avoid bullets for such a long time.

Despite Y/n being the one that got shot, John had pure panic on his face. He walked around the chair his wife sat on, while she casually talked with aunt Polly, only wincing occasionally.

The bullet ended up in the girl's left arm. She was holding the wound with her right hand. Blood stained her arm, her both hands and a part of her clothes. John had the red liquid on his hands as well and some on his face too, probably from running his hands through his hair nervously.

"What happened?" Tommy asked. "You were only supposed to collect money."

"The man was armed, apparently." Y/n explained, breathing heavily. Pain was audible in her voice, but she tried to stay calm.

"I told you it's a good idea if I come with you!" John added. "If I wasn't there, he would have killed you!"

"Yes, Johnny, thank you for putting a bulled in his head, but I could have dealt with it alone as well. Don't panic."

"Don't panic?! Yeah, I see how good you could have dealt with it!" the man gestured to the wound. It was still bleeding and the bullet was still inside.

"You're a soldier, you should be used to people around you getting shot! It's not that serious anyways."

"A former soldier," John lowered his voice, "and a current husband, who doesn't want to become a widower."

Polly and Tommy looked at each other as the couple kept arguing. The woman sent a small smile to her nephew, shaking her head in amusement. Despite the seriousness of Y/n's injury, it was interesting how well she fitted the Shelby picture.

At this point, Polly didn't need any words for Tommy to know what she's thinking. They read each other's minds and the only thing they were thinking in that moment was 'Yeah, Y/n was meant to be a Shelby'.

Y/n clearly was destined to be a Shelby. She had this toughness that longed to be expressed and that hidden short temper that John helped her bring to the surface. Y/n fitted just right into that family.

"Stop arguing with me and let me get you to hospital, Y/n!" John demanded.

"I'm sorry, is this OUR wound?" Y/n's voice sounded sarcastic. "Stay out of it, John."

"I am your husband, Y/n, and I don't want you to die!"

"Die? I'll be fine, just give me something sharp, can be the razor in your cap if we've got nothing else."

The situation wasn't funny, it was actually quite serious. Tommy decided to intervene. "John is right, you can't just take the bullet out by yourself. Unless you dislike your arm."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't wanna know how many soldiers lost their limbs after being shot because of infections. Really awful sight to witness."

Y/n turned again to her husband. "John, take me to the nearest hospital."

John smiled victoriously and carefully escorted his wife to the car.

[kinshenewa]

Sun and Moon made their way to the cafeteria, where all sorts of foods were being served. Celestial Jesters are, inherently, omnivores, yet most prefer a vegetarian or vegan diet.

Sun skipped happily, darting over to the fruits section while Moon meandered over to a different part of the cafeteria, where they were serving human food specifically.

Sure, this is the first time a human is on the council, but human food is known the galaxy over for being some of the best shit you can find. Humans were known for their exotic tastes, and Moon couldn't help but like the strange foods that humans consumed.

Especially the meat replacements, those were the most unique things he has ever eaten.

He grabbed a tray and a plate, piling some tofu on it before he stopped. It was the human, and she was only a few feet away. She wore headphones over her ears, but what really caught his attention was the fact that her plate was piled high with sweets and meat. His eyes widened as he saw there was a whole steak among the cluster of food, and only when the plate was piled high did she go and sit down.

Moon hesitates for a moment, getting something called an 'Impossible Burger' that is made by 'Burger King' (he is not well versed on the food makers of humans), he walked over, clearing his throat when he was a few feet away.

She looked up from her food, taking her headphones off. "What's good?" She greeted, jerking her head up.

Moon was confused, but would ask about it later. "Um.... You... You sure do have a lot on your plate, even for a human." He stammered, adjusting the collar of his dark blue shirt nervously as he resisted the urge to blush.

She smiled, chuckling as she responded, "Eh, maybe I do. But I can't really tell when I'm hungry, so when I do remember to eat, I make sure to eat a lot." She tilted her head, giving a closed-eye smile, pulling her short sleeve up before she flexed her right bicep, which surprisingly jumped up a large degree, with some flexing happening in her forearm as well.

Moon's eyes widened as he tried not to blush. Oh god, she's so strong...

"And besides, these babies need ta eat." She chuckled, pulling her sleeve back down.

Sun skipped over, some honeydew on his plate. He also really liked human foods, they were a kind of sweet that he had yet to taste anywhere else.

"Hellooooo!" He chirped, setting his plate down on the table before plucking Moon's plate from his hands and setting it next to his plate. He leaned against Moon, who was only a tad taller. "Oh wow, that sure is a lot of food!" He gushed, grinning cheekily at Cadence.

"How much do y'all eat? I haven't yet found an article about your species." She replied, resting her chin on her interlocked hands as she quirked a brow curiously.

Sun chuckled, elbowing Moon lightly in the side as he replied, "Oh, we Celestial Jesters don't need much to stay going. We can actually convert motes of light into energy we can use, meaning we can go for long periods of time with no food as long as we are in a bright area!"

Cadence blinked, thinking for a moment before saying, "Oh, like photosynthesis?"

Sun and Moon blinked at the same time, both looking confused before Moon pulled out his trusty tablet and typed something. "Oh! Photosynthesis is the word humans use for the process which plants use sunlight to make energy." He said after a moment.

"Well, we need to go. We like to eat our food in our room." Sun said cheerily, picking up his and his brother's plates after waving, "Bye!" He turned and sauntered off.

"Uh, bye. See you later." Moon said, waving shyly before following his brother.

Back at their room, Sun plopped down onto the couch with a sigh, Moon sitting down moments after.

"Simp." Sun said simply, smirking as he took a bite of some honeydew.

Moon gasped, looking offended as he exclaimed, "Says the brother who liked it when she hit him with a thermos!"

Sun laughed, smirking as he replied, "Says the brother who would love to be beaten at wrestling by a female."

Moon huffed, his face turning a light blue from his blush as he stammered, "S-says the brother who would also love to be beaten by a female!"

Sun cackled, lightly kicking his feet.

[victusinveritas]

Warm summer day, beautiful river scenery, gorgeous girl.

Another warm summer day, but in a burning city scenery, a dead girl.

➡The scene in this photo may reflect a carefree teenage girl's life. Even if it was like that, it was only for a very short period. The image was taken during times when teenagers matured really fast and nothing was taken for granted, especially when you were a member of an underground army, just like the girl in the picture.

➡Her name was Anna Zakrzewska, code named “Hanka Biała”. This photo's date and location are unknown, but we can assume it was taken somewhere in occupied Poland, probably around 1943 and 1944. She is only 17 or 18. Yet, despite her young age, she was already involved in the Polish underground resistance. She was a member of the Grey Ranks Assault Groups (Polish underground scouting organisation) and served in the Home Army’s Directorate of Diversion (Kedyw). “Hanka Biała” completed a military course and was trained as a medic.

➡In July 1944, she participated in military drills 60km east of occupied Warsaw in the forests near Wyszków. Perhaps this photo was taken there? At that time the Home Army “Operation Tempest” was in full swing. It was carried out to stand as allies and hosts for the approaching Soviet troops, in the hope that the political and propaganda considerations, as well as the support of the Western Allies, would force the Soviets to respect the sovereignty of the Polish civil authorities. The summer of 1944 was the last summer for “Hanka Biała”.

➡The Red Army soon approached the Polish capital and the Warsaw Uprising broke out on 1 August 1944. Thousands of Poles, including really young ones like “Hanka Biała” went on a desperate fight to liberate the city after years of brutal German occupation.

➡Another warm summer day in a burning city.

➡Warsaw, 11 August 1944. The elite Radosław Group of the Home Army is about to retreat from the Wola district. “Hanka Biała” is a messenger. She must pass the retreat orders to the “Felek” platoon of the “Rudy” company.

➡A Home Army soldier Stanisław Sieradzki, code-named “Świst” recalls.

➡“At one point I hit something with my wounded right forearm. It was “Hanka Biała”. She no longer needed help. She was lying on her stomach, her head turned to the left and her hair sprayed with blood. It was probably a series from a machine gun. Her open mouth was filled with blood and ground. This sight of “Hanka Biała” I will never forget. After all, an hour earlier she had pulled me from my combat position on the second floor of the school corridor on Spokojna Street. From this window, I was observing the Catholic cemetery, from where I fired at the enemy who was also aiming at me. At that time “Hanka Biała” was cheerful, as energetic as ever, lively. And now on this cursed field, she lies, calm, motionless. Expecting to march out, I thought of Hanka. I saw her sad face. The question arose in my mind: 'Why did Hanka have to die so young, after all, she was only 18 years old."

➡2024 marks the 80th anniversary of the Warsaw Uprising, the pinnacle of the Home Army’s “Operation Tempest” and one of the most tragic episodes in Polish history. More info about the Warsaw Uprising: https://rb.gy/8ifm8m

Warsaw Rising Museum.

[causeilikelix]

'Cause I Like You - Chapter Five - Cloudy Dance Breaks

↳ Pairing: Felix x OC / Hyunjin x OC (later)

↳ Genre: Romance, comedy, smut (eventual), slow burn, enemies (idiots) to friends (idiots) to lovers (probably still idiots), high school au, college au, non-idol au

↳ See Chapter One for summery

↳ Chapter warnings: None really? Language, obviously? The girls fail the Bechdel test.... that's all I have

↳ Read on my A03: Here

↳ Notes: I know this chapter is short, but it serves an important purpose! There is more to come! The next chapter is likely to be..... spicy.

<; Chapter Four - Chapter Six >

Chapter Five

“GIRL, YOU ARE fucking insane, you know that?”  Ah Joong heaved as she collapsed against the back wall of the practice room. 

All six girls dripped with sweat.  Their thin workout shirts stuck to their heated skin.  Somehow, a heat wave hit in the first week of April and the school decided to be slow turning on the air conditioner.  Despite bringing in a couple of fans to keep the air circulating, the practice room stayed warm.  After the long winter they’d just suffered, Eunbyeol wasn’t one to complain when the sun decided to come back out.  While dancing, however, Eunbyeol didn’t mind a chill in the air.  Today they were not so lucky. 

Eunbyeol laid on her back, staring up at the white plastic ceiling fan spinning overhead.  She breathed slowly, forcing herself to take long steady breaths instead of the quick shallow ones that were common after vigorous physical activity.  Her lungs rejected the pace, craving as much oxygen as possible instead.  She kept her breathing slow and deep, allowing each breath to fill her lungs and her blood with much-needed oxygen.  It didn’t help with the heat, but her head slowly emerged from the ever-present fog.  

For the last several weeks, Eunbyeol could barely think straight.  Even if she could keep at bay on occasion, a permanent mist settled in her brain.  She managed to get it to clear at least a little while she practiced.  All the extra time in the practice room helped but she needed a goal.  A project.  She used her extra time not to clean or practice but to create and choreograph.  As she worked, she realized she had something to add to her talent show performance and she got to work on preparing it for the stage.  At first, the other girls rejected the idea of having more to learn, but something about Eunbyeol’s enthusiasm changed their minds.  

Somehow, none of the girls could tell that something changed.  Eunbyeol always wondered if it would be possible to be different after a kiss and she learned very quickly that it was.  She couldn’t think straight, or fall asleep easily, or eat without getting distracted.  Schoolwork barely made it onto her radar.  In class especially, it’s like she couldn’t hear a word from her teachers.  Somehow, her quizzes and papers returned to her with good grades but she couldn’t remember how.  Most of the quizzes she couldn’t even remember taking.  

The day after the incident when she first walked into the classroom, Eunbyeol saw him sitting at his desk and a bolt of lightning paralyzed her.  Instantly, her lips tingled and her face flushed a dark red.  Her gaze found his mouth immediately and she forgot how to breathe.  Less than twenty-four hours before, she’d kissed those lips.  He talked to Jisung about something she couldn’t hear but it didn’t matter.  Just watching them move sent her heart into her throat as she remembered how they’d moved on hers with careful precision.  Only when Jiho arrived and threw her arm over Eunbyeol’s shoulders did she remember how to move.  

At the end of first period with Miss Han, Eunbyeol got up to ask her if another day of cleaning was necessary.  She didn’t want to openly admit that she left Felix to finish up and that she didn’t know what he did after she left.  Miss Han glanced between her and Felix a few times before deciding:

“You know, I think I’ve seen enough.  You don’t have to clean again tonight.”

Every day, the proximity between her and Felix was indeterminate.  Did Eunbyeol want to be farther away from him?  Or did she want to be closer?  She couldn’t meet his eyes or speak a single word to him.  Luckily for her, he couldn’t seem to do those things either.  The only words spoken between them were words of convenience, like when she passed a stack of papers back to him or received them back.  He asked for a pencil once, quickly over-explaining that neither Jisung or Seungmin from the desk behind them had an extra.  She’d given him a random one, telling him to keep it.   Eunbyeol wasn’t capable of much else, and he wasn’t either. 

“Who’s idea was that dumb intro?”  Gayeong groaned from her spot on the ground by the outlet.  Eunbyeol ripped her attention from the ceiling fan to glance at her friend.  “No offence, Eunbyeol-ah.”

“Why did you decide we needed one?”  Jiho’s strained voice came from the window on the other side of the room, where she sat on the sill and fanned her face. 

“I don’t know.  I just needed something to do.”  Eunbyeol looked back up at the ceiling. 

“Well, it made an already tiring dance even more exhausting.”  Gayeong’s voice tensed and she stretched her arms over her head. 

“Sorry.” 

“Are you, though?”

“Er... No, not really.  It looks phenomenal, you guys are doing a great job with it.”  Eunbyeol praised.  

“Are you kidding?  I totally fucked it up this time.”  Ah Joong groaned.  “It’s that damn spin that gets me every time.”

“That’s the whole point of practicing.  Do you want to go over it again?”  

“No, no.  I just need to do it a few more times.  Did they do this intro somewhere, like on stage or something because I couldn’t find it anywhere.”  

“Uh, well, I took the music from one of their old award show intros, but the choreography is mine.”  Eunbyeol explained, reaching for her water bottle to take a nice long drink.

“You choreographed it?  Really?”  Jiho glanced over at her friend. 

“Uh, yeah.  Took me a couple days.”

“Wow, I never would have guessed!  It has the same feel as their other choreography.  Color me impressed.”  Chohui spoke up from where she stood in front of one of the oscillating fans.  

“You’re too nice to me.”  Eunbyeol grinned.  “Do you want to run it again?  We don’t have much time before we need to be out of here.”

“Oh, hell no.”  Minjeong spoke up from her place where she sat against the wall with her eyes closed.  “I need another minute or two.  I’m burning up.”

“Alright, but I want to run it at least two more times before we have to go.”  Eunbyeol checked the time on her watch, frowning when she saw how much time they had left.  “We only have a few weeks to get this intro down.”

“Is your desire to beat Felix really so strong that you’re adding more to this already intense dance?  The floorwork alone screwed up my knee for a week.”  Jiho hopped down from her perch by the window and moved to lay on the floor next to Eunbyeol.

“You have no idea.”  Eunbyeol coughed slightly, turning her face away so Jiho couldn’t see the blush heating up her entire face just at the mention of his name.

“I didn’t know that someone could somehow look hot with a black eye, but once again there’s nothing he can’t do.  Good job, Eunbyeol-ah.”  Chohui spoke up.  “I still can’t believe you punched him.”

“Neither can I, to be perfectly honest.”

“Eunbyeol has an incredible arm.”  Jiho grinned, nudging her with her elbow.  “Took it almost three weeks for the bruise to go away.  I can’t believe you still like Felix after he rejected you, Chohui-yah.”

“Look, just because he rejected me doesn’t mean that I can’t admire him from afar.”

“Please.  You have to tell us what he whispered to you!”  Ah Joong spoke up.  “You can’t hold onto that secret forever!”

“I think I can, actually.  It was very privileged information.”  Chohui insisted matter-of-factly. 

“Okay, okay, enough.  If you’re going to talk about Felix and fail the Bechdel test then we’re going to run through it again.  We don’t have to do the dance break floorwork, I just want you to show me that you know the counts.”  Eunbyeol groaned as she rose to her feet and made her way to the speakers. 

The other girls grumbled as they left their resting places and got into formation.  Jiho set up her phone and set up to record their run-through.  Eunbyeol waited until they were all ready before pressing play on the music and running to her spot.  On purpose, she’d edited a couple of seconds of silence before the intro audio for that precise purpose.  The music started and the girls began to move. 

Before her eyes, Eunbyeol watched through the mirror as the girls recreated her choreography.  It wasn’t her first time choreographing something, but it would be the first she showed it to anyone else.  Most of the things she made up stayed in the confines of her bedroom or the practice room.  She had a few examples of her choreography hidden away on a USB she kept in a drawer in her desk at home.  The other girls had no idea that this would be the first time her choreography would be performed.  As the girls moved in sync to the swell in the music, Eunbyeol’s heart swelled in time.  She couldn’t help the smile that rose onto her face as she watched it come together right in front of her.  The girls hit every count and put everything they had into the moves.  

The rest of the dance went by just as cleanly and Eunbyeol could barely believe her eyes.  Even though she gave them the option of half-assing the floorwork, everyone put everything they had into it.  Her heart raced not just from the exertion but from the thrill of seeing her creation come to life.  It looked perfect.  Of course, if she really thought about it she could see a few small absent-minded mistakes, but overall it looked absolutely flawless.  When the song ended and they fell into their final position, Eunbyeol couldn’t even hold it for a second before throwing her arms up and screaming with joy.  The other girls joined in, meeting in the middle with the smelliest, sweatiest hug they’d ever shared.  

“That was perfect!”  Eunbyeol cried, blinking hard to force the tears away.  “I know we still have that timing issue in the intro but... I’m so proud of you guys!”

“If you start crying, then I’m gonna start crying.”  Ah Joong’s voice broke as her eyes welled with tears.  “We’re going to win, Eunbyeol-ah.”

“We’ve all done such a good job and put in the work.  I could not be more pleased.”  Eunbyeol lost the battle and a tear slid down her cheek.  “Look, let’s go ahead and end early today.  I don’t think we could top that.  Jiho and I will look over the video and come up with some things for next time.  You’re all seriously the best and if I could show the heart emoji above my head, I totally would right now.”

“I’ll send it to you now.  But let’s go get ddukbokki.  I’m starving.”  Jiho broke the circle to run for her phone.

“Yes, please!”  Gayeong rubbed her stomach as she made her way to her pile of things by the window. 

The girls dispersed to gather their things and Eunbyeol couldn’t seem to shake the high.  The ever-present fogginess returned and she couldn’t really think straight.  Despite the clouds in her head, Eunbyeol’s heart soared and for the first time in a long time she had an idea.  Her parents wanted her in STEM.  They wanted her to be a doctor or a biologist or someone who worked in medical research but Eunbyeol had little to no interest in that.  The only thing she could conceivably see herself doing was in biology somewhere in animal research, but even then she couldn’t be as happy as when she danced.  Absolutely nothing else in the world compared. 

When she won the dance competition in sophomore year, her parents were proud and excited for her but under the impression that it was just for fun.  They supported her in her hobby as long as she kept her grades up so she could get into a top university.  After her competition, a scout approached her and asked her to audition for his entertainment company to be an idol.  Eunbyeol screamed with excitement and went to the audition without her parents knowing, wanting to surprise them if she got accepted.  Instead, once she danced in front of the recruiters they took one look at her and said:

“No one wants to see an idol with that bad of a physical imperfection.  Your scar... it’s a dealbreaker.”

Eunbyeol quit the next week.  She stopped going to her after school dance class.  She decided that maybe something in the medical field would be a good fit after all.  While it’s not what she wanted to do with her life, doctors at least didn’t discriminate against an imperfection on the skin.  Eunbyeol grew up hating the gash on her leg and her audition made her realize that she couldn’t do the only thing she really wanted to do.  

However, something about this practice and watching her friends dance, something shifted in her heart.  Her athletic leggings covered her legs down to her ankles, but Eunbyeol glanced down at her knee regardless.  She reached down to run her hand over it, able to imagine the rough feel of the skin under her fingers.  The scar still hurt sometimes when it got cold but it didn’t bother her much anymore.  Eunbyeol didn’t want it to control her future anymore.  Even if she wasn’t on stage, she wanted to dance.  And she wanted to create.

“Does your knee hurt today?”  Jiho’s steady hand found Eunbyeol’s shoulder and she spoke quietly so the other girls couldn’t hear. 

“No, not really.  I was just thinking.”  

“About?” 

“Nothing... I have an idea but I don’t want to jump the gun.”  

“Are you going to tell me?”  Jiho raised an eyebrow at her friend. 

“Jiho-yah...”  Eunbyeol kept her back to the rest of their friends.  “I don’t want to go to medical school.  I want to go to art school with you.  I don’t know how to convince my parents but I have to figure something out.”

“Well, I certainly don’t think getting in will be an issue.”  Jiho grinned.  “I think we can come up with something, don’t you?”

“I really do.  I’m having trouble thinking right now, but I know we can figure it out.”

“Right now I think we’re all too hungry to think.  Let’s go.”   Jiho tore herself away and started towards the door.  

Eunbyeol gathered her things quickly, hauling her heavy backpack on and joining Jiho at the door.  She wished that hunger caused the fog in her head.  It would be so simple if that were the case, but instead thoughts of Felix’s soft lips and intense eyes plagued her mind and nothing she did erased him.  Every day, she saw him in class and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him.  What happened on the stairs that day?  Was the kiss a confession and she turned him down?  Why did he kiss her in the first place?  What came over him?  What came over her?  Maybe she’d just been so caught up in the romance of it all.   Maybe it was the rain, the umbrella which he’d brought to her, the way he held her as if he was terrified to let her walk away, or the ethereal feeling of his velvety lips dancing with hers.  

Before Eunbyeol could lose herself in her thoughts any more, Gayeong finally finished packing up and met with the rest of the girls at the door.  Eunbyeol shook her head, trying to rid her head of the thick clouds.  Luckily, the other girls didn’t notice that she could barely pay attention as they made their way out of the practice room.  Jiho linked arms with her as they walked, which Eunbyeol relied on more than she wanted to admit.  Without Jiho’s lead, Eunbyeol wasn’t confident in her ability to remember how to leave the gym building.  

All six girls sighed with relief when they stepped out into the fresh April air.  The sun hung high in the sky, beating down and warming the dark red brick that built the campus.  The deep blue sky was a welcome change from the suffocating overcast winter.  A warm breeze rustled the lightly colored leaves on all the trees.  Winter finally left them behind.  

They chattered about school assignments and weekend plans as they made their way down the stairs.  Ah Joong led the group since she knew the way to their favorite dukbokki place like the back of her hand.  Eunbyeol hadn’t noticed that they’d stopped descending until she stepped down and promptly rammed her forehead into Minjeong’s shoulder.  

“Ow!  What the hell, why have we stopped?”  Eunbyeol rubbed her forehead, looking between the girls to get an answer but no one said anything to her. 

A chorus of laughter cut through the air and Eunbyeol recognized it immediately.  Her head snapped around, looking for the source of the noise before her gaze settled on the group of boys making their way up the stairs towards the gym.  Eunbyeol’s cheeks immediately flushed a deep purple at the sight of Felix making his way up the stairs with his friends.  Jeongin, Seungmin, and Jisung all walked with him, talking and laughing and ignoring everything else.  A bright smile was plastered onto Felix’s clean features and his charming laugh rang like a bell.  As usual, his chestnut eyes sparkled with the light of the sun.  In this light, his eyes practically looked golden.  Eunbyeol swallowed thickly, definitely seeing what every single girl in the school saw in him.  

When the boys were a few steps below them Jisung finally looked up and noticed the girls were there.  With his prompting, the boys came to a stop and Felix’s gaze found Eunbyeol effortlessly.  His smile faltered and he averted his gaze just as quickly as he found her.  Eunbyeol’s muscles tensed. 

“Are you okay?”  Jiho whispered.

“Um...”  Eunbyeol didn’t have time to think of an answer before Jisung broke the silence between them.

“Are you done in the practice room already?  You’re early.”  Jisung checked his phone for the time.

“Yes, we are!”  Ah Joong smiled proudly.  “We had an amazing practice, so we decided to enjoy the weather and get dukbokki.”

“Well, thanks for the extra time then.”  Seungmin’s innocent smile could have fooled anyone else, but he knew enough about the rivalry to poke fun.

“Honestly, with the run we just did I think you guys will need the extra time.”  Chohui’s secretive smile worried Jisung a little more than he cared to admit.  He knew what a powerhouse Eunbyeol was.  “So by all means, knock yourselves out.”

“Your generosity is unmatched.”  Jisung rolled his eyes.  “Honestly, I don’t think you’re ready for what we’re working on.”

“You guys keep saying that, but I just am not seeing anything here to be worried about.”  Chohui gestured vaguely to the four boys, fully unimpressed. 

“I thought you were, like, obsessed with Felix?”  Jeongin mused innocently.  “Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to see?”

At the mention of his name, Felix snapped out of his fog and stood to attention.  Jeongin draped an arm over Felix’s shoulders, shooting his friend a grin.  Felix tried to reciprocate but he was busy pouring all of his energy into not looking at Eunbyeol and he barely registered the words being said around him.  Chohui, on the other hand, scoffed at the accusation and her cheeks burned with rage.

“Come on, Chohui-yah.”  Ah Joong pulled on her sleeve.  “We don’t have to listen to this.  Let’s go eat, okay?”

“For your information...”  Chohui’s sharp words sent the boys down the stairs a step.  “Anything I may have felt for Felix is irrelevant.  I can take no for an answer.  So no, there is nothing I want to see and it’s you who should want to see us.”

“Ooh I’m so scared.”  Seungmin muttered sarcastically and the other guys burst out laughing.  

“Let’s get out of here.”  Gayeong appeared at Chohui’s other side in an attempt to pull her away.

“How the hell can Jiho and Eunbyeol stand being in the same class as these idiots?”  Chohui muttered.  She finally regained her footing and stalked down the rest of the stairs with her friends, shoving past Jisung roughly. 

Jisung gasped like he’d been shot, turning to Felix to see if he had a similar reaction.  All of the things said in the last several minutes fell on deaf ears.  Felix’s head was filled with cotton and it migrated to his ears.  He stared at Jisung blankly but his gaze shifted as Eunbyeol made her way past the group of boys.  She had her hair pulled back in a short ponytail which gave him a good view of her face.  She kept her eyes on the ground as she walked by.  Eunbyeol’s long eyelashes brushed along her cheeks, just the way they’d done on his cheeks a few weeks ago.  Her soft strawberry-flavored lips were pursed, hiding from him.  Felix gulped down the stab in his heart when she didn’t look at him. 

Jisung sighed, watching his friend disappear and took to dragging him up the stairs.  Talking to Felix was like talking to a brick wall the last few weeks.  Something happened, Jisung wasn’t stupid, but he couldn’t figure out what happened specifically.  After their shared detention, sitting next to Felix and behind Eunbyeol was like sitting under a stormcloud.  Jisung asked both Felix and Jiho about it, but neither of them had much to say.  Whatever happened, it made the classroom unbearable to sit in.  Working on this project with Felix got just that much harder since his head was in the clouds.  They had some work to do in order to perfect their act and without Felix’s full presence it would be that much more difficult.  

“Cha Eunbyeol!”

A clear voice rang out across the courtyard, stopping both groups in their tracks.  Eunbyeol perked up, looking around for the source of the noise.  She turned first to Felix’s group of friends but all of them looked just as confused as her.  Quick footsteps filled the air and Eunbyeol tensed at the sound of rubber on brick.  The last time she heard that noise Felix had... She shook her head to scare away the thought.  

“Cha Eunbyeol!  Ah... I’m glad I caught you!”  The voice moved closer and she finally turned to see him making his way through the courtyard. 

Kang Younghyun.  A senior and vice president of the music club where Eunbyeol spent a little too much time.  He swept his perfect brown hair away from his face, revealing his strong cheekbones and bright smile.  His perfectly straight teeth reflected the light of the sun and she could swear he would make her blind one day.  His gorgeous almond-shaped eyes had all but disappeared due to his smile.  Eunbyeol’s heart leapt into her throat immediately and her eyes widened when she realized that she hadn’t put makeup on that morning. 

“Sunbae...”  Eunbyeol managed a response, wondering how she was supposed to talk to him with her head swimming in milk. 

“Ah, I was worried that you’d be gone.”  Younghyun breathed heavily, coming to a stop in front of the group of girls.   

“Oh, did you want your sheet music back?”  Eunbyeol somehow remembered the one thing he could possibly want. 

“No, no.  Nothing like that.  I don’t need that back until next week.  I was hoping... we could talk?” 

“Eunbyeol-ah.”  Jiho suddenly turned to her.  “We’ll go ahead and meet you there.  We’ll order you something, okay?”

The others jumped into action right away, agreeing to go ahead and wait for Eunbyeol.  Jiho let go of her arm, despite Eunbyeol grasping for a tighter hold on her friend.  Jiho pried herself away and waved innocently, leaving Eunbyeol standing at the bottom of the stairs with Younghyun.  

Felix watched Younghyun smile at Eunbyeol.  Younghyun rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet with his hands stuffed in his pockets.  His face looked open, genuine, and nervous.  Felix’s hands clenched, suddenly recognizing all of the tell-tale signs of someone about to confess their feelings.  He knew that Eunbyeol liked him, but Felix never could have imagined that the feelings were mutual.  Two of Felix’s fingers found his jugular and he winced to find that his heart rate was through the roof.  Jisung’s hand found Felix’s forearm and tried to pull him inside, but it was like his feet were glued to the ground.  He swallowed thickly, unsure as to why he was terrified of the scene playing out in front of him.  

“Um, what do you want to talk about, Sunbae?”  Eunbyeol gripped the strap of her bag tightly, using it as an anchor.  She wished it was Jiho’s arm instead. 

“Not here.  Come with me.”  Younghyun’s steady smile made butterflies erupt in her stomach.  He gestured for her to follow him and started up the stairs.  

“Sunbae?”  

“Trust me.”  

Younghyun reached for her hand and led her up the stairs after him.  However, instead of going inside the gym building, he pulled her around to the side.  Felix watched the couple until they disappeared and only then did his feet unroot.  Jisung took this opportunity to pull Felix inside the gym building and down back towards the practice room.  Just for extra stability, Seungmin draped an arm around Felix’s shoulders. 

Felix had exactly no idea what was going on in his own head.  A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, thinking about Eunbyeol off with someone else.  Especially thinking that the person she liked the person she was off with.  He needed to get his head on straight somehow.  The next two hours needed to be completely dedicated to the routine that the boys worked up and not the most annoying girl Felix had ever laid his eyes on.  

Cool air blew through the practice room and it helped clear at least some of the cotton in Felix’s head.  He imagined that the room wouldn’t stay cool once they got to work and got moving.  The boys had plenty of work to get done, but they were at the point where they just had to get the routine down to muscle memory.  Jisung left Felix’s side to take over the sound system in the corner, putting on some music so they could stretch.  Jeongin got right to it, stretching his arms over his head and waiting for the others to join him.  The other three boys got to it, following Jeongin’s lead as he started their usual stretching routine. 

Felix stared at his reflection in the mirror, wondering when his eyes got so tired.  Sleep did not come easy at night.  Not since he got his first taste of her.  That day had done something to him that he couldn’t explain.  Sure, it left a literal mark on him that took a few weeks to go away, but something he’d never thought about before appeared before him.  Eunbyeol despised him with every ounce of her being, and he wasn’t exactly her biggest fan either.  Eunbyeol had a wicked temper, a sharp tongue, and wanted to see him crash and burn.  Since grade school, she’d been an obnoxious know-it-all who wanted to cause as much drama as possible between her friends.  She was kniving and ruthless and Felix wanted nothing to do with her.  High school hadn’t changed much.  She had friends and didn’t seem to be involved with any drama, but her feelings about him hadn’t changed a bit.  

So why?  Why had he done that?  Why did he give into that urge that washed over him the moment he saw her pink umbrella laying on the ground?  In the moment, it was like he wasn’t in control of his own actions.  He just... did it.  Without thinking of the consequences.  As he stared into his own tired eyes, he feared that he was suffering those consequences now.  

“Are you ready?”  Jeongin spoke up once they’d stretched enough.  “Should we go ahead and start from the top?”

“I... yeah.”  Felix managed, moving to the center of the room and getting into position, facing towards the windows.

“Felix, are you sure you’re okay?  You look like shit.”  Seungmin placed a reassuring hand on Felix’s shoulder.

“Wow, thanks.”  Felix managed a small smile.  “I’m just tired.  I haven’t been sleeping well.  Let’s go ahead and run through it.”

“Ummm actually.”  Jisung spoke up, grabbing Felix’s shoulders and turning him to face the other way.  “I had a question about the end sequence.”

“You’ve been doing it just right.  What are you-?”  

“Yeah.”  Jeongin chimed in suddenly, flanking Jisung.  “Jisung-hyung and I were watching the video the other day and we thought about changing the last eight counts a little.”

“Change it?  How?”  Felix glanced between them.  “I thought it looked okay?”

“I mean, watch this.”  Jisung procured his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and flipped through it for the video.  He glanced up out the window a couple of times.  

“Now that you mention it, I think I know what you’re talking about.”  Seungmin draped a protective arm over Felix’s shoulders, locking him in place.  “That part with the, uh...”

“That one step.”  Jeongin offered, his gaze sliding past Seungmin’s face to glance outside.  

“Er.  Yeah, that one.”  Jisung muttered a cuss under his breath as he waited for the video to load. 

“I just watched it last night and it looked fine to me?  What are you guys on about?”  Felix glanced between each of his friends, who each couldn’t seem to stand still.  “What is going on?”

“Watch this part.”  Jisung shoved his phone in Felix’s face.

Felix blinked in surprise over the proximity.  He stared at the screen for a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust.  The video they took last practice played, their audio blaring through the poor speakers on Jisung’s phone.  Their performance played before his eyes and Felix grinned at the talent of his friends.  All four of them had their own respective hidden talents and this performance would reveal all of them to the entire school.  When Felix’s solo came up, he phased out.  He loved watching his friends, but he couldn’t bear to watch himself.  Instead, he focused on the glare from the light outside which reflected off the screen.  Leaves from the trees and the blue sky shown on the screen and Felix was glad to see that spring was in full swing.  

Jisung shifted his wrist and something new showed in the reflection.  Felix’s eyes immediately turned the size of dinner plates and he tried to turn around to get a better look.  Seungmin’s arm kept him in place facing away from the window, but the scene played before him in the reflection of the screen.  

Clear as day, Cha Eunbyeol stood with her back against one of the trees that lined the path outside the practice room.  Younghyun sunbae stood a few feet away with his hands shoved in his pockets.  Eunbyeol stared at him, disbelief plastered on her face, but her shock dissolved into a smile that softened all of her features.  Felix’s heart jumped into his throat when Younghyun took a step towards her and he shoved Seungmin away and whirled around to look out the window. 

“Fuck.”  One of the boys muttered.

Without the reflection of the phone screen, Felix could barely believe his eyes.  The sun shone through her hair, lighting her from behind like a golden halo.  Her dewey skin looked sunkissed and utterly irresistible.  Younghyun spoke, but the boys couldn’t hear a word through the closed windows.  Even though she’d just danced for two hours and hadn’t had a chance to shower the sweat off she looked particularly beautiful.  As he spoke, Eunbyeol’s face softened and she smiled brightly.  An ugly pang hit Felix’s heart at the thought that she’d never even once smiled at him like that.  Younghyun took a step towards Eunbyeol and suddenly all three boys grabbed Felix's arms.  Instinctively, he’d taken a step forward without even thinking. 

“Lix-yah...”  Seungmin warned.  “What are you thinking of doing?” 

Younghyun closed the distance between him and Eunbyeol.  Felix knew that he should look away and ignore the scene playing before him but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.  This was her business, her confession.  Eunbyeol wanted this.  She wanted Younghyun.  Felix gaped as Younghyun reached up and gently cupped her cheek.  He asked her a question and her eyes sparkled with the only answer he needed.  The other boy dipped his head down to capture Eunbyeol’s lips with his own and Felix whirled back around, unable to watch for another second. 

“Oh... oh god.”  Felix muttered, his fingers finding his jugular once more.  His pulse hammered so hard that he could feel it in his head.  

“Felix...”  Jisung coaxed their friend to sit on the floor to prevent him from falling onto his face.  Felix sat down hard.  “Are you... okay?”

Felix squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head into his hands.  Somehow, Eunbyeol as anything other than the annoying girl from primary school never occurred to him.  Less than a month ago he’d even kissed her and that hadn’t been quite enough for him to see the truth.  He didn’t know why it took watching someone else kiss her to figure it out, but it crashed over him like being hit by a bus.  Somehow, he’d known it for a while but he never wanted to admit it.  His heart knew the truth way before his head even had a chance to catch up.  Quickly and ungracefully, Felix slipped and tumbled off the cliff that he’d been so precariously balanced on for several months.  The visual of Younghyun with his lips pressed onto Eunbyeol’s invaded his mind and Felix groaned.  He imagined Eunbyeol kissing Younghyun with the same soft lips that Felix himself claimed only recently.  

A horrific thought crossed his mind.  Felix did not want it there and he tried to shake it away, but this thought was here to stay.  He... didn’t want her to kiss anyone else.  He wanted to be the only one to kiss Cha Eunbyeol.  He wanted to greet her every day when she got to school.  He wanted to hug her and push her hair behind her ear when it got in the way.  He wanted to be the cause of her bright smiles and warm gazes.  He wanted to study with her in the library and memorize her coffee order.  Felix wanted to be there for her during all the good times and he wanted to be her shoulder to cry on during the bad times.  Felix wanted to be there when she needed him and never walk away from her again.  He wanted to listen to all the same stories she told Jiho.  He wanted to eat lunch with her and talk about everything and nothing all at once. 

Felix wanted her to like him back.  He wanted her to like him even half as much as he liked her.  He... liked her.  He liked her a lot.  

“Lix-hyung is discovering something about himself, isn’t he?”  Jeongin’s voice sounded muffled, as if Felix’s head was submerged underwater. 

“Yes... I think he is.”  Jisung sighed, staring at his friend on the floor.  “I know the feeling all too well.”

“Does that mean that Lix-hyung likes...”

“Hyung, are you okay?”  Seungmin crouched by Felix, gripping his shoulder and giving him a good shake.  “C’mon, you gotta snap out of it.”

“But she...”  Felix barely registered the world around him.  

“I know, I know.”  Jisung grabbed Felix’s other shoulder.  “You’ll get over it.  This’ll pass.”

“We... should get to work.”  Felix ran his fingers through his hair to push it away from his face.  

“Are you sure?  I mean, you look even worse than before.  We could take a break at least for today.”  Seungmin suggested as Felix rose to his feet. 

“No...”  

Felix made his way to the sound system and picked up Jeongin’s phone.  The device was still on and open to their audio.  Felix took a deep breath and turned up the volume on the speakers.  The boys watched him curiously as they got into their positions.  While they got themselves situated, Felix glanced over his shoulder to look at the girl outside.  By now, her arms had snaked around Younghyun’s neck as she pulled him closer.  Felix’s cheeks burned and he turned back to the device in his hands.  His jaw clenched and he pressed play on the song. 

The speakers blasted the song and the bass line shook the windows.  The boys jumped in surprise, turning to stare at Felix in shock rather than starting their routine.  Felix glanced over his shoulder out the window to see Eunbyeol and Younghyun finally break apart.  They turned to glance into the practice room only for a moment before looking back at each other and laughing.  Younghyun leaned in to kiss Eunbyeol one more time before grabbing her hand and finally walking out of sight.  Only when the couple was out of sight did Felix turn down the speakers and restart the song.  

“Hyung... are you okay?”  Jeongin ventured, glancing out the window. 

Felix turned back to his friends with a fire burning his eyes.  “Let’s take it from the top.  Are you ready?”

[girlwiththenegantattoo]

I don't know where I'm going with this story and I only have an end chapter in mind. Not sure if/when I'll write another chapter

No warnings just a bit of angst and a hint of fluff?

@plainlo-inthemorning @everythingbutresolved

The first time ever I saw your face

I thought the sun rose in your eyes

And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave

To the dark and the endless skies,

Roberta Flack

"Can we meet somewhere?"

"Jeb, it's 3 o'clock in the morning."

"Oh"

The line went silent for a moment.

"Please?"

As the red neon light shone in Mila's peripheral the sound of pots and pans being washed rang out from behind the white countertop. Knowing that both of their houses were out of the question Jeb had suggested that they go to their usual hotel room, even though it was just to talk. However, Mila didn't want to deal with the hassle of booking a room for just a couple of hours although he offered to pay. So, they settled on Pete's Diner, the only place that served food 24/7.

Mila wasn't sure what compelled her to leave her house at such an early hour, especially for Jeb. But the man that all but stumbled through the full glass door made her feel slightly happy that she did. He must have gone to some function or work party because he was wearing a white pleated button up shorts and black tux pants. Considering the time his jacket must have been left at home, if he even made it back there in the first place.

Plopping down in the booth across from her Jeb fiddled with his untied bow tie as if he wanted to take it completely off. Mila could see that he'd recently been crying by the red in his eyes and it wouldn't surprise her if he sat outside for a while to compose himself.

"I'm sorry I woke you but it's just so so quiet at home." Jeb mumbled trying not to slur his words.

"What's going on Jeb?"

Jeb turned his head to look out the window. After what she assumed was Jeb seeing his reflection, he hastily ran his hands through his disheveled brown hair.

"Uh just some things. Honestly it's really just a lot." He was trying to keep his voice steady now. "Had a charity dinner and that went to...shit."

The man that sat across from Mila was a person she had only known for a short period of time. She would never go as far as to say that Jeb was predictable, but Mila had seen this before. Validation is what he wanted but he looked for it in all the wrong ways.

"It's just… nice to have someone to talk to after a long day but…Oh I forgot. I got you this!"

Mila hadn't noticed Jeb holding anything when he came in. Placing a small, brown paper gift bag with cotton corded handles down in front of Mila, he eagerly continued. "When I was out the other day I got this...it's nothing big."

Reaching inside she pulled out a small, white figurine in the shape of a baby elephant. His eyes beamed with pride as Mila's heart sank.

"Oh, Jeb you really shouldn't have." Mila said looking back up from the smooth, porcelain figurine she held in her hand. Jeb just shrugged his shoulders as if it was no big deal.

"Like shouldn't have at all. This isn't what this is about" Mila gestured back and forth between them. "It can't be roses and gifts"

Mila hated Jeb in that moment. She hated that he continued to know what they were but always pushed for more. She hated that he found such happiness in the smallest things. There were so many things about Jeb that Mila hated that night in the tiny 24/7 diner but it was herself she truly hated the most.

No matter how hard Jeb tried, the look of disappointment laid prominent on his features. "Yeah, no you're right. Sorry I uh...just saw it the other day..."

And thought of you

Jeb forced a smile and turned his gaze back to the window. He felt so foolish for bringing it here and even though he knew Mila had no malice in her reasoning for not excepting the gift, it still stung all the same.

There were very few times in Mila's life where she had been uncomfortable in any situation but sitting in that painful silence, had made her want to claw out of her skin. The tears in his eyes were building again, one blink away from running down his cheek.

Nice. Kick a dog when it's down

She couldn't let the night end on that note

"Do you dance?" Mila asked as her gaze locked on to the brown juke box lit up with florescent bulb. Each one covered with a yellowish hue after years of operation.

"Dan...dance?"

"Yes like move your feet to a beat." She replied not intending to rhyme.

"No. No...I don't dance, like dance dance."

"Well let's learn something new."

Jeb's blue eyes became as big as two saucers. "Here?!"

There it was again, that adorable attempt at a whisper, instead, the pitch of his voice would just get higher. Mila stood up from her side of the booth and gestured around the diner. "There's no one here. I’d say it would be a fair trade for your little early wake up call."

Her tone was teasing and the gentle smile on her face told Jeb she wasn't upset. If Jeb was to embarrass himself more than he does every day he figured what better place then here with her, in the middle of the night.

 Dispensing a coin in its slot, it had taken several flips of hard plastic pages before Mila settled on a song. Jeb stood awkwardly off to the side while she waited for the smooth voice of Van Morrison to sing Into the Mystic. Wringing his hands together Jeb slowly shuffled his way to Mila, her figure glowing from in front of the Jukebox’s light.

"Just try to relax. It's easy"

Mila never went to the middle school formals or high school proms. Not because she wasn't invited, she just never wanted to go. As she placed Jeb’s left hand just below her right arm pit she wondered if this was what it was like. Unsure hands and eyes that won’t quite hold the other’s gaze. With her right hand on his left shoulder, she interlocked their other hands. When Jeb told her he didn't dance, Mila thought he just didn't like too not that he couldn't. He tried his best as his long feet tried, clumsily to keep up with Mila's small steps.

 Right foot front right foot right left foot front left foot left

The furrow in his brow continued to become more prominent as he slammed the toe of his polished dress shoe into hers for the fourth time. Jeb figured he had enough embarrassment for a day and surly Mila couldn't be enjoying the stuttering robotics that followed each of her graceful steps. Loosening his grip from Mila's had caused her to stop entirely as she seemed to be studying his face. Taking her position closer to Jeb, Mila wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her body against his. It had taken a minute for Jeb to place his hands on her waist. He wasn't sure if this was something he was supposed to do, especially on a night like that. Mila took the lead again, this time right up against him.

Left foot forward and rock on the right. Left foot backwards and rock on the right

The song had changed sometime in the middle of their new dance position, but all Mila heard was the soft beating of his heart. She didn't dare to look up in fear of what she'd find in his eyes. Luck must have been on Jeb’s side in that exact moment for just as the song ended a couple of teenagers walked through the door. They both stepped back at the same time as there was a mutual silence that fell comfortably over them for the first time ever.

"I'll...uh, I'll take care of our ticket. It's the least I could do. I'm really sorry, I shouldn-"

"Jeb it's ok. I en-it was nice talking to you, even if it is early." She replied placing her hand on his forearm for reassurance. He offered her a shy smile as a light pink tinge covered his cheeks.

The front door made an audible click when Mila turned the lever above the doorknob to the lock position. She hung her jacket on the wooden coat rack that sat just beside the door and made her way to the small entry way table. On top sat a couple pictures of Mila's family and some knick knacks that she purchased during her time of traveling. Picking up the small Queen's guard figurine from the space she reversed for her favorite item, Mila reached into the paper bag and sat the white elephant in its place.

[brainrattlers]

Play It Cool - Tyson Jost (35/n)

Pairing: Tyson Jost x OFC (AJ)

Warnings: Language? It's 3am I can't remember honestly. Nothing graphic, but mentions of Damar Hamlin's injury.

Word Count: 2,929

Need to back up to Chapter 34? https://brainrattlers.tumblr.com/post/705091282371018752/play-it-cool-tyson-jost-34n

Start from the beginning at https://at.tumblr.com/brainrattlers/play-it-cool-tyson-jost-1n/p7no8u1hzuza

Author's Notes: AJ is feeling a little trapped in the extended stay hotel, and is taking a step toward finding a more permanent place for she and Tyson in Buffalo. Tyson's on a roadie, so while she's missing him, she's also enjoying a few things she doesn't get to when he's around. Short chapter this time around, especially after the really long one last week. I'm thinking I'll probably write a "What We Didn't See the First Time" extra to make up for this one's length.

It was an eventful journey back to Buffalo from Edmonton, but thankfully Tyson and AJ made it safely.  Let’s just say there were a lot of phone calls and trying to find connecting flights that would eventually find their way to Buffalo once the airport there finally opened. (And yes, the two cooked dinner AND did the dishes together that first night home!)

The next morning, Tyson made it to practice with the rest of the team. Thankfully everyone had made it back safely. Those that were still without power were staying in hotels downtown. With the travel ban lifted, it was announced that the game against Detroit was not only on, but was welcoming fans if they could safely make it out.  

The city had been through a lot in the last week - this was a glimmer of normalcy that was needed.

AJ decided to go to the game, as there wasn’t a whole lot to do at the hotel by herself. Donning her new hoodie she got for Christmas from Tyson, she found herself at KeyBank Center up against the glass for warmups, holding a simple piece of paper emblazoned with a symbol and a handful of letters.

TYSON   ❤

With a wink and a tap of his recently kissed fingers of his glove against the glass, Tyson skated by, picking up a puck to shoot at Luukkonen. The lack of individual attention didn’t even bother AJ - it needed to be a good night, and she didn’t want to cause Tyson to lose focus. The team as a whole was putting in the work - they’d been off a week due to the storm - and needed to keep their eyes on the prize to get the W that night.

The Sabres were on their A-game the first two periods, scoring five, including an assist from Tyson. (And caught AJ’s glance, giving her a nod before joining the team at the bench to celebrate.) But the third period was a bit stressful with the Red Wings scoring three in a row. Thankfully an empty-netter by Okposo (and subsequent hat trick) solidified the Sabres win. 

AJ made it back to the hotel first, shedding the clothes she wore out in favor of some soft sweatpants and tee, throwing the hoodie back on for warmth. Turning on Hulu, she turned on the new season of Letterkenny, catching a couple episodes before Tyson made it back home. Something in the intro of episode three made her absolutely squeal in delight.

The intro was a comedic play on NHLers’ names, fitting in with the new menu at the fictional MoD3an’s bar. Big names were thrown around, historic and current. Nate was in there, not unexpectedly. But right in the middle of it, Tyson’s name was mentioned in reference to something being served with Tyson Toast. AJ absolutely cackled and replayed the intro a few times, proud that her fiance had made his name known enough to make it into their skit. She was absolutely ecstatic to get to play it for Tyson when he did get home. 

After the episode ended, Tyson dragged AJ to bed, knowing she’d probably try to stay up to watch the remaining few episodes, and all he wanted was a celebratory kiss and snuggles that night. He too was still decompressing from the trip to Edmonton and was lacking sleep. With the team leaving again the next day for the start of a three-game roadie, AJ was more than happy to curl up to Tyson’s back, draping her arm over his torso as the big spoon. She felt his body loosen up as he drifted off to sleep.

Not wanting to miss time with AJ, Tyson woke up early before practice, waking her up as well to make breakfast together. Nothing fancy, some oatmeal and fruit was shared between the two. A good night’s sleep followed up with a warm breakfast and a conversation about what was going to happen in the next few days for each of them left Tyson feeling rejuvenated and ready to take on the next few days. 

“Big plans for while I’m on the road?” Tyson was genuinely curious as he knew AJ was getting a little stir-crazy around the hotel.

“If it’s okay with you, I’ve got a couple apartments and townhome viewings I’m hoping to set up.” 

The smile on Tyson’s face was huge. He knew how difficult it was for AJ to feel okay putting roots down somewhere, considering all the upheaval for her the past couple of years. This was a big step for her. He nodded in excited approval.

The pair talked about what they were wanting in a new place, where the last place was weak, and budgets.

“Speaking of that, I’m thinking I might start advertising some freelance IT work again, see if I get any nibbles. It’s time I start contributing again.” AJ wasn’t feeling comfortable with how Tyson was just taking care of everything, and she was running out of her own money too. “I know you said you wanted to be able to just take care of me, but… you know I don’t work that way.”

Tyson felt a little down about it, because he really did mean it. He wanted to give the world to AJ so that she was free to do whatever she wanted. To him, her helping around the home as well as getting the old place packed and hauling stuff - that was more than enough contribution. He was going to have to accept the fact that she WANTED to contribute, that she felt useless just flitting about. She needed to have purpose in her own mind.

Tyson looked deep in thought, quiet, as he took in her words, finally letting it sink in that maybe her independent streak was a blessing in disguise somehow. It looked like he was staring at his empty oatmeal bowl. AJ reached across the table and touched his hand, bringing him to the present from wherever his mind was. His eyes met hers, nodding.

Trying to get the mood lighter again, Tyson shifted the conversations back to the new home hunt.

“Send me pics? Maybe some video? I wish I could go with you… stupid roadie.” Tyson was a little frustrated, but also knew that the roadie was part of his job.

“Of course, I want you to help make the decision too! Also it’s not like I’m going to just choose one on the spot and make you move in without seeing it in person first! I’m just going to get some ideas, and if I find one I like, we’ll go see it when you’re back.”

The corners of Tyson’s mouth were starting to crack into a smile.

Looking at the time, it was the point of the morning when Tyson was going to have to depart to practice, and then would head to the airport after. It was getting easier again for AJ, especially knowing she had things to do to fill the time, rather than watching TV and playing Fortnite aimlessly.

With a suit jacket over his hoodie and his backpack on his shoulders, AJ latched onto Tyson for a long hug. He rested his forehead on the bridge of her nose, knowing this was one of her favorite feelings. A soft kiss on the lips and the tip of her nose was the signal he had to get going. Whispers of “I love you” were shared before the heavy sigh from the two increasing the distance between them.

As Tyson walked out the door, AJ followed to the doorway, watching him head toward the elevator. He blew a kiss before turning the corner, smiling as AJ “caught” it and put it in her pocket for later.

Hearing the elevator doors close, AJ headed back inside, shutting the door. With a deep inhale, she picked up the dishes that were left on the counter and washed them out before the oatmeal became concrete at the bottom of the bowls. Looking around at the studio, she remembered just why she was going to contact property management companies to see some rentals. Pulling out her laptop, she started browsing what was available in a few areas of the city that the two had talked about moving to. Emails and phone calls were made, setting up a few appointments.

At nearly the same time, AJ’s stomach was alerting her to it being lunch time, and her phone buzzed alerting her that Tyson was finishing up with practice, heading to the airport.

Tyson: Wish you were coming to Boston. We could get some baked beans! 

AJ: Don’t fahget to pahk the cah on Havahd Yahd. lol

Grabbing some lunch on the way to the first apartment appointment, AJ looked at the listing again, unsure if it was really what she would have been looking for, let alone Tyson. But she was going to keep an open mind. Touring the location with the management rep, she snapped a few photos and sent them to Tyson.

AJ: Location 1. <3 attachments>

Tyson: Hmm. You’re not saying much.

AJ: I didn’t want to sway you one way or the other.

Tyson: I think your lack of saying anything tells me a lot. I’m not feeling this one though. Getting ready to take off. If you look at any others, send pics still. I’ll see them when we land. ILY

AJ: (heart emoji)

One more location to look at that afternoon, and AJ was liking that one more than the first already. She even took some video and sent everything to Tyson’s phone, knowing he’d be landing soon - Buffalo to Boston is a short trip. 

Tyson: This one is nice, and I think you like it because you sent video this time. Add it to the “check out together” list. On the ground, call you tonight babe.

While looking at places to live, AJ kept an eye open to businesses in the area to see what was there. Is it mainly retail? Food? Actual offices? Ideas were brewing in her head, but for now, just finding a place to call home that wasn’t an extended stay hotel was the priority. Before heading back to the hotel, AJ snagged some groceries, things that Tyson wouldn’t (or shouldn’t) eat. Getting to have ravioli with Alfredo sauce for dinner was a small reminder of why Tyson going on roadies wasn’t all bad.

Tyson called a bit later via facetime after coming back from dinner with a few guys on the team. He found AJ was on the sofa, buried in a fleece blanket, and could see her bowl propped on her knee. 

“I see you’re eating likely something you wouldn’t eat in front of me, am I right?” 

“Maaaybe. How’s Boston?”

The two chatted for a good hour before Tyson had to call it a night, needing to get to sleep early as the game was an early start due to it being New Year’s Eve. He could see AJ was struggling with something.

“You’re making that face babe, what’s wrong?”

It hit AJ hard that she wasn’t going to be able to kiss Tyson at midnight. The whole tradition of midnight kisses with the one you’ll spend the next year with was about to be broken.

“Going to miss kissing you at the stroke of 12… If I could get to Ottawa, I would.”

“You want me to get you a ticket to Ottawa?” Tyson was being serious, but knew she would turn it down anyway, especially knowing she had a few other rentals to look at. “How about… when I get home, we set a clock to 11:59, and have our own countdown?”

Leave it to Tyson to come up with something so simple, but effective, to make AJ feel better. With a nod and smile, he knew that things would be alright.

Wishes for sweet dreams and good sleep were shared, and the call closed out. Tyson laid in his hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out a way to make their faux New Years Eve perfect. Thoughts swirled around in his head, until he couldn’t stay awake any longer. He luckily had a couple days to think about it.

AJ couldn’t sleep for some reason that night, but got up early as rest was eluding her still. Hitting the gym, she pumped herself up to look at another apartment Saturday morning, getting her back to the hotel in time to watch the game. Photos of that location were sent to Tyson, but she knew she wouldn’t hear back until afterward, when the team would be packing it up and heading to Ottawa. (Don’t tell Tyson, but she might have slept through the game, honestly. She didn’t miss much, at least, other than an OT win. In fact, her watch vibrating against her wrist woke her up.)

Tyson: On the plane, heading to north. Hmm. This place looks okay, but I’ll let you decide if it is one I need to see in person. 

AJ: I think I need to look at a couple more first, it might go in the maybe pile. Get some sleep! 

And with that, AJ needed to figure out what she was going to do for her New Years’ Eve in. Queuing up a movie on Netflix, AJ ordered a pizza and settled in for the night. Falling asleep on the sofa again during the second movie she had playing, that damn watch woke her up again. Grabbing her phone, she found it was 11:58PM, and Tyson was trying to Facetime again.

“Couldn’t NOT see my babe at midnight!” Tyson’s eyes were blurry with sleep, as he set an alarm to wake himself up in time. He had opted to stay at the hotel rather than go out with some of the others on the team. “You ready to count it down?”

AJ laughed. Not her ideal midnight, but it was better than nothing.

And with the clock counting down 5 4 3 2 1, AJ could hear the fireworks going off outside of the hotel as the clock hit midnight. She leaned in and kissed the lens of her phone camera, and could hear Tyson chuckling a bit, following suit and kissing his screen too.

“I think I’ll still take that real kiss when you get back. Now back to sleep with you! I don’t want you struggling tomorrow night, er, I guess tonight. Kick some Senators butt tonight Jost.” 

“Only because you told me to. Happy New Year, babe. Can’t wait to see what this year has in store for US. Sleep well babe.”

AJ did indeed sleep well, waking up almost around noon. Due to the holiday, she wasn’t going to be able to look at any other apartments that day, and instead had a lazy day. She crocheted a few rows on the blanket she was working on, she watched movies, she took a bubble bath. Throwing on a pair of pajama pants and Tyson’s burgundy hoodie, she readied herself for the game that evening. Unfortunately, even though Tyson had a few good chances to score, as did the rest of the team, it just wasn’t in the cards to win, resulting in a 3-1 loss.

Three more properties to look at on Monday, filling up a lot of AJ’s free time that day. She liked two of the three, and sent MORE photos to Tyson. He agreed on the two she liked as well, adding them to the list to check out together. 

Speaking of Tyson, the team made it to DC, for the final game of the roadie. After the loss in Ottawa, they were hungry. Afternoon skate was intense, and a lot of weaknesses from the Ottawa game were addressed. It was a long day, and Tyson was happy to just crash for the night. Unfortunately, a bombshell was dropped that another pro athlete from Buffalo had collapsed on the field in Cincinnati, and it wasn’t looking good. It made for a long night as one of their own, even if it were a different sport, was hanging in the balance.

The next day, while the news wasn’t great, it wasn’t terrible either. The outpouring of love for Hamlin was incredible from all over the country, and world. The team had shirts made showing their support, wearing them as they entered the arena that evening. Washington continued the wave of support, offering up a moment of silence to honor Hamlin. The Sabres were playing this game for Damar.

And what a game it was - exciting as it was back and forth (although honestly if you’re playing in that game, it’s gotta be frustrating)... but Tyson tied it up middle of the third, eventually taking it to overtime. Tage scored his third, earning a hat trick and winning it in OT. A hard fought battle, but they were victorious in the end.

Tyson was never so happy to get home though after an emotional couple of days. Their flight wouldn’t be leaving until the next day as the Sabres would not be playing until Saturday against Minnesota (another reason to be emotional but that’s for the next chapter). But as soon as the flight touched down, Tyson was the first out of his seat, and trying to be the first off the plane so he could get to the temporary home and have his real New Years kiss with the woman he wanted to spend the rest of the year with.

Chapter 36 is at https://at.tumblr.com/brainrattlers/play-it-cool-tyson-jost-36n/n5yh59f4bs7e

[lionheartslowstart]

Baby Reindeer

Last night, I finished watching the docu-series Baby Reindeer. Wow, just wow. Let me tell you, that series is not for the faint of heart.

I am fascinated by true crime. If I wasn't an actor, I would have become a criminal psychologist. Psychology, especially that of criminals, has always been riveting to me. While that is what initially drew my attention to Baby Reindeer, I found myself getting drawn in further and further because, well, I had a stalker once, too.

I want to preface this entry by saying that Richard Gadd had it WAY worse than I ever did. For starters, my stalker was primarily an internet stalker. As far as I am aware, she never showed up physically to anywhere I was, or followed me around. Though it is entirely possible that she did and I didn't know, or that it would have gotten to that point if she had stalked me for a longer period of time. On that note, the person who cyber-stalked me only did so for about a month. I cannot even begin to understand what it must have felt like to have someone stalk you to that degree for a full year and a half. Although, based solely on my own experience of cyber-stalking, I can imagine how traumatizing it must have been. I also firmly believe my stalker would have continued, if she hadn't discovered I was trying to serve her with a court summons. Additionally, the woman who cyber-stalked me, whom I will henceforth refer to as "Anna," was a friend at one point in time. I had (mistakenly) trusted her and cared for her at one point in my life. Whereas Richard Gadd's stalker was a relative stranger, which I'm sure added to the fear he must have experienced, not really knowing of what she might be capable.

Still, despite these vast differences in our experiences, I cannot help but notice some interesting overlap.

For starters, I was always amazed, albeit irritated, by Anna's ability to only absorb one out of every five things I said. Whether it was a word, a phrase, or even a couple of sentences, it always seemed like Anna only heard (or read) a chunk of whatever I said to her, both during our friendship and after. I would send paragraphs upon paragraphs explaining what she had done wrong, or explaining why I didn't want her in my life, yet she would only respond to one or two things, and ignore anything she didn't want to hear, or couldn't twist to her own narrative. And of course, no matter how many times I told her to leave me alone, that I didn't want to hear from her, that I didn't want any contact with her, she acted like she never heard it.

Also, like "Martha," Anna would flip-flop between telling me how much she loved me and cursing me out. One moment she would beg and tell me she would do anything for me to forgive her, the next she would tell me she hoped my mom died. One moment she would tell me she would always love me now and forever, whether I believed her or not, the next she would post how she was going to off herself and it was all my fault. She spread rumors about me, tried to ruin my other relationships, and said just the most vile, horrific stuff to me, went out of her way to trigger my PTSD and give me flashbacks, all while crying about how I had ruined her life and insisting that she loved me. Etcetera, etcetera. Just perpetual whiplash. Honestly, it's hard for me to believe it was only a month, considering how much she did in that short amount of time. I have SEVEN manila envelopes bursting with screenshots and notes about everything that happened in just those four weeks.

Additionally, Anna somehow perfectly rode the line between unhinged and shockingly calculated. In Baby Reindeer, Richard Gadd paints a picture of this deranged woman who became obsessed with him and seemed incapable of logical thought or reason. And yet, she clearly had more awareness than one might think, considering she seemed to know just how to avoid getting caught. She must have known what she was doing was wrong, at least on some level, especially considering she had been arrested in the past for the same behavior. So Anna too was more slippery than I would have liked. The PI my parents had hired wasn't able to find her without my help, and even then, Anna knew what she was walking into. I think she only agreed to meet with me because she couldn't resist the idea of getting to see me in person again. I knew her obsession with me was also her weakness. But even with her strange level of self-awareness, ability to fly under the radar, and unknown ways to creep on my private social media accounts, Anna was...unbalanced. Her messages were erratic, with an almost crazed, desperation to them. Whether it was desperation to hurt me, or to attempt to "force" me to forgive her. Every message and every post rang with a frenzy that I can't quite put into words. But I can say that I saw the same frenzy in "Martha" in Baby Reindeer.

And the anxiety. Hoo boy can I relate to the anxiety. Every time my phone vibrated I got a panic attack. It got to the point where I stopped answering the phone altogether. For that month, Anna was my whole life. (Which I'm sure is exactly what she wanted.) When I wasn't reading the horrible things she said to me or about me, I was thinking about her, worrying about what she'd do or say next, wondering how long it would be before she actually showed up somewhere, wondering why I hadn't heard from her yet that day. And even when I wasn't busy doing those things, I was busy compiling evidence for court.

Speaking of court, while "Martha" had actually faced legal consequences in the past for another case of stalking, Anna, to my knowledge, has not. That said, Anna, like "Martha," does have a history of stalking. She harassed an ex for several months, much longer than she did me, and she even dragged me along on a "date" to where her ex worked so she could spy on her. (I immensely regret enabling her that night. I was young and naive and she was my friend at the time. At that point I had no idea Anna had a history of stalking her.) Because of that history, and because she had previously followed her ex on more than one occasion, I do believe that it may very well have escalated to that point if Anna had continued stalking me.

Do I think Anna would have attacked me or one of my loved ones? No. That said, "Martha" seemed harmless enough, didn't she? I think most people wouldn't see her as a threat. With Anna, many of my loved ones were concerned with the same thing. And when I would say, "I've known this woman for almost four years, I don't think she would resort to physical violence," I was always met with some variation of: "But Sophie, clearly you never really knew her if you didn't know she was capable of THIS. So how do you know she isn't capable of violence?" Which, let's be honest, is a valid point.

One thing I loved about Baby Reindeer was Richard Gadd's brutal honesty about the part he played. While, of course, "Martha's" stalking was not Richard Gadd's fault, he does admit that he was not the perfect victim, and in some cases even encouraged her, or at the very least made unwise choices. Was I the perfect victim? No. I wouldn't say that I egged Anna on by any means, but there were better choices I could have made, both during my friendship with Anna and after. So I can also relate to the experience of wondering if things could have been different. If there was maybe something I could have done to prevent the harassment? It's difficult to not blame yourself when things like this happen, even when you know on a logical level that it's not your fault. (Though, I do maintain that no matter how I ended my friendship with her, the result would have been the same.)

In the beginning, I admit, I allowed her to get in my head and make me angry enough to respond to her. Luckily, my lawyer quickly advised me to stop engaging her and to just say "Stop contacting me." But honestly, I wish I hadn't done that either. I should have just ignored her completely. If I could go back, I wouldn't have engaged with her at all. I would have just sat back and let her cyber-stalk and harass me to her heart's content, instead of responding at all. It left me feeling emotionally drained, and I do think, in some sick, twisted way, me even just repeatedly messaging "stop contacting me" was all the validation she needed to keep going. Maybe if I hadn't responded at all, she would have gotten bored. I don't know. Bottom line, there were better choices I could have made. Whether those choices would have made any real difference, I can't be sure.

Most importantly though, I relate to Richard Gadd's admitted obsession with "Martha." I mean, let's be honest here. She stalked him back in 2014, and in the ten years since, he wrote a play, and a Netflix docu-series about it. I don't say that to judge him at all. I understand. Going through something like that changes you. To reiterate, my experience was VERY different to Richard Gadd's, and I'm not at all trying to compare the severity of his case to mine. I'm just noting the similarities, the things I can relate to, the moments I sat up in my seat and went, "huh." And when Richard Gadd said "did I miss her?" I had an involuntary moment of self-reflection.

Do I miss her?

And the horrible, horrible answer is, yes. Even though it was only a month of anxiety, panic, dread, and adrenaline, that month became my new normal. The self-righteous anger particularly became addictive to me. To the point where I agreed to meet up with her so she could "explain herself," and even allowed her to message me on Tumblr once in a while. I told myself it was to keep the peace, so that she wouldn't go on a cyber-stalking rampage again. And I maintain that that was 100% true, but I'd be lying if I said it was the only reason. The sad fact is, I relished in the opportunity to get angry with her. Almost like I was getting to make up for, not just the cyber-stalking, but the hell she put me through when we were friends. (She was not a good friend, y'all.) But especially the betrayal of everything she did during that month. It fueled a fire in me I don't know I'll be able to ever put out.

A couple of months ago, I finally put the kibosh on any contact with her at all. She had the audacity to ask me to get lunch with her, to "catch up" and I knew I had to burn it all down then and there. The fact that she would think that was an acceptable thing to do, after not only everything she put me through in only four weeks, but after I repeatedly reiterated to her that our contact was not ever going to leave this website, astonished me. Then again, she was CLEARLY never good with boundaries in the first place, so I shouldn't have been too surprised. In that moment, I knew that I had to completely sever all ties. That it was not healthy for me to have any form of contact with her, to give her any sort of leeway, lest it give her a shred of hope that we could be friends, or worse, that I might accidentally let slip something personal that she could later use against me, as she is clearly wont to do.

Despite this, I still think about her. I wonder which of my social media accounts she has looked at today, despite the fact that I have her blocked on everything. (And yes, I am 100% sure that she is still looking at my accounts, though most likely not every day.) I think about the comment she left on a YouTube video I was in, but hastily deleted when she realized I was responding to the comments. I think about all the things I want to say to her, knowing they would only fall on deaf ears, and all I would be doing is giving her the satisfaction of interacting with her. Even now, as I type this, I know with certainty that she is reading it, smirking over my admission, and equally upset at the comparison drawn between her and "Martha." But despite this knowledge, the knowledge that me even writing this is giving her some sort of weird satisfaction, I must be honest. Honesty is the first step to healing and closure. And that is what I want.

Above all else, I think the thing I obsess about the most is the same reason I started to watch Baby Reindeer in the first place...Why? Why did Anna do this? What sickness makes a person capable of doing something like that to another human being? Whether it's a complete stranger, or someone you've been friends with for years. What kind of psyche results in this kind of person, who does and says these kinds of things? There is an insatiable curiosity in me, one I know I will never be able to satisfy. There are so many questions that will never be answered, so many things I want to shout at her, to metaphorically shake her and scream "Why don't you understand this?!" But at the end of the day, there would never be a point. She would never understand, never be able to leave the bubble reality that she has created for herself, and never fully take accountability for all she did without somehow finding a way to blame me for it. After all, like my boyfriend says, "Logic does not work with illogical people."

Considering how much worse Richard Gadd had it than me, do I think it will take me 10+ years to move on? Probably not. But honestly? I don't know. The depths Anna sunk to, the things she said and did, I can't fathom a time when I will no longer dwell on the anger, to suddenly want to yell at her, to tell her all the things I think and feel and to MAKE her see how absolutely unhinged she is. And I know that's exactly what she wants. She wants to make an imprint on my mind, for me to never forget her, and to be as obsessed with her as she is with me. Unfortunately, so far it seems she's gotten exactly what she wanted. Well, except for one thing, and arguably the most important thing. Me. She will never have me in her life ever again, and despite whatever vitriol she may have spewed about me, I know that's what she really wants. But even typing this, and feeling this icky form of pride, I know that's unhealthy. To think of her this way. I long for a day when I can think of her with indifference. Or better yet, when I don't think of her at all.

I hope it comes one day. In the meantime, at least there's therapy.

[devious-little-milkmaiden]

All The Books I Read in 2023 (and My Personal Ratings)

The Wide Sargasso Sea - Jean Rhys (Fiction)

6/10

Based off of the character of Bertha (Rochester's wife) from Jane Eyre, this is a short read. The writing style isn't my personal favorite, as I feel it's a little bit underdeveloped. I appreciate Rhys' choice to portray Antoinette as a morally gray character (especially regarding her racism, which can't really be passed off as a "product of the time") while still maintaining that she doesn't deserve the treatment she's given. The language does have some good moments. I do recommend this to anyone who's read "Jane Eyre", as it could serve as an interesting re-assessment of Rochester's character, though you should note that I myself have never read Jane Eyre.

Brutal Imagination - Cornelius Eady (Poetry)

10/10

This is an incredible collection of poetry which tackles racism in a really fascinating way. Brutal Imagination is a collection of poems written from the persona of the anonymous black man Susan Smith claimed stole her car and killed her children. If you aren't familiar with the case, Susan Smith, a woman from Union, SC, let her car roll into a lake, killing her two sons. She then made up the story about the armed, anonymous black man. It's interesting to speculate about this detail specifically: why did Smith choose to claim it was a black man? Was it a conscious decision she made, knowing that the race of the supposed suspect would make it more believable? Was the race descriptor a subconscious decision based on her own prejudice?

In this collection, Eady portrays the "armed black man" as materializing into existence when Smith gives her report to police, rather than a concrete person. The collection is rife with nuance and vulnerability, and Eady is an incredible poet. I cannot recommend this collection enough. However, I don't like the final section, which is an excerpt from a completely unrelated collection of poetry by Eady, "Running Man". It feels shoehorned in, maybe per request from the publishing company or something. I recommend just skipping it or reading it separate from the rest of the collection.

The City in Which I Love You - Li-Young Lee (Poetry)

7/10

Another incredibly strong poet language- and structure-wise. Rife with symbolism and references you could analyze and over-analyze for ages. However, it does suffer from some of the stereotypical pitfalls of poetry: intimate scenes for intimacy's sake, and self-referential moments that aren't possible for the reader to understand. However, as a whole, it's pretty good.

The Afterlife and Other Stories - John Updike (Short Stories)

10/10

This is definitely biased, because John Updike is my favorite writer of all time. This short-story collection is quintessential Updike: the mundane being given its beautiful due. Read through completely, the story components can definitely get repetitive: mostly from the perspectives of middle-aged men, married to women with varying levels of satisfaction. While I can recommend Updike as a writer, I can't recommend him as a diverse writer. Therefore, I combine this recommendation with Oyinkan Braithwaite and Mohsin Hamid (I have read very, very little of Hamid's work but from what I have read he is a great writer. I intend to read more of his in the future).

The Fellowship of the Ring - J.R.R. Tolkien (Fiction)

9/10

I have a bit of trouble with sitting down for long periods of time with a book, so this one definitely took a bit of time to finish (but I did it!!). It was a thoroughly pleasant read, mostly due to Tolkien's writing. Brevity is not his strong suit, so if you're more of a fan of action-centered books that keep lengthy passages to a minimum, than this may not be an enjoyable read for you. However, if you don't mind or even enjoy pages-long infodumping (that's the only way I can describe it), this book is right for you. I watched the movie series first and was surprised at how much was left out of them! It was a pleasant surprise, however, as there was so much more to delve into with Fellowship. I do intend on reading the rest of the series, including The Hobbit, at some point.

I usually don't enjoy high fantasy novels as I find that they can get cliche and repetitive without expanding or subverting the cliches they're filling. However, considering that LOTR was one of the first high fantasy series, it doesn't fall into this rut. It definitely possesses the archetypes of a classic hero's journey, yet often expands upon them.

My Immortal - XXXbloodyrists666XXX (Novel)

6/10

A playful "satire" (it's so mindless that I hesitate to label it as a satire) that has several laugh-out-loud moments. Though many readers may become annoyed with its flat-out disobeying of Harry Potter canon without any signaling of it being an AU, it's incredibly entertaining, especially since it's clear that the author has never picked up a single Harry Potter book. Gets more and more unintelligible as the chapters continue. Fantastic.

Maus, Vol. I and II - Art Spiegelman (Graphic Novel)

10/10

Not only should you read banned books, you should read this banned book. The art style is incredibly expressive considering that everybody is represented by animals. I'm not going to say it has "dark moments" because it is quite literally a book about the Holocaust. I learned several things I did not know before about concentration camps and the Holocaust as a whole: there's so much in here that textbooks didn't teach me. It's a very fascinating intersection between personal and universal history. Here's a quote from my thesis statement from an essay about Maus, because I am lazy, but also because I think it's an effective summary on my feelings about these graphic novels: "Heroic tales conventionally have morals at the end of them, something about how someone’s good character led to them being able to make it out of an experience others did not. But Maus does not congratulate Vladek [Art Spiegelman's father] for his savviness: it comes off less as a gift and more as a survival instinct. Vladek and Anja [Art's mother] lost their home, their family, and their sense of safety. The importance of Vladek’s story is not to congratulate him for his intelligence, but rather put into perspective the brutality of the Holocaust: even Vladek’s intelligence could not save him from the horrific experiences the Jews were subjected to. It was a lose-lose situation: live the torturous experience or die from it."

I cannot stress enough how incredibly important it is to read this book.

Interview with the Vampire - Anne Rice (Novel)

7/10

I am a HUGE fan of the movie, which I watched first, then decided to read the book. (Side note: I know people have their qualms about watching the movie before reading the book, but I think in some cases it helps to visualize scenes from the book. Also, most of the time, books have more in the story than movies, so it's sort of like bonus content--and you aren't getting all annoyed while watching the movie and going, "They left this out!! How could you leave that out?!" Of course, this doesn't apply to every book and its movie adaptation.)

The book version of IWTV was quite the enjoyable ride! Anne Rice... she gets it. I don't know what "it" is, but she just does. Her writing is strong, her characters tactile and brimming with energy, and her storytelling ability absolutely magnificent.

However:

There is something really weird going on with the relationship between Claudia and Louis, and I don't think Rice intended it to be pedo-y?

It is a bit bloated, which can make it hard to recognize thematic parallels.

Above Us the Milky Way - Fowzia Karimi (Novel, Autofiction)

6/10

Based on Karimi's personal experiences growing up in Afghanistan and being forced to seek refuge, AUTMW takes a highly abstract and speculative approach to this personal history with an abecedarian chapter structure. It has several strong moments, but overall it feels very disjointed. I do recommend reading this book, though I wouldn't say it's the most important book you could read regarding this subject.

[foxounderscorecube]

A Little Life - Hanya Yanagihara

2¼ ⭐

CW: discussion of sa, abusive relationships, and sh. This book really has it all. Unfortunately.

My uncle's really into films; he especially likes horror. When I was a teenager, he was going through a phase of watching all the "video nasties" and, somewhere around the same time, he got into giallo films - artsy Italian slasher stuff. I don't recall exactly, but it was probably one of these sorts of films where, walking through the living room, I watched a scene in which a woman was running from something, terrified. Don't know what order the things happened in, but I'm pretty sure she ran towards a caravan and was hitting at the door while some rats were trying to chase her or something, and then the guy in the caravan opened the door with an axe in hand, and she screamed and ran away from him, only to be attacked by dogs, something like that. I stood and watched and said, "Huh. She's having a bit of a bad day."

This book was a lot like that scene of that anonymous film I saw a few minutes of, but for 800 pages. Well, slight exaggeration. Only most of the book was like that.

The story follows Jude, primarily, and I really like Jude. I found him pretty relatable, which isn't great, really, but he is likeable. He has friends of varying importance: the blurb implies that the friends are of equal importance, but poor Malcolm gets the short end of the stick (which is a shame, because his relationship with his race and privilege had a lot of promise to be interesting until he got sidelined). JB kind of wanders in and out, being a bit obnoxious despite a good heart, and mostly serves to piss Jude (and Willem, by extension) off terribly or to make a beautiful art series that makes Jude have a bit of an existential crisis. Willem is his best friend and mostly a sweetie. I say "mostly" for reasons I will expand upon shortly.

Jude is very depressed and very traumatised. This is made clear very early on, where we meet the primary characters and get to know their personalities, dynamic, and idiosyncracies. This part of the book had a lot of promise for me. I liked the darkness in it, but the friendship dynamics are wonderfully written and each character had something about them I wanted to know a bit more about, which is a good start. The writing itself is beautiful, too.

It did contain a trope about self-harm I always wonder about. Here's the thing: I've been self-harming by cutting for over ten years, on and off. I'm currently in a period where I haven't cut for over a year (everyone say "good job!!") but it's one of those things where I'd never say I recovered. I have to put a lot of effort into not doing it because I've never found anything to vent feelings that's healthier and as effective. Not great, I know. In media, so often, characters who self-harm always wear long sleeves to cover their cuts. This first comes up when Jude's friends speculate why he never shows his arms, and someone offers up that his sister's friend was the same because she cut herself. In my experience, if you're cutting your arms, you either don't care or you kind of want them to be seen. When I was a teenager, my self-harm was to prove a point to the people who bullied me as much as it was anything else; as an adult, I only cut my arms during lockdown when nobody was really going to notice them. If I wanted my cuts to be hidden in daily life, I would simply do them somewhere else.

This could be me being weird. A lot of the aspects of Jude's self-harm felt very realistic to me. His horrid fantasies about causing absurd bodily harm to himself and taking the cuts a step further is something I'd never seen in a piece of media before. I thought that was just me. The attitude he has towards it, that it isn't that serious and people make too much of a fuss, is something I've navigated before, too. But the long sleeves thing and the fact he seems to have no very minor self-harm habits - as in, stuff he does when he can't go and cut (I used to pull at my nails and claw at my neck when I was a teenager, for example) are off to me in what is otherwise such a detailed portrayal.

This leads in pretty nicely to something I found pretty unpleasant about the book. Now, I love horrible, graphic, gratuitous shit. Always have. I'm a morbid kind of person, what can I say. However, for a good part of the mid-section of the book, I was bored of how horrible it was. It was a chore to read.

Most of it was Jude's backstory, which is hinted at from the start and revealed more fully over the course of the story. Apparently, every adult man ever was desperate to fuck a juvenile Jude, no matter what. If something could be made even more traumatic, it was. I mean, seriously! When Brother Luke, the monk that groomed Jude and took him away from the monastery (where he was, of course, being raped by the other monks) is about to be arrested for sex trafficking him, he runs to the bathroom and hangs himself, and as Jude is being led away from the motel room, he sees the body hanging. And I rolled my eyes, and I thought, "Of course he saw the body." That's not the response I should have had, is it! But after god knows how long of the bullshit I'd read through, I was fed up. It wasn't sad any more. And I know some people really do have lives that feel like cruel jokes - I've met people with lives like that! - but seriously, it was just ridiculous.

I think what made it all so insulting is that it felt like the characters we'd been getting to know and which had been so carefully described were put on the back burner, and instead, Yanagihara was trying to make us like Jude out of pity. "Look! This bad thing happened to him! Do you feel bad for him? Do you care about him? What if I do this? Do you care about him now? What if he's forced into this?" It felt cheap and lazy and exploitative.

Maybe, too, it was the fact that a lot of Jude's struggle is that he wants to be loved as him. He doesn't want to be a burden and he doesn't want to be pitied. He feels repulsive and irredeemable but he wants to be accepted as a whole human being even if he can't believe he deserves that. Having our eyes pulled open to watch Jude's traumas in excruciating detail felt dehumanising and disrespectful. Is that the point? Is the voyeurism meant to make us feel like an abuser by association?

A little later in the book, this evolved into something almost worse: it felt kind of like a weird fetish thing. Low-hanging fruit, I know, but I legit can't think of any other good reason for the shit-tier storyline of Jude being raped by basically every adult he ever encounters. He's discovered by the monks as a baby, who rape him. He's groomed and pimped out to clients by a man who rapes him. He goes to a children's home where the counsellors rape him. He escapes the children's home (after being raped, would you believe it) where he tries to hitchhike to Boston, offering truck drivers sex in exchange for a lift, and not a single truck driver turned down the advances of this child. Not one was like "What the fuck? What happened to this poor kid?". He passes out from an STI-induced fever and is locked in the basement of, you won't believe this, a guy who nurses him back to health (ish - he deliberately keeps Jude weak) and then keeps him prisoner so that he can rape him.

A little earlier in the book I had that same uncomfortable feeling - Jude's relationship with Caleb. The course of the relationship, though short, is intended to have that frog-in-heated-water thing of a guy who seems cool and then some red flags come up and then he ends up being an abusive arsehole. But it really felt like, after we meet Caleb, all the stuff in between is sped through so that we can get to see Caleb beat and rape Jude in, as ever, excruciating detail. When you're reading that sort of scene, the last thing you want is the nagging feeling in the back of your head that the writer is salivating to get to the "good" bit.

The relationship in Jude's middle age with Willem is nearly lovely. I say nearly because, as we all know, nothing wholly good could ever happen to our boy Jude. Willem conveniently ignores the fact that Jude absolutely despises sex and is dissociating to get through it. As in, he's not just dense - he realises it and is just like "But I really like sex. And when I asked Jude, he was quiet for ages and then eventually said yes which is totally an enthusiastic affirmation so it's probably fine :) I like sex so this is very convenient!" It takes Jude telling him about how he got raped by a zillion people for Willem to be like "Whoa… he really doesn't like sex… that's so sad…"

And, again, I feel like this is insulting because Willem, throughout the entire book, is always the most attuned to Jude. He is Jude's strongest defender and, while he isn't infallible, he knows him like nobody else. It's true that a lot of people don't notice when you go on autopilot during sex to get through it, but anyone who gives half a shit can pick up on it, no matter how practised you are (ask me how I know). You're telling me that it's in character for Willem to even try to kid himself if he risks furthering Jude's trauma and self-hatred? I'm sorry, but again, it feels cheap!

Other things that made me go "???" include a scene in which some autistic characters are introduced, patronised by the author for about two pages, and then are never mentioned ever again. They were maths students taught by Jude's old professor, as well as said professor's son, and it says something about how he was trying to teach them how to act normally and it was written so weirdly and with such failed delicacy and made me feel kind of itchy. It's great fun being autistic and seeing people try to write autistic people when they have no fucking clue. Jude was nice to them, at least. He read to me as autistic-coded, funnily enough - but that could well be me projecting because he is, after all, just like me fr. The other notable wild bit was when Jude was cutting more to deal with having sex with Willem, and he tries so hard to stop at Willem's request, but after however much time he can't deal with it and none of his other coping mechanisms are working and he cuts, and Willem finds him and takes the razor from him and cuts his chest like "Yeah! How do you feel now! It's not nice, is it!!!" and once they resolve that argument it's like it never happened. And it's still not enough for Willem to acknowledge the Obvious Connection between sex and Jude's cutting somehow. I don't really know if it's realistic or not, but it certainly made me dislike Willem a bit, which is a shame.

Positive things that don't fit anywhere else are Harold, the dad of all time, and Andy, who is a type of person I am very fond of. In general, the side characters are mostly nuanced and interesting - it's just that the nasty ones are just ridiculously, obscenely nasty.

The end of the book, though, after Willem's death, is lovely. It's devastating to see Jude try so fucking hard to keep living, all the while craving nothing more than to be released from his obligation to stay alive, but it's beautiful. There's a gorgeous, heart-wrenching story in this book - there really is. And Yanagihara has the talent to pull it off. But she spends so much time poking and prodding at her victim that it gets lost in the depravity and ends up feeling hollow.

A friend recommended me this book (she loved it), and she said that, in a way, it may have worked better if we'd never known the full extent of Jude's story. I feel inclined to agree. Knowing the gist, the constituent elements, that have turned Jude into such a cowering, self-hating individual despite having so much to offer, would leave it up to our imagination without a cartoonish reveal that only detracts from the seriousness of it all.

[kissbentennyson]

I have no idea if you'd do this but I need a nega ben x reader. He's my favorite out of the alternates. A softer one shot would be nice but whatever you're feeling is good too! I'll take any content I can get!

*Emo Boy by Ayesha Erotica begins to play* Yeah me too.

Nega Ben x Reader | reader uses they/them pronouns, but dresses femininely.

Spill

He’d been waiting all day, and I mean, all day. Classes always seemed to drag on and on longer when he wanted something, and sure, he could have skipped. But that would have taken too much effort not to get caught. He isn’t afraid of the cops or the school administration… But dealing with his parents? Yeah, no. Not worth it. He’d b-lined it across Bellwood, all the way to the “café” he frequented. Truthfully, it wasn't much of a café seeing as how they specialize in more smoothie like drinks, but whatever. It has been rather crowded, too crowded, and everyone just wanted to get in then out.

He should have expected to bump or get bumped into someone, but it didn’t dawn on him until his espresso smoothie was all over your bright pink, fuzzy sweater. Both of you stood there with slack jaws and wide eyes as the brown liquid dripped from your chest and down onto an equally as pink lolita-esque skirt. It looked expensive, not in a daddy's money way, in a “I saved up to buy this” way. And so, he was prepared for hell.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!”

When it left you, Ben was confused. “Gosh, I should have been looking where I was going… But I was too distracted. Ugh, I-” You were flustered , more than actually, embarrassed is the correct word. “Um… Give me a second and I'll buy you a new one…”

“What?”

Watching as you tried to pat away the coffee with one of the recycled paper napkins the café gives out, a million thoughts passed through him. Of course he took the offer, he wanted that coffee. The line was a lot shorter this time around, and got by a lot quicker too. You ordered for him as he zoned out suddenly looking over your shoulder at him. “What?” He asks, watching you get even more flustered. “I just asked if you wanted anything else. Do you?” “Oh, uh, yeah.” he clears his throat, raising his voice. “The kale chips.”

You both walked out together, your head was down and you watched your shoes as you walked. “Again, I’m really sorry.” He glances at you with a slight side eye as he sips on the coffee, this was the gazillionth time you’ve apologized in just the last few minutes. “It’s… whatever.” He lets out a quick and breathy chuckle. “You apologize to me, but I ruined your sweater.” All of the sudden, your embarrassment seemed non-existent. A light and bubbly laugh leaving you. “Ruined? Oh, trust me, I’ll be just fine. I've dealt with worse.”

“Anyways! I have to get home and change, It was nice meeting you!”

-

The lunch room was beyond packed, packed like the reunion tour of a popular punk band from the 2000's. The doors and tables overflow with hungry and impatient mouths. You had managed to get in before the rush and snag a serving of less than okay school food, but by the time you got out of line, they had all flooded in. People had no concern for others around them, pushing and shoving like toddlers over toys, and you were getting the brunt of it. Not actually, but it sure felt like it.

You were halfway across the room and were looking around the tables for a free space- but it was too late for that already. A body slams into yours hard, you hit the ground as your food falls and splatters all of the chest of the sweater you had just gotten the coffee stain out of. Feet come down around you as you struggle to get up, the other person now looming over you. “Could you have watched where you were going!?” This whole situation was not intentional, but they had no right to get angry at you for that.

You felt the tips of your ears heat, unable to answer. Her eyes bore down on you as she sways with every passing body bumping into her. Suddenly, you feel a hand grab the back of your sweater and pull you from the ground, as if they were scruffing a cat. “Or, maybe you could stop play fighting with your friends in the cafeteria, like a bitch.” Her jaw drops and her freckled face goes red with embarrassment, obviously on the fact that she can't pawn her mistake off on someone else this time. The voice was rather monotone- in a way- compared to the words spoken. And rather familiar.

When you look up it’s the guy from the café, his neutral expression was a thin vale to hide his irritation- at least to you. His hand still had a grip on the back of your shirt, it was a firm hold, and it made you just a tad bit nervous. You swallow as the person swallows her embarrassment, rolling her eyes desperately to try and hide. “Whatever freak, sorry…” she turns and disappears into the crowd. You watch her do so, completely shocked at the situation at hand. Your lips part to say something, but his grip on your sweater releases, being replaced by an arm around your shoulder. Suddenly, you’re being dragged through the crowd and towards the cafeteria door.

He walks you out into the hallway, which is mostly empty at this point. “Thank you.” you choke out through the lump in your throat. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps walking with you- and you aren’t in any position to object.

Eventually you reach the stairs. Under it is a mostly empty black backpack, and there’s a light reflection of gold from inside. The weight of his arm leaves your shoulders and he walks ahead, sliding under the stairs and sitting with his back to an old AC unit. You hesitate for a moment, you’ve only met this guy one other time… maybe you should just wait…… nah.

Sliding under the stairs right after him, you sit straight across from the guy. He’s already looked away. “I think we have third period together. Your name is Ben, right?” His phone is already out, and he’s scrolling through it. “Well I'm…” you give him your name, and all he does is look up at you with a nod before going back to his phone. The volume is low, but there are noises coming from it, ones you recognize. “Is that the Sumo Slammers mobile game?” There was no judgement in your voice at all, and suddenly the losing end sound plays.

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Yeah?” “My little brother is obsessed with that series. He says that the mobile game isn’t that good, but he still played it to the end.” He let out a little huff like laugh through his nose, pressing the power button and finally giving you his full attention. “Yeah, maybe the old one wasn't that good, but this one is a new release- Doesn’t even have dubbed lines yet.” He clears his throat, slouching a bit as his hands slide into his pockets. “Actually, it’s not fully released in the states yet. I got pre access to the game.” He watches you smile, and suddenly there's a slight tense feeling in his chest.

“That’s really cool, are you a beta tester or something?” He shrugs. “No, and it’s whatever.” He glances away, gaze holding on the wall. “Well I think it’s really cool, especially since it's a series you like.” “How do you know that?” His gaze snaps back to you, suddenly defensive. “Your backpack is open and the sun is reflecting off of the cold backing of the trading cards.” You lazily point to the stairs above you, and there is the reflected image of the symbol on the cards. “Those are the collectors additions, from japan. I know because I’ve been looking for that exact deck for my brother.”

You watch as his cheeks dust a light pink color, lightly nudging his bag so it falls over. He starts avoiding eye contact, leaning back fully against the old AC unit. “Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be cleaning up your sweater?” You lean back against the stairs. “Yeah, maybe. But I think you’re kinda cool, and I’d like to stay.”

It was rather silent the rest of lunch, when you tried to hold a conversation- he would end it with short answers that gave you nothing to build off of. The bell rings above you like the screech of an angered bird. You both get up, him raising from the floor before you. You brush the dirt off of the back of your thighs, the light sound of unzipping catching your attention. You watch as the zipper of his hoodie comes down as he pulls it. Yanking it off of his shoulders, revealing the greenish-grey long sleeve he had under it.

“Here. Even if you get the food off, it’ll still stain.” He hands you the coat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, the already open flap lolling open even more. “Oh, thank you, I don’t know what to sa-” “Don’t. Don’t say anything. This never happened.” He walks past you and into the crowd of students, with his head down.

You watch as he does so, eventually looking back down at the hoodie in hand. You feel your face just slightly twinge with heat. “Yeah… Alright.” You say under your breath as you rush off to the nearest bathroom to scrub the food scum from your sweater.

-

It was a game day.

Not that he kept track of that, he had never been into football. Once upon a time he played soccer, but after he got the Negatrix any hopes of that former love returning was gone. Ben knew it was game day because his cousin was in her cheerleading outfit- and it was no were near time for cheer competitions. Her makeup was done and her strawberry blonde hair was pulled up, and she sat in the front seat of her boyfriend's car chatting to said boyfriend about the routines she had to do.

Ben sat in the back, as he always did, waiting for the drive to be over. It came soon enough as the car pulled into the drop off area in front of the school, slowing to a stop. Neither Tennyson waited for it to fully stop before opening their doors. He got out, closing it with a slam and without a thank you. Gwen still leaning in and talking. The chatter of the hoard of tired teenagers flocking into the building almost drowned out the shouting of his name.

Almost.

He groans, looking over his shoulder, spotting the mass of pastels jogging towards him with something in their arms. “I’m so glad I got here on time! They were packed this morning- and I thought I'd be late- but I made it.” In your arms is his hoodie and an espresso smoothie. You hand him your gifts with a large smile. “I um, washed the jacket for you. Thanks again.” The bell rings and you give a quick wave before pushing into the school building yourself.

His jaw hangs slack, looking down at his freshly cleaned jacket- lint free, folded, and still warm- and the smoothie. When he moves there's a light cracking from inside the jacket, like the sound of a chip bag. He pulls back one of the folds and there is a bag of kale chips, stuck to it is a yellow sticky note written on with a pink gel pen. A phone number with “See you at lunch.”

“Who was that?” Ben looks over at his cousin, an impressed smirk on her lips.

“You’re getting mileage out of this, huh?” “Soooo much.”

[thewertsearch]

If you're using the collection I think you might have unlocked some stuff from the time period which Andy was interacting with the Fandom.

I did indeed!

Most of the news posts are pre-Homestuck, but interesting nonetheless. A lot of it's just housekeeping - announcements about donation commands, thank-you messages to contributors, short hiatuses from the comic, etc, but there's also a lot of interesting stuff to highlight.

Turns out Problem Sleuth really was bigger than I thought, enough for it to have millions of hits and a sold-out merch store.

I'd been assuming that Homestuck was Hussie's big breakout comic. Maybe it was, but they had a pretty sizeable following before it ever started.

Really everything that's happened so far [by the end of Act 1] probably serves as more of a prologue than a first chapter.

Hussie talks a bit about Act 1 after it ended, saying that the entire thing is essentially a prologue to the comic proper.

This is definitely the impression I got. The whole Act is just an elaborate tutorial sequence for John, after all.

Glancing backwards, I can't help but monitor my progress. 55 days, 247 pages (with 295 images). That's a little more than 5 images per day, which is almost the exact pace I set with Problem Sleuth over the course of a year.

Their pace at this point was an astounding five pages per day.

This is an average which includes time spent making gifs and Flash animations, so I'm kind of losing it over this. Webcomics are notorious for the exact opposite of this update speed, and there must have been a lot of optimization behind the scenes to make it work.

It's especially impressive considering that they were only updating a couple of times a week back in the Bard Quest days. They seem to have found their rhythm in early 2008, because this is a hell of a jump in productivity.

John's shirt, which of course appears to be Slimer from Ghostbusters, is actually a depiction of an Asian knock-off of Slimer called the GREEN SLIME GHOST. Rose's shirt was once a depiction of a character from a fake cute cartoon show which I totally made up called "Squiddles!". She then went about defacing this shirt to make it look mean!

We get a bit of flavor on the kids' symbol shirts. This newspost predates Jade's introduction by several months, so we finally have an answer for where the name originally came from, which I was wondering about earlier.

A familiar refrain with pages like this I have found is something like: "Is that all? Can I do anything else? Can I kill the imp? Is there an objective I'm missing?" The answer is, what you see is what you get! These are not really fully functional mini-games with the sort of objectives you would expect to see from such things. They are partially interactive pages in a story, leaning on certian traditional elements of gameplay to convey the story-purpose of the page.

Bit of commentary here about the 'playable' pages. They're intended to be interactive cutscenes, rather than actual games. There isn't going to be any 'hidden' content, just obvious beats that progress the story in a format that looks like a videogame.

We get a hint that there's a secret in Jaspers' flash, which apparently is no longer clickable on the website version of this animation. This pretty much immediately destroys my assumption above that these things won't have any hidden content in them.

It's not any secret lore or anything, though, just a cute little animation giving us a look into Rose's head. She really is an animal lover, isn't she?

This archive link to a poll on what items John should have alchemized no longer works, which breaks my heart :'( I'll see about finding it later, I guess...

Anyway, I'll be back here later, when there's more to read.

Someone remind me to check out the Blogspot later, too. It looks super wordy, and I wanna get back to the comic!

[deluluass]

Red, like blood. Blue, like love.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; bullying; soulmates au

Prompt: 88 & 183

There’s someone for everyone, you’d learned growing up.

 "Remember, blue means happy," your mother would say. "The happiest you'll ever be.”

She liked reminding you about this fact— for it is an indisputable truth, every so often when she could still carry you. You’d be hugged from the back, as she recounted stories of first meetings, serendipitous and life changing in their nature; belonging to those who’ve lived long before you, sometimes even those who’ve only lived in tales.

Mostly, your mother loved telling those involving the people she knew. And if you’ve behaved properly, she would tell you about hers. 

Tracing your palm, starting from the forked lines to the dashed ones on your fingers, she’d say, “These would start to glow like stars.”

“That’s weird!” you’d burst out, shrieking a laughter as she tickled you. 

“Listen carefully,” she chastised. “Blue is for your soulmate, okay?”

And you’d repeat: Blue is for my soulmate.

“Then, mama,” you tugged at her sleeves, “What if it’s really, really bright red! Like! Bloody glow sticks! Say, mama, you see, everyone at the park was talking about the man who died because he touched someone and his hand became bright re— ”

You never brought that up again. What your mother said about it had been enough to never make you forget.

“Tell me if you get red,” she said firmly, clutching your arms as if she feared someone would snatch you away from her. “Red is bad, my heart. Red means run.”

 It hadn’t nearly been as gruesome as your mother made it out to be. 

Case in point, when you turned twelve the couple three houses down your street found out, shortly after their honeymoon, that their palms gleamed a fierce red once they clasped each other’s hands in front of the neighborhood aunties.  

Their marriage ended with a swift and ordinary divorce, a year or so later.

Red: Not just an ominous warning for homicide, then. That was a relief, you’d thought.

Contrary to how your mother framed it, you were thankful, actually. It helped some of your friends escape from potentially hellish relationships. How lucky is it that you lived in a reality where the universe seemed exceedingly benevolent. Though, you sometimes have to question if that generosity extended to everyone.

Fat lot of good it did for you. 

Because, from where you’re standing, it doesn’t have to take some arbitrary and unsolvable scientific mystery to heed that Oikawa Tooru must be avoided like the plague.

Any person in your shoes would be conditioned to do exactly that. 

You’d first met in Elementary. You thought he was the prettiest kid you’d ever seen, with chestnut curls and doe eyes and lashes that swept past his cheeks, and when you’d asked for a hand shake he’d called you “the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen” and “fart face.” 

Recess and lunch were when he’s most fearsome. Spiky burdocks slapped on the collar of your dress; dead lizards in your food; the boy was determined. The worst part was that it always happened when no one was looking. And if someone were, it was his best friend. So when you finally told on him to your mom, both your teacher and the principal simply judged Oikawa as the victim of an attention deprived child.

“Please discipline your daughter,” they told her. “We are all aware of your situation at home, but do ensure that she’s not getting out of control.”

You couldn’t even muster up the strength to defend yourself. In that moment all you could do was swear that you’d never allow anyone to talk to your mother in that way again. 

You moved out of that school. 

You didn’t wait for your palms to flash a warning signal because, somehow, you knew that boys who discover early that they could get away with anything cannot get any better. 

There’d been no way to be sure of that until Aoba Johsai— after a peaceful interim of no Oikawa; no red palm lines (and no blue ones, either).

The proof hit you in the face. Literally. 

“Oi, Shittykawa!”

Heat permeated from your nostrils as you patted your cheek, detached and staring back at the large gymnasium. 

“You hit someone!”

How unlucky did a person have to be to bleed right on the first day of classes? 

You tried to lean forward. “It’s okay,” you slurred nasally, pinching your nose and averting your embarrassed gaze from the boy kneeling next to you.

“Trashykawa! You better hurry and apologize!”

“Don’t be mad, Iwa-chan,” that disgustingly saccharine voice came from behind you, making you flinch, as if the years you’d spent apart had done nothing to purge it out of your system.

In all honesty, you hadn’t really cared for whoever was responsible for the ball that careened all the way to where you were standing, so sure that it had to be an accident. No one in their right mind would want to injure someone they barely knew, especially if said someone is a couple of feet away from you. 

Morally and athletically, it should’ve been improbable. But then you saw who did it and everything made perfect sense.

Iwa-chan. The boy beside you. Iwaizumi Hajime.

If he’s here, then— 

“You,” he whispered. 

“Eh?! Gosh, I’m so sorry!” Oikawa Tooru gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

Time is cruel. It wears down on you, tears you and molds you into something you can’t even recognize, if it decides to. (Fate, more so). You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or laugh, looking at him. If the universe were so benevolent, then perhaps Oikawa Tooru had received all of its favor.

He was beautiful. You’d known this before, but with all the baby fat replaced with sharp yet slender angles, figure lean and imposing even when he’d lowered himself to meet your eyes, Oikawa didn’t seem real.

“I did hit someone, didn’t I?” he pouted, wiping the dried blood atop your lip. “And such a pretty girl, too.”

That volleyball existed should’ve made life better for you. It didn’t. If anything, it seemed that out of the court, when he’s not taking names and being praised like a god, you were his little pastime. Something fun to take his mind off whatever it is he thinks about it. 

The mocking comments, you could handle; every time you’d recite and he’ll interject with something playful and then the entire class would laugh (because he’s Oikawa) and your professor would reprimand him but you could always tell that they, too, are holding in a giggle. 

Those were easy to bear, because although his insults hit way too close to home, it’s just— it’s just so petty.

Really, it’s the aftermath that does the damage.

“They’re like Christmas lights under your skin!” 

This topic pops up every month or so. Most people your age can be lucky enough to meet their soulmate this early. 

“And it’s the most awesome feeling in the world,” your classmate sighed. “When we touched hands? Man. We just- we glowed.”

Then, the others would poke fun, faking a gagged expression, but they’d always ask afterwards, “What happened next?” And everytime, you’d watch from the sidelines. Like an uninvited audience. 

You tried being a part of it once, wanting to share about the time your close friend met her soulmate. But all you’d gotten were side eyes and titters, as if they were laughing about a joke only you didn’t know about. 

“They’re so mean to you.” 

You groaned.

Oikawa was seated behind you, resting his head against his elbow. Everyone was too busy talking about blue lights and destined souls to notice what’s happening at the back of the room. 

He continued, “Not including you in conversations, treating you like an outsider.”

You didn’t bite, focusing on the opened book in front of you.

“Must be lonely, having no one.”

“Oikawa,” you muttered under your breath. “I don’t have the energy for this.”

The silence that came after that was unexpected. You were sure it would be short lived; he’s just gearing up for more. He usually went at it until you’d have no choice but to physically remove yourself from his presence. You’d thought once that that may be why he does this so much. Maybe he still thought you were the “ugliest girl” he’s ever met and he wants you out of his sight. Because Oikawa’s infantile like that.

But the silence stayed, accompanied by the background noise of eager conversations; lingering some more as white, fluffy clouds passed by the glass windows. 

When he broke it, all Oikawa said was, “Soulmates, huh.”

You felt a finger touch your back, drawing the barest of lines over your uniform. He removed them just before you could stand up and leave. 

You disliked those moments with him. 

You disliked him especially when he played. 

Oikawa’s a monster, be it in volleyball or with you. There are times, though, that you’d notice some things that you think you’re not meant to see. Like after a serve— its impact booming throughout the court, he’d have this puzzling expression on his face. 

It looked like....anger. 

He scored a point, right? Everyone’s cheering for him, aren’t they? Wait, didn’t they win?

You thought maybe it’s the adrenaline making him nastier than usual, but sometimes you’d pass by the gym when he happens to be alone. And that anger is still there, punctuated by the sound of the ball exploding against the floor. Jump. Hit. Spike. Jump. Hit. Spike. He’d do it, again and again and again. 

As if he’s trying to grasp something even he cannot reach. 

Those instances should’ve taught you that the best thing to do is look away. 

That’s what you should’ve done. Look away.

They lost the Interhigh tournament.

You knew this not because you’d watched, but because for one day, Oikawa Tooru wasn’t your bully. 

The derision was replaced by sulking. He didn’t speak for the entire period. The funniest thing about it was that everyone kept staring at you. Like somehow you’d been the cause of this, when all of them were lamenting the loss just as much as the team itself. 

 What was supposed to be a reason for celebration suddenly became a crime that you had to explain for.

 “Great,” you grumbled to yourself. “One time I don’t have a target on my back, now I’m the bad guy.”

Trash bag in hand, the scraps inside rattled against each other as you stomped to the recycling bin, both sleeves of your P.E jacket folded up to the elbows. You affected a tone, choosing to mock the grating way some of classmates talked:

“Oh, hey, if it’s not too much,” you began. “Can you please be his punching bag again? If you will, can you relieve our superstar’s burdens? By, I don’t know, alluring him into walking all over you? Like the good old days! Please, oh please? We rely on you, oh Great Punching Bag! We Beseech thee, oh Esteemed Doormat! We compel— dude, what the fuck?!”

Crumpled papers and steel and tin cans rolled to the ground. You didn’t pick them up, like you should’ve; you left it there, trash bag lying open, and grabbed the ball that whisked mere inches from your face. 

This time you’re not making the same mistake. The asshole is more than capable of suspending what little morals he has, just to hurt someone he barely knew. As well as athletically adept (an understatement, that) at hitting a walking target; or not hitting it, in this case.  

You stormed the almost empty gym. Oikawa is a ray of sunshine, greeting you with that smile. It makes you want to punch him.

“What is wrong with you?” you spat. 

He chuckled. “Whoops. Sorry!” 

“I’m not having this-” you shoved the ball to his stomach. He didn’t even blink. “This isn’t gonna slide anymore, Oikawa.”

Wide grin still in place, he took it from your hands with his much larger ones and said, “Wow, you’re actually mad this time. ”  

Then, he added, “I didn’t mean it! Honest!” 

Must be nice, you thought with a scowl, to be him. Anyone can be sincere if they look anything like Oikawa. 

“Sure. Fine. No, actually,” you glowered. “You know what?” 

“Hm?” He tilted his head. Oikawa tilted his pretty little head.

You seethed. “I get it. You lost. That doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. I mean, what did I ever do to you, Oikawa? I have-” you exhaled, surprised by the break in your voice. 

“I haven’t done anything to you. We stopped being kids a long time ago. That shit you pull should’ve ended by now. We’ve grown.” You jabbed his chest. “But I see that maybe not all of us have.”

His pleased expression hadn’t dropped. “Ouch,” Oikawa grimaced, glancing amusedly at the place you’d touched. “How mean.”

This isn’t going anywhere. 

You don’t know why it took you this long to realize this, as you shifted your gaze away from him, noticing the gashes on the floor that tear the surface like scars that never healed. That must’ve been because of him, with the amount of practice he does. 

“It won’t be enough, won’t it, Oikawa?” you whispered. “Not for you.”

The smile that’s been there since you arrived tensed, straining at the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he beamed. 

He was bathing in his own sweat, seeping through his shirt and matting his hair to his face, and he looks— Oikawa looked tired. His eyes were sunken in, too. Did he even sleep?

You’re so used to seeing him not a hair out of place, with a sweet scent that you amusedly thought lures his gaggle of admirers into following him everywhere. It takes you aback, honestly. Particularly the wobble in his step as he bent and squeezed his knee with shaky fingers.

You don’t think he’s aware he’s doing it in front of you.

Then, just like that, everything seemed to have added up.  

“You’ll never be happy,” you said.

You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve left. Instead, you looked him in those brown eyes, the warm hue becoming a lot colder as he moved closer. 

Oikawa sneered. “And what do you know, huh?” 

(Go. Leave.)

“Nothing,” you told him. “I don’t- I don’t know. Because, I don’t get it.”

(Shut up. Shut up.)

“Why you try any harder, I don’t know. Win or lose, it’s all the same. You’re still the same. You’re still awful and annoying and- and still you.” You laughed, unsure why you’re running your mouth like this. 

“Win or lose. Oikawa is still Oikawa,” you breathed in. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

His teammates must’ve gone somewhere. For lunch, maybe, you thought as you eyed the abandoned bottles and used towels scattered around the court. “Besides,” you huffed, not without a twinge of envy. “They’ll all still love you, either way.” 

Everything went still for a while, and you’d just realized what you’d just said.

“What about you?” 

You looked back at him.

“What?”

He tipped his chin. You stepped backwards. 

He brushed your wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he only smiled and wrapped his entire hand around it. 

Oikawa had been your first bully. Before you could even comprehend what that meant, Oikawa had been the source of your mother’s worries whenever she parted with you at the school gates. It is funny, thinking about it, for letting this boy affect you despite making an effort to stay away the first time. 

But it is only now— now that he has a firm hold on you, gentle yet smothering— that you truly feared Oikawa Tooru. 

It rattled your breath, squeezing your heart and refusing air to pass through your lungs, as you felt a shock zap through you. And apparently through him as well.

You broke away from each out with a cry.

Your hand was burning. That’s the only explanation for it. Your hand was burning and any moment now smoke will diffuse from the pores. 

You waited. Any moment now. But the more you stared at it the more tiny spots of flames sparked under your skin, bursting along the palm lines— first, the forked ones; then, the dashed lines— glaring back at you, glowing brighter, blotting and spreading until they mapped your palms then your entire hands like constellations. 

“Red is bad, my heart,” your mother said. “Red means run.”

“I knew it,” you scoffed, shaking your head. 

Well, it’s not as if this is news to you. 

“What about that, Oikawa?” You put both your radiating hands in the air. “The universe is telling us, you and I? We just don’t—”

Why are you crying?

Why is Oikawa crying? 

“I knew it,” he croaked.

Your mother made the red light sound so horrifying for a reason. 

There has to be a reason, too, why the universe is warning you so late into your life. You’d actually ran before. And when you thought it a waste of money, you chose to stay and not fight back; thinking that his punches have become less severe, degraded into verbal taunts that induce social exclusion at most; that, certainly, red doesn’t forbode something as bad as murder, right?

Well, what now? You were wrong, after all. This time you have a feeling that you actually need to hide. 

Because Oikawa’s looking at you like you’re the last two people left in this Earth. 

Just you and him. Without any need for anybody else. 

You didn’t breathe, attempting to bolt despite the overwhelming need to throw up right where you're standing. He stepped closer, faster than you’d liked, and touched your face, caressing your cheek up to your aching temple.

“You should really stop trying to run away,” he said, voice low as if he’s sharing a secret. “I’ll always find you, you know?”

You didn’t have to look to know. Even if you closed your eyes, as well, you know it’s still going to be there; glowing in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Me and you—” Oikawa sighed. 

Listen carefully, your mother said.

“ —we have a connection that no one else will ever understand,” he said.

The light emitting from his hand was so harsh it hurt you, pricking your sight until it drew fat tears, reflecting against your damp face and tinting the fallen streaks with bright—

Blue means happy, she told you. The happiest you’ll ever be.

And you’d repeat: Blue. Blue is for—

“My soulmate," Oikawa said, before locking you in a deep, searing kiss. 

The lights didn't die even as he dragged you into the storage room.  

"Hey, where'd senpai go?" 

The rest of the volleyball team came in droves, occupying the hollow court with their squeaking shoes and questions about Oikawa's whereabouts.

"Must've gone somewhere," you heard a deep voice say. 

You could answer that question. All you  had to do was scream. They weren't so far from the room that they wouldn't pick it up over the noise of their volleyball practice. Really, if you needed to, you could even outshout their guttural yells of "Nice kill!"

Though, you'd have to remove the underwear lodged in your mouth first. 

Yours, in fact; soaked now by your own saliva, drool dripping to your chin as your wrists chafed against the rope that's keeping them tied at your back.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" You felt every sickening movement of Oikawa's lips against your throat. "Feels good when you- ah, fuck- when you give in."

With the cloth muting your shrill bawling, you tried your best to recall how you ended up here: seated on his lap as he sluggishly humped himself against you, his still glowing hands cupping your ass.  

The only thing left on your body was your bra, and even that he's already lowered to let your tits spill over the top. Your pants and t-shirt and jacket are lying around somewhere. You couldn't determine where in particular; the only sources of light were behind you.  

He was leaving imprints of blue all over your skin; around your waist as he slithered his hands to reach your breasts, scantily brushing over the hardened nipples and making you keel over.

"So sensitive," he tutted, smooching your neck so gently that even the underwear couldn't muffle your loud yelp when he suddenly bit into the flesh. Hard. 

You wanted to claw his eyes out and call for help and you wanted badly to scream don't do that Oikawa someone please save me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me-

But the gag remained intact and the boys outside continued their game, ignorant that their precious captain is taking everything away from you. 

Sharp canines bruised your skin, provoking a fresh batch of tears as he sucked and licked every after cruel bite. 

Then, when you thought the worst had passed, he removed his mouth from your neck to spit onto your bare cunt, allowing it to slide from the hair on your mound to the nub sticking out in the middle.

(It is not enough that he is killing you. Oikawa must defile you, too.)

His fingers gripped the insides of your thighs open when you tried to shut them together. "Don't be a brat," he clicked his tongue.

"Be a nice little kitten for me," Oikawa drawled, smearing the slick that's soaking your folds against the spittle coating your clit.

You didn't notice when he'd taken his cock out, you only realize that he's about to enter you when he teased your entrance with it, pushing the tip to nudge the drenched hole, only to pull it back again.

And you didn't dare look. The feel of it almost stretching you out with just the head is already driving you to insipid begging.

"What'd you say, kitten?" he pouted.

Oikawa you've already taken too much is it never going to be enough Oikawa let me go.

"I can't understand you," he chuckled. "Here—"

He pulled the underwear out of your mouth as he thrust all the way inside, your back arching, driving him deeper, as his cock throbbed against your pussy walls.

"Now, what were you saying?"

You swallowed your cries and heaved and swore you were gonna tear his heart out after this. 

"Say," he whispered, sniffing your wet panties without breaking his gaze. "If everyone saw us right now, how'd you think they'd react?"

It was so reverent, the way he did it, blue light revealing that he closed his eyes as he took a whiff, as if he hung onto your scent like a lifeline.

But you thought that'd been a calculated move, because as you dumbly stared at him, he immediately gyrated his hips under you, rocking back and forth ever so slowly, and you remembered that you had to keep quiet.

His cock was so big inside you, making you bite your lip as it filled you up, the curved tip hitting a spot that has you squirming in his embrace.

"At this point they'll know how much of a whore you are," he said, tangling his muscled arms around yours and anchoring you to his body. "Made just for me."

"Oika-Oikawa…"

You don't know this person. 

"Help..me.."

You don't know who's speaking out and whimpering for Oikawa, on her knees and bouncing up and down on his lap with weak, quivering thighs. 

It couldn't be you.

"Help you?" You felt him nuzzle your neck. "I thought you wanted me to stay away, though?"

Someone mewled out a pathetic, "N-no."

"No? Then what d'you want, kitten?"

(Oh. Oh, he feels so fucking good.)

Your belly has never felt this hot before and it's driving you crazy that you're chasing for something you cannot see and it feels so near but there's something, something that's keeping you from it that all you can do is grind your sopping cunt closer to him.

"Wanna- I wanna cum."

Oikawa kissed you on the forehead, and then he said, "Go ahead, then."

He released your arms. 

Then, he's scooping cum off your pussy, making sure to drag his fingers under the lips, before circling your large, swelling clit. Then, he's sucking your tits and swirling his tongue around a nipple and you're so so close.

"That's it," Oikawa sighed. "Ride my cock, baby."

His rough palm slapped both your ass cheeks and the cry that erupted from you only made him laugh. 

"Make yourself cum on my cock," he grunted, licking his smiling lips as he leaned back against the wall, hand idly rubbing your dripping clit. "You're making a mess, darling. Leaking like that."

You're quivering all over; your cunt is spasming and your legs are complaining beneath you, but you don't stop. You lift your hips and then sink your pussy down, down until you feel his balls touching your sore ass, the sloshing sound growing louder as you move faster. 

You don't think about what this'll all mean later, what you're doing giving in to him, when you scream out his name. But as soon as you did, Oikawa's growl had been your only warning.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, plunging his tongue into your throat, his strong arms pressing you so close to him you can no longer tell his skin from yours, his battering heartbeat from yours. 

You didn't move—weren't allowed to, when he hammered his cock into you, pounding your cunt and fucking you raw until you're breathless and nothing but a shuddering wreck, splitting at the seams in his hands as you feel thick spurts of hot cum slide out of you. 

"My pretty girl," came his hoarse whisper. "My pretty, pretty girl."

The lights have dimmed, when he cradled your shaking form and moved out of you, faint traces left on just the palm lines and fingertips. 

They were flooded by the sudden brightness that enveloped the storage room.

"Holy shit."

You pressed your eyes close, your entire body prickling at Oikawa’s touch.

It shouldn't be surprising, at this point, that Oikawa, as quick as he'd stripped you off of everything, has already covered you back in your jacket. The smell of it striking you ruthlessly, that old cologne that you always use to school reminding you of who you were, before all this.

Had it only been a few hours? It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Ah," Oikawa murmured. "They caught us."

"Oikawa,” someone roared. Oikawa held you, hiding your face against his chest. “Why you son of a-"

"C-coach..! Stop- Oi, someone help me hold him- no, coach! "

You heard him chuckle. “Sorry about this, everyone.” He held up his hand and you had to keep yourself from sobbing. “But, look.”

There were several gasps. 

(Everybody knows now.)

“You..and her?” 

The boy who said that sounded so astonished, clearly overjoyed for some reason, that it revolted you.

“Mhm,” he nodded, a smile in his voice. “Now, can you guys please give us some privacy?” 

Feet shuffled out of the room, along with stuttered apologies. They all left. 

Except for one.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted.

“What did you do, Oikawa?”

A beat. Then, he repeated, “Iwa-chan.”

Please. 

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. 

Please help me.

“Sure,” he grunted.

He was gone, too, after that.

You were back in the darkness, with nothing but the faltering red and blue on your hands and his, while he untied your wrists and kneaded the abrasion away, cooing sweet nothings to your ear. 

“I hate you,” you rasped. 

“Don’t say that.”

“I fucking hate you-”

“Please stop yelling-”

“I won’t ever forgive you, Oikawa!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried, shaking his head as he brushed your tear-stained cheeks with both thumbs. You clutched them, wanting him off you, but he only latched himself firmly into you. “We’re meant to be.”

“You’re the only one for me.” 

Oikawa brought your numb hand to his face, pressing a kiss to your palm, the red light basking him in its soft glow.

“And I’m the only one for you,” he said, intertwining your fingers together. 

The lights flickered in and out, at first, as you stared vacantly into it, the red and blue swallowing each other. Until they finally disappeared, leaving just you and him, curled against each other in the shadows.