#feel like there's a weird gap for this type of thing considering how logical it is

[theramblingvoid]

Why don't I hear more about undead beings coming back to warn people? It's always zombies wanting to drag people down to join them in the grave, ghosts seeking vengeance, spirits trying to chase people out of their domains - but if you died horribly and were left rattling around some spooky mansion for eternity, wouldn't you want to stop people from blundering into the same death you had?

You feel a cold breath on your neck as you get in the car. It won't leave until you fasten your seatbelt. An unseen force catches your foot as you pass the fourth step every time you walk up the stairs. During a renovation, you find out the wood is rotten. You can never find a pack of cigarettes - even ones guests bring disappear from their pockets and are found weeks later on the lawn, empty. Your daughter is giggling and laughing at something unseen, chasing after it away from the cliffside on your family hike. You don't know why, but you feel compelled to leave a spare hairband and some stickers on a picnic table as you leave the park. Tribute? A thank you? The items are gone by next time you visit, and you swear a happy child's hum follows you home on the breeze.

...More preventative hauntings. It just makes sense.

[metellastella]

In Honor of Deltarune Chapter 2, Lemme tell you about exactly HOW world-breaking Chara really was, and IS.

Here's the thing about Chara. It is implied that they are THE PLAYER's insatiable thirst for new video game worlds (or, they have latched onto it). As in, they accompany the player to the next world they go to.

Direct quote:

"HP. ATK. DEF. GOLD. EXP. LV. Every time a number increases, that feeling . . . That's me. Chara. Now, we have reached the absolute. There is nothing left for us here. Let us erase this pointless world, and move on to the next." i.e.: Let US move on to the next.

Every time THE PLAYER conquers and sets aside a new game . . . they have effectively DESTROYED it. Because they do not "exist" unless they are played and interacted with. Also, they only exist up until the end of the game anyway (most of the time)

And- I say usually- no matter how many times THE PLAYER plays a game- they will eventually tire of it. Also, if they play 500 games in their lifetime . . . it is unlikely they will re-play that many consistently. Plus, add on random internet "mini" games.

Now, that's only considering ONE player.

But since Chara is a multi-dimensional being, because they are aware of other worlds . . . it's not much of a stretch to say that the millions of people who are carrying around Chara "with" them count . . . as Chara.

Bill Cipher, from Gravity Falls, to my knowledge, despite his reality-warping godly demon powers, makes no such 4th wall shattering and domineering claim.

Let's assume for sanity's sake, that this current dimension you're sitting in and reading this screen on is the primary reality. There ARE no dimensions higher than this. All others are contained within human imagination. Bill Cipher was Created by a Creator.

All the 'lower' dimensions we can muck around in as basically gods. (gods or demigods either incarnate as weaklings, or come about some other way, in many mythologies, but then grow steadily stronger to realize their godhood. Ya know, Hercules. Krishna. In Hinduism. That sort of thing.) We can travel between dimensions on a whim by flipping a switch. With enough Determination, we can ALWAYS reach the end. Now, sometimes collaboration does expand these universes a little bit- through comics and fanfiction. But even these created 'higher spheres' nearer to this primary dimension, author 'omniscience' is taken as a given. Actually there is some debate about that, given the real-world phenomenon of novel writers in some cases having no clue where characters are taking them . . . they just sit down to write with a kernel of an idea. That's how I operate, for instance. In that case, they somehow have had their 'future sight' that should be default as a god, blocked. People who outline plots and know where they're going with a story beforehand, and then create characters to fill in the gaps, they're the type of 'gods' that could tell their characters future events, if they wanted to. Anyway. Back to video games specifically, and their fandoms. There is only so much CONTENT and it can always be recorded and shared. So there is still a limting factor.  Here's the weird thing about Undertale. You are there as a 'god.' Just as usual. That's nothing special. You're just there to muck around. But. The whole toe-curling horror aspect UT was demonstrating, for specific characters NPCs who realize this sobering fact . . . such as Asgore and Sans, they are driven to despair, mental instability, and in two cases, suicide, by the fact.

If Homestuck is considered a "game" that is destroyed once you reach the end? It is rolled into all of this as well.  Homestuck is a game. What evidence to I have of this, since it's a 'written story'? It has many playable elements and 90% of its lore and plot is based on deconstructing game conventions and sticking them back together in weird angled positions with crazy glue.  Therefore. If the player reads Homestuck after playing Undertale, (i.e., someone who is newer to internet culture, and entered it after Undertale came out, which was far after Homestuck) Chara has CANONICALLY destroyed the Homestuck Universe.  (or, if you re-read Homestuck after playing Undertale)

YOU. The PLAYER make or break all fictional characters. They live and die by your interest in them, or, for games, your direction, and no other character has explicitly taken YOUR control over the game, as Chara has. In Homestuck, it never gives you something to "do" and then takes the decision away from you, as Undertale does.

Chara, except for someone who has 100% control of that little dopamine rush that comes with leveling up (read: no one), is out there, gleefully wringing out, growing bored of, and then destroying hundreds of thousands of worlds. Chara is the first of zeir kind.  And possibly the last.  Or at least, anything that comes afterwards will be but a pale imitation.  Toby Fox is truly LEGENDARY, in this way.  I'm not sure even he fully understand what he's done here.  Let me try to explain this.  Our education system is currenlty ripping itself to pieces over back-breaking student loans and the realization that we don't actually need all these professors because of the easy availability of information on the internet (Demonstrated, in a roundabout way, in one or two deft lines of dialog in the movie A Beauriful Mind). Now, let's say colleges and universities do survive this shift in society, going foward. It's probable that at the very least technical colleges and vocational schools will. Any others, including high schools, will be replaced by students shrugging and just taking a G.E.D. certification, because why should they spend time at a high school if they hate it, or if they want to learn at their own individualized pace? No reason to do that at all. If the stuffy old guard of the outdated higher education system ever starts treating stories told by video games as literature, as they ABSOLUTELY SHOULD, because they're merely a different medium, not some weird separate thing . . . Toby Fox, having overturned the "trope" of the RPG "genre", wrecking and dismantling it so thouroughly that it has unsettled millions of people who ever again play an RPG where they slaughter any monsters for 'points.'  He should be immortalized. Just like any other author in history who has churned out a landmark piece of literature.  It's merely his fair due.  Perfectly logical, right?  He is the Ubermench game-changer. Literally.  I hope Sans appreciates the pun. Chara is the vehicle through which this overturning of the trope happens. Chara stares directly at the player, deconstructs a longstanding staple in the 'literary genre,' and gives a body and voice to the psychologically addictive quality of video games.

One estimate says there are more than 60,000 video games in existence. And millions of copies of each one.

Chara, as we've established canonically, has access to ALL that are played after a runthrough of Undertale. (or at the very least, genocide Undertale) In Hinduism, it is Shiva that is the god of destruction.  To quote Oppenheimer,  Chara has become Death, Destroyer of Worlds.  Checkmate.

Q. E. D.

Endgame.

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #3

Feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

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T/N: Okay, so, this is one of those chapters where the author makes mistakes in linguistics (but she’s trying, guys, she’s trying!). She writes “prasinon” as “prase” for some reason, and I took the liberty to fix it myself when translating.

Connecting Chrysoprase

Jewelry Etranger sat inconspicuously at Ginza 7-choume. The store owner, Richard, was the possessor of a beauty that you couldn’t think was from this world, but no matter how beautiful he was, once half a year had passed, you would get used to it. And as I got used to him, the questions also surfaced.

“Hey, Richard, don’t you have any favorite foods other than sweets? Do you eat ramen or anything like that?”

Mr. Richard Ranashinha de Vulpian looked at me with scrutinizing blue eyes. Sitting on the red sofa, he had been observing the contents of a large jewel box, holding them up over his head against the morning light shining in from the window.

“I find difficult to figure the aim of the question. Why ramen? I have had meals with you numerous times. I eat anything without likes or dislikes.”

“I know. It’s not like it’s limited to just ramen, but you don’t eat that kind of stuff much, do you?”

Like chives. Or garlic. Or grilled meat dripping with juices.

I knew that this didn’t suit his image. He was a man whose features seemed to have accidentally come out of a dream world. If he told me that he could live off eating department store sweets and pink roses, he could probably have me seriously convinced up to about 70%. That was exactly why I would feel like searching for a gap.

As I was about to ask if he understood this logic, Richard replied curtly with a clay doll-like face, “What ill intentions.”

That was true. I wasn’t some obsessive follower of an idol’s personal life or anything. Richard hit bull’s-eye with the deduction that I “probably ate ramen yesterday”. For some reason, things got awkward. I was in a position where it was better to retreat for a while. Time to change the subject.

“What stone is that? Looks like candy and it’s pretty cute.”

“A type of chalcedony. They are in the same category as crystals. In particular, this one with a milky apple-green color is called chrysoprase.

“Ah~...”

What Richard was pinching with his bare hands - because it was safer to touch it with bare skin rather than wearing gloves, he said, as it wouldn’t cause any damage - was a pale green, round stone. It had low transparency, was cut en cabochon and looked like an old-style candy.

“W-What was it again? The name. Chry...?”

“‘Chrysoprase’,” Richard repeated for me.

How many times had something like this happened? The stone’s name was in a Western language. Basically, all of them were in katakana. My ears did register it, but I couldn’t memorize it in one go at all. Richard was a helpful person, so there were times when he wrote down the names in romaji and explained them to me, but I honestly couldn’t keep up with him. There were countless stones in this world.

“Chryso... aah, no good. It’s hard to memorize.”

“‘Chrysoprase’. It is said to be a stone that helps to harmonize and integrate personalities. Medieval European literature also mentions it as a stone that Alexander the Great loved.”

Alexander the Great. A person I had learned about in high school. Even I knew that name. The fact that a stone adored by a warlord who had long passed away was still loved by people of the current times was thought-provoking. The range of the gemstone world was broad. But, well, leaving that as that.

“How d’you memorize stones’ names? It’s not like you’ve got some test to do like in a history class...”

“Do you think anyone would buy goods from a trader who cannot even say their names?”

“I don’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s hard. There’s lots of types and they sound like magic spells. Like ‘Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte’. It wouldn’t be weird if you felt like cheating without a care in the world. You got any trick for memorizing them?”

“My compliments to you for being able to pronounce the official name of Sri Lanka’s capital. But I cannot praise the part about carelessly deceiving people. Once your reputation falls to earth, it does not recover so easily. To begin with, your perception of business in general is too lax for someone enrolled in the Faculty of Economics. I know you have the aspiration, but if you do not pair it to practical abilities and skills, you will be running idle. Shouldn’t you try to improve these skills once again so that you can avoid unnecessary hardships in the future? Instead of obsessing over finding out something unexpected about the shopkeeper from your part-time job.”

The arguments were so spot-on that I was at a loss for words. Even so, still with a slightly exasperated face, Richard continued to speak. Most likely, it was his gentle side’s turn from here on out.

“Still, you are right, I do have a trick. If I were to use the capital as an example, ‘Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte’ had its original name ‘Kotte’ being embellished with the title of ‘President Jayawardene’s Sacred City’. When you know the origin of it, doesn’t this line-up of katakana letters that only appears in magic spells turn into meaningful words?”

“So it had that kind of meaning? I see...”

“Is this time to be impressed? Do the same and discover the relatedness of all kinds of matters in your daily life. If you direct your eyes to the depths of your history without sticking to the surface, I guarantee that your world will broaden much more richly.”

“Then what about the chrysoprase of just now?”

As I took a stab at arousing his enthusiasm, the volubly beautiful shop owner smiled gorgeously. I felt that this guy would stay in a good mood forever just as long as I gave him sweets and let him talk about gems. And I liked Richard’s face the most when he was in his best mood.

“This word is taken from the Greek language. It consists of two separate words, ‘chrysos’ and ‘prasinon’. The meaning of chrysos is ‘gold’. The bright golden that can be seen showing through within the green was associated with gold. Prasinon means...”

What happened? His enunciation suddenly got bad.

When I urged him to continue, Richard looked down at the stone in his hand with a dull look and sighed a little. “The meaning of prasinon... comes close to plants such as chives or green onions.”

“Ooh—!”

As I clapped my hands together with an “all paths lead to ramen”, Richard made a face like he had just woken up from a nightmare. What is it? Please laugh.

“In any case, the mental attitude of trying to master something is commendable. I pray that your efforts will bear fruit.”

“Thanks, thanks. Well, will you eat ramen after all?”

Mr. Richard, the jeweler, looked at me with an awfully sharp gaze. What was that face? His facial expression looked like the usual nuance that he was growing fond of my foolishness had increased to about 30%. Did he intend to poke fun on me?

“Yes, yes, I will.”

“What do you prefer? Like miso or soy sauce?”

“A large helping of green onions and garlic. And even then, it is good to grate raw garlic and put in it.”

“That’s a pretty hardcore taste for someone who works with close-contact service business.”

“Which is why this is not something I can eat whenever. I eat it carefully by myself when I do not have to meet anyone the next day.”

As my eyes widened, the beautiful storekeeper raised his chin arrogantly. Did he want to say that this didn’t suit his image or had it just unfolded anew?

“How was it, did you enjoy the so-called ‘gap’?”

“No, it’s not like that’s the main goal.”

“Hah?”

“I can’t invite anyone for a French cuisine restaurant or a high-class sweets store, but if it’s a ramen shop, there’s lots of them near my university. If you like, why don’t we go eat together next time? They’re mostly shops that seem better to drop by wearing a t-shirt rather than a suit, but I wanna try chatting with you while eating this kind of junky stuff every now and then.”

“For you to discover a new unexpected thing about me, you mean?”

“I just wanna get along with you better.”

For an instant, Richard’s facial expression strained hard. What was up? His face looked like he hadn’t known better and bit a sour pickled plum or something. As I furrowed my brows, his blue eyes narrowed, looking glum, while he closed the jewel box with a click and stood up.

“Ah, show me more. It wasn’t nearly enough—”

“The chrysoprase is said to have the power to put the balance of mind and body in order, as well as make it spring up comfortably. Perhaps because its fresh grass color is a reminder of spring. Isn’t this stone unnecessary for you, since you are always in a festive mood?”

“Why’re you angry?”

“I am not.”

“Shouldn’t you take a better look at the chrysoprase?”

“Thank you for the unnecessary meddling.”

Leaving me with things to say, Richard disappeared into the back room. Was it that bad to invite him to a ramen shop? It wasn’t a good idea to let him stay angry, so I voluntarily prepared two cups of royal milk tea in the kitchenette. Having come out into the reception room, Richard said nothing more than the expected as he drank a tea that had a little more sugar in it than usual.

After the customer of that morning had gone home, Richard showed me the chrysoprase once again. Upon a better look, I understood the meaning of that naming, which I couldn’t think of as anything more than a mystery at first. Didn’t the people of ancient times think that this was a plant born from gold? The uneven surface was smooth and wavy like an organic body. Chrysoprase. Gold and green onions. Even though there were several gems in this world, I would probably never forget the name of this one. If I ever got to eat ramen with Richard someday, I would definitely bring up this stone.

“Do you remember that talk?” I would ask.

[sou-ver-2-0]

Writing Master List

I love writing analysis and fanfiction for Your Turn to Die. Here, you can find links to all my writing. Spoilers abound!

Meta I’m Proudest Of

Why Calling It “Logic Versus Emotion” Makes Sense

Sou Hiyori and Kanna’s Sister Parallels

I was wondering why Sou had a zero percent survival rate…

What is Sou proudest of?

What is Kanna proudest of?

What is Keiji proudest of?

Unpopular opinion about Keiji

What are your thoughts on Nao as a character?

Why pushing Fake Reko is logical and sparing her is emotional

Shin vs. Kanna choice: each “valid in its own way”

That was a real comedy of errors on your part, Shin

What “Things” did Shin learn at Sou’s House?

If I could kill Keiji to save both Kanna and Shin...

Thoughts on queer-coded villains and Shin

I make Shin say five nice things about Keiji (not meta, but important)

Some jumbled thoughts about Redemption, and Part 2

How different do you think the story would be if Shin were a girl?

Theories

“Midori is Meister’s son,” and other Sou theories <- my favorite theory!

The Hades Incident, the Present Death Game, and the Role of the Man from the Memorandum

Rambling about Meister Family Theory

A Quick Keiji Theory

I’m staking my pride on this one: Keiji won’t die in the coffin. Part 1 and Part 2

Implications of Kanna being Original Sou’s blood relative

The Mystery of Anzu’s High Survival Rate

Fanfiction

My username is Florencetheflowerfairy on Ao3! Any fanfiction I write will be tagged “my fanfiction” on here.

I haven’t yet posted this to Ao3.

My fanart

Soup Hiyori

Happy birthday Kanna!

All of my meta

How does Sou deal with pain?

When does Sou feel safest? What would others change about him?

What would the others change about Sara?

What do I wish to see happen with Sou?

Chapter 3 Prediction: Sara will lose Keiji

Sou & Keiji’s relationship thoughts; and Personal Headcanons

Opinion on Midori / Original Sou; and Opinion on YTTS

Thoughts on Kurumada’s Partnership with Sou and Kanna

What calms Sou when he’s upset?

What does Sou wish he could change about himself?

Who would be Sou’s favorite fictional character?

What would EVERYONE change about Sou?

How did both Sous do in school?

Who does Sou want to please the most?

How would Kanna spend her money?

What calms Kai when he’s upset? How does Kai deal with pain?

How does Kanna do in school? What’s something Original Sou lost that he would love to have back?

What’s something I wish had happened with Joe?

Unpopular opinion about Q-Taro

What’s something I wish had happened with the Yabusame siblings?

Unpopular opinion about Kai

Unpopular opinion about Original Sou

Who would I vote for in the Second Main Game?

Laughing at Q-Taro in Russian Roulette

Speaking of “I laugh at inappropriate moments in YTTD”

Math Saga (Collection of Theorizing Posts about the Percentage Papers)

Why Kanna can’t take the scarf

More Scarf Meta

I think Shin should fake amnesia in the zaniest way possible, please

Thoughts on Mr. Policeman is Joe’s Dad Theory, Parts 1 and 2 (Some of these thoughts are outdated because I don’t think Keiji knew Joe’s last name in the beginning.)

If I ever seem too harsh on Keiji, please keep in mind

We can hear Joe’s music theme in Midori’s music theme

Thoughts on the Floor Masters

Did Shin send the Sacrifice Card to Joe?

What if Joe had one month to live?

What is Original Sou proud of?

Reading Shin as Queer

Alice and Pain

What would other people change about Kai?

Could Shin and Keiji’s roles switch?

What was Keiji like before the shooting?

I encouraged Sister to vote for Kai in Practice Round

How does Original Sou/Midori sleep?

Who do you think Keiji would bond with the most?

Analysis of Sara’s vote in the Practice Vote

Massacre Ending Thoughts

Thoughts on Naosara?

Dummy Bullet Saga (How did Shin know about dummy bullets??)

Keiji is my Confront Character

What will the fallout with the dummies look like?

Keiji seeing the percentage papers is the simplest answer IMO

Thoughts on Keialice

Thoughts on Joesara

Shin Tsukimi could have DIED ON HIS BIRTHDAY?!

Shin is Poor! Part 1 and Part 2 and Part 3

One more funny story, on a walk with Sister...

How would Shin have fared in the Death Game without the Sou persona?

Is Shin too good for this world? (Reaction to above meta)

How would Joe, Kai, and Mishima approach the Second Main Game vote?

What do you think would be Shin’s partnership ability?

Thoughts on AI personalities

Reaction to ‘Sara gets the Sage Card’ Theory

Have you considered the implications of 0.0% vs. 0%?

Foolish Sara AU

When does the Death Game take place, and how long are they there?

Shin’s relationships with Reko and Gin

“When you drink, you gotta be careful not to get swallowed up yourself.”

Judge Keiji by the fact that he’s acting like a cop

I’ve switched to calling him Shin! 

What was Shin like in the years after Original Sou died, but before the Death Game?

Headcanons and Shin, Kanna, and trading tokens

Analyzing Shin and Sara’s doll placements in Safalin’s lab

Shin’s reaction to Sara’s “Haven’t we always been the bestest of friends?”

Scenario: Keymaster Kanna takes Shin’s key necklace instead of his scarf

Artists should draw Kanna grieving Shin however they like

Nao and Shin’s friendship

“I happen to like people with nice personalities”

I’m just putting these here so I can find them if necessary: 1, 2, 3

What if Shin thinks Sara is an adult?

Shrodinger’s Lock Saga (Many theories came from speculating about Asu-Naro’s weird locks in Sara’s first trial!)

Shin emulating Sou, oh no

Some thoughts on Shin and Alice, and the darker side to their relationship

A Serious Analysis of the Collarbone Sprites (& other Shin sprites)

Midori and Joe Sprite Parallels

Do you think Ranmaru is more or less reliable than Keiji?

Ranmaru and Keiji Parallels and Thoughts on Keiji flirting

Ranmaru and Keiji reacting to Joe

Out of the cast, who do you think is most likely to be the mastermind?

Miley vs. Gashu thoughts

Megumi Sasahara theories and headcanons

I love that this game’s heart is so earnest

AU where Shin has the Sacrifice, and he can’t pick Kanna

Theory/Headcanon: Sou-Shin-Sara-Kanna three year age gaps

Scenery Paintings in the Gallery

Kanna and Original Sou Parallel - “creepy smiles”

Undertale Parallels, and making Original Sou sympathetic

Kai and Original Sou Parallels

Fic ideas: Green-haired characters, and Shin + Sara Friendship

I love Fake Reko so much!

What if the decision to push Fake Reko affects what happens with the dummies?

Follow-up to above meta about Fake Reko

What if Joe died in his First Trial?

Reaction to Keiji Discourse about flirting, Part 2

Reactions to Fem!Shin:

Kanna’s perspective, Bath Scene Shin, More Bath Scene, Keiji flirting with Shin, I DON’T CARE HOW SEXY HE IS, Am I a lesbian

Will the dummies want to fill in for their counterparts’ lives?

Q-Taro Pacman Sister Theory

Poison Stinger analysis and Rio Ranger’s characterization

Megumi returns as a doll theory

More thoughts on “Back Up Candidates” Theory

Thoughts on AIs representing younger personalities

What if the current Death Game is another simulation?

Shin and Q-Taro ages musings

Shin and Sara ages musings

Honorifics Analysis: Part 1 and Part 2

Everyone’s music preferences headcanons

Shin’s thoughts on Gin in Logic Route

What if Shin died and Kai survived in the Second Main Game?

Imagine Trans Kanna

Thoughts on the names Sara “suspects” when learning that there is a human from Asu-Naro among us

Why doesn’t Shin challenge Keiji for lying that he’s a detective at the start?

Shipping

Which death hurt you the most?

Who do you think is overrated? Who do you think is suspicious?

Shin-Sou roleswap AU

Did you ever notice how Shin is crying during the First Main Game?

How do you think the characters sleep?

What if Shin became Sara’s ally instead of Keiji?

Seven Deadly Sins in YTTD

Song Analyses

“Rat” by Penelope Scott

“Villainous Thing” by Shayfer James

“Nearly Witches (Ever Since We Met)” by Panic! at the Disco

“Butterflies and Hurricanes” by Muse

"House of memories" by Panic! at the Disco

More fun posts

Sister tag (All submissions by my sister)

Sometimes I get self-conscious for loving Sou Hiyori so much

Thinking about how our Sou Hiyori is a queer-coded villainous type

Picrew of the Greenblings

Fannish ramblings and Speculation about Voting for Keiji in 2nd Main Game

Sou has a halo in the manga

Sprite Parallels between Kanna, Sara, and Sou

Confession: Character development is more important than plot twists

Star Wars KOTOR musings

My Favorite Thing about Sou and Sara meeting

Another Greenblings Picrew

How to roast my fave

Are the greenblings next to each other??

Me feeling soft about Sou x Alice and Sou x Kai in spite of myself

I’m too much of a nerd for tumblr

Picrew of Green-haired characters and Sara

Cute Kurumada and Kanna headcanons

Do it for Nao

Happy birthday Keiji, from Sou

Danganronpa Thoughts as of 10/22/20

Top 3 emotional moments

Comparing Eye Sizes

I’m all caught up with 3-1A as of 10/24/20

Link to my “Shin attacking Inbox” edit

I am my PFP

“Disclosure” apparently means “Coming Out”

What did you name your Midori?

Do you think Shin was a gamer?

PMMM Thoughts: Logic vs Emotion

Why would you make Shin a tank?!

Dracula is Sou and Shin is Renfield

Among Us Headcanon

I just think Kanna having the Keymaster first is good drama

So long you fucking fascist (posted on 11/7/20)

Please don’t send me leaks!

Also how are we going to tag spoilers...? (11/12/20)

oh no I’m getting sentimental

Shin and Sara’s confrontation over the smartphone remains my favorite thing ever

Reactions to “I make Shin say five nice things about Keiji”: 1, 2, 3

A Rewarding part of my blog

My undying love for Britney Spears

“Ahaha, I’m glad you remembered my name.”

I love this picrew for the Greenblings

“Saw” and “Cage” on Google Translate

What if there were two Gonbee Yamadas?

Put them in meme boxes

Keiji’s emo eyeliner

Shin can smash something! and part 2

Acrostic Poem for Sou Hiyori

Midori’s canon voice

“Sou” puns

Time sensitive questions!! 1 and 2

All the characters’ ages

Do you think Shin swears?

Let’s not pit bears and twinks against each other!

Here’s how Shindemption can still win

tfw you draw fanart in time for Kanna’s birthday

Keiji accuses Shin of breaking Mishima’s monitor even though he KNOWS Shin is innocent

Q-Taro and Shin college AU

Kugie’s ghost haunting Keiji

Christmas 2020: Part 1 and Part 2

Picrew of Shin and Sou, High School Days~

I struggle to write villains

I play Villains Bingo with Shin

…

This list will be updated sporadically as I write more! You can always use the “mine” tag to find any worthwhile original post I make.

Please feel free to talk to me about YTTD anytime! I love hearing from you all! It keeps me motivated and makes me happy to meet people!

[cutepresea]

Would you mind explaining what happened between the girl and Chris?

*inhales deeply*

Oh boy. Gonna put this under a cut because I know some people aren't going to want to read about someone trying to force someone else to kiss them, especially with that type of age gap.

So Prisma Illya...definitely has some elements that are a bit...uh...yeah (look, I dropped the series early on, so that should tell you how I feel about it in general). Crossing over with Symphogear brought over a brand of humor and fanservice that isn't exactly compatible with the way it's typically written and you can tell in the interactions.

Somewhat unrelated to the ask, one of the first things Illya does is wake up and try to kiss Kirika thinking she's Shirou (Illya's brother in the series, but tries to get away with the "but he's adopted so they're not actually related despite them being raised as siblings, it's totally cool right?" logic so she's constantly trying to get with him...blah). Kirika pushes her away and the subject gets dropped.

So yes...the Chris and Chloe thing. It happens twice. Once in the event and again in the Memoria. Chloe tries to force herself onto Chris to kiss her and Chris the entire time is just begging her to stop pulling out every means of convincing her she can think of. "You're an elementary school kid" (reminder that Chris is currently 18) "That's supposed to be done between two adults that love each other" "We're both girls"

*groans at the last one*

It goes on for entirely too long and they try to play it for laughs. Using Chris of all characters makes it doubly gross to me, considering her backstory.

Thankfully the kiss doesn't even happen. The first time Chris runs away freaking out and the second time Kirika interrupts them. Chloe then sets her sights on Kirika who ends up fainting.

Anyway it's just weird bringing that brand of humor into a series that doesn't use sexual assault for laughs.

Not that that's the only type of humor in the event. There was a silly moment involving Kirika early into it:

Kirika: "--Right, right. And then a monster just like this one attacked us and......"

Monster: "......"

Kirika: "......"

Kirika: "W-Why is it here?!"

[sylvies-chen]

Welp, I loved your the last response to my ask, so here goes again! You’re totally welcome to ignore or hold off if you’re exhausted or not in the mood... but chenford prompt #2:

“You don't even know me, it's only a feeling

You gotta believe me

Darling, I'm just saying, there ain't no shame in

Admitting you're lonely.”

- “Pieces” by Declan J. Donovan

Thank you, I’m glad you guys are liking these! I’ve gotten a swarm of requests but they’ve been super fun to write for so I’m definitely not complaining lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one, I went for one of my favourite tropes!

//

Lucy knows better than to cross professional boundaries. 

At least she thinks she does until one night when she has to go on an overnight stakeout with Tim. 

In a hotel. 

Normally they just wait for the suspect out in their designated undercover car, drinking coffee to stay awake and alert. But there aren’t any good vantage points from a safe distance and the deal is going down in the hotel anyway, at a time during the weekend that they aren’t yet sure of. It’s an important meeting from some hotshot criminal named Miles Lerner, allegedly happening at the hotel, so Grey sends them there overnight to take pictures and gather intel first during their stakeout before making the bust. 

They arrive at the hotel late into the night, check in under false names, make sure they’re in their plain clothes. The receptionist seems disinterested, hardly looking up from her computer as she asks, “Would you like to book a room?” 

“Yes, please,” Lucy starts but Tim taps her on the shoulder and draws her attention to the hotel room that their suspect is walking into. He gives her a look, which she picks up on and asks in an innocent tone, “Do you possibly have a room down that hallway? I like to stay close to the vending machines, we never pack enough food.” She pats Tim’s shoulder and Tim goes with it. If they’re going to keep their cover, they might as well make it believable. 

“Yeah… babe,” he stutters. He looks nervous as he wraps his arm around her waist and puts on a smile that looks way too forced. Lucy finds it kind of adorable, has to actively stop herself from picturing their life together as a married couple. 

It’s not that she wants to. She doesn’t have feelings for Tim. At least, she doesn’t think she does. But Emmett had broken up with her mere weeks ago and Tim had been there to comfort her. The only logical explanation is that she feels emotional and lonely after a breakup and Tim was the first person she’s seen. She chalks it up to that, tries to brush off whatever residual feelings she thinks might be there, and smiles back at the hotel receptionist. 

“That can be arranged.” The receptionist types into her computer, squints at the screen and then passes them a set of room key cards. “There you go. Your room will be right down that hall, first one on the left.” 

“Thank you,” Lucy smiles. She and Tim make their way to their room, luckily right across from their suspect’s room. 

Tim fidgets with the key, the door only unlocking after the third try. They walk in and throughout all of the beautiful things about the room, the big window, the clean sheets, the cute vintage pictures on the wall, Lucy and Tim’s eyes are both drawn to the one thing they can’t ignore. 

The one bed sitting in the middle of their room. 

“Shit,” Tim curses, “You didn’t think to mention that we needed two beds?” 

“Well, it was a little hard to concentrate with your hand around my waist. How is this even my fault? You were there too, you know.” she whacks his chest with the back of her hand, dropping her bags on the table in their room.

“Okay. Well… I can take the couch then.” 

“No no, I should take it,” she argues sympathetically. “I’m shorter, I have an actual chance of fitting on the couch.” 

“Okay, if you insist,” he caves in after a while. He puts his own bags on the bed, unpacks the duffle bag with their work gear. His phone starts ringing, so he takes the call. Lucy doesn’t know who it is but figures it’s Grey from the fact that Tim uses his professional voice as he works his way through a series of the regular “yes, I understand” and “got it” and “okay, thanks”. He hangs up after a few minutes, turns to Lucy who’s waiting in anticipation. 

“So?” 

“That was Grey,” he explains. “He says there’s new intel saying the drop isn’t happening until tomorrow morning but we have a good view of their room from here so he’s not pulling us out. We can relax for now, get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be busy.” 

Lucy nods, looking around the room nervously. Tim goes into the bathroom first to change, and then Lucy goes after him. It’s weird, seeing each other in such casual clothing. Lucy’s pyjamas consist solely of an oversized graphic tee of Jimin from BTS and a pair of shorts that are much shorter than what is considered professional. Tim tosses her one of the blankets from the bed and she spreads it out on the couch, slithering into it as she settles into the couch that has now become her bed. 

“This guy we’re after, Lerner. He’s married, has a wife and kids. You think they know that he’s a major drug dealer?” She asks him from her couch, stares up at the ceiling as he gets into his own bed. 

“I doubt he brings his shady business back home with him but I’m sure his wife suspects something. We tried bringing her in for questioning years ago without telling her why but that just scared this guy off. Went off the radar for months.” 

“Still, it must be nice to have someone worried for you, wondering if you’re going to be there when you get home…” She drifts off, thinks of how nice it would be. Of how much she misses that, how much she wants to find the one. 

“You’re really taking this breakup with Emmett to heart, aren’t you?” He sits up in his bed momentarily, rolls over and props himself up with his elbow to face her while looking at her sympathetically. “Listen, Chen, he didn’t deserve you. You’re… you’re good. And smart. And if he doesn’t see that, then you’re better off without him.” 

“Thanks,” she replies shyly. “It’s not about Emmett, really. I just… Dating is fun, sure. But I want the one, you know? That guy who you feel so lucky just to wake up next to. The smiling like an idiot and the fun banter and the exciting stuff. I want the whole package, you know? It just gets… lonely, sometimes.” She’s still staring up at the ceiling and so is he now, the two of them sitting in silence. “Whatever. It’s just stupid pipe dream,” she brushes it off with a weak laugh, “We should get some sleep.” 

He opens his mouth to say something but shuts it again. “Goodnight, Lucy,” he settles on eventually, his voice low and raspy, soothing to her soul. 

“Goodnight,” she replies in almost a whisper. The word feels so intimate, so sensitive coming out of her lips. And it does while coming out of his mouth well. She doesn’t know what to think of these feelings stirring in her stomach, so she turns the lamp next to the couch and the whole room goes dark as she rests her head against the pillows of the couch. 

An hour later, Lucy’s still awake, and just. 

The pillows are really hard. 

It’s very noticeable, combined with the weird, grainy texture of the fabric and the tacky tassels dangling in her face. She tries to fall asleep, tries to ignore all of the factors contributing to her discomfort. But then, she’s glancing over subtly at Tim’s bed, and just. Ok. She’s not the type of person to be bold and make a move. And that’s not what she’s doing here at all. But it’s a really, really uncomfortable couch, and she just wants to get some shuteye. “Tim? Are you awake?” She whispers quietly in case he isn’t. 

“... Yes,” he mumbles back in the dark. “I can’t fall asleep. Lucy sits up on the couch, sees him staring at the ceiling as he talks and then moving his gaze to her. 

“Me neither,” she replies. Silence falls over the room again. After a moment, Lucy gets up off the couch, tiptoes her way to the bed and leans over the side of the bed that Tim isn’t occupying. 

It’s just a bed, she tells herself. Figures it’s for professional purposes, that she needs sleep to perform at her best. She knows she’s lying to herself, but at this point, she’s too tired and, quite frankly, too lonely to care. 

Tim turns on his side, faces her now and watches her with confusion as she crawls into the bed. “Lucy—”

“Just… shut up, okay?” She pulls the blankets over her, turns on her side so that her back is facing Tim. She leaves a big gap between them, making sure to just focus on getting a good night’s sleep. 

“Okay,” he whispers. Then, as if he purposely tries to put a wrench in Lucy’s plans, Tim closes the gap between them and wraps an arm around her side from behind her. His head is snuggled into the crook of her neck, his breathing slow and steady, and just. Lucy doesn’t even know if she’s breathing, has to remind herself to inhale and exhale. Her heart’s racing fast just from his touch. 

Maybe it’s that she’s lonely. Maybe she’s just that she’s sleep-deprived and out of her mind. She doesn’t know. But as Lucy feels his breathing on her neck and shoulders, melts under his tight, steady embrace, she feels more with him than she had with Emmett, or with Nolan, or with any other guy, really. 

She learns that falling asleep is a lot easier when you’re wrapping up in Tim Bradford’s arms.

[teenytinystorage]

Time For Class

Summary: Logan has no idea about modern slang whatsoever. He can’t keep up with it, and it’s been this way long enough for Roman, Virgil, and Patton to decide to take this matter into their own hands in a way Logan would appreciate: traditional classroom teaching.

Genre: Is confusion a genre?? (Fluff + comedy)

Pairings: None

Warnings: None

Enjoy! :)

-

Logan is the embodiment of logic. Always has been, doesn’t plan on stopping any time soon.

He’s always focused on the rational, quantifiable aspects of life. Anything that can be understood through chronological, complex thought, he’s there for. Analysis, pondering, critical thinking, finding the use of the irrational in the rationality of reality, and hey, he’s even tried his hand at literary analysis before (granted, he’s more of a sci-fi nerd than a fantasy type as Roman is and therefore has a very limited scope of book analysis, but he’s tried it nonetheless. Of course, he’s always been there for Thomas during school book reports).

So, considering that, it makes sense why Logan has no grasp of modern language, otherwise known to him as contemporary slang words, confusingly originated words that fall in and out of usage faster than he could ever imagine.

Yes, he tries to understand, and he copies down the meanings on his cards, but he doesn’t understand them, not to mention he’s very clearly not up-to-date (see: his reaction to Roman saying “sksksk” during last Wednesday’s game night. Yeah, not fun for anyone).

And the words don’t even make sense! How can a broken plant pot be a “mood”? A plant pot doesn’t have emotions, it can’t have emotions! It’s abiotic and incapable of even breathing for crying out loud! What is an “oof”? It sounds like the sound someone would make getting punched in the stomach. So does it express pain? If it does, then why is it thrown around aimlessly with no regard to physical pain, or any pain at all?!

All of this to say, Logan does not get slang words one bit.

Considering how trendily worded the other sides are, this confusion often leads to quite a bit of trouble.

Roman and Virgil would be quoting vines in the living room, goofing around and the such.

“You’re not coming to my tea party?” Virgil started.

“Bethany, I mADe bISCuiTS!” Roman yelled, causing him and Virgil to burst out with laughter.

And Logan would be staring from the kitchen. He’d be in utter perplexion, numbing confusion, unknowing of what kind of language the two were conversing in. (And yes, Logan doesn’t know iconic vine references even though Thomas was a Viner. Don’t ask, I don’t know how either.)

Was it some sort of secret language they had between both of them? Logan knew that twins often made up languages between each other like Roman and Remus had when they were younger. But Virgil and Roman weren’t twins (at least, not to Logan’s knowledge) and this didn’t seem like an unintelligible language. It’s in English, it’s complete sentences (for the most part), but it has no meaning. How does that make sense?

Then Patton would come downstairs, and Roman would yell out his name in excitement, and Patton would stumble because he’d be startled at the yelling. He’d turn to Roman and smile childishly, joking “Stopppp! I could’ve dropped my croissant!” and they’d all burst out into laughter. Virgil would add a “That’s a mood” and Roman would reply “Weird flex, but okay” and Patton would add an occasional “Oop, looked like I dropped the hydro flask on that one!” and they’d just say all of these silly little things that made no sense to the poor nerd.

He tried, he really tried to keep up. But the words, as the rising tidal wave of a tsunami would, didn’t follow his precisely planned schedule, and they often swarmed and overwhelmed him. And this, of course, led to him having a vast disconnect between him and the other sides, at least in this case in the language department.

At dinners, the three would talk and throw in their little modern mantras, and Logan would just be forced to stare down at his plate in confusion. He had tried asking about them before, and Patton did try to be helpful, but Roman and Virgil’s often “What? You haven’t heard of __?” steered him off that path.

So now, Logan would be forced to find these meanings for himself, unknowing of what they meant at the time and being forcibly outdated in all that was slang.

And you know what? Roman and Virgil were tired of it.

Not just of how Logan never knew any vines (Logan, Thomas was a Viner. How do you not know about Wednesday, my dudes?), but how confused he always looked. He clearly didn’t like being that way, and Virgil and Roman didn’t like seeing him that way either. All the sides already had enough conflicts on the daily, why does slang have to be another source of strife? Especially for Logan, who already has a lot on his plate, who doesn’t need to have another thing separating him from everyone else?

(And Patton cared for Logan on principle, so it’s no wonder he wanted to bridge that gap too.)

It was no surprise, then, that while Logan was walking through the living room, staring down at his shoes, thinking about nothing in particular, wandering to nowhere, Roman and Virgil appeared in front of him.

“Oh, salutations,” Logan raised his head and politely greeted them.

“What’s poppin’, buddy chum pal friend?” Virgil answered.

And there it is again. The wave of confusion, drenching him entirely. What is popping? Are they making popcorn? Why did Virgil have to repeat so many synonyms? Buddy, chum, pal, and friend all mean the same thing. That’s unnecessary to use those words so frequently--

Roman snapped right in front of Logan’s face as he started to space out.

Logan’s gaze gripped onto Roman’s determined expression.

“This is what I’m talking about! Logan.”

Logan watched.

“I see that every time we start to talk in some lavish lingo--”

“Nice,” Virgil interrupted.

“--Thanks. Every time we talk this way, you don’t understand a single bit of it. You’re more dated than a catfishing Tinder enthusiast.”

“And we’re here to fix that,” Virgil raised his head.

Logan’s lips grew into a slight pursed expression. “And how are you planning on achieving that? Language is so malleable, it changes each and every second we use it--”

Before he could finish his thought, Logan was summoned down into a classroom desk, complete with an immovable chair, colored pens, sharpened pencils, and index cards (all neatly organized too, how nice).

Roman and Virgil stood in front of him, now dressed in polos and ties. Roman wore a gold and red striped tie and a white polo shirt. Virgil was in a purple polo shirt and a black tie. Roman was on the left and Virgil was on the right. There was a chalkboard between them, and Roman held a long red glove hand pointer in his right hand. Virgil leaned against the side of the board.

Logan looked around, still perplexed, if not more than he was before. He stared down at the pens, pencils, cards, then back up at the board. “What? What is--”

“Greetings class! Today’s gonna be a one day lesson of a one-day session all about slang! Featuring me, Mr. Sanders, not to be confused with Mr. Sanders over there,” Roman pointed towards Virgil, who raised up a waving hand. “We’ll also have a few guest speakers too, so try not to fall asleep during the lecture!”

“I’m sorry, I still don’t get what’s going on here?” Logan interrupted.

Just then, Patton leapt up from behind the chalkboard, in his usual blue polo with an added cream-colored vest and a white tie. “We’re teaching you some slang since we want to make you feel included with us!”

“Paaaaatton! You were supposed to be a guest speaker!” Roman pouted.

“Oh— gosh, sorry!”

Logan’s face softened. Slang, an aspect of language he didn’t understand, bringing him closer to the other sides? How strange.. and sentimental.

“Oh, uhm, that’s very kind of you all,” is all that leapt out of his throat that was swelling with appreciation.

“Yeah yeah, save the questions for after we’re done talking,” Virgil waved his hand and stood up from his leaning. “We’ve got a lot to teach, so try not to fall behind. Or fall at all, really, but that’s just coordination for you.” Virgil grinned.

Roman’s face lit up with a smile that wrinkled the edges of his eyes.

Patton beamed, his face igniting like a stricken match.

And, for a brief moment, a look of wistful admiration graced itself upon Logan’s face.

Logan then grabbed a pen and uncapped it, swiping an index card from the stack and setting it in front of him. His face became stern with focus. “Alright, where do we start?”

Virgil smirked coyly. “First up: vine references.”

-

[kikithedeceiver]

I have read over these 6 asks over and over.

And dear anon. As much as you speak you are not an anti...

...you defend the antis’ actions.

There are many reasons I say you antis have ruined the fandom and scared everyone else to the point they’re scared to even contribute anything. And you may not have contributed to these actions, defending them makes you just as bad. Asking us to understand you while trying to not understand shipper’s reasons to stop them is just one-sided too.

I did not want to tag this in the ‘Kagepro’ and ‘Kagerou Project’ tags, but it’s getting worse since after these asks came in. 

Shall we?

1. The Problematic ships

1.1. KanoKido is incest, so it's problematic

Kano and Kido who grew up together since childhood, lived in an orphanage together with Seto before they got foster cared by the Tateyama’s. They’re not adopted (a thing Yen Press did wrong in their official translation of the 5th novel), and they never took the Tateyama’s family name (more explanation here).

Kano and Kido are not blood related.

Kano and Kido did not change their surnames to Tateyama.

So they’re not officially siblings.

So it’s not incest.

Even in the guide, instead of siblings, they’re referred as childhood friends.

That’s why shippers ship KanoKido to begin with. We see them as childhood friends who grew up to have feelings for each other. At least for Kano, it was revealed he had feelings for Kido in the final light novel and manga.

However, this does not mean we’re telling the antis to stop seeing them as siblings. You guys see them as siblings. Okay, fine. It’s your choice. Ship them with someone else? Go for it.

However, incest is between those who are blood-related and/or share the same surname. Since KanoKido doesn’t have either of those two, then slapping in the word ‘incest’ is incorrect.

We are not saying you are not allowed to see them as siblings who grew up together. We’re just saying just because you guys see them - headcanon them as having more sibling relationship due to the obscured boundaries of them being siblings does not mean it is canonically incest to begin with. Yes, there are different cultures, but there is also respecting other cultures point of view on the fictional characters. And that the series is set in Japan, not where your culture is from. Therefore, attacking shippers on shipping them just because we don’t share your view is not only an immature, but hurtful move.

In fact. I want to mention something on the definition of incest.

As you can see, it means anything sexual. And in our case right now, ‘sexual acts between siblings’.

Now, let’s say the antis sees KanoKido as siblings. Okay?

Then how, is this fanart I requested from an artist and used on my Tumblr blog seen as sexual? This is Kano petting Kido with kitty ears and tail. Is petting head considered sexual now? Can antis not just see it as Kano teasing Kido’s kitty ears and tail? Can antis not see it as what they all claim to be, a sibling teasingly petting their sibling’s kitty ears and tail?

Antis made the claim of seeing Kano and Kido as siblings, however they feel revolted from a fanart of the two together like this, as if this looks sexual. No kissing or whatever. Just Kano teasingly pet Kido’s kitty features, that can be interpreted as a sibling teasing his sibling’s features she’s embarrassed over if the antis choose to.

But no, the antis do not have the ability to see them as siblings, despite their claim. They are not able to do that with any fanart with Kano and Kido together, nor with any manga panel and frames with Kano and Kido together..

In my honest opinion, I believe the antis are just allergic to seeing Kano and Kido together in anything, even when they are just standing together. With symptoms of them being nasty in the fandom and hurt others with no care.

I have more to say about the antis, but I will leave it for later. Moving on.1.2. HibiMomo is paedophilia, so it’s problematic

Let's remind ourselves what the word paedophilia is, shall we?

1.2. HibiMomo is paedophilia, so it’s problematic

Let's remind ourselves what the word paedophilia is, shall we?

If you all remember correctly...

Momo is 16. She's not an adult.

Hibiya is 12. He's not an adult.

Japan's current law for age of adulthood is 20 (will be lowered to 18 in the future...oh look), they're not 20 nor 18 yet so none of them are adults.

So how is this paedophilia? How is HibiMomo considered paedophilia when both of them are under the age of being an adult?

Unless the antis are grossed out on age gaps, fair enough. But first of all, slapping the word 'paedophilia' just because of age gap between two children who are not adults is, how should I say it, idiotic. As the word have lost a lot of meaning when it is always misused because of the antis’ own discomfort without trying to think about the true meaning and the real reason of the discomfort.

Why do you hear people say they sick of antis screaming about problematic ships? Because of the misuse of the word 'paedophilia.' And I should have mentioned earlier, ‘incest’ as well.

Furthermore, the issue with age gaps. Okay, I get it. Hibiya is younger than Momo. Boy younger than girl. Real weird for them to be dating. I get told a lot on dating a guy older than me by my ma as I grew up.

However, here’s the thing. 4 years age gap is not that much of a difference big difference. Your parents, grandparents, teacher's partner, the couple living next door, and the married person walking down the street will have age gaps with their loved ones, and possibly way bigger than just 4 years anyway. 4 years apart when it’s between adults are not an uncommon thing. As for the guy younger than the girl. Well I also know there are girls who married guys younger than them. I question it a bit, but it’s not bothering me, I’m not them. Their choice and life. And hey, they get along and really love each other! Good for them!

So the point is, I believe the HibiMomo shippers are not making Hibiya and Momo full on dating at the age of 12 & 16 respectively. Because okay, if they’re kissing already, then it’s a bit over my limit for them already. And I don’t see them doing that with Hibiya still 12. But Hibiya and Momo can be seen holding hands and hugging each other, which can be seen as a platonic romance, just them with a close relationship, with Momo leading Hibiya the way through the big city and cheer him up. And that’s kinda cute. I believe the shippers are more focused on the developing friendship and support since Hibiya and Momo just met (like how Momo tries to cheer up Hibiya in Otsukimi Recital), then possibly start developing relationships once Hibiya is older, with both he and Momo as adults. Something like in this anthology.

The point is, yes, there are age gaps between a 12 year old boy and a 16 year old girl, but it’s not paedophillia when both of them are not even adults. The real discomfort is age gaps, with the word ‘paedophillia’ misused constantly. But the shippers see them more at the hand holding and hugging stage as Hibiya and Momo get to know and help each other. Nothing more that can be considered inappropriate.

So with HibiMomo shippers shipping them platonically while the characters are 12 &16, and shipping them romantically when they’re both legally adults, that’s not promoting paedophillia.

If it is, then dating someone who has an age gap and both not being legally adult can be considered paedophillia.

No school dates, everyone.

1.3. Additional notes – the double standards Other ships are just as problematic

I’ll be honest here. What I wanted to write is how the antis have double standards on the whole ‘incest’ and ‘paedophillia’ argument. I was going to mention other ships, mainly on any ship to do with Ayano and the Mekakushi Trio, but mainly on SetoMary because by antis’ logic, SetoMary should also be incest (Mary taken in by the Tateyamas in Manga Route 2) and paedophillia (Mary is a 140 year old medusa).

But just before I was going to post this, the antis actually did start dragging SetoMary into this.

Since SetoMary is also targeted by the antis, I’m afraid the 3/5 main ships in Kagerou Project have now gone down to something like this...

KanoKido, SetoMary, HibiMomo, KonoEne, ShinAya

The main ships the fandom can now only ship and enjoy is now down to 2/5 of the main ships (excluding all other ships like KidoMomo, MomoMary, KanoAya, KanoShin, etc). At this point, the fandom have many things to be careful about because how much the antis are screaming at everyone on how to enjoy things.

If the fandoms have so many antis make rules on ships they don’t like, then there’s nothing to enjoy in the fandom as it limits creativity, especially there’s hostility from antis everywhere in the fandom. Therefore, oppression as well.

2. Types of antis present

And since I talked about what the antis had done, I shall list other things antis do that can be considered oppressing other fans to draw and contribute to anything. With this, I shall also show you evidence I was able to gather with the help of my friends who are not as involved in fandom, but agree the antis are just toxic. There are censored out URLs because some of these happened in the past, and honestly, I don’t want those reading this to attack the antis with the toxicity the antis do to shippers.

2.1. KiKi The Hettie

This happened last year during January. Just last year. 2018. And all these attacks, honestly, it still annoys me with how much happened back then and is still happening in the fandom. KanoKido tag was constantly spammed with hate, unseen unless you’re blocked, or blocked by the antis, but that just makes them continue their vigilant hate spreading to make everyone stop posting KanoKido.

Getting anon hate. Having posts mock me and laughed off as a joke. And that it was considered harmless.

So honestly, I cannot believe the words “antis mean no harm.”

Especially this happened over a year ago, and this next thing happened recentlyin January.

2.2. Emy trying to stop all this shipping discourse

Emy, a Kagepro fanartist who is honestly a God send with her making “Ask the Kagepro characters” and taking in requests from askers. She keeps the Kagepro community alive with her drawing fanarts from the asks as well, which is rare to see. Just one year after that “KiKi the Hettie” thing happened, she was tired of the discourse going around. So she made a post to explain why it’s okay to have different opinions on shipping something, but not to be toxic over it

...however... 

Let’s just say, there’s no hope for the Kagepro fandom at this point with how much she was attacked when she tried to explain why it’s okay to ship the ships like KanoKido and HibiMomo, while still okay to ship other things. Antis explain themselves, and we understand and not telling them to stop shipping what their shipping. Instead just at least know there are KanoKido and HibiMomo shippers out there, and not full on attack them over their onesided beliefs and headcanons they considered to be completely correct.

2.3. Mockery in posts

Someone posted official Kagepro art by Sidu. Imagine the fans joy to reblog them, only when they found this post, they see this tag. With this, the OP is scaring the fans away to "fuck off and die.” And no, this cannot be brushed off as “antis meant no harm.” Telling someone to die is very offensive, intimidating to the point threatening them to not upset the antis with what they ship.

This is not just telling shippers to go away.

This is threatening the shippers on how to behave in the fandom and isolate them out if the shippers dare to do anything that supports their ship. And that the shippers have no right to like an official art.

And other than posts on official art, there’s also posts posting these in the ship’s tag.

Like I said earlier, the only way to not see these kinds of posts in the ship’s tag is either to be blocked, or blocking the by the antis. But when shippers go into the ships tag (or just searching), they probably see a post like if the shipper and the anti didn’t block each other.

If posts like this shippers off like this, this is just mocking them really. Make them feel wrong to like a ship because of an antis’ belief despite it is shown Kano liking Kido that way. And again, this makes the shippers be care of not totick off the antis just to keep themselves safe.

And it’s sickening how the antis do this and sees it as no harm. Honestly, it’s not funny.

There are more of these, but I’m not filling this replies with all the things antis posted.

2.4. Antis claiming to be healthy

Literally. Antis do that. 

If it’s so problematic, honestly, why are the antis still here? I know anyone can have headcanons, however KanoKido shippers, along with HibiMomo shippers, based their shippy feeling from what Jin provided. But calling what Jin did as problematic and disgusting, after he worked so hard and became homeless at one point, yet continued to provide Kagepro contents for the fandom, this is the thanks Jin gets.

Furthermore, other than this sort of asks. There’s this posts.

Antis calling themselves Jin. Calling people freaks.

And by calling out ‘anti-antis’, who’s trying to stop their toxic behaviour, just proves how much they do not welcome anyone else in the fandom unless they share the same belief as them. Anything we do is against them, so it is wrong in the antis’ eyes.

By telling the fandom only who is allowed, with those who oppose the antis should leave, that shows what the antis are doing. Controlling the fandom to their liking.

Oppressing.

2.5. Full on attacking on someone they blocked already

If any of you guys reading this had seen what’s been happening the past few days...

Openly saying they’re going to harass me unless I block them. Even though they blocked me.

By blocking me, they should have no other reasons to contact me.

And knowing this person don’t like KanoKido, and attacked Emy (yes, same person. For some reason they deleted their first blog), I have no reason to talk to them anyway. Instead, I wanted to enjoy our own contents without seeing any toxicity from the antis, and not be harassed. Not going out of my way to harass people in asks or making insulting posts to people whom I don’t like.

Unlike this person, who had to harass me for fun.

No one finds you funny, really.

And before everyone here are saying “KiKi! You should have block them!” Now listen, why should I block someone when they blocked me already. And even if they didn’t block me before then, they should know how to block me already since they can navigate through Tumblr to send me an ask. I am not their online babysitter to make their life easier. I am not anyone’s online babysitter. Just want to go online and enjoy my content in peace. This anti have their own methods to make their life on Tumblr easy as well. I would have never seen whatever they posted anyway since they blocked me.

They blocked me? I can’t see what they posted and they also can’t see what I posted. Okay, sounds good to me. I’m not going to stalk them. Moving on.

Furthermore, acting friendly with me with ‘please’ to block them, I honestly don’t comply to someone who was rude to me, my friends and shouting insulting things to us shippers in the first place. It would be like helping a bully after they made my friends and I miserable, yet they like “Yeah do this for me please?” And it is especially true when they’re harassing me after I said no.

No. Just no.

Also, since they reblogged my stuff relating to them, along with them sending me asks not just once, twice, but thrice. They’re just a cyberbully who find it fun to harass me.

2.6. Rule implementing

I mentioned this earlier with the problem with shipping. But other than antis making posts and asks to attack shippers, there is also another thing the antis seems to be doing to oppress the fandom. I’ve been here for a while, and I notice Kagepro event blogs having these rules like “no incest/ paedophilia ships”, “incest/paedophilia shippers don’t interact”, etc.

I understand if the antis don’t like the ships, but that is just scaring the fans away, making them not welcomed in not only the fandom, and in the ship. This includes past Kagepro Secret Santas events (saw one or two of those), and also the current Kagepro Zine, making the biggest double standard move I have ever seen.

From reading this, it is very obvious what kind of people are running the Zine. An event to express love for the Kagepro series, only to be told no ‘romantic relationship,’ and then instantly told exactly what they didn’t want to begin with.

“Not focused on the romantic relationship.” Oh okay.

“May see some more popular couples show up!” ...So yes to ships or...?

“We will not be allowing incestuous or pedophilic ships on our zine.” ...Oh.

Then what is it? No romantic ships at all?

Or yes to romantic ships, but no incestuous or pedophilic ships?

Because of these rules that appear in Tumblr blogs, this also contributes to why the fandom who wants to draw something feels like they’re being oppressed to the point too scared of doing anything for the fandom anymore.

Along with the posts and asks, these rules in Kagepro events just shuns everyone else away while the antis feels right about what they are doing without reasons.

3. Conclusion

In all honesty, I want to understand why the antis are still here. Jin made something shippable, but here the antis are, being all toxic and stopping the fans on how to contribute to the fandom. Calling Jin making a disgusting and problematic ship and all. And making all these posts for ‘lolz’ just because it seemed right to them.

So if Jin was so problematic, why stay here and still love Kagerou Project when it clearly supports incest/paedophillia ship?

Kano have feelings for Kido romantically. It happened. Yet the antis choose to ignore it for their own sake and continue to harass everyone else who are actually happy for this clarification. Making posts to tell shippers off. Attack posts on ships the antis didn’t like. And making rules on who could participate in an event or not.

If it’s so bad, why did the antis stay? It’s not healthy to stay in a fandom that is ‘so bad’ to begin with, it just makes the person miserable. Unless antis just not only stay to be toxic, they stay and want others to suffer because they’re miserable.

That’s sickening.

The fandom is sickening.

And with how much this is happening, to the antis, and the anon who sent the 6 asks, this is not considered oppression.

Anon, if you are still reading this and still believe " We (antis) aren’t coming for anyone by any means," I want you to revaluate all that was said and consider did you guys really didn’t oppress anyone.

With the mocking posts.

Attacking posts.

Sending harassing asks.

Making rules on events that should have been fun.

All this done...

...Over fictional characters.

That is the environment the antis had made in the fandom.

A ship with characters that can be seen as siblings or having romantic relationships.

And on a ship with characters considered paedophilia, even though both characters are not adults.

So please don't say things like "We (antis) aren’t coming for anyone by any means."

Don’t defend their actions anymore.

Especially when they feel no guilt over what they did.

[nottragedies]

The sun sets, casting amber hues all around, reflecting off the water a few feet away. The sand is still warm as JT's toes press down. The almost end to another day.

It's something of a ritual, now, striding over to the water at the end of his shift. He drops his bag of belongings to the side with hardly any sound as it hits the soft sand. The sand between his toes goes from warm and dry to cool and wet, the contrast notable for only a moment before he’s pushing forward, water lapping at his ankles, and then his knees, his waist, until finally he lunges, letting himself be entirely submerged.

It's only a moment before he pops his head back to the surface, sucking in a breath, letting the refreshing feeling of the instant cool-off settle in, feeling almost as if it's reaching his bones. It's getting dark, fast, which he doesn't mind. He's got no aversion to the sun, doesn't mind basking in it all day, one of the reasons this temporary job works for him. But at the same time, there's something about the beach at night, as well. When it's quiet, nearly empty, and he's no longer got any responsibilities. This is his time.

Still, when he finally emerges, stepping back to shore, he takes his time, makes a show of the way he swoops his wet hair out of his face only for it fall back down over his eyes, because he knows damn well he's being watched.

He collects his things, pulling his loose tank back on as he steps over to the figure in question, laying out upon a towel atop the sand, still shamelessly gazing. “Beach's closed.” He announces. Not that that actually really stops anybody from enjoying the place after hours, it only really means he's no longer on any sort of duty.

The bait's taken, though, as Levy looks up at JT standing before him, humming coyly in response. “You gonna have to escort me out?”

~

The escort mission lands him in a single room in the middle of a motel that lately he's been becoming awfully familiar with. Even with most of the lights cut, the room still seems to radiate a dull, neon glow, allowing JT a decent view. Levy's under him again, though this time considerably more undressed, taking sharp whiny breaths while JT's got one hand wrapped around the others dick, the other hand digging around for a rubber.

Somewhere beside him JT barely hears the faint sound of a click over Levy's increasing (and admittedly, a bit of his own) breathing, followed by a sudden stream of light flowing into the room. “Someone's upset that you're not answering any messages.”

In JT's arousal clouded and semi dazed mind, considers the statement to be for him, and instead of piecing together the logic of how that would be, it takes the easy way to fill in gaps on his own. It's probably Jaeger. first, followed shortly after by If he's making a fuss it must be urgent. His mind has already moved onto trying to remember where his phone may have landed within the few seconds it takes for the body below to grunt. “Well, I'm a bit busy.”

Ah. JT realizes that that does make more sense. That pieces together almost as naturally as Levy naturally responds to his brother walking in with this proclamation in the middle of what they are doing.

“Ooooh~ Well, in that case.” Lambert sing-songs as he approaches, bed dipping a bit under the sudden added weight of Lambert appearing directly next to JT. “Hi there~”

“Hi.” JT greets, and that's all either of them have time for before their mouths are together. There's no pretense there, either, tongue and teeth all coming out to play nearly instantly. After some time that JT can't be bothered to calculate, fingers are digging into his side, and the whining from below him grows impatient, reminding.

It had seemed a little weird the first time, the two-brothers-at-once-thing, but the less mind said brothers paid to it (which was like, pretty much not at all.) the less JT felt like he needed to, either. Sometimes, the sprinkle of taboo even just gave it that little extra thrill.

He definitely didn't have room to ever bring up Jaeger's cousin fucking again, that was for sure.

~

He does manage to locate his phone, swiping it to life as he settles into the middle of the bed. He does have missed messages from Jaeger, but they're not particularly urgent, on par with the usual things JT receives when his new friend is busy with his girlfriend, or his other girlfriend, or either of his girlfriends and any of their sisters.

But JT likes hearing them. It's quickly become something of a habit, on the days like today where they're both off doing their own for thing, for him to make a point to do exactly what he's doing now, catching up on anything he may have missed, responding accordingly, and more often than not, he'll even find himself putting it out there when he's going to bed, or just catches himself dozing off. Essentially sending 'goodnight texts', he muses as he presses send on the one he's just finished typing.

~

The next morning he still finds himself between the two of them, even after they'd all left the room and JT had assumed they'd be parting ways at least for now, but well, he doesn't quite have it in him to turn down breakfast, right now.

Even if you strip away the entire layer of 'We're brother's who like to bring boys home to each other.' underneath it you'll still find layers of 'They're kind of weird.' that stand on their own. They shamelessly flirt, cooing and touching in a way that ought to seem overly intimate and uncomfortable while at the same time sometimes coming across blatantly disingenuous. Say things that sometimes seem so off the wall, or baffingly forward. He can't quite figure out what their deal is, not sure if anybody could. He can tell they are the kind of guys that would get under a lot of people's skin.

A part of JT gets kind of a kick out of it, though. He can see how it may quickly get old once the novelty wears off, sure, but for now, it's pretty fun to play along. Small doses are probably the key to that, though. So when Levy hand-feeds him the last bit of bacon, JT catches Levy's fingers in his teeth, nipping lightly enough to match the other's playfulness, then adds; “I gotta go.”

Both the brothers immediately emit a harmonized awwww, but JT's already up and moving. As he walks, he brings two fingers to his lips, kissing them with a flick, blowing a kiss and throwing up deuces simultaneously, and then he's out.

As he turns out of the restaurant, he catches sight of someone instantly familiar. As they pass each other, the skinny, pretty, blonde, chrome pastel princess casts a glance at him, her intensely dark eyebrows to match her equally intensely dark eyes (a stark contrast to every single other part of her aesthetic) narrow just slightly, clearly trying to figure out if she recognizes him, too.

No, you don't. JT continues walking past her, never breaking his stride and as if he never even saw her. I don't recognize you, so why would you recognize me? He keeps her in his peripheral, watches her hesitate for only a second before it seems to do the trick, and she continues on her own way, into the restaurant he just left.

With that a success, that ought to be it. Nothing more to it than to maybe text Jaeger and let him in on the close call, when he hears a Disney Princess like voice say 'Oh there you are.' Right before the door closes.

Curiosity gets him. It'd probably be smarter to let it go, but well. Instead, JT peaks back in through the door, just long enough to see Faberge seating herself at the table JT just left, across from the two boys he had just been in the middle of.

The GBFs, he pieces together. Oh, shit. Immediately he has his phone out, typing 'dude you won't believe' when he stops, thumbs hovering.

He's absolutely going to tell Jaeger. It wouldn't feel right to not, not with what it seems like Jaeger already goes through. But maybe he should do it in person. Tell the story, have that 'how wild, right?' moment, assure that JT's got this, because he does, and move on. He backspaces his text, typing out a new one. Faberge's already here with the boys, and it's still fairly early for a mid-summer day, so maybe Esmara hasn't gotten to him yet.

Maybe they'll get lucky, and JT can have him for the day.

[ariesbilly]

I’m mad at Jughead for being a shithead and if I cared more about the kid serpents I’d be angrier (although this white emo bitch really kicked a gay woc out of her own fucking Gang that she invited him into why do people stan him) but the real question is... can Hiram just take the whole fucking show and give it back to the adults? Can the same thing happen with Sabrina can the adults just steal the shows? I’m tired.

i have a lot of feelings about this so let me just go off now lmao

jugheads situation starts off complicated because he wasnt born into the serpents. yes, fp was the leader but he didnt join until long after jughead was born. so whereas on other shows with this type of familial gang affiliation dynamic - jughead wouldve been groomed, essentially, from birth to eventually take over. but thats not the case here. fp joined out of “necessity” and he never even wanted jughead in that life to begin with (so how we got to him decided to step down and make jughead “king” which also btw what fucking gang says king? like... you say it as a joke and shit but its not serious... anyway... fp going from 0 to 100 makes no sense). BUT seeing as how jughead eventually joined and was still the leaders son, it still isnt totally crazy that fp would appoint him as the next leader. its jugheads age and all the previous story set up that makes it look so fucking weird. so like... i get the logic behind the choice from a storytelling standpoint, but i also understand the complaints because this whole thing is sloppy. what they shouldve done is have somebody... literally anybody.... an adult, mayhaps, step forward and be like “uh.... i dont think a 16 year old should be leading this gang so im going to challenge this hardcore”. but ras has a need to romanticize gang life so... ok... i guess. that was never gonna happen.

now onto toni. she has her own birthright because of some half assed contrived ass season 2 plot that only gets mentioned when convenient to the episode and also makes no fucking sense based on season 1 canon. if the uktena (is that the tribe? listen i watch 5% of this show at most) was soooooo important, why and how did fp become leader? and by fp becoming leader in literally no fucking time considering he hadnt been a member since high school and theres only a small gap in time from fred firing him to season 1 (small as in it usually takes a long fucking while to work your way up to being a leader of a whole ass gang thats well established) one could reasonably assume fp senior mustve had some rank and thats how fp got in so easily a second time and got such a powerful position. 

the joneses are white. thats a white ass family. you cannot as a show keep trying to stress tonis familial ties to this gang and how a native tribe founded it.... and then the whole time it was being run by a white dude? huh? so honestly depending on what storyline you want to follow, you can argue for either jughead or toni taking over. or, you can rub two brain cells together and decide that argument is fucking useless and ask why HIGH SCHOOLERS ARE RUNNING GANGS THAT HAVE ADULT ASS GROWN ASS MEMBERS. i WILL kill fp myself. i will do it.

anyway hiram is right in wanting to get rid of the serpents i support him. youre doing amazing sweetie. could be doing better since theyre still here but ... you can only do so much when your writers have the mental competence of a banana. 

[hekate1308]

All I Want for Christmas is Drowley - Day 1 (Prompt: Snow!)

Hello there! So my Day 1 submission for you got a little…long. Sorry? Takes place in some amorphous winter time point in S12. All ref’s to roadside attractions are legit places, honest to Chuck.

Roadside Attractions

It’s half-past who the hell knows o’clock. The sun’s up and he’s yet to get any sleep, that’s all that really matters about the time at the moment, far as Dean’s concerned.

It’s also damn cold. Dean can see his breath as it wafts out in front of his face; a threat of ice and snow building up around him. All things being equal, he’d rather be sitting down to a heaping helping of pancakes smothered in glorious maple syrup, or tucked away in a warm bed, then hanging out in an auto-yard looking at…

“What the hell are we looking at here?”

Crowley shrugs, the movement shifting the demon’s body just a hair closer to Dean. Neither of them move to accommodate the change. “Not sure. It’s…certainly an interesting form of artistic expression.”

“Art?” Dean cocks an eyebrow as he spares a glance to the man next to him. “It’s a giant gorilla holding a Volkswagen in the air by one hand.”

“Like I said, an interesting choice. Not my preferred style, but not everyone is as discerning as yours truly. It does have a certain panache, don’t you think?”

Dean tries and fails to bite back a laugh. “Not the word I would use.” Dean looks at the, whatever it is, tilting his head to the side to see if that helps it make more sense.

It doesn’t.

“Why’s it holding a hand out like that?”

“That’s for photo-ops, Squirrel. Shall we snap a selfie, for old time’s sake?”

Dean snorts. An image flashing to the front of his mind from that summer, when the two of them had ended up at some weird-ass ketchup festival and antique car show in Illinois. There may or may not be photographic evidence saved within the depths of Dean’s phone (and Crowley’s Flickr album), of him and the King of Hell looking absolutely ridiculous standing in front of the world’s largest bottle of ketchup. The memory sends a bolt through Dean that’s not quite nostalgia, but isn’t all that far off either. “Nah. I’m good.”

“Your loss, darling.”

Dean shifts his weight a little, pressing back against the hood of the Impala until he can feel the cold of the metal seeping through his jacket. Crowley does the same a few scant inches away. This close to Dean, the demon’s body heat is a tangible thing, and with his own body temperature dropping what feels like several degrees every second he stays outside, Dean finds he has to curb the urge to lean closer so that he can suck up some of that warmth for himself.

He should probably be worried that his initial reaction is to move closer to the demon, but really, considering their history, he hardly thinks it matters. 

Exhaustion seeping in at the edges, Dean yawns, a big open-mouthed breath. The action spurs on a full body shiver as he sucks in the frigid winter morning air. Which is when a smattering of fat snowflakes hits the ground in front of them.

Snow. Great. That’s, that’s just great.

“Cold, Squirrel?”

In time with the snarky question, a round droplet of snow lands on Crowley’s forehead, melting instantly at the contact so that a droplet of water rolls down into the other man’s eyes. He blinks his eyelids rapidly to brush it away. The action, comical as it is, is also - if Dean was willing to admit to such things, which he is not - a little endearing. Dean doesn’t bother trying to bite back his laugh this time.

“Gotta little snow in your eye there, Boris?” The demon glares at him, grumbling out a nonverbal response and tucking his hands deeper into his coat pockets. Dean mirrors the action, pulling his jacket in closer to hold in what little warmth remains. As the snow begins to fall faster, he gives serious consideration to just getting back into the car. “How long we gotta wait here?”

“My contact should be here soon. Never fear.”

Dean grunts in response. Trusting Crowley on that count. Crowley might not feel the cold the way that Dean does, but he doubts the demon wants to risk his suit by hanging out in this weather for much longer either.  

The fact that Dean’s willing to put any amount of faith, or trust, in the things that Crowley says and does is another thing that should worry Dean.

But it doesn’t, not really. He’s past the point of trying to pretend like everything between them is the same as it always was. Hell, there’s no use in trying to pretend like there isn’t a between them at all. Though sometimes the demon pulls shit that makes Dean wish he could.

Now’s not one of those times though. Not so far as Dean can tell at least. No, at the moment, Crowley appears for all the world to be helping them. Again.

Which is why, despite the cold and falling snow, Dean is left in this weird space where hanging out with Crowley is more comfortable than anything else. Like he can just…relax around him.

Doesn’t mean he needs to stand outside like a fool while a blizzard rolls in. “Screw this. I’m waiting in the car.”

He pushes off from the hood and makes his way to the driver’s side, pulling the door open. He pauses before climbing in when he notices that Crowley hasn’t moved an inch, scrunching his forehead in confusion in his direction. “You comin’ or what?”

There’s a brief flicker of surprise that passes over Crowley’s face before he nods his head and heads to the passenger side, climbing in right as Dean starts the engine and turns the heat up.

His muscles relax as the heat begins to blast out of the vents in counterpoint to Sabbath coming out the speakers at a low volume, Baby revving to life around them

“This contact of yours - can we summon his ass to get him here any faster?”

“Not a demon, unfortunately. He’ll be here.”

“He better. We stick around much longer, we’re gonna be stuck.”

Logically, Dean knows that Crowley could leave whenever he wanted. The demon teleported here to meet Dean. It stands to reason he’ll teleport out when their done.

Dean also knows that if he gets stuck here, Crowley isn’t going anywhere. 

“Why, Squirrel, don’t want to be snowed in with me? I’m hurt.” Crowley waggles his eyebrows. “We can huddle for warmth.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Keep dreamin’, Crowley.”

“Every night, Dean.” The inflection on the words is heavier than Dean would expect. Not the light type of teasing they sometimes do, or the hotter, dirtier kind that they once indulged in (and that Crowley still tries to employ to his advantage on occasion). There’s a serious quality to it that makes Dean’s spine straighten.

Dean meets Crowley’s gaze across the seats, trying to gauge the intent behind the words best he can. He’s not sure exactly what he sees there, but he knows it’s not what he was expecting. It makes something warm settle over him that has nothing to do with the forced air blowing at him from the dash. His tongue darts out to lick his suddenly dry lips. Focused as he is on Crowley’s expression, he can’t miss the way the demon’s eyes follow the motion. When he speaks, his voice is rougher than it has any cause to be.”Crowley…”

He’s interrupted by a well-timed (or horribly timed, depending on your perspective) series of taps on the passenger side window.

Crowley sighs, turning away from Dean to look up and out the window, rolling it down after taking the time to observe the person on the other side, barking out an angry “What?!”

The contact, an oddly familiar looking frail man with sallow skin and tightly coiled hair that’s begun to gray at the edges, doesn’t seem at all bothered by Crowley’s annoyed demeanor. Just hands him an oblong package wrapped in brown paper. “Your order, sir.”

Crowley’s countenance relaxes a fraction, though when he speaks it sounds a little strained to Dean. “Thank you, Gerald. You’ll find your payment has been delivered to the usual address.”

“Pleasure doing business, as always.” Gerald tilts his head in a half nod, dark eyes glancing over Dean before he straightens and heads towards the giant gorilla statue. To Dean’s astonishment, the man climbs into the thing’s open hand (Crowley’s self-proclaimed selfie spot), and takes a seat.

In the middle of the snowstorm.

Dean narrows his eyes in the man’s general direction. Trying - and failing - to place him. “Your contact - I met him before?”

Crowley clucks his tongue. “You have, briefly.”

Dean thinks back, surprised by the large quantity of people he’s been introduced to - unwilling or not - by Crowley. A moment of reflection later, and it comes to him. “That the same odd bastard we met up with at the giant talking penguin statue?”

“One and the same.” Crowley slides a glance at Dean, mouth curling up at the corners in the hint of a smirk that makes Dean wish he hadn’t asked. Because while the giant talking penguin statue was hard to forget as far as weird-ass “art” pieces were concerned, the memory of the motel located at the same place - or rather, what Dean and Crowley had gotten up to at said motel - is even harder to forget.

Dean swallows, hoping his cheeks aren’t heating up as much as he suspects that they are. In a poorly concealed effort to deflect, he says “Dude’s got a real thing for roadside attractions, huh?”

Crowley, to Dean’s surprise, let’s it go. “Gerald is…eccentric. Don’t worry, he’s harmless.” He slips the package - still wrapped - beneath the seat, and claps his hands together, rubbing his palms briskly back and forth for a few seconds. “What do you say we get some breakfast? I know a place just a short drive away. Serves the best waffles you’ll ever have.”

Dean furrows his brow. “You’re not gonna open it?”

Crowley shrugs. “No reason. It’ll keep until after we’ve eaten.”

Dean gaps at him. Wondering what the hell he called him out here for if all that was happening was a hand off for a package that Crowley can’t even be bothered to check.

He says as much to Crowley, anger flaring through him the whole while. Crowley just huffs out a slow whiff of air in response. “Relax, Squirrel. I asked you here as backup, in case things went sideways. They didn’t so…” He spreads his hands out, palms up. “It’ll keep.”

“What if it’s not what it’s supposed to be?”

Crowley just looks at Dean, holding his gaze for a half a beat longer than is really comfortable. His words are slow, and measured when he answers. “Then I’ll have to activate the warding spell on Gerald’s payment, won’t I?“

Dean considers this for a moment, the anger draining out of him slowly at the explanation, thin as it is.

Trusting Crowley? Not all that easy yet. (But also not as difficult as it once would have been.)

Dean’s not sure if that’s progress, or something else. He knows what Sam’s opinion on it would be. But Sam’s not here, off chasing another lead with Cas instead, so Dean’s not sure it matters what his brother would think.

“Now, breakfast?” There’s a tight smile on Crowley’s face as he makes the offer a second time, and Dean knows that he’s well aware of what Dean’s response is going to be.

It’s almost enough to make Dean want to do the opposite, just to be contrary. Almost. Instead he does the expected, shaking his head. ”Crowley-”

“Did I mention that they have bison sausage too?”

As if on queue, Dean’s stomach growls. “Bison? Like bison bison? Not cow labeled as bison?”

“MmmHmm. Come on, Squirrel. Live a little. What’s the point of coming to Vermont if you don’t stop for something smothered in artery clogging genuine maple syrup?”

Dean thinks on it for a few moments. His stomach arguing in favor, his brain arguing against. He looks away from Crowley and towards the man sitting in the giant gorilla hand catching snow on his tongue, and makes a decision.

Dean wraps his hand around the gear shift, and puts the car in reverse, easing her back slow on the slippery snow. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

“Of course, darling. What kind a date would I be if I didn’t?”

OMFG THIS IS AMAZING THANK YOU SO MUCH

[starshapedeye]

INFJ vs INFP: 5 Ways To Distinguish Them

So guys most of the people who are interested in MBTI and Types are often confused about the differences between INFJ and INFP. Those two are the most easy to be mistyped. Personally I’ve been mistyped as an INFJ but now it’s clear I’m an INFP.

In this post I’ll write some important differences to tell them apart.

1. Judging and Percieving

These types may seem to be the same, but that last letter changes everything. The INFJ uses Judging which means they are more methodical, they need some restrictions, orders, rules. They work with a plan and maybe they tend to make a to-do list.INFP however, uses Percieving which means they work in a more playful way. They don’t see the importance of so many rules and they want to express themselves, so orders and plans are not their thing. 

2. Cognitive Functions

INFJ = Ni > Fe > Ti > Se                                                                            

INFP = Fi > Ne > Si > Te

The INFJ might be a Judging type, but they are driven by a Perceiving function which is called Ni (Introverted iNtuition). Ni is their dominant function and it is about understanding the big picture, the why of everything. They take in information first and judge or form conclusions second. They perceive information from symbols, patterns, behavior etc. After that, they sum everything up and conclude to the one most suitable truth and stick to it. INFJ sees the world for what it means and they fill the gaps. On the other hand, the INFP uses Perceiving but they are driven by a Judging function, called Fi (Introverted Feeling). Fi is like a personal compass of right and wrong. It judges first and perceives ideas second. Fi wants to decide based on strong, personal values and it has a powerful ethical code to follow. INFP wants to decide first if something is right or wrong for them and take information later. That may sounds weird for INFPs because Fi is the slowest and for me one of the most complex judging functions compared with Fe or Ts but that’s okay. They see everything in a more of a personal way (Fi). 

What is more, INFJ’s auxiliary function is a judging fuction, called Fe (Extraverted Feeling). Fe wants to create harmony and maintain balance in social norms and relationships. It won’t be happy until everyone else is happy. However, INFP’s auxiliary function is Ne (Extraverted iNtuition), a percieving function. Ne wants to brainstorm. It sees all possible outcomes and all the options. It jumps from idea to idea, without considering if those ideas have something in common. 

As for the tertiary functions, INFJ uses Ti (Introverted Thinking) and INFP uses Si (Introverted Sensing). Ti is about understanding how and why the world works that way. It is very logical, systematic and seeks consistency and accuracy. Tert. Si is about recalling past experiences and comparing them with the present. It seeks nostalgia and comfort. 

Last but not least, the INFJ uses Se (Extraverted Sensing) as their inferior function which means that under stress the INFJ avoids external stimulation because they are in their heads and lose touch with the world around them. Also, INFJs might overdo sensory pleasures (food, alcohol, addictions, sex) when under stress and they hate intense things such us weird smells, tastes, many colours, noises etc. The INFP uses Te (Extraverted Thinking) as their inferior function. Inferior Te wants to think things through a lot, but without doing anything to make it happen. INFP under stress can also be extremely critical, harsh with self and others, overly directive, sarcastic and may be obsessed with fixing errors, correcting others, mispellings, giving orders, grammatical or vocabulary mistakes etc.

3. Absorbing and Mirroring emotions

The INFJ tends to absorb emotions. This means that when someone has a problem, the INFJ won’t just listen, but they will absorb other’s emotions into their heart… They focus on other peoples’ emotions. They actually feel (almost) exactly the way you feel. Like their mood depends on the group’s mood. You are sad, I’m sad. Due to their aux Fe, they know what you feel. They see your feelings more objectively. So they don’t need much time to reflect about how you may feel.

The INFP tends to mirror emotions. This means that when someone has a problem, the INFP won’t fully feel the way you do. They do imagine your pain though and they really understand your feelings, but due to their dom Fi, they feel things in a personal level only. They see your feelings more subjectively, and so they need more time to reflect about what did you exactly meant when you said x and y.

4. Social chameleon or different snowflake?

Yes, both INFJs and INFPs seek interpersonal harmony. Yes, they both avoid conflict. Yes, they both are complex and think in a different way. However…

INFJs are social chameleons. They keep everything balanced and they try to maintain harmony, even by sacrifing personal convenience. Moreover, INFJs seem a lot more like extraverts because they need a little socializing and people (Fe). Many times, when in a conversation, they prefer to change their bodies’ language, tone of voice etc., in order to feel more “bonded” and comfortable with others. They may also change the way they talk (but NOT what they believe in) and generally they look like people who modify their behaviour ONLY (and not their true self) depending on who they talk with.

INFPs are different snowflakes. They do care about harmony but they will never sacrifice their individuality and internal values just to fit in. They will not be as they must, just for the sake of the greater good. INFPs advocate for staying true to yourself, even if that means ruining the atmosphere. And it’s not about being selfish, but about being real and following your heart and your personal ethics only (Fi). When they love something, they’ll talk passionately about it, even if their opinions don’t suit with others’ and even if they feel awkward and insecure about themselves. They want to help people become their most authentic and true self, and even though they are really self conscious, they say that the only way they can help others, is to help themselves first (and no, no they are not egoistic). .

5. Desire to be Understood or Validated?

Although both types feel misunderstood, they feel it in a different way.

INFJs feel marginalized. They fear that they don’t fit in and that others don’t get them in a suitable way. This is happening because while they fully understand other people well, others rarely truly understand them, due to the complexity of their characters. INFJs do not want to change your opinion or to convince you for something. They just want you to understand what they say, what they think. They don’t ask you to adopt their beliefs, they just want to be understood. 

INFPs feel similar. They fear that no one could possibly ever get them, but what they fear even more, is that someone may fully understands them. They don’t really want to be understood, because if someone understands them, it means they lost some of their unique individuality and now they are the same with others. Please, don’t misunderstand me and say that they are stupid or anything. Personally I think it’s okay not wanting to be 100% understood. No one wants that. INFPs want to be validated from others that their motives and intentions are good when it comes to their actions and ideas.

To sum up, both types are highly emotionally intelligent, complex, sensitive, caring, true, altruistic and have a lot of things to offer to the world. Hope now you can type yourself better and understand the things that tell them apart, in order to be a better person. Much love ♡

[modosphere]

... looks a lot like a tragedy now: a dara drabble

So I know I said this would be the final drabble, but I couldn’t sit on it with so much done, so I shall update the (actual) last one very shortly!

Also... Urgh, I hate myself, because basically, this entire series has made me want to continue a final version/part of the MODosphere, but different to what I wrote before (more Zafar-focused), so if anyone would be interested in that, please let me know! I play myself sometimes, I swear...

Happy reading guys!! I hope you enjoy it :)

The Sunken Gardens, Kensington Palace Kensington, London 2041 1 Day to Go

Dany couldn’t move.

He didn’t… Understand. Not in an angry, frustrated way, but in a genuine, confused sort of way. For the first time in his life, Dany couldn’t… He couldn’t see the bigger picture, he couldn’t recognise the pattern. The way Samara was acting…

A few moments ago, Mara had stood in front of him and spoken and Dany had thought he’d understood what she was talking about. He’d thought they both had. But now that she was gone, he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know.

All he knew, was that he didn’t want to lose her - and she couldn’t take losing anyone else. Not right now.

… But she hadn’t wanted him to say - whatever it was, that he’d wanted to say.

It didn’t… Make sense. Surely it should have been simpler? That was the most confusing part. Wasn’t this meant to be… Simpler?

His parents made it sound so simple. Like everything had just… Eventually fallen into place, that they’d been able to place their trust in the universe and all else had managed on its own.

Was he wrong? If that wasn’t happening, were these not the feelings he thought they were?

Could he be wrong? After spending so much time… Avoiding it?

“Please tell me you’ve told her.”

Dany closed his eyes in defeat - before turning around to face Ari, who stood before him with her arms crossed over her chest, looking… Less than impressed.

“Ari, listen to me-” Dany began tiredly - but Ari shook her head, and Dany, knowing better than to argue, sighed and waited for the onslaught.

“How much longer can you put it off? You’re meant to be getting married tomorrow. You’ve promised, over and over again, that you’ll tell her-”

“Ari.” Dany tried again. “It’s… Complicated-”

“You’re here! At her mehndi! When you’re not meant to be, have you thought about how everyone’s going to react if they see you? How it’ll look tomorrow, if you ditch her at the altar-”

“If-” Dany repeated incredulously - though he didn’t quite know why. After all, logically speaking, Ari was right. It was still a possibility.

The kiss Mara had given him had felt like enough of a goodbye for it to be true.

Dany’s head hurt.

“Have you thought about what you’re doing? Really thought about it?” Ari continued. She looked very pretty this evening; her hair was tied into a ponytail, being led into by a complicated set of plaits, and she wore an outfit of burnt orange that suited her nicely. “Bhaijaan, you are about to throw away someone who really loves you for someone who-”

Dany’s head jerked up sharply as Ari suddenly stopped.

“Someone who what?” He immediately asked, sounding… Sterner than he’d anticipated. Ari said nothing, chewing on the inside of her lip. It was like he’d been slapped - and Dany remembered Mara’s words in the car, about what Ari thought, about what she really knew. “What were you about to say?”

Realisation crept on him, slowly but surely, as Ari refused to speak.

“You promised me you’d tell her before the ceremony. Even if not for you, or her, don’t break your winning streak of never breaking a promise to me now, please, for God’s sake.” Ari finally muttered - before groaning. “Look, just - go, please, okay? Obviously Raj knows you’re here, but if Pixie sees you and finds out you still haven’t spoken to Samara-”

“I’m going.” Dany mumbled quickly. Ari didn’t need to finish that sentence, and Dany didn’t want her to. “I’ll… I’ll see you at home.”

Ari pulled a face that clearly expressed how dumb a plan she thought that was.

“Get some sleep. Please.” She huffed, squeezing her brother’s arm. “Just… Think about what you’re choosing to do tomorrow. Or not choosing, by not saying anything. Bye.”

Danyal didn’t bother to correct her. In fairness, the part of his brain that was still fairly reasonable, could accept that there wasn’t much to correct.

“Bye.” He managed to mumble - and just like that, within seconds, he was alone again in the dark… Wondering what the Hell he was going to do next.

. . .

Everything else was a blur.

Time didn’t exactly whiz by. In fact, it felt strangely long, like it was being stretched - and it felt like Danyal was being stretched with it, and so was this entire process, but that it was all happening so slowly that only those on the inside could see the gradual change at all.

He was awake when his family arrived, late from the festivities - but, upon hearing their excited chatter and relaxed laughter, knocked back a few sleeping pills to drown them out. As a result, his sleep was deep, but not restful - and even though Danyal felt an exhaustion that ran so much deeper than just one night’s sleep, he accepted his newfound aches, knowing he wouldn’t have slept fitfully anyway.

He was up before sunrise. He heard the sounds of the London traffic outside of his window steadily increase; he saw the sky change hues through the slit of a gap between his heavy navy curtains; he heard the quiet chatter of his parents as they went showered and went downstairs, already preparing for the day.

By the time he’d heard the beginning sounds of Zarina and Kabir getting out of bed, though, something had finally changed.

This wasn’t him. The feelings and the self-doubt and the confusion, like he was some sort of lost little boy. It didn’t matter what Samara said, or Zarina, or Divya, about who he was or what he was. He knew himself. He was Danyal Zafar. He didn’t sit on his ass and panic, he got things done.

So that was what Danyal decided to do, before he’d even gotten out of bed that morning. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know how, or when - but by the end of the day, he vowed to get things done.

*

The Kensington Hotel South Kensington, London The Day of…

Surprisingly, Mara woke up… Refreshed.

It was a weird feeling - to wake up in another plush hotel bed, to hear the distant sounds of the London traffic through the soundproof windows, to feel the sun shining in through the heavy, drawn curtains - another one of many, another reminder of the past few days where she’d woken up with swollen eyes and what had felt like a hole in her chest… But not feel that. Samara awoke relaxed and calm - almost excited, for what the rest of the day would bring.

This was the end of the beginning. This was where the real story started.

Taking a deep breath, and resting her arm somewhere above her head, Mara snuggled under the duvet and closed her eyes, thinking. Anything worth thinking about had to be thought about now. She wouldn’t have time later - and some things… She didn’t want to think about anyway. Once her eyes were open, that was it. The day was beginning.

Don’t, Danyal. Please, don’t, I can’t.

She’d blurted it out, but not because she’d been scared. She hadn’t sounded desperate (or, liked to think so. Her eyebrows furrowed as she considered this). It had just been… Honest. Tired.

Mara wasn’t going to waste any of the day’s precious energy on trying to understand something that would no longer exist (even on the fake-as-fuck plane it currently existed on) by the end of the day. But Mara did feel… Okay, about it.

You’re not not wanted it.

With her eyes still closed, Mara felt the corners of her mouth lift in a small, sad small. It was a naive comment. Nobody wanted her. Mara felt like she’d been kicked around enough in the past week to know that.

… But it was nice for someone whose opinion she trusted, at least when it came to serious things (or anything not involving Divvy Kapoor), to say otherwise.

Samara reluctantly opened her eyes. Divvy Kapoor.

“He knows what he wants.” She murmured to herself, her voice sounding oddly loud, but weirdly… Hidden, too. It sounded bizarre, but in a weird way, it was nice. Like her words were locked in this room, as long as she was only speaking to herself, just in this moment. “You’re helping him.” She hesitated. “You’re helping your friend.” She clarified, frowning slightly at the ceiling.

Mara sighed. Even to herself, she sounded unconvincing.

Then she threw back the covers and got on with her day.

*

The day didn’t just disappear the way the evening before had. Mara was… Present.

Even though everyone had made a great big show of telling her not to go the gym, after rubbing off the dried henna to reveal the dark red patterns underneath, Mara snuck down to the gym; and, after that, headed back to her room… Now transformed.

Her cousins’ outfits were hanging from anywhere they could throughout the room, the makeup artists’ cases strewn in the remaining floor space not already taken by furniture and boxes of shoes and jewellery.

After being rushed into the shower, with instructions and lewd jokes being shouted through the door, Mara was shoved - towels and all - into a chair, as preparations began.

Romantic Asian music played loudly from someone’s wireless speakers, and the room was filled with a cool breeze, wafting away the otherwise overbearing traces of different types of perfumes and makeup. Her aunt was there too, and even though Mara felt her resentment, she wasn’t exposed to it, which made for a nice change… In fact, she wasn’t really exposed to any of it.

Mara sat there, smiling at the relevant jokes, rolling her eyes at the others - but there, at the makeup table with a stoic expression, Mara felt… Separate. She was separate.

Brides always were, of course - but this was more. As much as Mara and the rest of them said it, her cousins weren’t her sisters; and they, really, weren’t her family. They never had been.

Mara felt a heaviness in her chest as she watched the four of them, giggling and joking behind her, in her reflection. They didn’t know, of course. As far as they were concerned, they were all family. They didn’t understand that Mara wasn’t, and never had been and never would be, one of them.

Mara did as she was told and lifted her chin slightly, as the makeup artist applied corrector underneath her eyes. One of Samara’s eyes caught her reflection again, just past the woman’s arm.

You’re not not wanted.

Mara inhaled deeply, fighting a small smile. The heaviness was gone - and although something else began to… Chew at her chest, in that moment, Mara was too adamant to enjoy what she could to think anything of it.

. . .

She looked super hot.

… “Samara!” Her uncle called through the door. Mara’s heart did an odd skip at the sound and, for a split second, all she wanted to do was lock the room and hide - and stay hidden, in this hotel room, until someone she knew, someone she trusted, could come and get her. Someone who made her feel wanted. In that split second, Mara nothing wanted more than to stop everything - everything - and just… Hide and think. “It’s time to go!”

“Coming!” She shouted back - before staring, wide-eyed and terrified, at her reflection one last time. The split second of fear disappeared, and confusion and further fear at even wanting it, took its place instead. She tried to shake it off. The next time she’d be in this room… It would be all over. “Shit. Yes. Okay.”

She was about to enter an art gallery full of important, influential, powerful people… And lie to them. Lie to them about who she was, about being in love with her fiancee, about wanting to get married - and then lie some more, by saying she was heartbroken to not be marrying her fiancee, after his ex stormed the stage, demanding his love and affection.

It was fine. Cool. No problemo.

… Except, it was. Because some of those people in that room, as powerful and important as they were, were also people Mara respected. People she liked. People she didn’t want to lie to, people she would be sad to leave.

You’re not not wanted.

Mara glanced sharply up at her reflection, breathing deeply to try and calm her stuttering pulse. No. No. She had to do this. Of course she did. What other choice was there? Mara dared her reflection to answer. It didn’t.

“Samara!” Her uncle called, knocking again.

Mara exhaled deeply, nodding at herself - before tossing back her head, and calming herself, rearranging her features so that it were as if she were the calmest, serenest person in the world.

But on the inside?

… Shit.

. . .

Everybody was already seated by the time Mara arrived; it was tradition. To have everyone waiting for her, to have everyone watching her big entrance on what was meant to be one of the biggest days of her life.

Mara swallowed, keeping her head down and allowing her uncle to lead her forward through the sea of tables, as she realised something - it was. As much as Samara had never found weddings that interesting, or considered it stupid to place so much importance on one event… That’s what this was.

It was going to be her proudest moment. The moment where she’d have fooled everyone, outsmarted the world…

… And nobody would know about it.

She frowned, trying to focus on holding her skirt slightly so as to not trip. She’d never thought about it like that before. She’d been… Proving something. Letting herself out of a box.

But now, as Mara felt hundreds of pairs of eyes on her as she walked towards the platform where Mara knew Dany, Kabir and their parents were waiting, Mara realised… All of these people would never look at her the same way. They’d pity her. Even if she told, even if she broke the promise she and Dany had made… It wouldn’t matter.

Of course, that didn’t matter either, she reminded herself hastily, as another slow, romantic Bollywood song began to play in the background. It was making her irritable. If the couple in question, at any wedding, needed romantic background music to remind themselves that they were in love (or supposed to be), didn’t that indicate something was a little bit wrong?

None of it mattered. None of it. This wasn’t her life, her wedding, her world. So what if nobody knew? She knew. Danyal knew.

Mara stopped, the force of what she’d just thought punching her in the gut.

Why did it matter if Dany knew?

He’s a good contact, the sensible voice in her head reasoned; the same part that noticed the crowd glancing, seeing her hesitate just before reaching the stage. They all seemed to find it cute, endearing almost. He’s someone whose intelligence you respect. It’s just… Nice to have someone like that’s acknowledgement.

Something felt wrong.

You’re fine. Brush it off. You’re fine, Mara told herself. She glanced up - and caught how Danyal’s parents, noticing her sneakers underneath her skirt, smiled secretively to each other. Mara flushed.

Her eyes wandered. To Kabir, giving her a small thumbs up - Mara smiled, her chest warming at his innocent smile. She was going to miss him - and then finally, Danyal, in all of his wedding finery; an outfit matching her own, at the insistence of Annie upon first seeing Mara’s dress was part of a bridal set. His tunic was of red velvet, with white flowers creeping along it, and beige tapered trousers to match. He even had a matching set of pearls; ones pinned to his tunic, keeping his scarf pinned over his shoulder.

She thought she would’ve laughed; that she’d have to hold back giggles, seeing him so dressed up. She thought he may have worn a turban, as was traditional, like he had at that shambles of an attempted wedding with Divvy - Mara could remember him telling her how it had itched.

You’re no better. This wedding is attempted, isn’t it?

But - anyway - she wasn’t giggling. If she had thought she looked like some sort of badass princess, Dany looked like some sort of… Haughty prince and, with his hair quaffed gently back, Mara had to admit that it… Suited him.

He looked… Scared, though, too - and somehow, that made Mara feel better. She was just nervous, and so was he. That’s all that was happening.

“Samara?” Her uncle asked quietly, glancing at the crowd.

Mara shook her head slightly - before going back to her performance, smiling slightly, being sure to come across shy.

“Sorry, I just - I’m ready now.” She replied, knowing full well everyone was watching her. She could feel their knowing stares, the way they rolled their eyes slightly, as if to say - how cute. Look at how nervous she is.

Mara stepped up onto the stage.

All of a sudden, things got very… Strange. Difficult.

Mara felt her uncle step aside as Dany’s family greeted her; as Kabir stepped forward and gave her a tight squeeze, grinning - and for a moment, Mara was confused, because wasn’t he sad? But no, of course he wasn’t. And she didn’t want Kabir to ever be sad. He was just… Trusting what they’d spoken about before.

Mara squeezed him tightly back, all the same.

Mara hesitated at Danyal’s mother - but, to Mara’s surprise, she simply smiled warmly at her.

“We like the shoes.” She whispered, as she hugged her in welcome. Mara stared at her in surprise when she pulled away. “You look lovely.” Soph told her sincerely - and for a minute, Mara’s eyes welled up with tears and, maybe she was imagining things, but… For a moment, Sophia Zafar’s did too.

But this is his family. Not yours.

Samara glanced over to her seat, on the other side of the stage, as she stepped forwards in front of Danyal’s father; and it hurt, to see it so empty. It was her mother who should have been telling her she looked pretty. It was her father who was meant to be greeting Danyal’s father, all serious and sombre, because it was such a huge moment and anything could go wrong - which was right, it was true. It was all about to go wrong.

“Welcome to the family.” Dany’s Dad grinned; and as he pulled her in for a tight hug, Mara had to squeeze her eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. They’re not your family. She didn’t have a family. She didn’t belong to anyone, there was no-one here, on her side, that weren’t only there because they had to be, out of some fake sense of duty.

Why couldn’t this be her family? How did one person get so lucky, how could someone as stupid and blind as Danyal spit in the face of it, for someone like Divya? He deserved better. His family deserved better. Mara wanted better for them.

“She’s not your family yet.” Mara’s uncle joked, though Mara knew he was being serious. If only he knew. Reluctantly, Mara pulled away from Aman’s embrace - and her breath caught in her throat, as she realised Danyal had seen. He’d seen how tightly she’d held onto his father, how for a moment, her face had crumpled and her lip had begun to tremble.

“Formalities.” Aman muttered, winking in Mara’s direction - and Mara actually laughed, fighting back more tears as she wished that were true.

Mara tried to keep her head down as she walked past Danyal, towards her seat, trying to hide how much it hurt. How it felt like she was saying goodbye. How she was saying goodbye, to good people, kind people, people who had cared for her when nobody else did.

And for what? To get away from people who weren’t like that? But that was the point. People weren’t like the Zafars. The Zafars didn’t exist in the real world, where people were cruel and selfish and vindictive. Mara lived in that world, not theirs. That was all she knew.

But she couldn’t help it - as her uncle led her to her seat, ignoring all pretence of an awkward, formal interaction between bride and groom (though at this point, Dany and Mara had played their roles a little bit too well for anyone to believe that - and it was something they both knew) -, her eyes met Dany’s as she walked by, blinking back her tears before her mascara ran.

She steeled herself in that. He was focused. They had a job to do, a plan to execute. He was right. She had to be focused too.

She sat down, her uncle between them.

Mara took a deep breath, keeping her head bowed and her eyes trained on the hem of her skirt as she tried to calm herself.

She closed her eyes, holding her breath for a minute, as she felt the ripple of movement through the crowd - as the women covered their heads with their scarves and the men bowed theirs, all of their hands clasped in prayer as the imam, the priest, began.

There was a roaring in Mara’s ears. She didn’t want to cry anymore, but her eyes were blurry from all of the unshed tears, and she had to be careful when attempting to blink them away - there were so many the they threatened to spill and she had to be careful with her emotions, especially when they were so close to the end. As the prayer continued, her heart felt more like it was beating in her throat than her chest - but Mara was still sure she could see it, pounding through her blouse, for everyone to see. They could. She could feel it. It felt like she was a cartoon, like something on display in a museum.

But she had to look up.

She had to find Divya.

Slowly, as if her eyes were struggling to even follow the order, her eyes flickered upwards from the floor - and Mara felt confused again, like she was on display and everything else was in a bubble outside of her own, as she saw Pixie and Raj and Ari smiling up at her; Ari with tears in her eyes, Pixie looking proud.

Mara felt her eyebrows furrow. Why did they look so happy? So… Pleased? The plan hadn’t worked yet. Were they thankful? Was that what it was? It had been the look Kabir had given her - had Kabir shared what Mara had said to him the night before? She wasn’t sure if that extended to the others. Kabir was different - younger, more separate from the mess that this entire plan had caused.

Something felt… Wrong. All of it. Somehow, all of it - and as soon as she felt that, Mara felt her heart speed up again (if that were even possible) because this was wrong, all wrong! She was lying to people, good people and she felt as if she were suffocating - her head hurt and her legs were trembling and her hands, clasped in prayer, were resting on her knees to hide how violently they were shaking.

And then she saw Divya in the doorway, by the entrance.

It went away. All of it just… Went away.

The pounding heart, the trembling in her limbs, the way her throat had felt dry and scratchy, her watery eyes. It just… Stopped. Like the clouds had parted.

But there wasn’t any sunshine. Instead, Mara just felt… Empty.

The imam turned to Danyal.

“Do you, Danyal Aman Raja Zafar…”

Mara’s fingers curled slightly.

Any second now. Any second, and it’d be all over.

“I consent.”

Mara closed her eyes, finding them suddenly bone-dry. Here it came…

“Do you, Samara Eliza Kayani…”

Milliseconds felt like eons as the imam turned to her, reciting her list of vows and duties, just as he had to Danyal. Any second now. If Divvy maybe had two brain cells to rub together, maybe she would have realised it would’ve been more sensible to interrupt -

Mara’s breath hitched in her throat.

Wasn’t Divvy meant to interrupt before Dany…?

She glanced up, her eyes immediately finding Divya at the back of the crowd… And Mara felt her heart plummet into her stomach, nausea balling at the back of her throat, as she saw Divvy’s face.

Horrified. Sad. Filled with tears.

Still trying to be subtle, still trying to play her part of the quiet, nervous bride - Mara glanced at Dany from the corner of her eye - and she felt her entire body begin to tremble, ever so slightly, as she noticed how he stared at the ground somewhere by the hem of Mara’s skirt, his jaw slightly clenched with the effort of looking neutral.

What was happening? Why wasn’t - why was Divya crying? Wasn’t Dany meant to… Signal her? Mara knew everything had been going to plan. Mara had overheard Tabby mentioning how cute it was, that Divya had visited Danyal before the ceremony. How sweet it was, that her family and Dany’s were so close.

“Samara?” Her uncle said gently.

Samara started slightly, staring at him with wide eyes. Danyal’s mother looked slightly confused, and the room was staring at her, watching, waiting for baited breath - because she was the bride. It was her turn to say she consented. To get married.

They all thought she was nervous.

Mara opened her mouth to speak, but her mouth was dry and she wasn’t sure words could come out if she wanted them to. She turned slightly - to the rest of the hall, to her friends - Dany’s friends, his friends and family, Raj and Pixie and Ari - but they… They all looked fine, they all looked happy, encouraging almost.

What was happening? Didn’t they realise? They knew the plan. They knew what was meant to be happening, what wasn’t - why wasn’t anyone doing anything? Why couldn’t they see something was wrong? Divya was meant to be saying something! Why wasn’t anyone confused, or stressed, or surprised like she was - why weren’t they doing anything, when everything was going wrong?!

“Samara.” Her uncle murmured, a playful expression on his face that Samara immediately knew was for the rest of the crowd. She tried to tune them out. To focus on him instead, on his concern. But her mind was going a million miles per minute and she - she just - she couldn’t focus. She had something to do. She was meant to be doing something - something else - acting aghast, horrified, heartbroken even, as Divvy executed the plan she and Danyal had had all along -

But now she didn’t have to act.

Because she really didn’t know what to do next.

“Samara, the imam asked you if you consent.” Her uncle pushed. He placed his hand on her wrist - and Mara winced, almost jumped, because it felt like a handcuff, not a hand. Even if it was all in her head… That was what it felt like. “Do you?”

She was back in Pakistan.

In Islamabad, back in her and Danyal’s old office - arguing, struggling to even talk to each other without frustration pouring out, Mara - Mara’s hands curled into fists - Mara being scared of this very thing happening - but that wasn’t the memory sticking out.

Are you worried you're going to have to marry me out of pity?

No, of course not!

Mara looked at him again, but not confused this time. Beseeching. What was happening? Why didn’t she understand, why wasn’t she being allowed to understand?!

They were friends. They were meant to have, at least once, been friends - why was he hiding things from her? Why wasn’t she prepared?!

… And then he looked at her.

Everything stopped. It was like something… Something out a movie, as stupid as it sounded. But that’s what it felt like. Everything, despite already being quiet, fell silent; everyone else fell away, and it was just them, the two of them, looking at each other with their fathers between them.

That was when she realised it wasn’t a mistake.

What had he said? About the ultimatum he’d give Divya? About how she needed to stand up in front of everyone and admit to her feelings, like she’d wanted him, like she’d tried to force him to do? How he’d seemed bitter and angry and Mara had been shocked, because that wasn’t how he was with his precious Divya, oh no, she could usually do no wrong -

He was doing it to her.

He was making her choose.

No. No. This was not a part of their plan. Mara nails dug into her palms, so hard it felt as if her knuckles would burst out of the skin - but she couldn’t feel it.

He wasn’t doing this. He was not allowed to do this!

Dany’s expression gave nothing away - he just watched her, just once, for a few seconds - but it was too careful. It wasn’t real, that wasn’t him being real. There was something - something wrong…

He knew. He had to know. Right?

Or was he just confused? Just like she was? Dany went into neutral mode, robot mode - but this was more than that, usually she could see that, usually she could understand that -

What if it was more?

You’re not not wanted.

No. No, no, NO. That wasn’t a good enough reason. Not even to herself, not even in that moment, in her own head. That wasn’t a good enough reason! They’d had a plan. No matter what, no matter what else happened and whatever else she had been forced to get her head around, they’d had a plan.

No. The answer was no. No!

“Samara-”

No. Absolutely not. This wasn’t her mess. She’d said it from the beginning, she - this was Dany’s mess, his problem to fix, not hers. She’d played her part. She’d performed her role. Enough was enough!

… But she felt like she was falling down the rabbit-hole and zooming in, closer and closer, to wonderland. Everything else was a bubble. Everyone else was in a bubble, cartoons, in bright colours and happy, encouraging smiles and she was going to be sick. She was going to be sick. She was going to puke, just throw out the words and it would be chaos, but she had to, what choice did she have - but she could feel them, Dany's family, his friends, her friends, Danyal, Dany, her family, everyone in that room -

No. No.

I don’t consent.

“I consent.” Mara’s eyes widened - horrified, terrified, totally lost - as her mouth continued to move, to say words like she wanted them to, except something crucial was missing. “I consent, I - I consent.”

It was like she was stuck. Stuck as everything moved around her in a weird slow-motion that felt sped up at the same time, shapes and sounds around her, as she sat there, unable to move, unable to think, unable to breathe - as everyone around her breathed a collective sigh of relief, and they moved, the silence broken now the vows had been said.

She couldn’t move. She wasn’t there anymore.

What had she just done?

She had to tell them - had to stop them - tell them it was all a mistake, she didn’t consent, she didn’t consent -

You’re married to him now, a cruel, smug voice coming from her own head, told her. What can you do? You’re married to him.

Slowly, forcing the movement of every inch, her chest gently heaving, Mara turned to look at the rest of the stage.

She felt a hand on arm - and just like that, there was noise again. Noise and people - music in the background - the chatter of the room - Aman Zafar’s hand on her arm as he smiled down at her.

“I’m sorry.” Mara managed to say - or, she thought she was saying it, but she couldn’t be sure. Her words weren’t coming out right. It sounded like she was shouting, but really, she wasn’t sure if it came out even as a whisper. “I - I’m sorry-” I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but there's been a mistake, this is all a mistake, I’m sorry -

“It’s absolutely fine. We’re not that old, that we can't remember how scary it all is.” Aman smiled - and Mara wanted to yank her arm away, tell him no, no, listen - but then his wife was beside him, the woman Mara had always wanted to be, and she was smiling, nodding, happy even.

“Welcome to the family.” Soph told her sincerely - before gently taking hold of Mara’s face and gently pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Mara’s eyes closed as she fought back tears - this time not the sad, still manageable ones of before, but large, loud tears that got caught in the back of her still-dry throat, hysterical tears that Mara had to squeeze her lips together for to avoid letting out a scream.

“Officially.” Aman grinned at her uncle - and Mara could only nod and force a smile, one that took all of her strength to conjure, as Soph looked at her; her face questioning, questioning and kind - and there was more kindness there, in this woman's face, this woman who had been suspicious of her all along, her hero, than her own family had ever shown her in years.

Mara moved aside as her uncle and Aman Zafar shook hands, moving to sit beside one another. She clutched onto her skirt, wrinkling it, but she didn't care, she didn't care about the beads pressing into her palm, she didn’t care -

She turned - and there stood Danyal.

She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how. She didn’t know what she even wanted to.

“S- Samara-” Dany tried to begin resolutely… But he stopped, as Mara blinked.

Just once. But it was so… Defeated.

Mara watched as Dany’s neutral expression fell away, as it became something else. Something… Surprised, something sad.

She didn’t care. She didn’t care one fucking bit.

They sat down - next to each other now, their legs brushing slightly until Mara moved hers away. Opposite them, she could see the rest of them - Pixie and Raj and Ari, Kabir with them now too, looking happy, looking pleased.

How could they? How dare they? How dare they be so… Callous, so audacious, to watch and smile? And laugh? Like it was a game they’d all win?

That was what they’d done. Reduced her life to a game.

Mara hid her hands in her lap as the evening continued, her nails dug into the flesh of her palm the entire time.

She focused on that. On the ache in her fingers, on the tension in her knuckles, of her arm shaking from the strength she couldn’t keep up for much longer.

But she did.

She had to.

Prince and Princess, that smug voice mocked. It didn’t even surprise Mara to think it sounded like her mother.

In an odd way, it helped. Mara sat there, perfectly still, perfectly perfect. Like a puppet on a string.

Like the perfect little doll she’d been pretending to be all of this time.

[theycallme-tunathot]

Road to Ruin [Chapter 7] Jackson

Pairing: Jackson Wang x Reader Rating: Somewhere between R and NC-17 I suppose Synopsis: Jackson has a big night planned to reintroduce the Reader into his friend group. But he gets a couple of unexpected guests, two people he definitely didn’t invite. Author’s Note: This took me forever. I’m still not happy with this chapter. I cut out at least 2k words and I’m still like...nope. But that’s okay. This chapter is shitty, but the next one will make up for it. The next one is where all the real drama starts :D Enjoy guys! ALSO: gif is not mine and I can't find the person who created it (I got this from Pinterest so I'm sorry!)

"Jack, I hope you've got enough money to cover the sushi appetizer I just ordered."

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

Y/N was early, per usual. But that didn't stave off the disappointment I felt when I took in her outfit.

Something cute and comfortable.

I know I said that. It was the last thing I said on the phone before I hung up. I expected something a little nicer than what she was currently donning.  

"Y/N, what the fuck are you wearing?"

My best friend tilted her head in confusion, obviously seeing nothing wrong with her outfit. And why would she? This was her usual look. A pair of black running tights with a white Nike check along the left leg, paired with a pastel pink shirt that I never saw her wear before and a pair of black Nike running shoes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked calmly, eyebrows furrowed.

I was just speechless.

"Why am I looking at...?" I trailed off incredulously before I motioned to her outfit. "You're wearing workout clothes. Do you remember what I said before I hung up?"

"You said for me to wear something comfortable."

"And cute!"

"Which is why I wore the pink top!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is that supposed to make your outfit cute?"

Immediately she shot me a nasty look and threw up a middle finger to show me just how unamused she was with my reaction. But I ignored it, annoyed with her as well.

Hands on my hips, I shook my head, "I said cute and comfortable."

Y/N only shrugged, "I don't know, I thought this was cute."

"No, that's not cute and I even doubt it's comfort level if it already makes me feel uncomfortable—and we're not even in public yet."  

She rolled her eyes at me, but I ignored that too as I checked my watch. Five minutes before everyone would meet in this exact location so we could head out. That didn't leave me enough time to drag her back to her room and look for another outfit. If I knew some of the people coming out tonight, they were prompt every time we met up, so it would be no good leaving now.

A long and exasperated sigh filtered out my lungs and I looked over her outfit warily again. "You'll be lucky if they let you in dressed like that," I chided.

"It's not like I'm wearing a bikini without a cover-up."

"That would've been closer to cute than this."

She made a frustrated noise at me before pulling her phone out of her wallet to check the time. The longer I stared at her outfit, the more I felt conflicted. Yes, these running tights framed her thighs perfectly and accentuated the curve of her legs and calves. She looked good in them.  

Even though I found this outfit cute on my best friend—in the most endearing way possible—I knew my friends would disagree. No matter how good it made her body look, workout clothes were not the clothes you turned up in for a night out. It seemed everyone but Y/N knew this.

"Has anyone told you you're exhausting?" I joked.

"About as often as you're told."

Before we could argue any further, I saw a tall and lanky figure in the distance. And so it began. A night out with friends. At the sight of him, I could already feel my stomach tighten uncomfortably. My nerves were shaky since I hung up with Y/N earlier. While the logical side of my brain said this was too early for me to try and lump her back into my social group, my heart stubbornly disagreed. Y/N seemed eager to put the event behind her and this is how I was going to help her.

Like I told her on the phone, this is her chance to start over again.  

Besides, time was running a little thinner than it was before and if I wanted this fake relationship to catch some steam, we needed this. Just as I said before, this was the test run. If it didn't work tonight, I was doomed to live like a monk and abstain from nearly all female contact until I could prove to my parents that I wasn't wasting all my training in Korea on girls.

"Jackson!"

I blinked a couple of times and watched as Namjoon jogged toward me, smile permanently fixed on his face as he came to a halt just in front of me. Holding his hand out, I went in for our bro-handshake and smiled when he nudged me with his elbow.

"Thanks for the invite tonight," he said. "I don't get much chance to be out after dark these days."

"They work you guys too hard."

"That's what I tell them before they make me run across campus to grab inventory from the shed."

I laughed, shaking my head. I knew Y/N was probably hanging out behind me, waiting for me to introduce her, but something happened when I turned around. She was gone. Confused and slightly worried I looked around to see if she ran off or if she was just hiding out somewhere else.  

Nothing.

"Hey, weren't you the one that gave me that Ryan the bear band-aid when I got my flu shot last year?"

At the sound of Y/N's voice I jumped, whipping around to see her standing in front of Namjoon, grinning. And he was grinning back at her.

"Yep, all because you threatened to cry if I didn't."

She laughed and shrugged, "It worked though, so..."

Did she actually know Namjoon? This was really weird. Watching fervently as the two continued talking, mainly about how warm the weather was and how clear the sky looked, Namjoon likely rattling off some major nerd stuff about the Moon, I tried to regain my composure enough to properly introduce them.

Did they really need me though?

That's when something snapped and I coughed loudly, stepping slightly in front of Y/N.

"Joonie, this is my guest tonight. Y/N, she's a fencer like me," I introduced, not bothering to step aside afterward.

No, instead I stood there, blocking half of her from view and looking at Namjoon like I hardly knew him. How could I trust that the two of them weren't hiding other little secrets from me? Did they secretly hang out and not invite me? And why was I blocking Y/N from Namjoon?

Elbowing me hard in my bicep, Y/N pushed me to the side so she could stand beside me. "He knows. I see him from time to time when I go to my nutrition coaching sessions. He also gives a mean flu shot."

"These hands are literal magic at this point," he replied, dimples on full display.

"Hey guys!"

Thankfully, more people showed up. My roommate Woobin, a sabre fencer as well, and his girlfriend Minji an epee fencer.

As soon as Y/N turned around I could tell she was relieved about knowing everyone she would hang out with tonight—at least at the moment. When I looked at her face, my thought was confirmed. Y/N immediately waved and smiled brightly, tapping Namjoon on the bicep.

I was acutely aware of how close they were standing to one another, and I wasn't sure why.

"Minji is a fencer like me," she explained excitedly. "Total badass."

Minji, far taller than any of us were willing to give her credit for with a pixie haircut that fit her face perfectly, shook her head as she and Woobin came to a halt in front of Namjoon and Y/N.

Minutes passed as I kept checking my phone, trying to keep track of how far everyone was from meeting with the main group. We were waiting for two people: JB and Mark. Now, I knew I was making a gamble allowing Mark to come along. Considering how infatuated Y/N is with the guy, it was probably best to leave him out, but it would've been rude in the circumstance. I initially invited Jinyoung over the phone who weakly muttered out how hungover he was and he'd be lucky if he could keep food down by the end of the night. When he rejected it, he mentioned it to someone else in the room, asking if that person wanted to go instead. By the time Jinyoung addressed me, he told me Mark wanted to go.

How was I supposed to say no?

JB was another gamble. We weren't even 24 hours removed from the antics of last night and surely all of those events were fresh in our minds. I knew there was a possibility that Y/N would react negatively to seeing JB, but I knew she wouldn't be upset enough to make a scene in front of the group. I could handle her in private if need be. Besides, out of all my friends, JB was probably the sanest and the one Y/N would identify with the most. They both liked their private time, they trained with intensity and they cared way too much about their friends.

As everyone became more and more anxious, ready to start the night, I got a text message from JB.

Hey, we were stuck in traffic in town so we're already downtown. Text me the location for dinner tonight and we'll meet you there.

Typing out a fast response, I looked up and called out to the four friends in front of me. "Let's go ahead and head out, the rest of the group will meet us there."

Y/N raised her hand, a sarcastic gesture in my direction. She wasn't used to seeing me in a leadership role.

An over exaggerated sigh filled the sizeable gap between us. "Yes?"

"And where is 'there?'"

"A restaurant."

"Which restaurant? You know I can't eat just anywhere because of the high-sodium content--"

I quickly walked to close the gap between me and my best friend, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "Y/N, would it kill you to live a little?"

"I've been eating low amounts of sodium. If I overdo it, I could get sick--"

My index finger found her lips, applying moderate pressure to silence her.

"Shut up, it's a surprise. I even took your whacky nutritional needs into account. Just enjoy the ride," I said before taking my finger away and making a gesture toward the front gate of the facility. "Tally ho my hoes!"

Nearly ten minutes later we were still walking toward the restaurant just outside the boundary of the training facility. So far it was a typical night: a bunch of my friends and I heading to start our night with food before the fun really began.  

Everyone seemed willing to put parties aside considering two of the three main event planners in the group, Jinyoung and Bambam, were both hungover and in need of an extremely easy Saturday night. And that was fine by me. Last night was enough party for the whole weekend. Not only did I get all the flirting out of my system last night, but I was rudely reminded of how different Y/N was from everyone I hung out with.  

To be fair, this wasn't the first time she came up in conversation with my friends and it wasn't the first time the topic of Y/N held a more critical tone. Jinyoung was notorious for randomly ripping on her. But dealing with Jinyoung was easy. All I had to do was make fun of something he was wearing and the conversation was dropped instantly.  

I'm not sure why it took me so long to step in last night. Maybe I just wasn't expecting to have that conversation in the backseat of JB's car. Maybe I was hoping Y/N would've used her sharp tongue to cut Bambam down to size. It seemed whenever I forgot Y/N was a girl and held at a different standard than me or any other guys, something rudely reminded me. I would never understand fully what it's like to be Y/N, but that didn't stop me from feeling bad for her when stuff like this happened.

Just as I turned onto a main road, the center of town coming into view, the shops visible from the hill we were about to walk down, I felt someone bump me from my right. Blinking a couple of times, I looked down to see Y/N smiling at me.

"Everything okay?" she asked, her eyes scanning over my face. I knew she knew the answer.

Despite knowing she knew, I faked a smile and nudged her with my elbow. "Of course, why wouldn't it be?"

"Well Namjoon just made a rude joke about your short legs and you didn't even look up once."

Instantaneously after she stopped speaking, Namjoon's protests could be heard from behind us.

"That was totally you Y/N!"

She gave an innocent look as she blinked up at me. "Jackson, I'm your best friend, why would I say something like that?"

"Yeah, why would you say something like that?"

"Exactly," she beamed back.

"You are so evil," Namjoon muttered under his breath.

I gave Y/N a sweet smile and a wink. "You didn't let me finish. You would say something like that because you love picking on me. It's like when I had acne problems and you played connect-the-dots with a marker."

Namjoon's laugh was so loud that I nearly jumped out of my own skin. Y/N giggled silently before nodding.  

"Oh yeah," she said, as if she forgot. "But I only did it because you pushed me into a chair with melted chocolate on it."

"How many times do I have to say I didn't see it?"

"That's not even the point," she argued. "Everyone thought I shit myself."

"But who offered you a fresh towel and even washed the stains out of your clothes?"

She rolled her eyes playfully, but the smile was fond and genuine despite.

The rest of the way Namjoon tried to chat to us about the intricacies of doling out muscle massages to the rhythmic gymnasts who stop by the infirmary. Neither me nor Y/N moved to interrupt him, the two of us in a comfortable silence.

Slowing my footsteps, we made it to a trendy store front. Checking my phone, I sent a quick text to JB, asking if he was already inside. But as soon as the other four noticed where we were standing in front of, they began to get vocal.

"Jackson stop playing around," Woobin said easily, clapping my shoulder gruffly.

"This is a cruel joke," Minji agreed.

"What is this place?"

Everyone gawked at Y/N as she stared up at the signage. I'm sure she could tell this wasn't just any ramen restaurant by the exterior design, but I knew, unlike everyone else, how little she ventured into town when at the facility.

"This is one of the best ramen restaurants outside of Seoul," Namjoon stated, his voice thick with how impressed he was. "You could call it exclusive in a way."

"Exclusive ramen shop?"  

"Y/N," I chided. "This isn't a ramen shop, it's a ramen restaurant."

"What's the difference?"

"You pay for the restaurant word," I mused.

"Where are we eating really?" Namjoon asked, looking at me directly. I could almost feel his skepticism from here.

Just as he asked the question, JB responded about grabbing a table near the back. Giving him a large smile and walking to the door, I opened it and held it, gesturing for the group to enter. "Right here. Let's go."

No one moved and my smile quickly dropped. “Come on, get in.”

After much coaxing and almost dragging Y/N into the establishment, we let the host know we already had people waiting for us.  

I couldn't lie, I was feeling pretty damn good about myself. When I planned, it was typically street food for dinner and a mildly cheap activity. But not tonight. I actually planned a decent night out and all in a few hours. Not only did I want to make sure Y/N would have a good time while out with my social group, I wanted to make sure Jinyoung and Bam--

"Jack, I hope you've got enough money to cover the sushi appetizer I just ordered."

I immediately froze in surprise but my momentum kept me moving forward. It was enough to accidentally bump the frozen person in front of me.  

The familiar black hair, styled with a side part, the color contacts turning his usually brown eyes a pale green and his designer cologne wafting over the entire area. Fucking hell.

"Bambam, I didn't invite you and you still owe me for your meal last time. So I'm not paying for it," I quickly countered, trying to regain my calm, but the longer I stood there, the more panicked I felt.

I glanced down for a split second to see the person I bumped was Y/N. No surprise there.

"It's JB's fault that I'm here in the first place," he blamed, pointing a finger in the direction of my very guilty-looking friend.

Inwardly, the groan had the power to rattle the walls of this restaurant.  

Figures. JB's the softest fucker in the world.

"I took Bambam to the pharmacy earlier but we got caught in traffic like I told you and--"

I held my hand up to stop him. It didn't matter how or why he was here at this point. Forcing Bambam to leave right now would be considered rude and it would cause a scene, wouldn't it? Before I made my final decision, I looked at Y/N. After all, whether Bambam stayed or I made him leave depended on her level of comfort. I could tell by the look on her face she was surprised, maybe even shook would be more accurate, but her eyes weren't just focused on the gymnast.

No.

She was looking between Bambam and Mark. So she noticed him too.

Discretely, I nudged her, trying to get her to do anything, react at the very least. And that's when she shook her head and gave a shy smile to the three seated. With swift action, she followed Namjoon, Minji and Woobin to the table.

Bambam immediately rose from his seat, walking over to attempt taking the seat beside Y/N, but she took the end seat, the place right beside Namjoon. I watched as his eyebrows furrowed, seemingly upset over the missed opportunity, but he settled into the seat in between Namjoon and me.

Most of the meal was smooth. Namjoon and Y/N seemed to be comfortable enough to talk through most of it, Mark joining in at one point. Y/N was at her quietest during that time. Bambam went between asking Minji about her handbag and where she shopped for jeans and awkwardly trying to start a conversation with me. It was obvious he wanted to ask something, but it seemed he didn't know how.

When he tried to ask how my Yakisoba bowl was for what felt like the thousandth time, I cut my eyes to him.

"What's up?" I asked easily. I had to maintain my image as the lax guy.

"What do you mean?"

"You just seem kind of off today," I reasoned, setting my chopsticks down as I turned to him slightly.

Bambam gave an uneasy laugh as he folded his hands in his lap. "Oh, it's probably due to my hangover. I'm still feeling last night you know?"

"You had a lot to drink last night."

"Jinyoung should've never brought the whiskey like I asked."

Silence settled between us and just as I was about to ask him a question about his behavior, Bambam completely turned his body so he was facing Namjoon. Lightly tapping on his shoulder, I watched as Namjoon turned to look at Bambam.

"Hey, do you mind if I switch spots with you?" he asked Namjoon.

Thankfully everyone was still in their own conversations on the other side of the table. Namjoon was definitely confused by the request and out of the corner of my peripheral vision I could see the nerves completely take over Y/N's face. She knew what was coming and I'm sure she was fighting the urge to run out of the restaurant at this point.

Unfortunately for Y/N, Namjoon was a nice guy and worse than that, he was agreeable. So of course he switched spots with Bambam so he could sit right beside Y/N. This broke off the two side-conversations happening on the other side of the table.

Now, don't get me wrong, Bambam is a decent guy. Funny, determined, way more dedicated to his craft than people gave him credit for and loyal. These were all things that made us friends in the first place. I'm sure, at this point in Bambam's conscience, he was looking for a way to forgive himself for his behavior, but he couldn't do that. Not without Y/N forgiving him first.  

I could tear my eyes away as Bambam smiled at Y/N, waving shyly. "I'm Bambam, we met unofficially last night."

The groan was thick and stuck in the back of my throat as I continued watching. Y/N gave an unsure nod, hoping Bambam wouldn't make a fool of her again.

"Listen...last night was just wild, right?" He asked.

Everyone's attention was on Bambam the second he and Namjoon stood up to switch seats, but now everyone was leaning forward, trying to follow what was happening.

Y/N gave another weak nod.

His long, tanned fingers played with the dangling earring as Bambam gave a nervous laugh. "I should've never said what I did last night. Being drunk isn't an acceptable excuse. I was a real dickhead and I apologize for shaming you like that in the car."

A thick layer of tension laid hung over the table. Everyone was deathly quiet as if making a noise would somehow cause it to drop and maim everyone seated. I was deathly silent as I watched my best friend, hoping she was okay.

Embarrassment was clearly written across her face as she tried to keep her eyes off of Bambam. The way she bit her bottom lip, how she shifted in her seat, the way she avoided everyone's gaze at the table. She was embarrassed and feeling anxious. As her cheeks reddened, I could see it was a level of nerves she wasn't accustomed to.  

Most of that embarrassment wasn't stemming from discussing last night's events in such a public setting. No. Surely in other circumstances, Y/N wouldn't have been half as embarrassed as she was now. As my eyes drifted over to the other side of the table, directly across from her was Mark. Mark was looking on intently, obviously listening to the entire conversation like everyone else at the table. And that's when it hit me.

She didn't want Mark to overhear what Bambam was apologizing for.

Everyone watched Y/N, probably assuming she would lash out physically or maybe even verbally attack Bambam, but she simply sighed, looking down before glancing briefly at him.

Just as I began to open mouth, hoping to shift everyone's attention, JB cleared his throat to catch Y/N's attention.

"I want to apologize too," he said somberly. "It's my car and I should've had better control over that situation."

"And to your credit," Bambam added, "you looked incredible last night."

My eyes lingered on Mark a moment, his eyes still lingering on Y/N. Why was he staring at her like that? Why did I suddenly feel the need to puff up and let Mark know I had everything under control?

"It's fine," Y/N mumbled out in response, breathing out a humorless laugh and displaying a smile that didn't quite reach the eyes. "I'm over it."

"Really?" Bambam asked, the disbelief very obvious in his tone.

She shrugged, looking directly at him, "Water under the bridge at this point."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Short replies weren't always a good sign with Y/N.

"Seriously, you can hate me if that helps. I'll even let you hit me—just don't go anywhere near the face," Bambam said, gesturing to his entire face with his palm. He gave an uneasy laugh, obviously not sure how to proceed. It seemed he was waiting for hellfire to consume him when he did this and Y/N's response was throwing him off.

It was throwing him off a lot.

Tight-lipped and showing enough embarrassment for a lifetime, Y/N gave Bambam another smile that failed to reach her eyes as she shrugged.

"Honestly, it's fine. You were drunk right?"

"Yeah, but that's no excu--"

"It isn't, but it's not worth holding it against you."

An awkward silence settled into the table between each of us and I was desparate to get my friend out of the spotlight. I didn't invite her here so my friends could gawk at her. I also didn't invite her here so my guilty friends could apologize—hell, Bambam wasn't even supposed to be here.

Before the silence could ruin the entire mood of the night, I stood up and clapped my hands obnoxiously. The sound caught the entire table's attention as well as a few patron seated nearby.

"Let's get going to the next spot!”

“You mean you planned for more than just paying for dinner?” Namjoon joked, overly pleased with himself when it earned a laugh from the table.

I gave him a sarcastic snort.  

"Namjoon, I regret ever laughing at your joke that one time."

Despite the playful insult, Namjoon giggled like a madman before I rolled my eyes and settled my attention back on the table.

"Get your stuff and let's bounce."

"Where are we going though?" JB asked as he slowly rose from his seat.

I couldn't hide the smirk as I turned my eyeline to my extra broody friend. "Don't worry. Just sit back and enjoy the ride."

Namjoon gasped obnoxiously beside me. "You paid for us to get a ride there?"

The side eye was real as I looked at my lanky friend. "And they trust you with medical supplies."

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