#my guy stared at that chicken for like a solid 10 seconds

[azures-grace]

based on this, because I thought it was funny

[kpophours]

Way to You

➵ Stray Kids: Bang Chan x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, friends to lovers AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight cursing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, a teeny tiny bit sexual suggestiveness (nothing explicit)

➵ word count: 5.7k

You are in trouble.

You are in really big trouble.

Staring at the sleeping person beside you, you think about what to do next.

Maybe you could move to a different country, take on the maiden name of your mother and become a dog sitter. You like dogs! Love them, even. Cats too, you’re not picky.

Or maybe you could apply to be one of those people being shot into space to colonize Mars. It’s probably chill up there - not many people, and even better: no Chan. Probably no wifi too, though. But well, you like reading so you could always pass time by bringing enough books, right?

Or maybe, as an easier and far less dramatic solution: you could just pretend to not remember anything from last night - honestly, from the way your head is pounding right now, it doesn’t even seem that far fetched. 

For now you decide to just slide out of bed before the man beside you wakes from his deep slumber, and to flee from his house, hoping no one is going to see you. No witnesses, no crime, right?

At least you’re still wearing a shirt and most of your underwear, so … it could be worse. 

Probably.

Right?!

You take in a deep breath and carefully lift the blanket, slowly wiggling towards the edge of the bed. Before you can successfully escape though, Chan beside you groans, and wraps one arm around your waist to pull you close to his own warm body again. You almost squeal, but manage to press your lips together to stifle the noise.

Chan’s breathing is soft and steady - so for now, he’s still asleep, but you need to get away from him as quickly as possible. So you try to escape for a second time, carefully prying his arm from your body and placing it back on the mattress. This time, you successfully slide out of bed, silently landing on your feet and almost losing your balance - you are in desperate need of some water, it seems. Dehydration is no joke, kids. Quietly, you slip into your jeans and grab your bra dangling from a bedpost. You also look for your purse but after being unable to locate it, you finally tiptoe out of the room. As soon as you’ve managed to close the door behind you, you exhale, relief spreading through your whole body. You’re fine, you’re good, you’re almost out of here! You pretty much run towards the bathroom, and suppress a groan when you see your tired hangover face staring back at you in the mirror. After drinking some water straight from the tap, you wash off the pitiful rest of your makeup, put your hair up into a ponytail and deem yourself ready to leave the solidarity of the bathroom again - and to face whoever’s already awake.

The frat house is almost eerily quiet at this time of day, so you try not to make a sound while sneaking downstairs, cringing whenever one of the steps creaks under your weight. You sigh in relief when you’ve finally made it downstairs, and begin to smile when you spot your purse dangling from the back of a chair. To your delight, the keys to your flat, your wallet and phone are all still in there. Maybe the world isn’t as bad of a place as you’re sometimes making it out to be. “Morning.” You squeal and turn around, hand clutching your chest. Hyunjin chuckles when he sees your shocked expression, and silently toasts you with the mug he is holding in one hand. “Well don’t you look lovely so early in the morning.”, he teases, and you stick out your tongue at him. “I’m very sorry to inform you that not everyone has been blessed with a perfect morning face, oh dear Adonis.”, you just answer, and he grins. “Want some coffee”?, he asks, already reaching for a second mug, but halts in his movement when he sees your hesitant expression. Your eyes slide towards the stairwell and back at the young man in front of you again. “I- I should go.”, you say, and he just nods, hand falling away from the coffee pot. “Sure. Have a nice day, then.” For some reason, he seems disappointed, but you try not to give it too much thought. So you just smile at him, before ducking out into the hallway to grab your shoes and jacket, quickly leaving the frat house behind. It’s a cold morning for early autumn, mist hanging between the trees and making it difficult to see, and you bury both hands in your pockets while walking towards the direction of your flat. It’s weirdly quiet, and you’re almost regretting your decision to leave the house so abruptly, even though it was probably the more… sensible thing to do. Chan and you have a long, complicated history - missed opportunities, bad timing, broken hearts. For some reason, it just never seems to work between you guys. There’s always either another person standing between you, or some miscommunication happens, or he is suddenly leaving to spend a term abroad in Australia or or or … the list goes on and on. You’ve never managed to find your way to each other.

Yesterday was his welcome back party, and as part of the “inner circle”, you’d of course been invited to join the surprise gathering as well. You truly love and adore all the boys living at the frat house, even though you want to smack Minho pretty much 24/7, really dislike Hyunjin’s perfect face and superior smirk whenever he plays beer pong against you, and are almost a bit annoyed at Jeongin’s cuteness (you would probably let him get away with literal murder). You also can’t believe the amount of chicken Seungmin manages to eat in a day, and have long lost count of how many times you’ve had to drag Changbin out of the cave he calls his room so he’d finally see some sunlight again and get that vitamin D. No wonder he never grew past the 1.70m mark. Felix is the only one you’d never say anything against, the man being too sweet (and cute) for his own good. He is just sunshine personified. You’d legit burn down cities to protect him. You had met the seven young men during your freshman year, all thanks to your then new roommate and your now best friend Jisung. The others had pretty much accepted you with open arms, and almost just as quickly, you had fallen head over heels for Chan. But who can blame you? Not only is he incredibly handsome, but also funny, witty, smart and always down to clown. Your perfect man in the shape of a talented, beautiful goofball. And he seems to be more than interested in you as well, often shamelessly flirting with you, touching you more than necessary and generally being a total sweetheart towards you.

And yet - … and yet … for some reason, it just never seems to work between you two. Fate is against you, apparently. 

Exhausted, you unlock the front door to the flat you share with Jisung, hoping that he is either still at his girlfriend’s place, or deeply asleep. You need a long hot shower and some alone time afterwards. 

And coffee, lots of it. Or tea. One or the other, you’re honestly not picky.

Sadly, fate is against you yet again: Jisung sits at the kitchen table, dark eyes almost entirely hidden by too long hair falling into his handsome face. He should really get a haircut. As soon as he lays eyes on you, he gives you a cheeky smile. “Good moooorning.”, he says, tone of voice way too cheerful so early in the day. You sigh internally, but give him a small smile in return and murmur a greeting back. “You look awful.”, your roommate then states, and you roll your eyes at him. “I guess my exterior reflects my inner self, then.”, you grumble, and take the mug of coffee he is sliding your way with a curt nod of your head. “Rough night?”, he asks, lip twitching. You give him a critical look, gnawing on your lower lip. Jisung had left the party around 1am, his girlfriend getting tired and finally wanting to go home. 

So how much does he know?

Knowing the boys … they might have instantly texted him, telling him about you staying the night.

With Chan.

In Chan’s room.

After not having seen him for six months.

After having pretty much confessed to him only seconds before he had to take a cab to get to the airport to leave for his term spent abroad. 

What can you say, timing has never been one of your strong suits. 

Jisung is still staring at you, obviously waiting for your answer. You snap out of your thoughts and take a sip of coffee. You grimace when the bitter taste hits your tongue; Jisung always likes his coffee a lot stronger than you. Pretty much the only strong thing about him though. “It was… long.”, you finally say, and place the mug back on the kitchen table, “And I really need a shower now.” With that, you quickly leave the kitchen again, ignoring your roommate’s low chuckle.

Oh that bastard so knows.

Meaning you have to add a few names to your death note.

Monday is the worst day of the week.

Monday should just cease to exist. Why can’t the week just begin with a nice, chill Tuesday?

You like Tuesdays. Tuesdays are cool.

Mondays on the other hand… They just don’t sit well with you. 

“JISUNG, I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS BEFORE I’M GOING TO BREAK DOWN THIS DAMN DOOR!”, you yell, and continue to hammer your fist against the locked bathroom door.

He’s been in there for almost an hour now, probably using up all the hot water. You can’t believe he’s doing this to you. There’s only about twenty minutes left before you have to leave for your first class, and you definitely need a hot shower and some concealer. Maybe a miracle. Where’s your make-over-sequence when you need it?! Why are you not a young heroine in a quirky rom-com, then you’d probably look perfectly styled all the time. But no, you’ll probably have to go to class with greasy third-day-hair, sweatpants and the biggest eye bags the world has ever seen. Fifty shades of dark circles under your eyes - the perfect movie title should your life ever get turned into one. Probably a solid 10% on Rotten Tomatoes, maybe 15% if the viewers feel generous. Your life just ain’t that interesting so far.

“JI-FUCKING-SUNG!” You kick the door - or well, you want to. Because in that second, your roommate finally decides to open it, so you accidentally kick his shin instead of the wooden door. He yelps, and doubles over in pain. “Hey, I thought you were a pacifist. Violence is never the answer and all that stuff!”, he complains, voice laced with pain, and you feel like, 20% sorry. Or maybe only 15%. “It’s your own fault if you need half an eternity to get ready.”, you scoff, and squeeze past him to get inside the bathroom and to finally take your long awaited shower. “Aren’t you a joy to have around in the morning.”, Jisung just replies, and you flip him off before closing the door into his puffy morning face.

You’re almost late to class, but not because you took too long in the bathroom, oh no. This is Jisung’s fault again - being the annoying parasite that he simply is, he used up the last of your favorite tea, meaning you had to search through the kitchen cabinets to find your less tasty emergency back-up tea. Finding it had taken way too long, because about two weeks ago, Jisung had randomly decided to move everything around inside the cabinets, and now you can’t find shit anymore. He should really get a hobby or two.

You’re out of breath by the time you reach the lecture hall, and almost frozen to death thanks to the temperature dropping way too low last night. Your hair is still wet because you didn’t have time to blow dry it this morning, so you know you’ll look like a crazy witch in approximately half an hour. Having unruly hair is fun. “Hey, Y/N!”, someone yells as soon as you walk through the door, and you jump, almost spilling the back-up tea all over yourself. Thankfully, you manage to maneuver the small thermos flask away from your body, so the hot liquid spills onto the floor instead of your clothes. You shoot a silent apology to the cleaning staff. Your eyes zone in on the person responsible for your near-death-experience, and you groan when Minho flashes you a cheeky smile. It’s way too early to deal with demons, you decide, and are about to turn around and search for a more welcoming or even unfamiliar face in the crowd of students, when Hyunjin appears at your side, mirroring Minho’s gleeful expression. 

“Hell’s empty and all the devils are here.”, you mutter under your breath, and Hyunjin laughs, before shoving you towards the empty seat beside Minho. “Stop quoting Shakespeare, you drama queen.”, he just says, and takes the seat on your other side. “I still don’t understand why you had to take the same class as me this term. There are endless other classes you could have chosen. Endless, I’m telling you!”, you mumble, expression grumpy. Minho chuckles. “And rid you of our extremely pleasant company and highly amusing commentary? Never.” You just scoff and open your backpack, rummaging through it until you find your small notebook and pen. Call you old fashioned but you actually like to take notes by hand, eyeing Minho’s sleek MacBook Pro with slight distaste (and maybe a hint of envy). Hyunjin’s doing… better, you guess, because he too is taking notes by hand, but he just has a random assortment of loose paper instead of a bound notebook. You already know he’ll have lost half his notes by the end of the day and will probably ask to borrow yours. Oh that sweet chaos boy. 

“How was the rest of your weekend?”, Minho asks, “You were gone by the time we all got up on Saturday, people were really sad and disappointed by your sudden disappearance, you know.” His tone of voice is innocent, too innocent. You know exactly who “people” includes. Oh, you know it way too well. “I had things to do.”, you answer curtly, eyes stubbornly trained at the front of the room where the teacher’s just trying to set up his laptop. You hope he’ll hurry, because you really don't want to continue talking to Hyunjin and Minho. But apparently, the teacher is a hopeless case, looking at the different cables with a big question mark on his face. What is it with boomers and technology, honestly. “Come on, my dude. Please hurry.”, you whisper, watching the man intensely, both eyebrows drawn together. You try to send him mental strength, because he actually looks like he’s about to cry. You’d go and help him if you weren’t sitting at the very back of the lecture hall. Hyunjin pokes your cheek, and you jump. “Answer us, coward.”, he says, sounding way too pleased. “My weekend was fine. The hangover was uncool, but I spent the rest of the day destroying Jisung at Mario Kart and eating greasy food, so it could have been worse. Sunday was uneventful, I just caught up with some of my reading materials for class this week.”, you recap your last two days in a flat voice, “How about you guys?” “Those were the oh-so-important things you “had to do”? Groundbreaking, truly.” You ignore Minho’s sarcasm and begin to play with the cap of your pen. “Well we had to clean the house after Chan’s welcome home party, of course. And then he showed us some of the pictures he took in Australia - there was this one really cute one where he was cuddling a koala, I’m sure you’d love it.”, Hyunjin tells you, and you’re this close to kicking him. How dare he put the mental image of Chan cuddling a koala in your head. You hate how much you love it. Just because you really like koalas of course, this has nothing to do with Chan himself. If you repeat it over and over again, you might actually believe it one day. Probably not. Ugh, Hyunjin and Minho are truly the worst possible friends you could ask for. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these. “Cool.”, you just murmur, and thank the Heavens above when you see that some student has finally taken mercy on your teacher and is helping him set up. Soon after, the lecture begins, and as annoying as Hyunjin and Minho may be, they usually do take their studies seriously, so they finally shut up and leave you be. You sigh in relief, and begin taking notes as well.

You don’t even know why you agreed to come. 

You don’t want to be here.

At the frat house.

Again.

You were just here last week, and everyone knows how that ended.

You had managed to avoid seeing Chan all week - not that it was difficult, seeing as you don’t share a single class with him. But he hasn’t texted you either, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a teeny tiny bit disappointed.

You grind your teeth, cursing Jisung and his stupidly cute hamster cheekies and puppy eyes. You hate to admit it, but you’re prepared to give him just about anything whenever he looks at you with his deep brown eyes while puffing out his cheeks. Honestly, what did the Universe think all those years ago, bringing him into your life?! Why couldn’t someone else have answered your ad about searching for a new roommate? Why did it have to be Jisung?

This whole mess is really just Jisung’s fault.

If it weren’t for him, you’d probably never have met the perfection that is Christopher Bang Chan. 

“Are you trying to set the house on fire by staring at it? Because I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m pretty sure it ain’t gonna work.”, your best friend says, voice laced with barely hidden glee. 

He knows how much you hate being here. You had only agreed to come after Jisung had promised Chan wouldn’t be here this evening. Pinky-promised, even! But you already see his car parked outside the frat house, and that can only mean one thing - Jisung has betrayed you. That bastard. This is how Jesus must have felt when he found out about Judas’s betrayal. Or Caesar, when he was stabbed by those closest to him, including his own son Brutus. You really can’t trust men. Your heart aches for your other best friend, but of course she just had to graduate top of her class and therefore go attend the most prestigious university in the country. Meaning she’s about a thousand miles away from you right now. In the end, you really can’t trust anyone, huh. But especially not men. And especially not Jisung, it seems.

“You’re less funny than you think.”, you just answer flatly, and your roommate scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. We both know the Universe has blessed me with both devilishly handsome looks and an amazing and unique humor.”, he replies, and now you really want to smack him. But being a self-proclaimed pacifist, you just take in a deep breath and decide to only think about all the ways you would murder him if you were a cold-blooded killer and not a usually soft tempered college student. “Come on, don’t be a party pooper and let’s finally go inside, I’m freezing.” And with that, your best friend simply drags you towards the front door.

Judas and Brutus have nothing on Jisung, you decide. Because the second you step inside the living room of the frat house, you’re greeted by the charms (the Chan arms). It’s way too cold to be wearing a sleeveless shirt, but Chan didn’t get the memo apparently. Or maybe it’s because he’s just so hot, he doesn’t get cold, like ever.

You grimace at your own lame joke, even though you thankfully didn’t say it out loud. That would have been embarrassing. 

There are a few other people here already, maybe about 15 in total, and everyone greets you and Jisung warmly. You smile and return hugs, and before you know it, Changbin has handed you some wine in a red plastic cup. How very fancy, you truly feel special tonight.

He then pushes you towards the four old, mismatched sofas taking up most of the living room space, and orders you to sit down. You’re so surprised by his commanding tone, you actually follow his request without much protest. For a few minutes, you just stay quiet and observe the small crowd of people, taking a sip of wine from time to time. It’s dry, too dry for your liking, and you’d rather have a cup of tea right now. Or well, maybe a shot of vodka - because suddenly, Chan is making his way towards you. Your eyes dart around the room, and you desperately try not to look at him. He looks so good. Too good. No one needs that much beauty, this is truly just excessive. His black hair looks so shiny, you just want to run your fingers through it. And his deep dark eyes, perfect to drown in. You just want to touch his arms and see if his muscles are as hard as they look. He even has a perfectly cute smile, that bastard. It’s just too much, he’s just too much.

Before you can get up and flee from the scene, Chan falls onto the ground beside you, and gives you his signature cheery smile. His lips look incredibly kissable in the dimly lit room. Ugh.

You quickly look away.

“Hi.”, he says, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. He has too much power over you, and he doesn’t even know it. “Hi yourself.”, you answer quietly. “How you’ve been? We haven’t seen each other all week.”, he asks, leaning closer, his right arm brushing against your left one in the process. He smells really good and you can’t help but deeply inhale. “Yeah, I’ve been quite busy.”, you explain, still avoiding to look at him, but out of the corner of your eye, you see how he raises both eyebrows. “Busy? It’s only the second week of class. I didn’t know you’ve become such a geek while I was gone.”, he says, but his soft smile indicates he’s just joking. You shrug, and take another sip of the too dry wine. You grimace again.

It’s disgusting, really, and you don’t even know why you’re still drinking it. 

Chan takes the cup out of your hand, and eyes it suspiciously before taking a sip as well. His face says it all, the wine truly is disgusting. “What is this!? A liquid from Hell?!”, he asks and shudders, and you break into a smile. “Considering you live with at least two demons, it’s not that far fetched.”, you answer, and he tilts his head to one side. “What did Hyunjin and Minho do now?”, he sighs, and you shrug. “They were themselves.” Chan chuckles, mumbles “That actually says it all.” under his breath and leans back against the sofa. He’s still looking at you, and you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. Really uncool of your body to just betray you like that. Mind over matter, you think, and dare the blush to just go away and leave you be. It doesn’t work though. Years of evolution and you’re still unable to command your body the way you want to. How incredibly rude. Darwin would be so disappointed.

“I missed you, Y/N.”, Chan suddenly says, his voice barely above a whisper. You finally turn towards him, and lock eyes with him. His expression is soft and his eyes earnest. You give him the smallest of smiles. “I… well, I missed you too.”, you finally confess, heart fluttering when he breaks into a bright smile. He lifts his hand to brush some of your hair behind your ear, all while still intensely looking at you. Your heart rate immediately flatlines, and you think you might have a very spontaneous case of strong asthma, because your lungs are apparently giving up on you as well. You basically drown in Chan’s eyes, their warm brown so familiar.

“MY DEAREST DUDES AND DUDETTES!”, Seungmin suddenly yells - a beautiful alliteration, you think -, making both you and Chan jump. You hurriedly bring some space between your bodies, almost having forgotten about not being alone in the room. You can feel Hyunjin, Minho and Jisung looking at you, all three sporting matching, shit-eating grins. 

Maybe being a pacifist is not the right way to go through life after all, because right now, you really just want to punch them. Only lovingly, of course, but with enough strength nevertheless.

“Thank you for joining us on this wonderful Friday evening, and welcome to this month’s game and drinking night! I see most of you have already found your seats, so everyone who’s still standing, please go and sit on your butt, thank you very much.” Seungmin grins and waits for everyone to follow his words. He should really consider quitting law school to become a tv host instead of a lawyer. When everyone’s finally seated, he grabs an empty bowl from the shelf behind him and holds it up into the air, its blue glass catching the light. “Everyone, please write down your names on the slips of paper provided for you, and then we shall begin playing our first game of the night.”

It takes almost ten minutes for everyone to write down their names, mostly because there aren’t enough pens for everyone, so people keep fighting over them. After everyone’s finally done, Seungmin collects the slips of paper again, and puts them in his bowl, shuffling through them. “First game of the night is Seven minutes in Heaven.”, he says, his smile cheeky. You groan internally. He can’t be serious. But apparently, he is - because he fumbles for two paper slips, about to declare the first names. “Fingers crossed for it to be Hyunjin and Minho, just because I wanna see their faces.”, you mumble, and Chan beside you chuckles. “Well now I really want to see that, too.”, he replies in a low voice, leaning closer so you can hear him. You gulp nervously, and are about to answer, when Seungmin clears his throat. “Y/N, Chan? Did you not hear me?”, he asks innocently, and you turn towards him, both your expressions questioning. For someone so cute looking, Seungmin can be really evil sometimes, his smile almost devilish right now. “You’re the first ones up. Now go, have fun. Your seven minutes will begin as soon as you close the door behind you.” You’re actually speechless for once, just blinking at the man in front of you. This can’t be happening. He can’t be serious. There is no way this is a coincidence. You know Seungmin and the other boys too well for that. God, you really should have written all their names into your death note when you had the chance. You’re about to demand for Seungmin to show you the slips of paper in his hand, when - ��Uh, well… Let’s go, then.”, Chan finally says, and takes your hand in his to help you up from the floor and drag you towards the little broom cabinet under the stairs.

How very Harry Potter-like.

The last thing you see before Seungmin closes the door in your face, is his stupid smirk. 

Oh how much you hate him and the others right now. 

It’s dark inside the cabinet, only some light falling through the slits around the door, but it’s too dim to see anything. Dust tickles your nose, and you have to suppress a sneeze. Chan standing opposite you clears his throat. “So.”, he says, and you shift from one foot to the other. The cabinet is small enough for your bodies to be almost touching. You can feel the heat radiating off him and want nothing more than to cuddle to his chest. “So.”, you repeat. “Here we are.”, Chan says. You just chuckle and nervously rub the palms of your hands together, air thick with tension. Before you can say anything else, Chan takes a step closer to you, hot breath fanning over your face. He smells like mint mixed with alcohol. It’s a nice combination, you think. But then again, you’d probably like anything on him. He’s Chan, after all. 

Your Chan.

You shiver involuntarily, his close proximity making you almost a bit dizzy. “Are you cold?”, he murmurs, voice low and silky. Goosebumps rise all over your body and you shake your head - until you remember he obviously can’t see it in the darkness. “Not really.”, you whisper back, breath hitching when he suddenly wraps both arms around your waist to pull you close to his chest. You can feel his rapid heartbeat under the palm of your hand, mirroring your own. “Why did you leave last week?”, he asks, sounding more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard before. You gulp and bite down on your lower lip. Guilt washes over you. “Technically you left first - for Australia, remember?”, you shoot back, a really weak and sad attempt if you’re being honest. “You know I never would have left if I didn’t have to.”, he says, and you sigh. You know that, of course you do. Chan is a nice, good guy, a really nice, good guy. It had been stupid of you to confess your love for him right before he had to go. In the end, your broken heart had been no one’s fault except your own. You take in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what else to do - I wasn’t sure how you’d react, waking up next to me after all those months of not talking.”, you confess, voice soft and tiny, and duck your head.

Chan’s hand brushes against your cheek, and he lifts your chin with two fingers. “I would have been happy. I would have kissed you good morning before making you some tea. And then I would have stayed in bed all day, cuddling you and showing you all the cool pictures I took in Australia.”, he murmurs, thumb tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. You exhale, sounding wobbly. “That would have been nice.”, you answer, and can almost feel his bright and relieved smile. “Well, tomorrow is Saturday again. So maybe we can just have a do-over.”, he asks, lips awfully close to your own now. “I think I’d like that - I’d really like that.”, you mumble against his lips, and then - finally - he kisses you. Fireworks burst behind your closed eyelids, and you quickly wrap your arms around Chan’s neck to pull him even closer. Now that you’ve started, it seems you can’t get enough of each other - what starts out as a slow, romantic kiss quickly becomes a clashing of tongues and teeth, and when he bites down on your lower lip, you can’t help but moan into his mouth, a hot, tingling feeling shooting through your entire body. All you can think right now is that you never want this moment to end - you’ve been waiting for this for so long. You’ve been waiting for him to finally find his way to you. And you yourself are just so, so tired of running away from him. Never before has anything ever felt so right. 

You’re interrupted by a sudden knock on the door, and immediately jump apart, breaking the kiss. You’re both breathless, chests heaving, and even though you can’t see right now, you know that your hair is a total mess, your lips are swollen and your cheeks flushed. “Your seven minutes are over, so you better be decent!”, Minho says from outside, and before either you or Chan can reply, he opens the door. Light floods the tiny cabinet, and you blink against it, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The first thing you see when your eyes have finally gotten used to the brightness again, is Minho’s shit-eating grin. He stands in the hallway with both his arms crossed and head tilted to one side. “Well, well, well. Heaven sure seems to be as magical as they say, huh?”, he just says, and you really want to smack the grin off his stupidly handsome face.

But Chan just laughs, and grabs your hand, lifting it to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. You’re ready to just faint right there and then, knees almost buckling from the sweet gesture. Who cares about Minho’s stupid grin when Chan is being perfect again. “Truly magical, yes.”, Chan just answers good-humoredly, and tugs you out of the broom closet, “Well, if you’d excuse us now.” And with that, he simply drags you up the stairs and towards his room. “Hey, where you’re going?!”, Minho and Hyunjin yell in unison, and you look over your shoulder to give them a cheeky grin. “Chan has some pictures he wants to show me - someone told me there’s a really cute one where he cuddles a koala. I finally want to see that now.”, you answer innocently, and wink at them. Chan laughs and quickly pulls you close, kissing you again. You ignore the clapping and cheering noises the others make downstairs. God, your friends are really embarrassing sometimes. But maybe you’re not as sorry anymore about not having written any of them into your death note. Because as stupid and embarrassing as they often are, you do truly adore every single one of them. “You know what, I think that particular picture would make a really cute background for your phone.”, Chan murmurs against your lips, and you raise both eyebrows. “Oh, I bet.”, you just answer, and smile at him.

… Spoiler alert: it’s actually the perfect background for your phone.

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[official-weasley]

The Extraordinary Dragon (Part 6/6)

A fluffy story about Charlie training a dragon with a sad and mysterious past.

A/N: I am so happy with this story and since it's a story of a dragon, I never thought you guys would like to so much but I am glad that you enjoyed reading it. Thank you so much for everyone who liked it and comment on it! And thank you again to @am-i-space @madelineorionswan & @the-al-chemist for naming the dragons for me 💙

Warnings: Nothing but the cute conclusion to this story 💙 Word Count: 2,264

“Asterin, what did we talk about? You have teeth, you can chew.” I shook my head, sitting on the ground a few meters away from the Hebridean Black.

It’s been 3 months since I came back from Scotland.

When I read that letter, I needed to sit down and just breathe for a minute. Every second I spent with Asterin to that point rolled in front of my eyes and everything started to make sense.

The fact that she didn’t want to eat anything but chicken blood and brandy. That MacFusty’s were curious why she acted as if she didn’t have any teeth. Why she was so afraid and needed such a long time to get used to the new environment. The fact that she hurt me when I levitated a rock.

She was merely 5 months old when they found her. A dragon that young is supposed to be with its mother – barely even starting the blood and brandy diet. Their teeth are usually ready for solid food around 6-7 months and there is a law to never transport a dragon younger than 10 months if it can be avoided. They are either still too attached to their mother or they are with the other dragonlings.

A dragon that thinks it's 5 months old would still cuddle with its mother at night, eat the food she would provide, and play with its siblings. Being transported to the other side of Europe, meeting so many new people, and staying alone in a habitat suited for a 1-year-old dragon is not the right way to approach the situation.

Being in such a big enclosure with no one she knew around her was very stressful for Asterin. That’s why she ran into the forest the first night – she tried to hide.

And when we thought she attacked me, it was her trying to play. Since her mindset is stuck at 5-months-old she isn’t aware that she is 3 times the size she was back then and that trying to jump on me can be fatal and not being cute and playful.

The second I came back, we started to change her habitat. We made it dragonling friendly by putting in lots of things to chew on, some toys we use to play and train with the younger dragons, a big tire in which she can sleep and Matthew and Jim helped me made a wooden house that can house an adult Hebridean Black because baby dragons like to feel safe and have a feeling their mother is by their side, so having a house in which she can hide and feel snug seemed like the best idea.

We asked Marcus and John to come and stay with us for a week so that Asterin could be around as many people she knows to make her as comfortable as we possibly can.

After two days of sniffing around and starting to play with her toys, we could already see progress bigger than I’ve made in 2 months before we found out what happened to her. She became less fearful, she didn’t dig her claws in the ground anymore and she became playful.

She might be over a year old and is halfway to her adult size but she acts like Hephaestus – the Hebridean Black I got the chance to meet while I was staying with the MacFusty’s in Scotland. She jumps around, awkwardly tries to fly, and is fun to be around.

When I got back, I sat down with the healers that examined her. They told me that due to the damage the hit caused her, her brain will never properly develop. In her mind, Asterin will always be a 5-month-old dragon. They told me everything that is suited for a dragon her mind age and I spent the next 3 days coming up with a plan – how to train her, how to feed her, how to try and tame her, and what to do with her habitat.

We needed about a week to finish everything with the help of other dragonologists and both Marcus and John MacFusty. I asked two researchers to observe her from afar as she gets used to her newly decorated home and to see how she responds to things so they could report back to me to see if we would need to make any changes.

They were over the roof working with her because none of them ever had a case like this. None of us had, truth be told. Matthew still couldn’t believe that that can happen. Marcus and John felt bad that they missed such an important piece of evidence and on the last day of their stay went to Asterin and apologized for mistreating her.

I told them that it’s not their fault and that it was more than evident that they wanted to help her and put her in the right hands.

I have been with her every day since I came back and I can’t express how proud I am of her. She hasn’t hurt me, she hasn’t even roared in my face once since I started treating her like a dragonling. I couldn’t be happier that she was assigned to me and that I have a chance not only to work with a Hebridean Black but to work with such a special one.

She might have a sad past but since she is growing every day, is as healthy as a dragon her age can be and she is showing progress every day, I dare to say she is going to be just fine with us.

After the researchers recorded her behavior and saw that she is doing okay and as the healers gave the green light that everything else is fine, I started working with her. Of course, I am taking a completely different approach than I did before and right now I am trying to teach her how to eat anything other than the liquids we have been giving her so far.

It’s not that we can’t provide that much chicken blood and brandy for her but even though her brain doesn’t see how big she is getting, her body needs solid food to grow into a big healthy dragon. Every day after work, I go to the infirmary where I work with a healer and a researcher and we are trying our best to come up with a plan on how we could trick someone who thinks it's 5 months old to eat a steak.

14 days ago we tried mincing the meat and putting it in her liquids. Asterin was hesitant because of the smell at first but the second day she swallowed it. We did that for a week slowly adding more meat and less blood and brandy. Last week, we started giving her pieces of deer meat that are small enough for her to swallow whole since a 5-month-old dragon isn’t supposed to know how to use its teeth fully yet.

Today is the first day that I tried and gave her a proper steak. The researchers thought it would be good if she gets used to the taste and texture of the food she is supposed to eat. I have been trying for two hours and the best I got was her playing with the steak.

“Asterin, don’t play with your food. It’s not a toy. You’re supposed to eat it.” I put my hands in front of my face, expecting a steak thrown my way any second now.

She looked up at me as I spoke, the steak that was half in her mouth now fell to the ground. I couldn’t help but chuckle, she was adorable.

“What’s it going to be? Are you going to eat it or should I?” I smirked.

Saying that gave me an idea.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Asterin.” I got up and waved at her as I did every time I left her enclosure to let her know we will see each other again.

I went to the Sanctuary kitchen and asked one of the cooks to make me a steak. Perhaps if she would see me eat it and chew on it, she might copy my behavior. That is how she learned how to roll over and jump in the air. The latter wasn’t such a good idea because now she likes to jump all the time and sometimes shakes the ground so much that I fall backward.

I thanked the cook that made the steak for me and hurried back to Asterin’s habitat.

“I’m back. Did you miss me?” I smiled.

Asterin was sitting on the ground, her tail playfully moving around, her head tilted in curiosity about what I brought her.

“This isn’t for you. It’s lunch for me. Now let me show you how to eat a steak.” I sat back down to where I was before I left and took the steak from the plate with my hand. “And remember, Asterin, you have teeth, you can chew just like I can.”

I bit into the steak as hard as I could and tore away a piece.

“See…not…that…hard,” I said while chewing. “Now you try.” I pointed at her raw piece of meat with my steak.

Asterin stared at me for a few seconds more before looking down at her steak. She looked back up at me as I took another bite and back down. She lowered her head and sniffed the steak then did the whole routine 2 more times.

“It’s delicious, Asterin. Come on, eat with me.” I encouraged her.

If she could narrow her eyes, she would. I could see her brain being hard at work trying to figure out what she is supposed to do but I understood that she needed time because nobody sane would give a 5-month-old dragon a steak of that size.

Much to my surprise, Asterin picked the steak up with her front teeth and lifted her head abruptly. I thought the steak was going to fly out of the enclosure but she held on to it.

“That’s it. Good girl, Asterin! Now put it in your mouth and chew.” I took another bite of my meal and slowly and exaggeratedly chewed to show her how it’s done.

Asterin slowly put the entire steak inside her mouth and tried chewing on it. She shook her head as if she got confused about what was going on and let the meat fall from her mouth to the ground.

“Okay, that wasn’t bad. You did great! Now repeat the gesture. Pick it up again, Asterin.” I put my plate down and clapped a few times to let her know she is making progress.

Asterin listened to me and picked up the steak again. She threw it on the ground a few more times but every time she chewed a little longer.

After 5 tries she didn’t stop chewing on the steak and suddenly I heard a swallowing sound.

“Did you…did you just eat the steak?” I asked astonished. It’s not like I didn’t believe that she could do it but I didn’t dare to think that she was going to progress so quickly.

“You did it, Asterin!” I stood up carefully not to startle her too much even though I wanted to burst from excitement and jump around.

“I don’t even know where to begin to tell you how proud I am of you!” I walked toward her not even caring if she does something to me. I wanted to show her that what she just accomplished is a big deal and that the behavior is very much desired and encouraged.

“If you continue to eat like this, you will be able to fully transition to deer meat and admit it, it was more delicious than chicken blood and brandy.” I laughed and with a bowed head approached her.

I was now so close that if I would extend my hand I would be able to pat her. Without thinking twice about it, I offered her my hand so she could sniff it and let her know that I mean no harm. She did so immediately and huffed.

“I know. My hand smells like cooked meat which doesn’t smell as delicious to you as to me.” I giggled.

I took a deep breath knowing that Matthew would kill me if he saw me stand so close to Asterin – making progress or not – and touched her rough skin and rubbed a few circles on it.

“You ate your first steak, Asterin. I am so proud. The progress we have made in the past few weeks is admirable.” I whispered to her.

She lowered her head and what I think she wanted to do was rub her head against my side but because she is so big and so much heavier than me she pushed me to the ground.

I started laughing when I saw her confused expression. I know she didn’t expect me to fall to the ground and probably thinks that I am the weakest human not being able to handle her friendly gesture.

I got up, dusted myself, and approached her again.

“The next thing we work on is to make you realize how big you are.” I chuckled.

Asterin replied with a jump in the air and hurried to get one of her balls, indicating she wants to play.

“You want to catch the ball? You got it!” I clapped my hands together and ran after her, feeling like the luckiest dragonologist in the world.

[emy-loves-you]

Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays Chapter 6

Who the F*ck’s Rebecca? OR How the 3 Gays got Together

Virgil learns about Roman’s childhood, specifically his sister and how he ended up dating Patton and Logan.

Warning: Misgendering of a character (but no one knows that the character is trans)

Yes, Roman and Remus are brothers. Explanations are listed at the bottom

Chapter 5 | Masterlist | Chapter 7

V- (2:07 PM) Let it Go was the best song in Frozen and you cannot convince me otherwise

R- (2:07 PM) I respect your opinion, but hear me out: Love is an Open Door

V- (2:08 PM) No

R- (2:08 PM) What about Fixer Upper?

V- (2:09 PM) Still no.

P- (2:09 PM) I really liked Olaf’s song about Summer!

L- (2:10 PM) I personally enjoyed the reprise of First Time in Forever.

R- (2:10 PM) You like almost any song with a reprise

L- (2:10 PM)I will not argue that, as successfully executed reprises are “lit.”

R- (2:11 PM) Ah, and who among us could forget the absolute BOP that is… that weird ice-cutting song.

P- (2:11 PM) I don’t know, Roman. I think that song is, pretty COOL

R- (2:11 PM) Oh, lookout

V- (2:12 PM) What? He’s just saying it’s a CHILLED out groove.

R- (2:12 PM) Ugh

L- (2:12 PM) We might need you two to leave this chat if you don’t stop.

Virgil laughed, throwing his phone on the bed and stripping out of his clothes. He just finished jogging home from Janus’ (he didn’t own a car right now, preferring to walk or have Janus pick him up). It was a lazy afternoon in late September, and all Virgil wanted to do was get out of these sweaty clothes and maybe take a nap. He heard his phone go off multiple times as he got dressed, probably Patton and Logan arguing about the purpose of puns. He flopped down onto his bed and grabbed his phone, checking the new messages.

P- (2:14 PM) Lo, the Princes are calling.

L- (2:14 PM) Tell Roman not to answer, Patton. We’ve been over this.

P- (2:14 PM) They’re asking about us, Lo.

L- (2:14 PM) Tell Roman to hang up. They’re not worth it.

P- (2:15 PM) They’re yelling now, L. They brought up Rebecca. What do I do?

L- (2:15 PM) Just walk into another room, Patton. Ignore them. Do you want me to call you?

P- (2:15 PM) No, I’m good. Just keep texting me. I need a distraction.

Now, Virgil had no idea about what the fuck was going on. But he knew how to distract someone. He’d just have to trust them to tell him later.

V- (2:16 PM) Did you know that octopi have 3 hearts?

L- (2:16 PM) What

P- (2:16 PM) That just means they have more love to give!

V- (2:17 PM) The longest recorded flight of a chicken is 13 seconds

P- (2:17 PM) Such a good bird!

V- (2:17 PM) Babies do not regularly produce tears until they are 1-3 months old

L- (2:18 PM) Ah, I think I understand now

V- (2:18 PM) A ‘jiffy’ is an actual unit of time. It stands for 1/1000th of a second

L- (2:18 PM) Falsehood. A jiffy is 1/100th of a second

V- (2:19 PM) Sorry, my hand must’ve slipped.

L- (2:19 PM) You would be unable to walk on Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus or Neptune because they have no solid surface.

L- (2:20 PM) An asteroid about the size of a car enters Earth’s atmosphere roughly once a year. However, it burns up before it can reach us.

L- (2:20 PM) The highest mountain known to man is on an asteroid called Vesta. It is approximately three times the height of Mount Everest.

P- (2:21 PM) I think they hung up. Thanks for keeping me company, Kiddos!

L- (2:21 PM) It was not an issue, Patton.

V- (2:21 PM) Yeah, no problem Pat. Now can someone explain what just happened?

L- (2:23 PM) As you can probably tell, I am not home at the moment. Apparently, Roman’s parents decided to call him and an argument broke out. The rest is not my place to say.

Virgil bit his lip, refusing to look at his phone screen. Did Virgil have the right to ask about that. It was obviously a very sensitive topic, and Virgil had only known Roman for about 3 months now. Virgil felt like he knew a lot about his 3 crushes (their quirks, their favorite sweets, their goals in life), but he knew very little about their lives before Virgil had met them. Which was fine; they knew very little about Virgil’s life, too. But he desperately wanted to help Roman; to make him feel happy and safe and loved. Virgil sighed, setting his phone on his nightstand. If Princey wants to tell me what’s going on, I’ll listen. If not, I’ll just have to deal with it.

Virgil woke up from his nap to the sound of his phone going off. He blindly felt around for it, his face still firmly planted in his pillow. He finally found it, turning it on before he lifted his head to read the text. It was a private message from Princey.

R- (3:02 PM) You’re probably wondering what happened today.

V- (3:02 PM) I am, but you don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable. I’ll respect your privacy.

R- (3:02 PM) As much as I appreciate that, you still deserve to know.

R- (3:03 PM) Do you mind if I call you? This doesn’t feel like a conversation to have over text.

Virgil thought about it for a moment. He originally never wanted to call Roman, simply because he might recognize Virgil’s voice as Anxiety’s. However, not only was Virgil 99% confident that Roman had never even heard of The Dark Sides, Virgil’s head was still foggy after his nap. Before he knew it, he was already calling Princey’s phone.

“Virgil?” Roman didn’t sound as… grand as Virgil expected. His voice was subdued and slightly hoarse, probably from the screaming match with his parents.

“Heya, Princey.” Virgil cringed at how gravelly his voice sounded. He’ll need to get some water after this conversation is over.

“You sound so tired. Oh my stars, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get back to sleep-”

“Princey, it’s okay. Just finished my nap. Might not talk much, but ‘m all ears.”

“Alright. Where do I even begin?”

“Take your time. ‘m not pressurin’ you or anythin’.”

“(sigh) You’re right. I guess I should start at the beginning. I grew up in a very... conservative household. My parents expected me and my sister, Rebecca, to be perfect. ReeRee was my partner in crime. We did everything together up until highschool. My parents expected me to get a football scholarship and date the hottest girl in school. I did those things, not because I wanted to, but because they wanted me to. ReeRee was a different story. When my parents signed her up for cheerleading, she tried to join the football team instead. When they told her she should wear her hair in a ponytail, she cut it off to match mine. I didn’t understand, and it made me angry. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror; she was starting to look more and more like me, and yet each change made my parents angrier. Why was looking and acting like me a problem? I thought they liked this version of me! One night in the summer before junior year I was really frustrated and I took it out on her. I told her to stop acting like me. I knew she didn’t deserve my anger, so I went to Patton’s place to cool down. By the time I came home, my parents refused to acknowledge that I even had a sister. I pushed her away, and now I’ll never get her back.

After that, things changed. I was so angry, and everything I saw reminded me of her. I quit the football team, because every time I went down to the field I expected to see her. I dyed my hair, because every time I looked in the mirror I saw her staring back. I stopped caring about what my parents thought, ‘cause it was their opinions that dragged me into this mess!

I had already been friends with Patton since Freshman year, but me and Logan had been at each other’s throats . We were always bickering about something, and sometimes I used our arguments to vent out my anger at whatever was wrong at the time. I didn’t even realize how much I had cared about Patton and Logan until I learned about the LGBTQ+ community. My parents were super strict, and Patton and Logan didn’t exactly flaunt their relationship. I had no idea that liking guys was even an option . Once I learned about it, my parents quickly tried to shut it down. Everyday, they’d start their day telling me that ‘homosexuality is a sin’ and ‘God made you to be the gender you were born with!’ If they had told me that before ReeRee left, I might’ve believed them. But by this point, I didn’t care about a single thing they told me.

So one day, I’m arguing with Logan about who knows what, and suddenly we’re inches apart, and I remember pa saying ‘ a boy should never kiss another boy.’ And just think, ‘Fuck it.’ And now me and Pocket Protector are suddenly making out behind the school building. Microsoft Nerd asks why the hell I decided to make out with him of all people, and I break down right there. He agreed to keep it a secret, but he refused to do anything more than a simple make-out session until he had Padre’s consent to do so. Which I understood, consent is important, cheating is bad.

Now we’re having these ‘sessions’ at least once a week for almost 4 months. Patton eventually walked in on us and he was understandably upset. I explained what had happened and that I’ve had a crush on both of them for a while. And they’re like ‘cool, we’re polyam.’ And now I’m starting senior year dating two men, which mom and pa were not okay with. I told ‘em to fuck off and we moved away as soon as we graduated. They still call occasionally, asking when I’m gonna get my life together and get over losing ReeRee. I haven’t blocked ‘em yet in case they find her or change their minds.”

Roman finally took a deep breath. “Sorry about the rant. Didn’t realise how badly I needed to get that off my chest.”

Virgil snorted. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Told ya I’d be a good ear. And Princey?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t gotta do anything to impress someone else. You bein’ you is good enough. And if Rebecca could see you, I’m sure she’d be proud as hell. And don’t be ‘fraid to hit me up if you need someone other than your SOs to rant to; I’ll always be here for ya, Princey.”

“... Thank you, Virgil. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until you said it.” He sighed, and Virgil could hear the sound of running water. “I’m gonna go drink some water. My throat burns like a bitch right now.”

“Same. Catch you later?”

He could hear Roman chuckle to himself. “I guess you shall. Farewell, Storm Cloud. And pleasant dreams!”

Virgil blushed. The way Roman said his nickname… it made Virgil’s gay heart nearly explode. He quickly hung up and buried his face back into his pillow. I’ll get water later. AFTER my heart stops racing.

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Now, for those of you wondering about why Virgil doesn't realize that Roman and Remus are brothers, I'm gonna put a quick explanation here, 'cause I don't know how to casually fit this into the story. 1.) Remus has never told Virgil his deadname or his last name. He's probably told Janus (since their pretty close) but Virgil doesn't know. 2.) Remus has never told Virgil that his brother's name is Roman. Additionally, when Virgil is talking about the 3 gays, he only calls them "Pat, Lo and Princey." 3.) Roman's parents didn't tell him that Remus transitioned, so he doesn't know that Rebecca now goes by Remus. Also, none of the characters have actually sent pictures of their faces, so none of them have any idea what the other looks like. 4.) It is a total coincidence that both twins moved to the same town. Remus believes that Roman still lives in their hometown, and Remus could be dead for all that Roman knows. There is no logical reason for them to think "maybe Virgil's friends with my long-lost sibling" 5.) Virgil would NEVER out his friends like that. He tells Janus and Remus everything, but he would NEVER betray Roman's trust like that. Same thing for telling Roman about Remus. Roman might know that Remus is trans, but he doesn't know about Remus' background. ONE LAST THING: Roman and Virgil will eventually see each other face-to-face but WON'T recognize each other's voices. This is because during the phone call Virgil is still groggy from waking up and Roman is still hoarse from screaming.

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst

[kariachi]

Okay, back to your regularly scheduled reboot liveblogs and freedom from, all that. This one is going to be... huh. I’m still on the fence about King Koil. Loved him in his first episode, then his second felt like a major letdown, and now. Now we’ve got a Koil under Animo’s control. We’ll have to see how it turns out.

Let’s go with Rekoil

That is the most fearless pigeon of all time. Nearly gets run over, Rustbucket stops close enough to peck the tires, still gives no or fewer shits. Frenchfry’s ancestor I assume

Ben is just so excited. He’s also calling it a dove which, is technically correct I suppose? Pigeons are domesticated rock doves, so...

Also if this is his first time seeing on in person I have to assume Bellwood is either plagued with seagulls or crows, because in my experience you get one of the three

...so now it’s not just Cybear, Cydove is also a thing

Gwen: Ben that’s a pigeon

Ben, scared of scaring it off like it didn’t just play chicken with an rv and win

Pigeon is injured. Max is contemplating pigeon pie and the Ben may just kill him over this bird

Ben and Pigeon are both begging to take the pigeon home. I know this is probably some Animo thing but damnit I really want this pigeon to get a loving home now.

...it’s fluttering just fine in the Rustbucket, doing perfectly well causing all kinds of chaos... Y’all, y’all I think this bird just conned the Tennysons into giving it a home. It is the ancestor of Nix’s pigeons of the future!

I shall call them, Potato.

Oh, yay, acknowledging Ben has allergies to animal dander! And explaining why they haven’t been an issue since that one episode- he’s started taking allergy meds!

Gwen, love, you mean well, but Potato cannot be released into the wild, they are a domesticated animal.

They’re going to turn Potato over to what the summary says is a petshop but honestly seems more in line with a rescue in hopes of them getting proper care there, since they can’t provide it themselves.

(The Tennysons keep calling them Cybird but lets be real, their name is Potato)

Dr Karen seems very nice

Ben: Cannot leave, must stay with bird Gwen: The government needs to start paying me for being related to you

Hi Animo.

I get the feeling Satan himself could walk into the rescue and this sweet-tempered guy at the desk would start showing him around and handing his adoption forms

Animo: I must get ahold of all the pets so I can combine them into the most powerful mutants and take over the world

Ben: *sees a control collar on Koil* How the fuck did you manage that?!

...Animo won a staring contest against Koil and that’s how he got the collar on him

Koil is not going along with this ‘being ordered around’ shit easily.

“On a scale from one to Kevin, how poorly do you take to being ordered around?” “Oh I’m a solid King Koil.”

Poor desk-dude.

Wow, they rescue fucking everything. That’s a farm-hog if ever I saw one, it’s at least the size of Max

I need a Koil&Kevin team-up. One episode, the Tennysons have to stop Animo from hiding with them because these two want to set him on fire and honestly he deserves it.

I think the Omnitrix needs a reboot, it just is not giving Ben the time it used to.

“You think a mere pig can take me down?” Animo I don’t know if you’ve noticed but that pig is as big as you

Pig: 1, Dr Animo: 0

Powering up Koil so he can break free from Animo’s control.

Koil about to eviscerate Ben because he’s been made a fool of, Gwen reminding him that the dude under the pig is the problem

Exit, pursued by pissed-off snake king

Dr Karen isn’t paid enough for this

Potato is all patched up and as soon as he looks around at the chaos wrought while he was with the vet he is out of there.

7/10

[storytime-hoe]

Tough Love Ch.14

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x O/C

Summary: Story picks up during season three as the group goes into Woodbury to rescue Glenn and Maggie from the Governor. However, they pick up another prisoner of Woodbury, Emma (O/C). She is a thief who fears friendships after her hard losses. She stays on the move, studying communities from afar and then robbing them blind. She has stayed alive this way for a while until the Governor catches her in the act. Now she finds herself with the group from the prison in a mission to kill the Governor for what he has done to her. She plans on stealing supplies from the prison group after the Governor is killed, but she might be growing a little too close to the groups members, especially one man in particular: Daryl Dixon.

Warnings: Slow burn, language, usual twd violence, mentions of abuse/rape

Authors Note: So I just decided to add that first part last minute and this is super long now but oh well at least it’s something. I also did not even spell check the first part so sorry but I don’t have time and I do not want to keep people waiting since I promised I would be on track from now on. 

Previously: Ch.1      Ch.2       Ch.3       Ch.4     Ch.5      Ch.6     Ch.7       Ch.8       Ch.9       Ch.10          Ch.11        Ch.12        Ch.13

Returning from the run in a car with Sasha and Glenn made me anxious. I looked ahead for Daryl’s motorcycle every ten seconds, just to make sure that he was still with us. 

I was shaken to the core after the scare he had given me. I knew he could tell something was off with me the entire time he was struggling to save me. Thankfully, however, after I got off of his damn bike, he was much more gentler with me. There was no more giving me shit about how I did things like he had done the rest of the trip. I think maybe his anger about me running off on my own the day before had finally worn away. Or for the most part at least. 

He didn’t say much else to me as we jumped back on our vehicles and made way fro the prison before it got dark. We had planned on bringing home much more than we had, but we still all had our backpacks stuffed with food items and supplies. And we were all alive still, so that was a plus. 

As I stumbled into my cell room, pulling the thin drape that was the door closed behind me, I couldn’t help the shaking in my hands which was growing worse with every breath I took. 

Daryl was all I could think of. He filled every inch of my mind. It was like I needed to make sure he was okay all the fucking time now. Like when I did try to lay down and get some sleep, I stirred with images of him being ripped apart by the dead the same way that my little brother had been. It was haunting me. 

I had just about had enough as I jumped from my bed in a fury, the sweat that coated me made my clothes stick to my skin. I had to do something or else I was going to drive my head into a fucking wall. 

I needed to see him. 

I needed to make sure he was still breathing just one more time tonight, then I could go to sleep. Yeah, that was it. If I could stroll by his cell and peer in and see him all fine in his bed, then everything would be good. I would rest well knowing he was safe. Right?

I calmed my racing heart slightly and threw open the drape in the doorway with a violent swish. But I froze in place at who faced me. 

Daryl was staring at me wide-eyed with a shocked look on his face. What the hell was he doing here? I was supposed to be the one coming after him. Actually, I liked this much better. 

Daryl regained composure before I did, rubbing a hand down his face and preparing himself to explain why he was lurking in front of my room. 

“Sorry,” he grumbled, not meeting my eyes. “I- I was just checking on ya. Ya seemed pretty out of it after- ya know...”

He trailed off, the tips of his ears turning an adorable shade of pink. 

I blinked a few times, struggling to find my voice at first. My mind was still trying to comprehend that he was checking up on me. Me, the girl who he talks shit about all the fucking time. 

“I- yeah- I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine? Done this shit a million times.” 

And it was all true. I had run into herds and had more close calls and run ins with death than I could count. But then again, I didn’t almost lose someone I though so strongly about back then. This was different than anything I’d ever gone through. And of course Daryl knew that. He seemed to always know fucking everything about me. What a prick. 

He chewed on the skin by his thumb at my response. “Sorry ta bother ya then.” He started to take hesitant steps away from my door and back towards his own room. “Jus worried ‘bout ya I guess.”

I swallowed thickly and eyed him. He looked so fucking cute standing there all bashful. He was trying to show a nice gesture, something I could have been jumping at after the way he had been treating me, but I couldn’t get my big fat fucking ego to calm the fuck down. 

“Well,” I said, hating the dullness in my voice. “Don’t.”

Usually, Daryl keeps a neutral look on his face, so I can never read what the fuck he is thinking, but this time I saw a flicker of something. A flicker of hurt. Hurt that I was causing again. 

He nodded once and went away, leaving me standing in my room alone. Alone was never a good thing for me at a time like this. 

What the actual fuck was wrong with me? I had just admitted to myself that I had feelings for the son of a bitch and here I was pushing him as far away from me as possible, and when he was trying to be there for me too. I was shutting down. I almost lost him and the fear of being hurt at losing someone like him was making me do things I would regret. I wish to God I could just drop the tough guy act and fucking behave like a normal human being in these types of situations. No, normal wasn’t a thing anymore. 

The tremor in my hands was back as I closed the drape once more. I couldn’t do this. I had to fucking stop acting like I was strong enough to take on the world. Because I sure as hell am not. I am not and never will be. So what was I supposed to do if I couldn’t be strong for myself?

I’ll tell you what, right all I fucking needed was Daryl God damn Dixon.

I ran out of my room again down a few rooms until I was staring at the closed duration of Daryl’s room. I knew he was in there; Rick wouldn’t let him keep watch after coming back from a run like that, even if he wasn’t happy about being forced to sleep, he would obey Rick. 

My heart was in my throat as I looked straight ahead to the curtain. Just do it. Open the door and talk to him. Talk about what? What was I supposed to say to him? I would probably start crying when I saw his face, especially if it had that hurt look on it still. Oh fuck, this was a bad idea. But all my ideas are bad ideas.

I held my breath as I yanked back the curtain and stumbled into his room. 

He was already laying down on the bunk, staring blankly into the air above him with his hands under his head. 

When I barged in he sat up not an elbow, scanning me up and down with wild eyes. He probably thought there was an emergency, that someone was hurt and that Rick and the others needed him. But when his eyes finally fucking rested on mine, his expression softness and it made me melt. He understood. I didn’t have to fucking say anything for him to see that i was crumbling to pieces after that run. But Daryl would never judge me for that, I don’t know how I could have though he would before. He was someone I could let my walls down with and vice versa. He was always fucking there for me, no matter how I treated him or how we fought. We would come back to each other in the end. Always. 

We just stared for a minute, my chest tight and heaving with the pressure of emotion weighing me down. 

“C’mere,” was all he said with a small nod of his head. He knew I couldn’t be alone tonight. I needed to be right next to him to make sure he was real and alive and that nothing would happen to him. 

His simple mumble was all it fucking took for me to unglue myself from the floor and crawl up next to him in the bed. I laid down on the very fucking edge of the bed, not letting myself touch him. We were both tense beyond belief for a solid minute or two, but when he let his arm fall over my stomach, I felt us both relax more with each breath, and I eventually pressed up against his chest, my hand over his beating heart. 

I wanted to say something to him, to tell him how it made me shit myself to think about him being out of my life forever, and that if he did die on that run that I would’ve lost my fucking mind. I opened my mouth to speak a few times, but I always chickened out. I didn’t know how to tell him how much he actually meant to me, and of course there was that fear that he would take it wrong and reject me. 

So, I kept my mouth fucking closed for once in my life and let him hold me that night. I let myself feel peaceful in his arms. But that was not exactly where I woke up. 

When I did open my eyes again I had forgotten that I was sharing a bed with Daryl. That was until I became aware of the added weight on top of me. Daryl’s head was on my chest and shoulder, his face turned away from me into my hair. His arm was strewn across my body with his leg tangle around mine. 

I smiled to myself, thinking back to the night we had stayed outside together after my panic attack. I had woken up all onto of him, but now our positions were switched. I decided to tangle my hand in his hair, enjoying how it felt woven around my fingers. Hey, if he was allowed to lay on me like this, then he couldn’t give me shit for wanting to feel his hair. 

After a few more quiet snores from Daryl I pushed myself out from under him. He stirred and woke up, but I was out of his room before he could say anything to me. 

I got dressed in a hurry  and went out of the gate to start my morning search.  Yes, alone. Rick had said I could do whatever the fuck I wanted, and even if I was starting out the journey by myself, I had a strong feeling that someone would be following me out. And another strong feeling that that someone would be Daryl. Because everyone knew we couldn't leave each other alone anymore.

But, I started the day not thinking about anything but the Governor. I needed to find him and make sure he was dead. He ruined me, made me feel things I could ever recover from. I wasn't about to let him do that to anyone else.

Even if a trip like this in the early mornings was useless, it made me feel better. It was a chance to get back out in the world. It was a chance for me to kill as many Walkers as I wanted and be as dirty and careless and wild as I pleased with no judgment.

It wasn't until I was about an hour out that I got the feeling that I wasn't alone; Daryl sure took his time following me out. I didn't have time to act on that hunch, however, before I was grabbed from behind. A Walker had ahold of my hair, trying his best to sink his teeth into me. I sliced through him with a machete just before turning to cut down his friend.

Before I knew it, there were dozens of them coming at me from all directions. I really thought that if it was Daryl that was following me, that he would have come to my aid by now. I never thought he would let me get so close to danger with all the Walkers swarming me. Then again, we hadn't really talked about the last argument we had had. He said he was worried about me last night, but maybe he was giving me space and letting me handle myself. He would step in if I really needed him. Right?

I cut down the last of the group of Walkers with much effort and an exhausted grunt. I felt the Walker blood dripping down my neck and soaking into my clothes. I turned to look into the trees behind me in the direction that I knew Daryl was hidden, watching me.

Knowing he was found out, Daryl stepped towards me out from behind his place in a shrub.

"Enjoying the show," I breathed out with the pile of bodies laying lifeless around me. He took a few more steps towards me before stopping to look a the Walkers with his crossbow in hand. "What are you doing here?" I asked him at his silence, trying to keep my voice light and welcoming, not wanting to sound like I was complaining about the company.

He finally met my eyes and the answer that I wanted to here was silently confirmed. He was watching over me. Despite everything, we were back to our old ways of being friends. My heart skipped a beat at the thought that I hadn’t pushed him too far away. I was like a nervous teenager on the inside, but being the stubborn ass that I am I scowled down at him slightly, not letting him see how excited I was that he was here.

"I can take care of myself," I let him know for the hundredth time.

He shrugged, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "I know."

Pleased with his answer I had to surprise my own lips from turning up at the corners. I faced away from him to hide my failed attempts and walked deeper out into the woods.

"So why ya out 'ere?" He questioned as I started back on my path, this time he followed close behind me, not bothering to stay out of my sight anymore.

"You know why," I said darkly, only for him to nod.

He knew I couldn't rest with the Governor still out there. A part of me knew that he couldn't either.

"Michonne's out ‘ere too," he grumbled to me, letting me know that I wasn't alone in wanting the Governor gone for good.

"Why don't you go bother her then?"

He never answered. I had a feeling that he enjoyed my company better than he did Michonne's. We needed this time too. Not to talk anything out or get into another fight, but we needed that silence with each other. Where we could walk around for hours and just soak in the company of the other without a word. The silence mending what I thought I had broken. The silence also helped us forget how awkward we might have felt after having shared a bed. But that was besides the point. 

Getting up with the sun to look for the Governor everyday became routine for me, as did making my way to his bed every night. I sort of just followed him in when it was time, and he was always expecting me to also. And it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable after that first night, we got used to needing to hold onto someone and to helping each other through the restless nights. 

I never asked Daryl to come with me when I got up to look for the Governor every morning, and I never told him when I was going out after I had disappeared into my room to get ready, but he was always there waiting for me.

Every day I woke up, not getting the amount of sleep I should've been getting, and got dressed and usually grabbed some sort of breakfast bar, if anything at all, before I bounced outside to see him already leaning against the fence with his crossbow propped on the ground next to him.

I do have to say, turning the corner every morning to see him leaned against a wall with a lit smoke between his lips, and the sun rising behind him giving off a magical gold color to the air, was what fucking kept me going. He took my breath away sometimes and the saddest part was that he didn't even fucking realize he was doing it.

Days and weeks went by like this. We would follow the Governor's trail right where we had left off the previous day, coming back in the evenings only to go up and keep watch together then retiring to bed in his room.

We spent every second together almost, and sometimes it got to us. We snapped at each other a lot for pointless shit. We both possessed strong personalities and they clashed more often than not. Pushing the others buttons was something we had become masters at. It was a fun little game to piss Daryl off. He would shit talk back at me and we would go on and on. It usually either ended with him screaming at me before storming off, or with him giving me the silent treatment.

But just like always, the silence fixed everything. It let us cool down and forgive without having to say anything. Before we knew it we were back to chatting like friendly people again as if nothing had ever happened. When we weren't fighting we could find peace in the silence of each others company. I reveled in simply him being around with me. Neither of us needed to talk and that was another thing that made him close to perfect, he didn’t expect anything from me.

***

Taglist:

@daryldixonandfrogs @jodiereedus22 @xchrisxevansx @bvbwestfall

[sikereviewdotcom]

undercover brother (2002) review

sup been a while but didnt forget about yall and your eager butts to dive head first right in the flooding words coming out of my mouth today gonna rev "undercover brother" (2002), its gonna be solid guys

so we start with an introduction where we talk about how black culture was losing its flavour after the 70s, progress was slowed down n all as we reached 2000 but dont be fooled, its all cause of a buncha events orchastred by "the man"... a big racist mf ig whos also the kkk equivalent of the team rocket boss, sitting in a ig chair, never see his face in the flashbacks or like the bad guy in inspector gadget, more like him ig since we actually see the team R boss face quite often nonetheless, theres a form of mystery folding this whole business... THE MAN acts in the shadows and he hates to see how dark those are, he wants things to be like it used to be back in slavery times good oltime for him but.. not for the fam

ofc then here is introduced THE REAL MAN OF MEN => undercover brother, our hero and damn he has the style of a whole pack of elephants trampling around in pink disco suits every ladies wanna a piece of that sweet fro he is packing up on his head, funky

ngl, the whole way this mov is filmed n edited is sike asf, dope guys especially considerin its actually made in 2002, loving it anyway then were also introduced to the other secondary protags who are from an organisation here to stop The Mans evil doings and careful: undercover bro was actually a solo act until now cause now they gonna collaborate all throughout da mov: its the B.R.O.T.H.E.R.H.O.O.D, with conspiracy brother (tbh a fav here, guys wack like the whole plot guy thinks computer comes from a story involving peanut and idk guys he keeps rambling bout bs which makes him a+ character) smart brother, chief and sister girl (original name/10)

so btw the organization is on a mission rn at the beginning to destroy The Man (lets call him tm for the rest of this rev) financial infrastructure aka funds to stop him better or smthg and it gets spicy as they get caught but ofc undercover bro barges in from nowhere wow big disguise as an old man no one noticed him so like slash bawow boom vlam, bad guys ko and he squeedaddle out of there like twas breeze gg man, he also get fed a nice editing of xrays battle like with a side of kungfu n whatnot, undercover bro knows his stuff

nice sounds effects ah yes btw romantic intrigue with sister girl begins here, its the zinc of the flinch as ub (undercover brother) notices her big wink wink nudge nudge, btw later she is asked to go enlist him in the corps so he can help stop the man with them n shit and he trynna get her in his bed cause thats we this brother is used to, getting laid as soon as he meets a chick, who can resist this dude?

he gots moves, fro, style, skills and also at times he is a pussy but k, not everyones perf sometimes you just simp for a white blond blue eyed woman (spoiler) and crawls on all four looking like a big preppy nerd btw in this review im trynna not spoil the whole plot cause guys, this movie gotta be on yo watch list kay? im not here to ruin this experience in yo life itd be pretty uncool of me so im just gonna state the big lines then its up to you to swoop the tiny ones out of the watch, knot your own breds n stuff

back on the whooper slapping: intro credits roll, we get some nice back story for our hero, making sure we can understand his cause in saving the black peeps from TMs assholery might truth n justice be your guide

so what the big plot then? well yknow how a big antag cant do shit on his own cause hes too busy sticking brooms up his ass in his private quarters? yea well same goes here so there this gay guy who will be twerking later on btw, a scene to behold, rumps to ogle at, so hes a bad guy and gay n gonna do most of the dirty work for TM, whats new? idk what to think of it yknow its a stereotype in movs so ig ok still uncool but ill see it as all in good spirit cause theres bad n good im not excepting this to be the best watch of my life, nah it wasnt either, but i had a good laugh kay? makes up for it cause unlike some here i got no shit up my ass alley its clean scrubbed up n down so i can smoothly take a chillax up n a shit out without a night tormented by constipation, nah its all sliding where it should no pain no sweat

so the big lines is that a war hero whos a black man is gonna become president and wtf no is the only react racist mf could have which is what they have, bad guys gonna stop it from happening at once and the brotherhood aint letting it happens cause obvs something is wrong as every black peeps gonna turn into a stereotype like waddup in this mad world? its all because of the poisonous fried chicken brand TM will get around ty to another poison to make our war hero delusional n so on were also introduced to white evil she-ra later btw, just dropping this in cause undercover brother really wants to make oreos with her n sister girl (his words) ig shes the second love interest, im not too invested in this romantic intrigue it was just necessary not like twas very developped anyway its even more of a bedroom intrigue when it comes the the white blue eyed blond chick, sister girl before hoes yo

whats it in conclusion about this movie? first, the plot: hilarious biznasty worthy a+ bs especially how its turned yknow, the clichés were turned upside down n if not theyre just turned into a big satire of themselves editing + music ? yknow its actually good, and funky asf im digging it, a travel in time nostalgia of times i lived acting is pretty neat its not an ironically good movie cause its hilariously ridiculous in the making way its all about the plot here, plot twists and characters, the whole universe ig like its superior to big mamma sorta plot or maybe im dropping this comparison cause its been a while since i saw big maam, for sure twas under estimated while over brought when this here? it got freshness packed in

the spoiling was light and this is cause this movie got a 69/10 rating jk 8/10 if were gonna be serious, im gonna list wats unwoke n uncool here: 1 gay villain stereot, gotta be honest here its not that big of a deal tme seeing when it was made and how i still laughed yknow idc this much but some could go apeshit over it 2 not enough conspiracy brother content: this is all i ask for 3 had no snacks while watching the movie, too bad id dig a aj or grape soda right about now n then 4 more lines for car wash chicks jk this last one idc about, but car wash representation is lacking once again in american movies, i cant believe how looked over it is, as if they didnt need smore rep in the medias its not an easy job washing car all day long, standin in those ghost buster lookin suit while staring at the hot guys in hot wheelys, whos gonna pay you a drink when youre just an old carwash lady? thought finally a hero would step up in this movie but there it goes thrown out da window, the potential was real until it got blown away sure sister girl was a solid character but give the washers some credits cut them a slack of free time n have a lil date together there on top of a truck to keep it native

nonetheless this is a top rec for anyone who feels like slipping into some conspiracy slippers

tg, out

[dougbeamer]

Brightburn - Movie Review *Spoilers*

I saw this movie almost a month ago. I tried doing a video review for it several weeks ago and idk...nothing stuck. What I wanted to say just felt like it could be the same as everyone else. I just don’t think I’m gonna add anything new to the consensus.

But then I got thinking about it again for some reason I felt a desire to talk about it again.

So! Let's start with the plot and what this movie is about.

Brightburn is a film that came out in May of 2019 and tells the story of a family Tori and Kyle Breyer trying to have a kid. By a miraculous miracle, a spaceship crashlands on their farm and they adopt the baby boy inside naming him, Brandon. Many years later the family begins experiencing weird things with their now 12-year-old child. He sleepwalks to the barn where the ship he crashed landed in mumbling a strange language and trying to get inside. 

Eventually, Brandon Breyer’s powers take effect and he starts using them to kill people rather than saving people. Brandon Breyer’s is on the full path to becoming a supervillain.

With the plot, in a nutshell, I can tell you there isn’t much more to it than that. If there is anything that I don’t like when making my reviews is explaining the plot. I know I need to in order to give everyone a heads up of what I am talking about but I never seem to talk about the plot specifically enough. I never actually describe it well. My store manager had an opportunity to see this film and said it pretty simply. “It’s like Superman meets Annabell”

While I never have seen Annabell it seems like an apt description. Annabell seems like a small film in scale and terrorizes folks who come close to it. The stakes are personal, intense and not much beyond what you are given. Of course, Superman is the spot on the comparison you can give because this film screams, “WE ARE SHOWING WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF SUPERMAN WENT EVIL!” as a concept piece.

Every time I think about this film the less I like about it. 

I know there are some people out there that probably L-O-V-E this film and can’t wait to see what is next in this obvious start to a twisted franchise. 

This film is basic. Very basic. Nothing more to it than a kid coming to his own with superpowers with his parents in denial of what he is capable of. The father is less in denial than the mother is who refuses to think her child is capable of such things.

At the beginning of this film, I actually loved it. The took just enough time to create the conflict between these two that they wanted a child. Just then their house is rocked by an earthquake and they proceed to check it out. It was mysterious, it was solid. 

The rest of the film...not so much. 

When I watch a film I lookout for a few things. One of them being dialogue, moments to establish the relationships as true, real and tangible, stakes that make sense no matter how much it derails the people involved, and above all else how the film constructs this. Bring it all together with enough pomp and circumstance to say we are functional.

To me, this movie is barely functional.

Dialogue is stiff. When people talk to one another it's so short and to the point that it feels like there is more than can be said. This may not be a legitimate critique but I do feel like the technique of talking is wasted here.

There was a scene where after Brandon crushed a girl's hand and the following scene the parents were all talking in the principal's office. The mother of the daughter was clearly upset and rightfully so. She was spouting this and that, “he should go to jail” and other justifiable remarks. Until...she talks about Brandon's real mother and calls her an inbred psycho. This obviously crosses a line as Tori simply states that if trash-talking a 12-year-old child helps erica sleep better at night maybe she is the one that needs help. After that, the scene wraps up and it's over. It's not without consequence, of course, but I feel that the scene was stunted with a lot of missed opportunities with dialogue. Instead of Erica overstepping her bounds and Tori putting her in her place within seconds of the scene ending I felt that should have been the biggest conflict in the scene. A longer more emotionally driven scene. 

Granted I know the script has been flipped and instead of Brandon being the good guy he's bad. The parents are sticking up for him wrongfully but are on the side of good and Erica is in the middle. The scene conveys mixed emotions that I feel no one is good, no one really knows what to say or do. Brandon is not arrested, he is suspended and will have therapy there afterward and one simple insult closes this off and they move onto the next subject. With the knowledge of the looming fate, Erica will endure.  I feel the scene should have been at least a few minutes longer where we are given a chance to really understand where other people are coming from. By this point, we know where Kyle and Teri are coming from but not Erica. She is actually smack dab in the middle of a situation she has to immediately respond to. Before that, she only was apart of Brandon’s birthday and saw him throw a temper-tantrum where the electronics around him went out. No speaking lines and that may be enough for her to call Brandon a psycho but allow me to point out...

There is an entire bit of backstory faded out to the prolonged stare Teri was making with her son Brandon. A lot of dialogue was muffled out do to her zoning out. They only time she snaps out of it is when insults are being thrown out towards Brandon and questions of who his real mother is. 

That entire scene should have been insightful! Erica could still stay as the emotional mother who just hears and sees the aftermath of her daughter's hand crushed but we could have known at some point where she stood with the family, what kind of friends they were and some back history. Cause we just found out in that very moment more than just the family knows about Brandon’s adoption. That there in of itself leaves me to believe a lot has to be assumed in order to understand where everyone is coming from.

My mind goes to the phrase Expectations vs Reality. When I think about this movie there were a lot of expectations and when the reality hit we basically see what could have been opposed to what we got. Brightburn had a criticism that its full potential was not realized.

This is where I have to disagree. 

Yes, I have to disagree. 

We have had over 10 years of great storytelling and bad storytelling at our expense thanks to Marvel, DC, various TV shows throughout the last decade. We know exactly what we want in these types of films. So when we get a what-if concept there are only a few ways we can go with it.

Our expectations are seeing a complex take on the tale of Superman becoming evil and the reality is we see a kid who is being manipulated by a ship speaking an evil language. We don’t really see where the kid is coming from except for getting upset that he is different and was lied to for 12 years.

The reality is this is probably the best way to convey a what-if piece. Keep it Simple. Keep it just as grounded as it is right now. My biggest gripe is how everyone talks to one another. How the situations play out are almost perfect to convey such an excellent concept. 

So sticking up for this film in this regard, it did exactly what it was setting out to do. Become a concept piece that would show the makings of a villain that was based on one of the most powerful superheroes we will ever know. In fictional terms of course.

The fact that it didn’t go in any direction we were really hoping it to is not a bad thing though. Sure maybe we could have seen the makings of a villain rise up and maybe the parents are in on it. Maybe the mother takes Brandon under her wing and teaches him to channel his evil tendencies towards people that deserve it much like dexter. Instead, Patricide and Matricide are inflicted, Uncles and Aunts are killed, and next-door neighbors are terrified in cliche fashion before they are horribly killed.

What really doesn’t make this film work for me is not really buying into the fact that this kid who seems well to do, not a single psychopathic bone in his body is suddenly turned when the spaceship he crashed landed in, activates.

The film does not do a good job giving us anything that could give us a clue into Brandon’s head. Is he being controlled? Is he acting out of rage? Well, the answer to that is yes and yes. But when? When are those moments? Because one scene he is going back to the girl (the one whos wrist was broken) and tells her that she is the ONLY person who knows how special he is.

One scene before it or after it I can’t remember which...shows him going into a rage as soon as he figures out what the alien message is saying to him. So he either had a small influence then took what he could and left the rest. Or he gets small doses of this throughout the time he first encountered it. Its really unclear.

One big thing is how people write off each weird happenstance throughout the story of the film. The father, Kyle believes Brandon got in and killed some chickens late at night. The best excuse Tori has is that a wolf opened up a locked door and killed some chickens. 

I mean, the reasonings of what to talk about and what not to talk about is out of this world.

The parents find Brandon's secret stash of naked women that soon turn more grizzly where there are pictures of surgical diagrams and graphic photos of organs. Tori exclaims, “Maybe we should have the talk”

In the next scene, they go on a camping trip and the father and son have an awkward conversation about this. But the only thing mentioned was sexual urges and nothing more. DUDE, you found diagrams and organs! That is much more specific than showing off a desirable swimsuit model! TALK ABOUT THAT! This stuff gets pretty redundant after a while. You get it. Dialogue doesn’t work, the scenes and situations mentioned don’t add up when they need to talk about more important things, the relationship between the mother and father work but not with the kid, sadly. 

I feel this movie did deliver upon its potential I just feel it could have been written better. I could care less that it was a cliche horror murder movie. Give me something basic and grow from there. You could have had the characters a lot smarter, capable, flesh out the scenes better and you would have had one solid film on your hands. 

Perhaps I don’t have anything better to say than anyone else but this movie came close to frustrating me on how it presented itself.

The ending sparked more curiosity and obvious means to a sequel that I feel should have been introduced in the middle of the film. But, hey, that's just my expectations talking. 

I know there are some out there that love the film. One who can justify actions and means of what really could have been going down. But I am a very literal person so if it ain't shown to me I am not going to assume so much happened in-between scenes. I am not a psychic so I don’t know what one is thinking and if you keep a kid quiet I won’t know where he is coming from. 

That is exactly what this film did. It alienated me. Me no likey.

**/***** (2 out of 5)

[sussexcraze]

Better than Roast Chicken [Harry and Meghan One Shot]

So…. I gave in and decided to write about Meghan spilling the baby news to Harry. I’ve been going back and forth on whether or not to make this because it is weird to retell real-life events of real life people, but all the ideas have been bugging me and I wrote this one shot because my fluffy and sappy heart can’t take it we all love a royal baby. I totally understand if you don’t like reading works like these; feel free to scroll past this! But if you’re up for it, I’ve put it under the cut!

Even before entering the Royal Family, Meghan always prided herself in her ability to ground her emotions and to stay calm in a spectrum of situations. Whether it was her grueling acting days or her trusty yoga routine to thank for this, Meghan knew that a clear head and a calm and collected mindset have aided her in treading through anything thrown at her with such grace.

Up until moments ago, however, the ever composed and unperturbed Meg was now a complete and utter mess.  

It took her three pregnancy tests - and a solid 10 minutes just staring into nowhere - before it sunk in that she was pregnant. There’s a baby in my tummy,she thought. I’m going to be a mother. Harry’s going to be a father.

As she laid on their bed, Meghan’s thoughts were everywhere. Harry was out on a meeting for their Oceania tour, so she was home alone. Without her husband to listen to her litany of commentaries, Meghan was in shambles trying to sort the wave of thoughts that were bombarding her. Her mind flew straight to the tour - she knew the news of her pregnancy would affect it drastically. It’s been planned for months, Meg, she tried to convince herself. They’ve probably forecasted all possible situations and have prepared a dozen of backup plans.

“Have they been so forward thinking as to expect a pregnancy, though?” Meghan muttered to herself. As ecstatic as she was about her little bean, she would be sorely disappointed if she was advised to forego the big tour.  

Her worry lines went even deeper at the dilemma of who to break the news to first. She was itching to tell her mom, who has been nagging her and Harry to give her a grandchild from the moment they were signing the registers in St. George’s Chapel. But then again, shouldn’t Her Majesty be informed first?

And then there was Harry. Oh, dear Harry. Meghan’s features softened at the thought of Harry finding out that he was going to be a father. He’s been itching to become one even before they met, and Meghan was giddy at the thought that she would be bringing forth to the world that dream that he has been holding onto for so long.

Meghan grinned to herself as she started thinking of how she would break the news. He’s a sucker for surprises, Meghan thought to herself. He’ll love a little bib that says ‘daddy’s little angel’ or something. Or maybe I could give him a card that says from Meg and little bean -  

“You better be feeling a lot better because that meeting was long as hell and I had to go through with it all by myself.”  

Meghan was so engrossed with her thoughts that she didn’t notice Harry arriving. She stood up and strode to Harry in one go, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “You’re here already? How’d the meeting go?”

Harry sighed loudly, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Too long for my liking, as always. And more than half of it was all about press arrangements and media-related concerns for the tour, which we both know is the least exciting part of any meeting.” Harry pulled her closer. “And you, how are you feeling? Still tired?”

“Oh, about that…” Meghan nearly forgot that the reason Harry attended the meeting alone was because she was feeling unusually tired for the whole day, and he insisted that she forego it. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually,” she replied. “The afternoon off was well appreciated.”

Harry smirked. “And have you done anything productive during this afternoon off? And by productive, I mean cookies for your husband? Or samosas?”

Meghan couldn’t resist a laugh. “Sorry love, neither. But… I think I’ve got something… better?”

“Finally!” Harry stretched his arms dramatically and cheered like a five-year-old. “We haven’t had roast chicken for so long… please tell me it’s roast chicken.”

That’s it, Meghan thought as she let out a big grin. All the surprise plans are going out the window.

Meghan shook her head slowly as she smiled to the floor. “Strike two, Henry. Something else is in the oven.”

Frankly, Meghan wasn’t surprised when her food-driven and dork of a husband ran straight to their kitchen instead of her arms. Good heavens, was this man not fed during his 34 years of existence?

“Meg, I love you to death, but you never joke about food with a man who is starving after a three-hour meeting!” Harry nearly screamed as he shut the oven door. “What could possibly be better than roast -”

Harry’s words came to a halt as he turned to Meghan, who was standing a few feet before him - with her hands on her belly.

“Not that oven, you dork,” Meghan paused, then chuckled to herself. “Why did I marry you again?”

Meghan could almost see the gears in Harry’s head move like clockwork, and suddenly, his eyes widen ever so slightly, his mouth agape. Meghan watched him with intensity as his eyes moved from her face, down to her stomach, and back to her face again. Harry was… his expression was indescribable; all that Meghan knew was that it was the exact reaction he had the moment she said yes during that night last November.

Harry dashed to Meghan in mere seconds and engulfed her in a big hug. “Meg, I’m going to be a fa- are you really- ” Harry’s eyes widen, immediately taking a step back to put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry I - was that too tight?” Harry whispered, his eyes filled with concern.

Meghan laughed heartily at her husband’s reaction. “I’m okay, Harry.” She took his hands from her shoulders and placed them gently on her stomach. “We’re okay.”

Of course, Harry lost it then and there. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stroked Meghan’s belly. Ever the heart-on-his-sleeve man that he was, Harry was not afraid to show what he was feeling; from his eyes, his grin, and down to the slight tremor of his hands on her stomach, his euphoria was palpable. “I- I’m going to be a father, Meg,” Harry whispered as he put his forehead against his wife’s. “We’re going to have a little bean.”

Meghan’s jaw was aching from smiling, but it didn’t bother her one bit. She took the time to wipe her husband’s tear-stained cheeks. “That’s right, daddy.”

Harry chuckled slightly, grabbing her hand from his face to kiss her knuckle. “Mhmmm, it’ll take some getting used to to hear someone else calling me daddy, am I right-”

“Harry!” Meghan barked as she hastily covered his mouth. “You are- no dirty talk of any kind!”

Harry feigned being hurt. “Who said it was dirty talk? And really, it’s going to take some getting used to, considering how often you call me -”

“Aaaaand, zip,” Meghan retorted. She turned her back to him and headed for their bathroom. “If you’re done with your tantrum, Henry, you can come and check the pregnancy tests if you’d like.”

Harry beamed with what he heard and immediately beelined for their bathroom. As Meghan handed him the tests, Harry looked at them with fascination, his grin practically plastered on his face. “I still can’t believe it, Meg. We’ve been waiting for this, and it’s finally here.”

Meghan sighed as she hugged him from behind and placed her chin over his shoulder. “You and I both. I love you, Harry.”

Harry’s features softened. He turned ever so slightly, and cupping her little chin with his fingers, he gave his wife a kiss. “I love you too, mummy,” he replied after.

Meghan pulled away and gave him a quizzical look. “You mean, mommy?”

Harry sighed and smirked at Meghan. “Oh dear, we didn’t think this though, did we? Our poor child’s going to have the most confusing and mixed up English vocabulary for life.” Harry reached out for her stomach to touch it gently, then faced her wife with a sly grin. “Right, mummy?”

Meghan rolled her eyes at her husband. “Well, since you’re not pushing a whole human being in six months time, maybe you can give this one to mommy?”

Harry laughed in response. “No doubt about that, mum- mommy!”

———————————————————————————————————–

Hours and about a hundred tummy kisses later, Harry and Meghan were in bed, with Meghan snuggled tightly into Harry’s arms. It was always how they slept, except this time, his hand was splayed over her stomach.

Just as she was off to dreamland, Harry stirred and nudged Meghan slightly. “Meg, you awake?”

Meghan sighed. “I am now.” She turned to him and gave him a half-asleep look. “What is it?”

Harry stifled a laugh at how she looked. “Before I forget, I wanted to tell you that for the record,” Harry sat up and kissed her stomach one more time. “…this is way better then roast chicken.”

My writing’s a little rusty, so sorry if it’s kind of all over the place. But I hope you liked it! I’m not sure if I’ll continue writing more since I kinda feel bad about making fictional stuff on real people, but I truly adore Harry and Meghan so I might just end up writing from time to time lol would love to hear from you guys!

[some-mad-lunge]

Old Habits - Robron Fic

Here you go anon...hope you like it.

*********

He had been having a great day. The best day if he was honest. He woke up in his husband’s arms. They managed a quickie before Seb’s cries came through the monitor. He was working fast through these invoices while Aaron was out on some scrap yard business. He’d been gone a while so Robert could listen to his music of choice without being teased every 10 seconds. He’d probably make Aaron’s favourite chicken dish for dinner.

Great day.

And then Bernice and Nicola had stormed into the portacabin and thrown it all to shite.

“Robert look at this!”

The door banged against the wall, Nicola’s shout causing Robert’s heart to leap into his throat. She was shoving her phone in his face.

“Nicola, what the hell?”

It was then he realized Bernice was behind her sister, looking anxious and worried. Nicola waved her phone in his face some more and he took it from her hands.

It was a picture of Aaron, his beautiful husband, with his arm around another man. And his day imploded from there.

**********

By the time Robert got home he was basically a complete wreck. A complete and utter mess.

At first he was certain the picture was no big deal. Aaron was sitting on a bar stool, his profile visible to the camera, arm around the shoulders of a man who looked to be taking a selfie of him and Aaron.

Aaron hated selfies. He only did them with Robert when he begged. Which was a lot.

Bernice and Nicola had been shopping in town. Stopped for lunch. Coincidence that it happened to be the same pub Aaron was at. With an attractive man. When he was supposed to be meeting with a long known supplier. An old guy named Nate who had a beer belly and smelled vaguely of cheap cigarettes. Robert had met Nate many times. This man was not Nate.

“We were going to go say hi Robert, we were.”

Bernice looked distraught and it made Robert feel slightly sick.

“Seriously ladies I’m sure it’s not what it looks like.”

And it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. They’d been married 47 days and 3 hours. They were so good. So solid.

“There’s a video too Robert.”

Nicola scrolled through her phone, pressing play and held it up for him to see. Aaron and the man, visible outside on the street. They hugged, longer than Robert liked and then they kissed each other on the cheek. The video ended as Aaron watched the man go, a fond smile gracing his lips.

He shook them off. Told them they were being stupid. He knew his husband. Robert shuffled them out the door. Nicola was sputtering and Bernice just smiled softly at him.

Robert went back to his desk. Picked up him pen. Put it back down. Picked up his phone and texted Aaron.

“How’s Nate?”

He just stared at it in his hands. He got a response instantly.

“Good. On my way home. See you there. x”

That was it. That was all he had to say?

He pushed away from his desk and started pacing the small cabin. He was being ridiculous. Of course he was. They were better than they’d ever been. They talked things through. Sure married life was busy with Seb and Liv, work and family drama. But they made time for each other. They never went more than a few days without sex. Really good sex. Mind blowing sex. Aaron was happy. Satisfied.

Right?

Because it’s Robert afterall. Good things, well they didn’t stay in his life did they?

But Aaron would never cheat on him. No, never Aaron. He was too honest for that. He’d never do to Robert what…

And there it was. Because it would be fair wouldn’t it? Robert had cheated on Aaron. They had Seb. I mean everyday what Robert did was staring them both in the face.

Their son. Aaron loved their son. And Robert. He would never never risk that. Never.

Right?

Because the man had been handsome. Tall, maybe stockier than Aaron’s normal type but I mean...God did Aaron have a type? Other than Robert?

Shit, what was Aaron’s type?

And his mind just spiralled because Robert knew how lucky he was to have this back. Aaron and their life, their home. This morning he’d come apart in those arms, the ones Aaron had put on another man.

Diane could tell something was wrong when Robert picked up Seb, but thankfully she didn’t ask. Walking up to the Mill he saw Aaron’s car parked outside and he felt slightly light headed. Their home, everything in the world that mattered to Robert.

He couldn’t lose it again. He just couldn’t. It would break him. Again.

He carried Seb inside, his heart almost stopping completely when he saw Aaron standing in the kitchen. He smiled at Robert, that full face one that made everything inside Robert turn to mush.

“There my boys are.”

Aaron snagged Seb from Robert’s arms and snuck a quick kiss to Robert’s lips. He was too shocked to respond, just watched Aaron take off Seb’s shoes.

“Perfect timing. I just finished getting dinner ready for you little man. Yes I know, you’re always hungry after seeing Grandma Diane.”

Robert took his jacket off but watched Aaron as he placed Seb into his high chair, getting a bowl from the counter and settling in a chair himself to feed him. But Robert was rooted where he stood. He was scared to walk closer, scared to move.

“I had the most insane day Rob. So Nate, git, double booked himself. I had to kill two hours in town. I found this pub, great place, I’m taking you next week. You’ll love their fish and chips. Perfect amount of greasy. Anyway you’ll never guess who I ran into. Remember Pierre? I’ve told you about him, he was a good friend of mine in France. The one who I had to save when he got locked in the bathroom…”

Aaron looked up then, saw Robert’s face and stopped cold.

“Rob, what’s wrong?”

And Robert couldn’t help himself. He burst into tears.

**********

Aaron was amazing, because of course he was. He wrapped Robert in his arms and listened to him babble while he pulled it together. Aaron just smiled as Robert told him about Nicola and Bernice.

“I know you’d never Aaron. I do.”

Aaron just kissed him then, held him a while longer. Until Seb made it known how hungry he was and that he was not enjoying his Dads and their lack of attention.Robert took over feeding then, Aaron knowing when Robert was upset he liked his hands to be busy. Aaron pulled up a chair beside him and placed his hand on Robert’s knee.

“So how was Pierre?”

“Robert we don’t have to…”

“I was being stupid Aaron. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“And I won’t Robert. Ever. I’ve never been this happy. I didn’t think I’d ever get to be this happy. I’d never jeopardize that. I know you wouldn’t either.”

Something settled in Robert then, and he placed his hand over Aaron’s. Squeezed their fingers together.

So they finished feeding Seb. Aaron helped Robert make dinner. As in he sat on the counter and got in Robert’s way as Seb played happily in his pillow fort in the living room. He heard how Pierre and his wife had twins Seb’s age, that they’d settled in Leeds last year. Aaron made Robert laugh when he told him that bathroom story again, his hands waving wildly as he exaggerated a point.

Later that night they talked it all out. Because that’s what they did now. That’s who they were now. Husbands. In this for the long haul. Robert was feeling just like he had this morning. Happy. Content as he listened to Aaron bang around in the bathroom. He saw on his feed that Aaron had been tagged in a new photo on FaceBook.

He clicked on it to see Aaron with Pierre, both smiling for the camera. The caption made Robert’s heart sing.

“Ran into a blast from the past today. Great to see you mate. Let’s get our families together soon.  #wegotold #toddlerdads

He shared the photo, so that Nicola and Bernice would see it, and then put it out of his mind. Because his husband was coming towards the bed and he had that look in his eye...

[lilyvandersteen]

Puppy Eyes Chapter 11

This is again from Kurt’s point of view. A bit of a filler chapter

This chapter is unbetaed, because let’s face it, I’m unable to get the new chapter written in time to let my wonderful beta @hkvoyage have a look at it before it’s update day again… I’m at home with the children for two weeks and barely have the time to write.

Thank you so much to everyone who sends me feedback - you’re wonderful and you spur me on to keep writing :-)

This story is also on AO3 and on Fanfiction.net.

The other parts can be found here: Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

Chapter 11: Bedridden

After the holiday break, Kurt did whatever he could to make enough money to pay off his credit card debt. He’d never spent that much on a whim, but he’d been so furious at all those wishy washy cowards that called themselves curse breakers that he just had to DO something.

He’d been thinking about seeking out Mr. Zakharov ever since Blaine had told him how he’d gotten cursed. He’d scoured the internet for any and all information about Alexei Zakharov. When he found out that the man worked at a big corporation in Russia, Kurt had gotten a passport and applied for a visa just in case. As a last resort if nothing else he tried worked out. He’d known full well that it was a long shot. That it was crazy. And dangerous. But with anger thrumming through his veins, he hadn’t cared at all.

Now, though, he knew that the airfare and hotel bills would automatically be deducted from his bank account later that month. So he sold his vintage designer clothes to a consignment shop, hoping he’d be able to buy them back before someone else snatched them up. And he crammed his schedule as full of dog walks as he could, getting up at ridiculous o’ clock and only going to sleep when Blaine practically frogmarched him to bed.

Blaine had changed since their Christmas vacation in Ohio. Kurt didn’t know if it was because his father had let something slip, or if Blaine had just grown closer to Kurt by spending so much time with him and his family.

Whatever the reason, Blaine had really dialled up the affection he showed Kurt. He’d always been touchy-feely, ever since Kurt had moved in, but now he offered back massages, and slept in Kurt’s bed, holding him.

Could this mean that Blaine was starting to care for him? In more than just a friendly way? Or was it just Blaine being Blaine again and not realising how this affected Kurt?

It was becoming harder and harder for Kurt not to get his hopes up, and that was why he welcomed the distraction of work, work and more work. So when he felt a tickle in his throat, he just bought a roll of lozenges and sucked them around the clock to keep the coughing at bay. His nose was runny, too, but that had to be from the cold, right? And that headache was surely from too little sleep, not because he was ill…

Kurt plodded on like that for days, though he felt steadily worse, and any time he bent over to clip or unclip a leash, his head swam, and he had to hold on to the wall or sit down for a minute.

He could barely eat, because swallowing hurt like hell, so he subsisted on protein shakes and instant soup, and only ate solid food when Blaine made him sit down for a home-cooked dinner in the evening, and insisted on him eating more than just a few forkfuls.

Kurt was relieved when Friday rolled around – at least he’d have a little more time to himself in the weekend – and he went to bed that night when prompted without so much as a murmur.

He woke up to a strange hand on his forehead, and a slightly familiar voice urging him to sit up a little, please. “The doctor needs to examine you.”

Kurt blinked hazily, and yes, there was a doctor there, already putting her stethoscope on and holding out a thermometer to put in Kurt’s mouth.

Kurt shivered when the cold metal of the stethoscope touched his skin, but obeyed the doctor when she asked him to take a deep breath. A split second later, he wished he hadn’t, because it made him cough – hard, racking coughs that burned his throat and made it feel like his ribcage was about to crack.

The doctor listened to his lungs and frowned. Next, she checked his temperature, and her eyebrows went up. Way up.

“I can see why you insisted it couldn’t wait until after the weekend,” she said. “He’s got a very high fever. A bad case of the flu. He needs bed rest for a week, a fever reducer every six hours and light but healthy food. Is that chicken soup that I smell? That’s perfect. But the main thing is sleep, sleep, sleep, so that his body can recover. As soon as he can sit up, he needs to do something about that ugly cough he has. Eucalyptus vapour treatment. I’ll leave you instructions. I’ll come back in three days to check on him.”

“Thank you, doctor,” said the slightly familiar voice, and Kurt turned his head in that direction. The guy he saw was definitely someone Kurt had seen before, but he couldn’t place him, nor his surroundings. Where was he? What had happened? Why was everything moving and morphing like in a kaleidoscope? He felt so dizzy.

“Please,” he croaked, closing his eyes and feeling nauseous. Please make it stop.

An arm curved around his back and helped him sit up. “Okay, drink this. You’ll feel better when you do. It makes the fever go down, and it makes your throat hurt less.”

Kurt drank, wincing at every swallow.

“Good. Now let’s get you to the bathroom first, and then you can sleep for the rest of the day.”

Kurt felt someone lift him up and carry him. The bathroom was cold. Kurt shivered violently. The guy murmured an apology and draped his cardigan around Kurt’s shoulders, carrying him back to the bed as soon as Kurt had relieved himself. Kurt sank back into the pillows and drifted off.

He woke up to loud barking. Dogs! He had dogs to walk! Kurt sat up, meaning to get out of bed and do his duty, but his head whirled and whirled and he blacked out.

When he came to, he heard the slightly familiar voice berating the dog. “See what you did? You woke him up! He needs sleep, the doctor said so. I’ll take good care of him for you, I promise. You don’t NEED to stay here, I’ll look after him. Go with Paula.”

The dog growled, loud and menacing, and then Kurt felt the bed dip in and a warm body spooning his. Grateful for the extra body heat, Kurt turned around, cuddled up to whoever was lying next to him, and sank into a deep sleep.

He slept for what felt like weeks on end, only waking up every now and then for a bathroom break. The somewhat familiar guy was usually there when he opened his eyes, offering assistance to walk to the bathroom and making him drink medicine and tea and soup. Other times, it was a woman taking care of him, holding a cold washcloth over his forehead and spooning yoghurt with fruit granola and honey into his mouth. It took so much effort to swallow that Kurt was glad they were sticking to soft stuff.

The body Kurt used as his personal space heater in bed was always there, too, and Kurt never heard a murmur of protest when he pushed his ice-cold fingers and toes under the hot body to warm them.

It took a long time for Kurt to escape from the tired haze he’d been caught in and become more alert. When the haze finally cleared, the first thing he noticed was that he was sleeping in Blaine’s room. And that he’d been sleeping next to Blaine in his dog form.

Kurt’s stomach was growling, and his body as a whole felt like he’d been run over by a car.

Blaine must have felt him fidget. He turned, and when he saw Kurt was awake, he let out a loud bark.

The guy who’d been looking after Kurt came storming in, in pyjama bottoms and with his hair a bird’s nest, hissing at Blaine to let Kurt sleep. When he saw Kurt had his eyes open, he said, “Oh, you’re awake! How are you feeling?”

Kurt considered the question, and then croaked, “Awful. Everything hurts.”

“You think you could eat?”

Kurt’s stomach growled again, and the guy laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes. Does spag bol sound okay to you? I know it’s not breakfast food, but you need something filling and soft for your throat.”

Kurt nodded.

“I’m Trent, by the way. I used to be Blaine’s roommate.”

And now the pieces fit together, and Kurt remembered where he knew Trent from. Remembered how angry Trent had been the last time Kurt had seen him.

“Thank you,” Kurt said.

Trent smiled. “You’re welcome. Blaine should be turning back into a human any minute now, so he can take over the nurse duties then.”

Kurt’s mouth fell open. “I’ve been in bed for a WEEK?”

“Yep. You were completely out of it. The doctor wanted to hospitalise you at one point, but I managed to talk her out of that. I’m glad we’re past the worst of it now. I’ll go heat up your dinner.”

Kurt sank back into the pillows and stared at the ceiling. Somehow he’d lost an entire week. He’d missed his classes, and he’d missed so many dog walks without even warning the dog walking agency. They’d never want him back now, for sure. And he still hadn’t made enough money to pay off his credit card bill, and it would be deducted in full on the 25th of the month!

He winced, thinking of the overdraft charges he’d have to pay. Well, he’d have to find some other source of income. If his dog walking career was over for good, he could always go back to the Starlight Diner.

A hand touched his forehead, and Blaine murmured, “You don’t have a fever anymore. That’s good.”

Kurt turned towards him and then squeaked. “You’re naked!”

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “I always am, just after transforming back.”

“Well, put some clothes on!” Kurt demanded.

Blaine chuckled. “Bossy! You must be feeling better.”

Kurt glared at him, and Blaine slid out of bed to pick an outfit from his closet.

By the time Trent came back with a tray for Kurt, Blaine was holding out two bow ties for Kurt to choose between.

“Go with the striped one,” Kurt told him.

Trent put the tray on Kurt’s lap. “There you go. I’m not much of a cook, that’s more Blaine’s domain, but it’s edible.”

“Thanks,” Kurt said, and started to twirl spaghetti around his fork. “So… You’ve been looking after me all week?”

Trent shrugged. “Yep. Me and Paula. We took turns taking care of you. And taking Blaine out for walks.”

Kurt stared at him, forgetting to eat. “Wow. Why would you do that for me? You don’t know me at all!”

“You’re important to Blaine,” Trent said. “And I owed Blaine for leaving him in the lurch in April last year. Paula offered to help, so we came up with a schedule so that one of us would always be here to take care of you both. At first, Paula wanted to take Blaine in for a week, but he refused to leave you.”

Kurt felt Blaine grab his hand and squeeze it, harder than what would have been comfortable, but he didn’t protest. Instead, his heart started to beat a little faster, and he squeezed back, finding Blaine’s eyes and smiling at him.

“I’m so glad you’re doing better,” Blaine murmured. “You had us all worried, a few days ago. Oh, when you’re up to it, please call your dad? We’ve been giving him updates, but he’ll want to hear from you.”

“But eat first!” Trent insisted. “You need food, you’ve only eaten soup and yoghurt the past week.”

Kurt put a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth and started to chew, not really noticing what he ate. He focussed more on how heavy his arms felt – like lead – and how exhausting it was to do something as simple as eating. It tired him out.

Blaine noticed Kurt having trouble, and took over the fork, feeding Kurt, and handing him a glass of water to wash his dinner down.

“Well, now that Blaine is back to normal, I hope you won’t mind if I go back to my fiancé,” Trent said.

“Fiancé?” Blaine asked.

Trent blushed. “Ashton proposed to me two months ago, and I said yes.”

Blaine jumped up and down on the bed, making Kurt feel queasy, and then thankfully bounded off the bed to hug Trent and twirl him around.

“That’s just the BEST news!” Blaine shouted.

“Congratulations,” Kurt added politely.

Trent smiled ear to ear. “Thank you.”

“So when’s the wedding?” Blaine wanted to know.

“In August. The fifteenth. Blaine… Would you…? I’d like you to be my best man, please.”

Blaine beamed. “Yes! If I can help with the wedding planning, you just say the word!”

Trent shrugged. “Pretty much everything’s arranged already. I’ve been planning my wedding since I was five.”

“Me too,” Kurt confessed. “I used a lot of it for my dad’s wedding when he remarried, but I’ve made new scrapbooks since then.”

Trent cocked his head to the side. “Your father married again and you helped with his wedding?”

Kurt scoffed. “Not just HELPED. I planned the whole things, and in just two weeks, too.”

“But why would you do that? Weren’t you mad at him for remarrying?”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “No. I was the one who introduced him to Carole in the first place.”

Trent’s mouth fell open. “Before or after the divorce?”

“My mom died when I was eight,” Kurt said flatly. “And Carole’s husband died shortly after their son was born. There was no divorce on either side.”

“Oh, sorry!”

Kurt offered Trent a stiff smile. After all, the guy didn’t know him or his family. Plus, he’d looked after Kurt all week.

“I’ll take your plate back to the kitchen, if you’re done,” Blaine announced, and he left the bedroom.

When he was gone, Trent turned to Kurt with a forced smile of his own. “So how long have you and Blaine been together?”

Kurt blinked at him. “We’re not… together.”

“Really?”

Trent sounded disbelieving.

“Really. I’m here to act as a dog sitter whenever necessary.”

“Then why is he sleeping with you?” Trent asked.

Kurt slowly sat up straight and stared at Trent, hard. “Excuse me?”

“He’s been in your bed all week. He barely left your side. We had a hard time coaxing him outside for a walk.”

Kurt deflated. “Oh… That’s… That’s new.”

“So you guys aren’t dating? But you’re in love with him, you’ve said so several times this week.”

Trent saw Kurt’s eyes widen, and explained, “You babbled a lot while you had a fever.”

Kurt bit his lip. “Yes. I’m in love with him. But he just wants to be friends.”

Trent let out a short laugh. “Well, doesn’t that sound familiar! He pulled that stunt with me for twelve years. Making me think I stood a chance and then friend-zoning me over and over. So, a word to the wise: don’t waste your best years on him. I don’t know what it is with him, but he doesn’t seem to realise where the boundaries are between a friendship and a romantic relationship. So don’t let yourself be fooled when he does stuff that makes you think he’s into you. He doesn’t do it on purpose, I swear, he’s a good guy, but he’ll never fall for you.”

Kurt shrugged. “Who would? But I’ve got to try. He’s only got two more years before he turns into a dog for good.”

Trent gaped at him. “What?”

“I went to see Mr Zakharov about the curse. And he said true love’s kiss could break it. And that Blaine had two more years to make that happen.”

Now Trent’s eyes were popping out of his head. “You went to see Alex? Weren’t you scared? Did he curse you too?”

Kurt shook his head.

“True love’s kiss,” Trent mused. “Well, then, Blaine and I were never meant to be, I guess. We kissed when we were seniors in college. Went to a party and got drunk and started to make out while dancing. And I was thrilled, you know? So when Blaine said he wanted to go home, I was all, like, okay, because I thought we were finally gonna have sex. We came home, and I wanted to kiss him some more, but he turned around and threw up all over the floor. By the time I’d cleaned it all up, I wasn’t in the mood anymore, and he was in bed, snoring. He hadn’t even taken off his shoes. So I get into bed with him, thinking, well, there’s always tomorrow, right? But the next morning, he didn’t remember a thing. And I didn’t dare push. So it all came to nothing in the end.”

Kurt’s lips quirked up a little. “That sounds like Blaine all right.”

Trent sighed. “Yeah. But you can’t help loving him anyway.”

Kurt’s smile widened. “True.”

Trent slapped his thighs and got up. “Well, I really got to get going. I texted Ashton I was on my way.”

“Thank you so much for looking after us!” Kurt said, plucking at the bedsheets. “I don’t know how I can repay you for your kindness.”

Trent hummed, then said, “You could invite us over for dinner from time to time? Ashton and I aren’t really good at cooking, and we both miss Blaine’s food so much.”

Kurt grinned. “I can imagine. Tomorrow, 7 p.m.?”

“Awesome! See you tomorrow!”

And with a wave, Trent was gone.

Kurt got up and winced at how stiff he felt. All over. Like he was ninety instead of twenty. And his legs felt wobbly, struggling to carry his weight.

It was only a few steps to the bathroom, but the exertion made him pant like he’d just run a marathon, and while standing in front of the mirror to run a washcloth over his face, he had to grab the sink so as not to fall.

Then, all of a sudden, there was an arm around his middle, supporting him. “Do you want to take a bath? I can help!”

Kurt, startled, turned his head so fast he got a crick in his neck. It was Blaine, of course.

“I can lend you some swimming trunks if you don’t want me to see your junk,” Blaine offered.

Kurt thought this over, and then nodded. A bath sounded like a really good idea.

Blaine flashed him a smile and zoomed out of the bathroom. Seconds later, he was back with the most ridiculous swimming trunks Kurt had ever seen. A picture of a kitten was on the crotch, and it was eating pizza and tacos.

Kurt made a face that cracked Blaine up.

“My brother sent me these as a birthday gift one year,” Blaine explained after he’d gotten over his laughing fit. “I’ve never worn them, for obvious reasons, so that’s why I picked them. You sit down and put them on, and I’ll run you a bath.”

When Kurt had taken off his pyjamas and put on the swimming trunks, Blaine picked Kurt up like he weighed nothing, and deposited him carefully in a cloud of lavender foam. “I’ll be right back with clothes for you. What should I pick?”

“No more kittens, please,” Kurt requested, and Blaine chuckled.

Half an hour later, dressed in a comfy hoody and a pair of yoga pants, Kurt lay on the sofa with his feet on Blaine’s lap and a warm blanket wrapped around him, watching Cupcake Wars. Kurt felt relaxed and drowsy, and though he’d planned on staying awake, he didn’t even last five minutes.

He woke up in the afternoon, and shuffled to the kitchen, bleary with sleep.

“Are you hungry?” Blaine asked, making Kurt jump a foot in the air again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Do you want an omelette? French toast? Pancakes? What are you in the mood for?”

Kurt just blinked at him.

“Not really awake yet?” Blaine chuckled. “Okay, I’ll go with the omelette. Here’s a mug of coffee for you. Bet you’ve missed coffee.”

Kurt sniffed the mug and took a large sip. Aaah, bliss!!

“I hear you’ve invited Trent and Ash for dinner tomorrow? I’m going to invite Paula too. To thank her.”

Kurt looked up, feeling a bit guilty that he hadn’t asked Blaine first. After all, this was Blaine’s apartment.

Blaine misunderstood his frown. “You don’t mind Paula coming, do you?”

Kurt shook his head.

“The doctor’s coming to check on you again in about an hour,” Blaine informed him.

Kurt’s eyes widened. “That’s… not really necessary, is it? I’m better.”

Blaine tutted. “I knew you were going to be like that. But you’ve been at death’s door, and I want you to be checked again, and to take it easy for the next few weeks. You’ve been driving yourself too hard, and that’s why you were so ill.”

Kurt bit his lip, and then mumbled, “I can’t afford doctor’s visits. And I have to work. There are some big bills coming up, and if I can’t pay them in full on the 25th, my credit will be ruined for years.”

“I’ll pay the doctor, of course,” Blaine said. “And you have enough money in your bank account for those bills. I made sure of that.”

Kurt gaped at Blaine, who shrugged. “You went to Russia for me. To help me. Helping you out financially is the least I can do.”

Blaine set a plate before Kurt and handed him a knife and a fork. “And some bread and butter, hang on…”

Kurt sat frozen on his chair. Clearly, his dad had blabbed. How much did Blaine know? And how would that affect the outcome?

[tenebrismblg]

2. A few years ago, I was house sitting, well, farm sitting, for the family of a friend of mine who is one year younger than me. She was moving to college at the north end of the state and the whole family was going to move her into her new dorm. The family is mom, dad, her, and 5 younger siblings so this relatively small farm is usually well-staffed. They easily have 8-10 acres of useable land in southeastern Indiana with horses, a large garden, chickens, goats, rabbits, etc. Oh, and like 4 dogs, one of which is a huge mastiff-mix or something like that. This dog is huge - like literally the size a full grown bear, the same color, and isn't friendly with most people because he's very protective of the land. Herein lies part of the reason I was watching their house: for whatever reason, this dog loved me, and I was willing to come out to their place a day early to learn all of the daily chores that I would need to do. To help develop an image of this place, you can see the house of their nearest neighbor from their front porch, but it's across the horse pasture up by the gravel road you come in on and easily a kilometer or two away - I think it would probably take a solid 15-20 minutes to diligently walk there.

Anyway, so I spent one night there with them after spending a day learning the do's and do-not's and that was fine. They left early the next morning and I got to work which took about two hours on my own. The job was honestly really easy once the daily chores were finished, pretty much just sit around and relax, accompany the dogs, bring in the mail and whatnot. The first night came quickly and I'd heard their drive went well, so I spent the evening on the couch watching TV with the dogs. My sleeping arrangements were also in the living room on a futon so I was half-sleepily lounging around and, at some point, I must have dozed off.

I woke up to the beast-of-a-dog laying his head on my chest at about 3 AM in the pitch black, dead of night. My first thought was he needed to go outside, so I got up and put on my shoes, but that's when I noticed he had gone from my side to cowering and whining in the corner of the house opposite the front door. I stood up to check on him and then realized it was really cold, especially for a college-age guy my size wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt in early August... this chill was accompanied by the most eerie feeling of dread that I've probably ever experienced to this day. I found it physically difficult to walk as it felt like time was moving slowly. However, I eventually made it to the dog and pet him a few times to try to calm him down, but he seemed inconsolable... I walked to the thermostat in the hallway and it read 37 F inside even though the outside temp was easily still in the 70s. I moved towards the front door and peaked outside through a window, but there was a light cloud cover and it was so dark that I couldn't see anything, so I flipped on the porch light. The light wasn't enough to see very far into the pasture, so I wasn't too concerned that I couldn't see the horses, but I could see much of the driveway area and right in the midst of it stood a cloaked humanoid figure that seemed completely unphased by the porch light. I froze. It didn't seem aggressive and wasn't carrying any obvious weapons, but I'm thoroughly convinced after staring at it for 5 or 10 seconds that this thing was not human.

The father of my friend is low-key one of those doomsday preppers, but more realistic in that he prepares for things like EMPs, nukes, solar flares, etc. Nonetheless, he has a shit ton of firearms around the house, all thoroughly locked up outside of my use, except one fully-loaded 9mm pistol in the master bedroom that he gave me the key for and told me it was for emergencies only. I ran to the room as fast as I could and got the pistol, but, by the time I returned to the door, the figure was gone. I saw that the dog was still in the corner, but had stopped whimpering for the time being. I turned on a bunch of lights in the house, still carrying the pistol, and returned to the couch where the dog had moved to while I was walking around. I was still shaking and completely unsure of what to expect next, but then, just as suddenly as everything else happened, the feeling of dread subsided, the dog wagged his tail a couple times and licked my hand, and the thermostat now read a comfortable 72 F even though the heater had never kicked on.

I managed to gather my thoughts and lay down again after about 20-30 minutes of deep breathing, I eventually fell asleep again. I woke up to my alarm at something like 8 AM and realized what I had hoped to be a dream couldn't have been because all of the lights were still on and the pistol was sitting on the coffee table with the safety off... I eventually worked up the courage to step outside and start my chores, but couldn't help to investigate the (dirt) driveway a little. Near the place I thought the thing would have been standing, I found the shape of two bare feet with no footprints leading to or from it and no other marks one would expect in a footprint (i.e.: toe prints, wrinkles, etc.).

I have no idea to this day what it was that stood outside the door that night or have any explanation for the entire event. All I know is it spooked me enough that I invited my brother to come spend the subsequent (and final) night with me when, luckily, nothing happened. I never told my friend or her parents because I thought for sure they'd think I was crazy and stop associating with me. Unfortunately, I have sort of lost contact with them now anyway... maybe I'll reach out to them sometime, but I don't know.

[ghostmartyr]

Pokémon White Randomized Nuzlocke Run [Part 10]

Elite Four has been defeated, but N and all the fun of Team Plasma’s castle thing remain.

Our lineup?

tag your spoilers wow

So let’s.

Yeah.

These are my options. I don’t think beating the Elite Four alone opens up any new routes, though that might be worth checking out. Without Gelding, I have nothing that knows Fly. Exploring those options might be a little more complicated than I want, but what I want is no longer that relevant to all of this.

Staring at the list is not making it better.

Okay. What I’m going to do. ...Geez, yeah, okay, so the Electric Gym town has a guy who can tell you what your pokemon’s ivs look like. I’m not really sure what I want to go with here, so I think I’ll use that to narrow down my options.

The roadwork that keeps me from exiting Opelucid to the right is ongoing.

...I need Fly to keep my sanity. But. No, yes, I need Fly. I will Move Delete it if it’s a problem.

Great. So I have a Togetic (Tock) with Fly.

I remembered wrong, or just can’t find the iv guy. But something I did remember while looking at the map...

An unexplored area. I don’t know if it has any pokemon in it, but let’s check it out and cross our fingers.

...And that’s a bust.

I could try hitting up towns that I haven’t caught anything in and seeing if they have Surf spots? With Tock getting an Exp. Share in the meantime? I’m not comfortable using Togekiss, because I can’t remember whether or not it’s a thing that stops learning moves when it hits its final evolution or not. But as long as he’s here, he might as well get something out of it.

Presenting the dark grass off of Route 1.

So not a new route.

It’s not horrible for grinding, maybe?

I say as nothing but Tock benefits?

-considers Tock for a moment-

I have vitamins. I can feel myself leaning towards using him.

Some of the problem is that I have no idea what Ghetsis or N have. Ghestsis has the Hydreigon from hell and N has Reshiram, but nothing I have available really solves how much of a problem those things are. Togekiss, in theory, has a good movepool. I think. Something useful could be done. But that would probably involve buying TMs. I have no idea what it learns naturally.

Well, Tock just learned Ancient Power. So that’s one thing it learns naturally.

As long as it’s learning, I’ll stay away from evolving it.

...Yeah, Tock’s basically in.

New route off the side of the starting town.

There’s water and. Water. So my choices are pretty clear.

Heh. I found TM06 Toxic.

That might be useful.

IT IS MY FAVORITE THING!

But not something I really feel a pressing urge to use for my team. Damn.

Quick Ball get, and his name is Wagston now.

This route is terrible for exp, since everything appears to be in the single digits, but I think it might lead to another section where I can maybe nab another thing. So on we go.

The map says I am now in Route 18, and there’s grass. I’m going to believe it.

...

...

k

No on the Quick Ball.

I think it might be half Fighting. So I do not want to Mach Punch. (Hi I’m from the future and I happened to scroll up and see this, and self, what the fuck does that mean? Those things are not of the sense making.)

..I don’t really want Tock near a legendary so close to his level.

Switching in to Frogger and hoping for that magic Poison Touch.

That isn’t happening even a little.

Tock can probably handle one Take Down.

Terrakion uses Double Kick twice, and Tock let’s. Let’s get you out of there. And tick off another turn by healing you up a little. Same to you, Frogger.

...Ultra Ball? Yeah, it’s still green, but. My strategy appears to be letting it hit itself until I am comfortable using one of my four Timer Balls.

It keeps using Helping Hand.

I am double checking Frogger’s ability.

...Yeah, no, he can poison things. He’s just. Not. Ever.

-tosses a normal Poke Ball-

It’s night. Dusk Ball?

Would you look at that, it got a shake.

...I don’t even know if I want to use it.

This has been a lot of turns I’m not mentioning now.

I think enough turns have gone by for the Timer Ball to have its max effectiveness. I’m less sure that it will be enough.

Great Ball does the trick, though.

Wow.

...Oh. It is not Ground/Fighting.

It is Rock/Fighting.

Good to know.

Hm. Needs a name.

Rojo.

-kneads forehead-

I have no idea what I’m doing. Training Tock up a little, but. I don’t have a solid thought about what I want for my team. I was fine just going with what I happened to catch, then yay, I have more than six, and now suddenly options. Options that I don’t have solid thoughts on, since I don’t know what I need to protect myself from.

Map now says I’m at the P2 Laboratory, and there is grass about. So one more option awaits.

I don’t...

You know.

Legendaries are hard to catch?

This game’s only real mood is making me eat my words. Quick Ball ftw.

So. Uh.

Flaming chicken needs a name.

Buzz. For reasons I can’t explain without divulging the names of family members and some truly bizarre dot connections.

Also, I have picked up the Thunderbolt TM.

Okay, at this point I’m just being silly, and really, I’ve checked off the only sensible places to check for ways to fill out my team. I need to make some choices. Now.

Tock is basically in by virtue of me bonding to anything I use more than once. If things go well, he will fill Gelding’s old role of having an esoteric moveset. Only with more survivability.

That puts me with Grass/Fighting, Water/Ground, Bug/Steel, Fire, Normal/Flying.

What I could really use is some Fairy.

This gen does not have that.

Options:

Normal

Fighting/Steel

Steel

Rock/Water

Water

Water/Grass

Ghost

Fire/Fighting

Ghost/Water

Rock/Fighting

Grass/Rock

Psychic

Fighting/Dark

Fire/Flying

Bug/Flying

-ponders-

I know I have a Fire/Dragon problem. I probably have a Dragon/Dark problem, because I have convinced myself that damn thing has Flamethrower. Water besides Frogger would not be the worst thing ever.

My personal leanings: Jellicent (Peanut), Terrakion (Rojo), or Spoink (Piglet).

Peanut or Piglet would give me another Special Attacker. But I have Tock, Frogger, and Fido’s really a flex.

I think.

Rojo? Let’s Rock.

-dons sunglasses-

Training montage time.

Fido’s up front. I’m going to run away from the Machamps because Attack is not a thing Tock needs, and Fido’s cooked on EVs. Actual EV training with specific, intentional numbers drives me insane in-game, so I won’t bother, but I want to at least try for some boosts. Amoonguss isn’t a bad thing for Togekiss grinding, and Gothita isn’t either.

The Machamps will get their turn when Rojo’s up properly.

In case you wondered, this is boring af.

Oh, wait, I guess we haven’t been formally introduced to our new little ones.

Tock is Calm, but very finicky. Dude, same. Serene Grace is also a horrifying Ability in the right hands, but I don’t really know what I’m doing yet. I will figure out Tock’s moveset when it’s time for evolution. Then cry, I guess, because I’m pretty sure not having a guide for this part is going to hurt.

Great Nature, though.

Rojo is Sassy and hates to lose. We were made for each other. Justified is a bit of an overspecialized Ability, but opportunities abound for it to be useful.

Back to the grind.

Ideally, Tock gets trained up, then Tock is the one reaping Rojo’s EV harvest. Speaking of, I have no idea where to go to get Special Attack EVs. Tock should have some, but I don’t remember if anything with them is around.

Wait... Lampent. Somewhere. Near Icirrus? In the midst of all the Togetic?

...Suddenly, Ho-Oh.

...Does Ho-Oh give Special Attack EVs?

Cresselia might, back in Relic Castle. Or HP. I. Really don’t have a clear record of what gives what unless I’m looking it up, and I’m not allowed to do that.

I could just accept that I’m tanking Tock up.

WAIT, no, SLUGMA. Back where I caught Ptera! Slugma gives Special Attack EVs! I distinctly remember that because one of Ptera’s first acts on the team was murdering our prospective Slugma!

Tock has continued to learn no Attacking moves since Ancient Power. So even though he can beat Slugma of the level that will be in the cave, that is not a good use of time.

Also, since cave, Bandit is coming along for a walk.

...There’s a Pignite in the Slugma cave.

All my mistakes. Just there on display.

There appears to be nothing but Pignite in the Slugma cave.

Hey, found one! Then another! I’m not crazy!

At least not for reason of seeking Slugma where there are none.

...Why is there a Shelgon on the water.

Whatever, fine, I’m over it. I see nothing but Slugma. Level 5 Shelgons are of no consequence or interest or fascination.

I want one.

This place has a basement level with Sandile. And severely decreased visibility. And Sableye.

Do I have Flash? I have been here five seconds and this is unbearable.

Tock, you basically have no useful moves yet, so congratulations, you get Flash. Now watch as you learn something I want the next time you level up and I am plunged back into the darkness (joke’s on you, everything in here is under level 20. you are never leveling up again).

Oh, I remember now. That guy in the alleyway gave me Flash. Good times.

I was supposed to be here for training. Instead I am running away from everything and finding Kabutops on the water.

You know what, Rojo temporarily gets the Exp. Share so I don’t feel guilty about killing a few instead of running. ...Wait. I have Bandit with me instead of Rojo. Right. Okay, so Fido just gets all the exp.

There are some Fighting trainers down here that have slightly more level-appropriate encounters for Fido to chew through. ..Too bad Rojo isn’t here to enjoy it. Oh well. I’ll cry about how I have to level two whole things up later.

Hey look at how these guys’ Sawks don’t have Sturdy. Funny, that.

Oki doki, the downstairs has been explored to satisfaction. Back to Slugma.

...How many of these am I going to take down, anyway? 1 EV per, and each 4 adds up to +1 to the ultimate final stat.

That. that really makes this feel utterly inconsequential. I was going to just let as many Slugma as Fido has Bites go down. But. Geez, I think I’m just going to cycle through the Final Four and have them use up their PP, and then when that’s done to satisfaction or I’m at my sanity limit, I’ll go back to Victory Road.

Opelucid has the girl who lets you know if your pokemon’s done with EVs, right?

Twenty minutes later, this is still boring.

Picture this, only always.

This isn’t even going to do much. It’s just if I didn’t put any effort into it I’d feel weird. “I want this thing to be a useful Special Attacker. Let’s grind against things that will never give it any Special Attack EVs!”

What I like about in-game stuff is that you don’t worry about that? You just go through whatever you come across, and at the end you have a random arrangement of stats, and it’s not the best of anything, but it’s also not the worst of anything.

Put in the position of strategic grinding, where you never get an unknown anything, because you know exactly what your options are and are out of trainers, and you know exactly how you are failing to maximize the potential of your pokemon.

Knowing the numbers behind it all stresses me out, tbh. Give me invisible stats and an optimistic outlook. That is my chosen style.

I think after I hit my tolerance point with Slugma (it has been twenty more minutes), I’ll head back to Dragonspiral Tower. The Jellicent in the water outside would be another good source of nutrition for Tock.

But like all of life. That is after Slugma.

...Does Mime Jr. give Special Attack EVs? Because I seem to remember that the first level of Dragonspiral Tower is nothing but mimes. And part of the insanity of this is that Slugma is not the only thing in this cave.

The other part is getting 10 exp a pop.

Dragonspiral Tower could conceivably solve both those problems. But unlike Slugma, I don’t know Mime Jr.’s EV output for sure.

...Yeah screw it, I’m leaving.

Such better. Much change. Wow.

If only Tock had a move that was actually useful for grinding. Alas.

What.

And then there was a Cherrim.

This is clearly so much more trouble than it’s worth.

Drowning my sorrows in murdering Jellicent.

That’s going better.

Tock wants to learn Double-Edge.

No. I am not going to aid in you hitting yourself.

Thirty minutes later, I am again waging war against Slugma. I went to Opelucid in the middle to check that Tock does still need training. In the EV realm.

Forty-six Slugma later, does Tock have anything left?

Yes.

It’s what... 252, 252, 4?

Idek, but I think more Jellicent is in order. Fully evolved stuff gives more EVs. I cannot do the Special Attack grind anymore. It has defeated me more thoroughly than...

...All the comparisons I can think of relate to this Nuzlocke experience and they hurt.

The deep water spots in this area are where Skitty live. For the record.

Twenty-five Jellicent later, Tock is not done.

...I... think Jellicent and Amoonguss have different EV loot. I think Amoonguss is HP and Jellicent is Special Defense. However. It is not outside the realm of possibility that they have a matching set of either. Which would leave me bashing a wall. Hm.

(I also think that maxing out a pokemon’s EVs takes longer than my impatience gives it credit for, and if I just keep at it, things will go fine. Meh.)

Electric Gym town has those spare sportsball trainers hanging out, right? I could go fight some with them and take what I get.

Or I could wait on that until Rojo’s up.

Okay. Back to Victory Road.

Have a picture to go with the endless text.

Also, it’s apparently relevant to note that I have no idea what Ho-Oh’s EV output is. I maybe mentioned that earlier, but it’s been many, many hours since then for me.

Tock still doesn’t know anything useful.

Fido thought about learning Lava Plume, but that doesn’t really help fill any gaps, and Stomp and Bite are sadly things that I think I would regret losing.

Why does Tock keep wanting to learn physical attacks.

Tock is level 50 and still being trained solely through Exp. Share because he has no moves. I could possibly change this. But here we are.

I was going to teach him Thunderbolt so he could eat his own Jellicent. Togetic can not learn Thunderbolt. Linoone (Bandit) can, and I have no idea how that works.

I think it’s time.

Tock.

Come forth.

Adorable.

...Togekiss can not learn Thunderbolt.

Okay then.

...I think it’s time to find out what you can learn, while we contemplate just how badly I may have misjudged your true purpose.

Hey, Tock can learn Shadow Ball! That’s a useful! Let’s do that!

Back to Jellicent and Mime Jr. Which will in no way drive me insane now that Tock is big and strong enough to dispense death swiftly.

Oh, by the way, Pokemon Go has ruined me, it would seem. My reaction to Feebas appearing where I was expecting Mime Jr. was pure disdain, because how dare it get in the way of my EV training torture doomathon.

But Feebas is a pokemon that shows up in six panels in the gen it first appears in. For most intents and purposes, is excruciatingly rare. Pokemon Go, being unable or unwilling to produce similar finding difficulties, just. has it as one of the many pokemon you can find. Sure, rare, but it shows up.

But this is not Pokemon Go. This is one of the cartridge games. Feebas is a heavy rare. So. There. This is me appreciating that properly.

-soft gasp-

Tock is free to move about the cabin!

...And now it’s Rojo’s turn. But I’m way more casual with the legendaries, because I sort of expect them to be fine however. Also Victory Road and Machamp. It will not be the nightmare experience I turned this into.

Sorry Bandit, back in the box. It’s been fun. Thanks for the Pickup items.

(Real talk. In the future, when things aren’t dead, I should level Bandit up so I can get some sweet stuff as I finish my journey of seeing all the pokemon of the routes hereabouts.)

One Shadow Ball is not enough to dispatch the Machamp. Someone else might have to train Rojo. ...Batman is the wrong someone else. Palm, have at it. Palm, also no. ...Frogger?

Fido seems to be the only thing on this team that can take out a Machamp in one hit as a regular feature. Heartening.

Rojo learns Retaliate. Siiiiiiigh.

Fido is once again in first position.

Wait, I just realized where I should be training Rojo. Batman’s home ground. Or is Escavalier just Attack? I think there’s a chance it’s Attack and Defense, but I’m not sure... I know where to go for Special Defense, but not Defense, and I feel bad leaving Rojo with no Defense. Oh, wait, duh. That area off Route 1, with the Cloyster and stuff. Bam.

Did I mention Huntail is around here? Because it is.

And we are back to this.

I’m going to take a sanity break and Fly to ever single town to look for TMs for Tock.

Well, that was a bust.

Back to grinding.

Attack is possibly maxed, so I’m just going to Nimbasa with its sports people and yeah. Today is football day.

...Oh, these things are a higher level than I thought. Hello, level 40 Gurdurr. Goodbye, level 40 Gurdurr. Hello level 40 Sawk (I hate you.) Goodbye level 40 Sawk.

The other court has tennis.

There’s also a Hiker to fight outside the ferris wheel. His stuff is not nearly so level appropriate.

I think we’re at the point where I’m trying to level the whole team up more than focusing on how they’re leveled. Everything’s over 50, so theoretically, I could just go now. I don’t. I don’t really. want that. Even though the Final Four are stronger than they were. And the amount of time I spend on this will not change how strong my opponents are. I am in a considerably better spot than I was.

Except for the death.

And not having particularly good TMs to throw at Tock. The best I can do is spend all my money on a Blizzard/Thunder/Fire Blast TM. I’m pretty sure Tock can learn those, but I was also pretty sure Tock could learn Thunderbolt, and here we are.

Something else I could try is going through every area I didn’t because no Strength, checking them off the list and maybe finding some other TMs that might be useful.

Tock currently knows Ancient Power, Fly, Wish, and Shadow Ball. Ancient Power’s fine. Shadow Ball’s fine. Tock’s Attack is so awful that even STAB can not boost Fly into viability. Wish is a great move, but I have an attack attack attack style with in-game Pokemon. If I need a move that gives me health, I have serious problems. I can use a Potion and give Tock another attack.

In theory. In practice, what attack? I have almost no useful TMs.

Let’s roll them dice.

There appears to be as much nothing as possible in Dragonspiral Tower.

There’s some cave I skipped out on earlier because I was tired, right? Also places I didn’t have Surf when I first visited?

That helps me none, but the spirit is appreciated.

Batman can’t run away from a level 22 Buizel.

Did I know the route next to Driftveil had Typhlosion? Because that is a happening. There’s Claydol in the water.

Guess who’s learning Flash again.

Oh, and this is a new area!

It’s the gimmick pokemon! I watched a guy on youtube play through all of... one of the generation two games (original?) with a team of Smeargle. It was incredible. Pikasprey Blue is the channel. He does some insane stuff to spice up pokemon playthroughs. They’re neat.

Quick Ball for the win, and Smeargle is named Donna. I don’t know why. She looked liked a Donna.

Huh, Grovyle. Long time no see. Mankey as well. The next level up has Tyrogue. Oh, my heart. Love that little guy. Love how its the only thing in this whole cave Batman outruns. Electrike is also a thing.

I have long been out of comments.

I still do not have my bingo sheet.

I found the Rock Slide TM.

It has a new name. Does that mean it counts as a new area?

um.

...Wobbuffet clause?

No, fine, I fainted it without tragedy when the Quick Ball didn’t catch it and I just went for things concluding as fast as possible. Uh. I maybe. Do not want to be here. ...I picked up a Max Repel. I’m going to use it.

Also, this is Cobalion’s chamber I believe, so I got a history lesson on Cobalion, Terrakion (heh), and Virizion. At some point I had a shiny Virizion. I was pretty unhappy. The green looks cooler than the pink, and I couldn’t even complain properly because SHINY LEGENDARY.

I would prefer not to be involved in any sort of official fight with a legendary. Killing it would feel sad, and if I had a choice of catch in this chamber, it would be the Wobbuffet I just murdered. If I can, I will walk around it.

Or just avoid it entirely. Sorry dude. I don’t want to kill you.

So that’s that cave. No Special Attack TMs. The quest continues. Next stop... Nimbasa again, for the little grove thing next to it. With the woman who’s like a Zorua or something. I’m pretty sure there are Surf spots there? Maybe?

One of the desert spots also has water. As does the Bug forest area thing.

The grove thing needs Waterfall in order to be new territory, so that’s out.

I just looked at this thing and what the heck. I have a dim recollection of trainers getting their own nature, but not memory at all of what, if anything, it means. Meanwhile the color exists to hurt me. I think I get a new one after properly beating the game. One more thing to look forward to if it ever happens.

Since a day has gone by, I go back to the sportsball courts before midnight hits. Then I will return to the sad TM hunt. Basketball and baseball on the docket.

Sad TM hunt are go.

The desert area water has nothing. Just a random spot of water. With Wurmple.

Hi, grass I never came back to when I finally could.

It has level 23 Oddish. The horror. Oh, cool, Butterfree and Electrode too. And Dusclops.

I have very little memory of this place. Is this where the green legendary thing hangs out? If so I’m not going to touch it. Also I fear for my TM chances.

As I type this, I find the SolarBeam TM.

I guess the amusing part of all this is that I am going about my aims the right way. I am finding TMs. They just don’t really help me.

How come I can get to Cobalion now but not the other two? I don’t recall the lore. Something else to look up when I have guides returned to me.

Welp.

Is there anywhere else I can go?

Cold Storage has nothing new, but I did find a Scyther.

Hey, another disappointment! This one’s a Water Stone.

...There’s a Trapinch in the water.

;-;

I should clearly give this up.

Shaking grass in route... something-or-other-with-the-Salamence has Vigoroth. Neato.

I’m going to hit Twist Mountain for a look, but after that, I think it’s time to just accept that this is going to be awkward as heck.

One more round of sportsball.

Then. I’ll figure it out.

Soccer and tennis are today’s things.

Okay. Okay.

It’s time.

This place fills me with fear. The organ music probably helps with that.

The team.

Tock and Rojo with their debut. Batman, Fido, Palm, and Frogger with their return. All that’s left is to look at the TMs and cry decide what Tock’s getting.

Flash is replaced by Echoed Voice. Think Normal, Special Attack Rollout.

For the other slot, I can go with SolarBeam, Flash Cannon, or Toxic. Steel is super effective against Fairy, which doesn’t exist, Rock, and Ice. None of those are particular problems, but Flash Cannon does do 80 damage and a chance to lower the target’s Special Defense. Serene Grace would up that chance.

I think I’ll go with Toxic.

...Oh. Wait. I need the move deleter for HMs.

..............Buzz, teaching you Fly for a hot second!

I had a moment of panic where I wasn’t sure if anything else could learn it. That would be one long bike ride.

Hold up.

Wait, did I... forget something important?

!

Air Slash!

I could also learn Aura Sphere, but I’m pretty well set with the Fighting.

So, Air Slash! We’re going to conveniently not pay attention to the 95 accuracy because that way lies heartache! Tock has a STAB Special Attack Flying move! Rejoice!

Now the question becomes which is better: Echoed Voice, or Toxic. Hm.

Ancient Power doubles as a stat booster, so I don’t want to say goodbye to that one. Right now, Tock has two STAB attacks, and two misc. ones. Toxic loses Echoed Voice, but I mostly gave Tock Echoed Voice because facing the Big Bad using Flash was a nightmare waiting to happen.

Toxic is fantastic, but I will be fighting people who use Full Restores.

...Let’s go with this for now.

...And use a PP Up on Ancient Power.

Now we’re really ready.

Except I need Frogger in front. And everyone should have at least one special item to help them out.

Batman gets SilverPowder for Bug. Tock gets a Silk Scarf for Normal. Miracle Seed for Palm. Mystic Water for Frogger. Rojo gets BrightPowder because that seems useful (lowers opponent’s accuracy). Shell Bell for Fido.

Time to explore the castle.

N’s room.

...Music box music is creepy.

Another level up, Ghetsis reveals (? I haven’t been paying enough attention to know if it’s come up before) his plan to have everyone release their pokemon so that Team Plasma has all the pokemon and can rule over everyone. That’s the evil scheme we’ve got to be a hero to stop.

Rock and roll.

N summons Reshiram, fun cut scene stuff happens, and that summons Zekrom to the field. With other fun cut scene stuff.

You are my favorite lightning dragon.

Having a Master Ball really lowers the drama on this, but this is only the plot drama. The actual drama awaits after the catch.

Note how cool Zekrom is. Because it is.

I wish they wouldn’t make the Master Ball wiggle. Every single time I use it, I think to myself that it will somehow be the time where it doesn’t work. It does. Of course it does. But those moments before it does are always so stressful.

So, Zekrom caught, and because it’s not randomized, it will not receive a nickname, and therefor will not be used in the coming battles.

I really hope it is.

Deep breath time.

He sends Reshiram out first. It’s level 52. I have Frogger first because go Frogger. Frogger’s level 59. Surf’s up. Reshiram’s faster and uses its trademark Fusion Flare, but double resistance is a nice thing, so Frogger’s still within the green.

Surf does about half, which is great, but it’s close enough to not guarantee that another will finish Reshiram off.

Reshiram knows Hyper Beam, and Frogger is down to 73 HP.

N’s next pokemon is Klinklang. Level 50. Fido’s up, and since I believe Klinklang is more Defense than Special, Flamethrower is the move of choice.

Oh, dang. That does the trick. Fido’s faster and only needs one.

Carracosta is next, which means it’s Palm’s turn. It’s level 50, but it is heavy on the Defense if memory serves. Not very fast. Seed Bomb because I can’t remember for certain if the Rock/Water typing is right, and it’s the one that’s going to be super effective either way.

Carracosta has Sturdy, so endures the hit, and Stone Edge misses. N uses a Full Restore. Palm uses Mach Punch to do away with Sturdy, and wraps this up with another Seed Bomb.

Next up is Vanilluxe. Level 50. Fido’s back. You never got your real shot at fighting Ice things, did you buddy? Go with Fire Fang since Fido’s more Attack than Special and Vanilluxe is more Special than standard, I believe.

The gets it down to a sliver of red health, and it has started to hail. N doesn’t use an item, so the next Fire Fang downs Vanilluxe.

N sends in a level 50 Archeops.

I might point out that nothing on my team knows Thunder.

After some heavy thought, Batman is sent out. I don’t know how that will go, but that Rock/Flying typing is harder to navigate than it looks. As I am familiar. If Frogger had more HP, I’d put him back in. Depending how it goes, I might use Batman to heal Frogger up. We’ll see.

Stone Edge moves Batman to 93 HP, Hail downs her to 83, but Iron Head gets Archeops in one hit.

N’s last pokemon is Zoroark (level 50). Since Batman’s hurt (ish), I’m going to send in Palm.

...Okay, so N’s Zoroark knows Flamethrower. Palm goes from having 160 HP to having 58. .....Palm is also burned.

The combination has Palm at 28 HP.

Mach Punch would probably finish the job, but if N uses any healing items, status and weather will kill Palm.

I’ve been trying to see if I could win with only the four I had when I first made it to the castle, but they were a lower level than they are now anyway, so that was never a true test. And without the burn, Palm would have won already.

Rojo’s up. I’m not killing Palm out of pride.

Mind you, it’s tempting, and that says a lot about me, but no.

N doesn’t heal Zoroark, and the hail stops.

So I would have gotten away with it.

Rojo finishes it up with a Sacred Sword.

Phew.

But we’re not done yet.

Ghetsis comes in and proceeds to be an abusive dick to N. He also, loudly, talks about how he wants to rule the world as Alder and Cheren walk in. Nice going.

....Wait.

I don’t get to heal first?

Okay, maybe that twinkle effect N did healed things. Don’t know, don’t care, the important thing is that Frogger is in front and at full health. Ghetsis has a level 52 Cofagrigus out front. I don’t have any pressing need to switch out. I’m going to try Hydro Pump to see if I can’t get away with ending this fast.

Sliver of health left after that, and Froger is badly poisoned by Toxic. Ghetsis does the Full Restore thing while I shoot a Surf his way, I eat a round of poison, Cofagrigus uses Protect so I eat another round, but finally a second Surf gets it.

So Frogger is at 83 HP and poisoned. Ghetsis sends in a level 52 Bouffalant. ...It is probably going to know Retaliate, but in any case, Rojo is out for me.

Rojo’s faster, and one Sacred Sword ends it.

Aaaaaand it’s time for the Hydreigon. It is level 54. It should not exist, but neither should Ghetsis, so whatever. Rojo stays in due to fears of Flamethrower.

The damn thing knows Focus Blast, and Rojo is so, so lucky to be Sassy. And legendary. A Sacred Sword does the trick. Geez.

Huh, Ghetsis has a Seismitoad. Level 52. Palm’s turn to shine.

Yep, one Seed Bomb and we’re done.

Eelektross is next. Level 52. I send out Batman because I don’t think it’ll have anything that can cause her harm. Unless it knows Flamethrower. For some reason I’m suddenly very afraid it does, but I think that’s just a mood of the fight.

Anyway it knows Flamethrower.

I’m pretty sure I’ve done this too much for some part of my brain to remember that.

Luckily, one X-Scissor is enough. Then we move on to the final pokemon. Level 52 Bisharp. As the Fighting pokemon yet to take a hit, Palm’s back in the ring. Sky Uppercut goes first, hits, and faints the Bisharp.

So.

Hey.

Hey.

We won.

And everyone’s okay.

...Except N, because his innocent purity and compassion for pokemon was used for evil, and now his world is upside down and he’s all confused and sad and everything.

Because Ghetsis raised you that way.

Ghetsis is a dick.

...Also, I realized that he’s talking to me about how my first pokemon thought of me. It liked me. That particular one.

Boeing.

Frogger would have been there, too. But.

Game, can we just... hit the end credits?

Fine, N has to go off into the sunset first. But after that?

HEYO!

AND THAT’S GAME!

Except not really.

What I’ve decided for this run is that it will meet its official end after I check every place on the map off, then return and fight Version Two of the Elite Four. I’ve still never beaten Alder. I think that’s the only proper conclusion Nuzlocke runs can have; the team immortalized in the Hall of Fame.

I just said it’s not, stop lying.

[cheekybluefox]

160 Prompt List

1. Why are we at a strip club? 2. I’m sorry, you said what to your teacher? 3. Am I dead? 4. Its always been you. You and always you. 5. Stay with me. 6. How about we put the gun down, and we talk about this? 7. I came here to kick ass and chew gum, and I’m all out of gum.. 8. Whatever it is, I didn’t do it. 9. Am I supposed to be impressed? 10. Don’t tempt me. 11. Is that mine? 12. I can’t do this anymore. 13. Go to hell. - Already been there, but thanks for the invite. 14. Look at me. 15. Where did you get that? 16. Here, take my hand. Everything is going to be fine. Just hold onto me and keep moving. 17. You don’t need to protect me. 18. I had a nightmare about you, and I just needed to make sure you were okay. 19. I told you not to fall in love with me. 20. You know it’s okay to cry, right? 21. I just want to be left alone right now. 22. Those things you said last night, did you mean it? 23. Promise me you come back, just..I need you to promise me. 24. I could tell it was your favorite book by all the notes in the margin. 25. Where do you think you’re going? 26. Despite what you may think, I can look after myself. 27. Just please, be my best friend right now and not the person they I confessed my love to. 28. Well, if you insist. 29. I can’t believe you don’t like Disney films. 30. You’re lucky you’re so cute. 31. Sometimes I really dislike you. 32. Hold my hand, we need to make this look convincing. 33. I’m like 20% sure this plan will work There’s like an 80% chance that it could end in violence and Gore, but this plan is solid, I swear. 34. If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you. 35. If you don’t want to talk about it then just say so; but do not say you are fine, when you so obviously are not. 36. I made cupcakes because I know you like them. 37. My parents asked me about you again. 38. Wait, this is your handwriting? This chicken scratch? 39. I didn’t know you could play. 40. Things don’t always turn out the way you want them to. 41. You two sure you aren’t married? 42. You can’t sit on the sidelines all your life. 43. You deserve so much better. So much more. 44. You haven’t each touched your food, what's going on baby girl? 45. Stay the night. Please. 46. Please pretend to be my boyfriend/girlfriend. I’ll owe you big time. 47. Its midnight. What do you want? 48. You’re strangely comfortable. 49. Don’t fuck with mama bear. 50. I just need you here. 51. How long have you been standing there? 52. Is that what you call an apology? 53.I’ve loved you since I laid my eyes on you. The very moment, I first saw you, and I…oh, fuck it! 54. Just hold me. 55. Can I hold your hand? 56. I just don’t know how to look forward anymore. 57. She’s still alive, she has to be. 58. Get that pretty little butt over here. 59. Is there a special reason as to why you’re wearing my shirt? 60. You’re cute when you’re angry. 61. I didn’t realise I needed your permission. 62. I’m not jealous. 63. Forever is a long time. 64. This is seriously sketchy. 65. I lost the baby. 66. Rude! 67. Let’s blow this joint. 68. Oh, bite me. 69. I haven’t slept in four days. 70. Stop being such a baby. 71. Hey, calm down, its okay. They cant hurt you anymore. 72. I’m too sober for this shit. 73. You can’t banish me! It's my bed too! 74. Good thing I didn’t ask your opinion. 75. Its six in the morning, you’re not drinking vodka. 76. You work for me. You’re my slave. 77. The kids! They ambushed me! 78. You may have to buy my silence. 79. There’s a herd of them. 80. You smell like wet dog. 81. Just smile, for me. Please? I really need to see your smile right now. 82. Just show me what’s behind your back. 83. Take one more step in that direction, and I’ll murder you. 84. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of us. 85. Everyone deserves a second chance. 86. Please don’t cry, I can’t stand to see you cry. 87. You can’t keep pretending that it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did! 88. I think I’m falling in love with you and it scares the shit out of me. 89. Its cold, take my coat. 90. I’m such a fool for not seeing this earlier. 91. I’m not blind, I’ve seen the way you look at her. 92. Never let them die, they’re the soap opera of my life. 93. Could you just, IDK, stop murdering people for shits and giggles? - Did you just say IDK in a verbal conversation? 94. Sleep in your car if you don’t want the sofa. 95. We bet on it. You lost. Now you have to do it. 96. Let’s get wasted, and go piss on his grave. 97. This is all your fault. - I hope so. 98. Did you just agree with me? No, you said it now, no take backs. 99. Stop doing that thing with your face, its making want to vomit. 100. You’re a psychopath. - I prefer creative. 101. You look… - Beautiful, gorgeous, like a Goddess walking upon the earth. Yes, I know. Now let’s move on. 102. I know, all you want is to go home but you know what? I want to go to Mars. Know what though? It’s never going to happen. Accept it. 103. Nope, can’t go to hell. Satan has a restraining order against me. 104. Get over it. Pussy. 105. It’s three in morning. - yes. Why are you here? - I live here. No, on the floor. With me. 106. I don’t hate you, but if you were on fire and I had water I’d drink it and piss on the ground. 107. You’re judging me. - Yea, its a hobby of mine. 108. FBI! OPEN THE DOOR! -But its so much more fun when you break it down. 109. I’d rather be pecked to death by a flock of woodpeckers. 110. How drunk are you on a scale of one to ten? - Yes. 111. Are you stalking me? - Not in a creepy way. 112. Focus on me. 113. Please don’t waste your tears on him. 114. Ice cream is a good start. 115. Did you just slap me? 116. All is fair in love and war, darling. 117. My vote is on the lemon cakes. 118. Get your dirty ass boots off my nice, clean sheets. 119. I like night time. It's quiet. I can think. 120. Look, there goes my last fuck to give. 121. Why are you walking around naked? 122. Stare at the stars all you want, but you won't find the answer to your problems up there. The real world is down here. 123. I underestimated you. - Classic mistake. 124. How did you manage to get frosting on the lampshade? 125. What’s the worst that could happen? - Famous last words. 126. You want it? Beg. 127. Yes, I heard you. I just don’t care. 128. Eat a bag of dicks. Dick. 129. You’re special to me. 130. If we get caught I’m blaming you. 131. Do not try me right now. 132. You give the best hugs. 133. I swear you love your hair more then me sometimes. 134. Tell me a secret. 135. Shut up or I’ll choke you. - I could be into that. 136. Let’s start with the real questions, tits or ass? 137. You make me nervous. 138. Don’t give me that look. 139. Maybe I did? So what! I don’t have to run everything by you! 140. Tell anyone and I’ll kill you, chop up your body and sell the parts. 141. That’s not your name. 142. Oh, well done. What do you want? A gold star? 143. You like sunflowers right? 144. You game? 145. Just get in the fucking blanket fort. 146. Sorry isn’t gunna help you when I’m kicking your ass. 147. Were you born a dick? Or do you go put of your way to be one? 148. Break her heart and I’ll break your face. 149. Well that was unsettling. 150. Only I can touch you. 151. Don’t tell me to shut up. You shut up. 152. Your mother/father would be so proud. 153. You stole his wallet? - I prefer borrowing without permission. 154. You going to kiss me or what? 155. Die quietly will you? 156. You’re my one. 157. You want it? Come and get it. 158. Why are you wearing Mickey mouse ears? 159. Lock the door next time. 160. Have kids, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

Hi guys! So I love writing. So I thought I’d try this. I’ll be posting things I’ve thought of myself but I would also love to write things for you guys too. These are the fandom’s I’m happy to write for : - Harry Potter - Game of Thrones - X men - Avengers - Criminal minds - Guardians of the galaxy - Star wars - The hobbit - Lord of the rings. - Once upon a time (s1 - s3A) - Teen Wolf (s1 & s2) - Walking dead ( I watched s1 - s3, then s6 & s7) - Naruto

[lovethesoftkpopbabies]

Fanfic Trade: Part 2

This is the fanfic Roebling made for me in return! This is a fanfic of Himchan from B.A.P with my OC, Su-Siyong so if you don't like OC x Character fics, this one probably isn't for you. ^^ 

 Also please check out roebling's work! The writing is exceptional and I read it on quite a regular basis: 

http://archiveofourown.org/users/roebling/pseuds/roebling 

 Second Helpings and Second Chances 

 by: Roebling 

 Category: F/M 

 Fandom: B.A.P 

 Relationship: Kim Himchan/Original Female Character(s) Su Siyong 

Characters: B.A.P, Original Female Character (Su Siyong) Words: 9187 

Chapters: 1/1 

Summary: Himchan's always had to be careful about his diet, lest he put on weight. After a bad breakup that's entirely his fault, he finds himself comfort eating and getting soft again. As the number on the scale climbs, the way he looks at his body -- and his happiness -- starts to change. 

Notes: For KatsGGM. This is my half of a little exchange I did with KatsGGM, based on her request and featuring her OC Su Siyong :) I really enjoyed writing this, although I know it turned out a bit different than her prompt! This story does not contain sexually explicit material, but it is weight gain fetish fiction. If that is not something that is appealing to you, please hit the back button in your browser! It also features a character who initially has a very unhealthy relationship with his body and weight, and mentions past disordered eating. If anything related to eating, food, or weight is triggering for you, please proceed with caution. If you'd like more information about contents, message me. 

The breakup hits Himchan harder than he expects, considering it's entirely his fault. He knows it, too. Deep down inside, he knows he acted like a selfish, inconsiderate asshole. He’s scum. He isn’t worthy of being ground under Siyong’s shoe. Not to put too fine a point on it.

He realizes right away what a terrible mistake he's made, and what a miserable excuse for a boyfriend he's been. Siyong is amazing, beautiful, talented: too good for him really. He’d been too ashamed to admit they were dating just because he was concerned what some lowlife netizens would say. He misses her, is the thing. He really misses her. He sinks as low as messaging Siyong and asking if they can meet and talk, but she doesn't even reply.

He’s not surprised. She’s right not to respond. He messed up bigtime.

It's understandable he's feeling a little down about himself. It's understandable that he would console himself with nights out with Yongguk (who is always willing to listen to him whine, and doesn't judge him too harshly) and with weekends at his parents' house. It's expected that, newly single, he'd want to have a little bit of fun and take it easy.

What's not expected is when, a month or so after the breakup, he goes to pull on his favorite pair of jeans and realizes he can't do up the button. There's a few centimeters of plush pale belly in the way.

The thing is, Himchan has always gained weight easily. The slightest lapse of diligence puts him at risk of pudging up. When he was an idol, he subsisted on a meager diet of coffee and chicken and got enough exercise that he managed to stay fairly slim. During his army service, he actually gotten into pretty good shape -- even kinda almost had abs -- but he's been out of the army for eighteen months and BAP is on hiatus while the Daehyun and Youngjae do their service, and Himchan is getting soft again.

The scale reveals the scope of the damage. He's back up to 75 kg, which means he's gained a solid five kilos in the last month. That's a lot in such a short period. Standing in his bathroom in only boxer shorts, he is amazed he didn't realize it sooner because it's really obvious. His belly is soft again. His thighs look big. His cheeks are round.

Shit.

It stings all the worse because he knows, deep down, he would have gone public with his relationship with Siyong if she's just you know, been a little bit thinner. A little closer to what society says a beautiful woman should look like. She was beautiful and smart and talented, and he'd been too much of a weasel to stand by her because she was a few kilos heavier than most actresses.

He’d been scared to have his name linked to the ‘chubby actress’ and now he's on the way to being a fatass himself again.

Staring at his puffy-faced reflection in the mirror, he scowls. "You're a hypocrite, Kim Himchan. And you don't deserve her."

The thing is Himchan has always hated dieting. He endured it because he had to during his B.A.P days, but now? He's got a few variety show appearances lined up, a semi-steady gig as the host of a weekly entertainment news program, but he's not an idol anymore, and nobody expects him to go on stage and sing and dance in leather pants.

Thank god. He’s too old for that shit anyway.

So he just ... doesn't diet. It seems like too much work when he’s already feeling so tired. Eating what he likes is a hell of a lot easier than dieting would be. When his sister invites him out for brunch with her family on Saturday morning, he gets fried chicken and biscuits. The chicken is moist and the batter is crispy with a hint of spice. The plate is covered in a generous puddle of greasy, rich gravy. He sops up every drop of it with the buttery biscuits, and then finishes off his little niece's waffle. His sister gives him a look, but she doesn’t say anything. He gets sweet, extravagant drinks at Starbucks in the morning instead of his standard iced coffee with no milk because they just taste better. When out for barbecue with friends, he stops worrying about how many servings he’s had, stops worrying about how much beer he’s drunk. He eats and drinks his fill, until his belly is swollen and aching.

He knows he's overdoing it, but he's spent the last ten years worrying about every calorie that passed his lips. It's really fucking nice to just not worry for a little while. He’ll get back on his diet one of these days.

He's at the KBS building preparing to film a guest spot on a variety program about traditional Korean music. The clothes the stylist picked out for him today are a little snug. The pants are tight around his waist, and the shirt pulls over his round belly. Luckily, he's got a sweater to wear over top that will disguise the most of the damage.

He's got a long time before his segment films. The waiting room is cold and boring. He only had a bagel for breakfast, and he's feeling a little peaky.

"Hey," he says to the PA, "I'm going to run out for a sec. I'll be back, okay?"

She narrows her eyes. "Your call time is at three. You need to be back here by then."

"I know," he says. "I got it! I'm a professional."

She rolls her eyes, like she's heard that line before, and she probably has.

Himchan takes the elevator down and walks out through the big lobby into a cold early spring day. Himchan sticks his hands in the pocket of his coat. He has a destination in mind, and thankfully it's not too far. There's a Burger King just a few blocks away across the park. He walks quickly. The streets are crowded with people on their lunch, and he knows if he's not back at the station by three it's his neck on the line. It's not like he's destitute, by any means, but the extra money he pulls in with these variety gigs helps an awful lot.

The line at the Burger King isn't bad. Himchan is overheated and a little sweaty by the time he gets there. He's never been the most physically fit guy and whatever endurance he built up during his military service has been eroded by months of the easy life. His arm brushes the bulge of his belly ... Well, that can't help either.

He's pretty hungry now, he realizes. He shouldn't have rushed so much this morning. Of course a bagel isn't going to tide him over all day. He stares at the menu as the queue shuffles along. He can't make up his mind between the Creamy Shrimp Whopper and the Garlic Steak burger.

In the end, he orders both.

"Will that be all?" the cashier asks in a bored tone.

"Uh," Himchan says, hurriedly. "Let me get a sweet potato fry, a large regular fry, a 10 piece nugget, and a large soda."

Her eyes widen in shock, but she's professional enough not to comment on his order. It's still a little embarrassing, but he's not going to be home until late and filming always makes him hungry.

Still, when his order comes up, he's kind of surprised at how much food it is. He hefts his tray and heads to a table in the back of the restaurant -- he doesn't need anyone gawking at him while he eats. He glances at his phone. It's 2:00, which means he needs to eat pretty quickly. Luckily, he's good at that.

He tackles the Creamy Shrimp Whopper first. This is a new menu item, and he's been wanting to try it ever since he first saw the commercials. It's ... interesting. The burger is typical mediocre Burger King fare, but the shrimp are sweet and firm. The cream sauce is greasy, leaving an oily aftertaste in his mouth. He finishes it off in five or six big bites, washing it down with big gulps of soda. He helps himself to a few nuggets, dipping them in sweet barbecue sauce. It's fast food, so of course they're not that good, but he likes the salty crispy texture. He dips the sweet potato fries in the barbecue sauce as well. They're a little dry, but not bad really.

The thing about food is that Himchan really doesn't care if it's good. Greasy, disgusting fast food burgers are fine by him. He likes it all. He just likes eating, and rushed as he is now, he gets a little sloppy. He stuffs fries in five at a time. He opens his mouth as wide as he can to take a big bite of his second burger. He swallows down the painfully sweet Pepsi and hides a discreet belch behind his hand.

As he's finishing off the Garlic Steak Burger one slippery caramelized onion slides out of the little triangle of bun that's left and lands right on the bulge of Himchan's belly. Shit! The grease soaks into the white fabric instantly, even though he's quick to pick off the errant onion and pop it in his mouth.

Shit. Shit. At least he’s got the sweater to cover it up. He can’t go on television with a grease stain on his shirt. He’s already going to catch hell from the stylist about this.

He sadly pops a few last fries in his mouth, a last nugget or two, and then all that’s left is a wasteland of greasy wrappers.

He leans back Oh boy. He overdid it a little bit, maybe. His belly aches from how much he’s eaten. He finish the last of his soda, hoping that will cut through the heavy glutted feeling, but it doesn’t help.

Himchan piles up the wrappers on his tray. It certainly looks like a lot, all heaped up like that. A lot of garbage, just like all the garbage he just stuffed his face with. He shuffles his chair back, and he's surprised to look down and see how round and huge his belly looks.

He can't go on air like this. He's so full that there are little peeks of white soft belly visible between the gaping buttons of his shirt. He looks like a fat pig.

Shit.

It's twenty to three, and he needs to get back. There's no time to try to find something new to wear. All he can hope is the sweater is generous enough to hide his belly.

He groans as he gets to his feet. His gut feels sloshy and massive, absolutely packed full of food. He dumps his garbage and pulls his coat as tightly around himself as he can.

It's an agonizing slog back to the KBS building. He feels like everyone he passes is staring at him, even though he knows that can’t be true. He's not in the most rational state of mind. All he can think about his how full and sleepy he feels, and how appearing alert and awake and charming on camera is the last thing in the world he wants to do right now.

Thankfully, the lobby is empty, and he gets his own elevator back up to the fifteenth floor. He thinks he's home free, but then the elevator stops on the third floor. Himchan tries to button his coat. He sucks in his belly, and slips one button into the hole but he feels like a sausage squeezed into a much too tight casing. That's not going to work. He unbuttons the coat and hopes nobody important is getting on.

He is staring at his feet, so he doesn't realize who his elevator companion is at first. He sees a pair of expensive heels, strong looking ankles, beautifully curved calves, a pink pencil skirt over thighs just a bit wider than most would find attractive.

Oh no. He knows those thighs.

It's Su Siyong.

He folds his arms over his chest, and looks up. "Hello, Su-su." He coughs. "Uh, it's good to see you."

Her eyes narrow in confusion. "Himchan?"

He smiles in what he hopes is a charming way. "Come on, Su-su. It hasn't been that long."

Her cheeks color a little. It looks good on her. "I didn't recognize you," she says. There's a note of bitterness in her voice that makes him nervous. "You've put on some weight."

He frowns. He knows he's been a little lax with his diet, but he hasn't put on that much. Has he?

"Uh. I had ramen last night. I'm just swollen."

She stares pointedly at his belly.“Must have been a lot of ramen."

He swallows, and tries to pull his coat over his belly. "I've put on a couple of pounds, maybe. I ... uh. I was trying to be like you, actually. You know. Stop worrying about my diet. Enjoying my food a bit."

Her face, so soft and pretty, takes on a dangerous cast as she narrows her eyes. "You are so stupid," she says in an icy voice. "'Enjoying my food?' Is that what you really think of me?" She gestures at herself -- at her generous bosom, at the slight curve of her belly. "You think I'm like this because I 'enjoy my food'?"

Himchan doesn't get it. He knows she does enjoy her food. Why is she acting like he said something awful? "I just ... I always admired that you let yourself eat like a normal person in spite of being...."

"A normal person?" Her voice is dangerously cold now. "Himchan, I am a normal person. I'm a normal person who is fat." He's not sure what his face looks like, but it must be something else. "Yeah, that's right. I can say it. I'm fat and I'm not ashamed of it. I don't have to lie about eating ramen and being swollen." She pokes him right in the belly, hard. Her finger sinks into his soft gut.

He's surprised at the sudden, intense rush of pleasure he feels.

"Would you believe I was almost thinking of returning your call?" She shakes her head. "I'm such an idiot. Listen, Himchan, you're a sweet guy, but why don't you get a clue and figure out how to stop hating yourself? I think you'd be a lot happier."

The elevator slides to a halt on floor fourteen. Siyong gives him one last, disgusted look and gets off.

Himchan sags back against the cold elevator wall, finally relaxing his belly. It sags forward, testing the strength of his buttons.

The stylist shoves a navy sweater at him as he walks to through the door. It's dark enough to disguise the worst of his overindulgence, but it's also so tight he can see the imprint of his buttons through the fabric. He glances at himself in the mirror -- he looks like he's swallowed a bowling ball. He still feels so full and swollen, all achey with how much he's eaten.

He brings his hand to his mouth and lets out a long suppressed belch.

He is tired and distracted during filming, unable to stop thinking about Siyong and sure that everyone is whispering about how fat he's gotten, even though he's sitting behind a desk (he's not sure who to thank for that, but he wants to thank someone).

It's not his finest moment. He's so grateful to finally get back into the dressing room where he can change out of the restrictive dress shirt and pants and into his slightly more comfortable jeans and tee shirt. He's surprised at how tight the jeans feel, biting into his belly.

Siyong is right. He really has gotten fat.

He feels so awful that he stops at the grocery store on the way home and picks up a carton of ice cream. He's not an idiot -- he knows that eating ice cream when you're worried about your weight doesn't exactly make sense -- but he doesn't honestly have the energy to care. It's sweet and delicious and it makes him feel better, one spoonful at a time.

The next few months are not good. They're among the most not good Himchan's ever had. Probably the only other time in his life he remembers being as depressed is when he broke his wrist during the One Shot promotions. It had been so hard to sit at home and watch the others perform, but at least then he'd known that he'd heal soon and be able to rejoin them. At least he'd had daily updates from the kids about everything that was going on.

Now, he feels old and lonely and useless.

To add insult to injury, his hosting gig is cancelled. Through no fault of his own, the network assures him, and he thinks it's probably true. They're just revamping a lot of their programing, and the entertainment news program he hosted is being replaced by a baking competition show. He gets a few offers for variety appearances, but for the most part he turns them down. He's not feeling up to being cheerful and jovial on television.

He doesn’t totally give up, at least not at first. The week after he sees Siyong at the studio he pulls on a pair of old sweatpants and his baggiest tee shirt and laces up his old trainers. He doesn't want to show his face at the gym in his current condition so he just heads down to Hangang Park, figuring he’ll go for a run.

It's a lot harder than he remembers. He jogs slowly for a few hundred meters. He can feel his belly jiggle. He can feel the extra weight in his thighs and his ass. His sweatpants slide down the curve of his gutand he keeps tugging them back up. It's a hot day, and he gets sweaty and red-faced. The park is full of beautiful athletic people running and cycling, and Himchan feels conspicuously old and fat and slow.

Still, he keeps it up for a few days and tries to watch what he eats (only one hamburger for lunch, a small butter pecan Frappucino instead of a large). It's crushing when he steps on the scale at the end of that week and it reads 79.8.

He hasn't lost anything. He's put on a half a kilo, even while depriving himself and torturing himself with daily runs. In the mirror, he looks rounder and pudgier than ever. His belly looks big and soft even when it's not full of food, and even his chest is starting to soften up a little bit too. His cheeks are fuller. His thighs are huge.

For a wild moment, he considers going on a starvation diet. This was his old ace in the hole back in his idol days. Need to drop a few pounds fast? Well, just stop eating. That always did the trick. But he's older now, and the thought of living on a sweet potato a day is enough to make him almost want to cry.

It's no use. He's destined to be a fat ass. He might as well just give up.

He tosses his sneakers in the back of his closet and orders a few pairs of larger sweatpants off of the internet.

He spends the next few weeks indulging his sorrows like never before. He sleeps late and ignores messages from his manager. It’s perverse, he knows, but the worse he feels the hungrier he feels. He spends most of the day on the couch, reading and watching dramas and working his way through bags of chips, boxes of cookies, and packages of candy.

At night, he places big orders of fast food, crossing his fingers that the patient food service workers taking his order think he’s got several very hungry house guests. He turns the volume up on the television when the delivery person arrives, and opens the door only a crack. After he’s alone, he sets his haul out on the coffee table and eats until he’s full and almost ready to burst. Slice after slice of pizza. Giant bowls of jjajangmyeon. Box after box of greasy fried chicken. It’s never too much. There’s something wonderful and awful about the heavy achy feeling of being truly stuffed. His belly is so big and round and demands so much of his attention that he can’t even worry about all the other stuff in his life that he’s messed up so badly. And sometimes when he’s rubbing the heel of his palm into the most aching swollen part of his gut, it hurts so much it feels almost like pleasure.

He’s not sure what to make of that.

He is lying in bed at ten o’clock one morning a few months after his ill-fated encounter with Siyong when he gets a message from Yongguk.

I know you’re not ignoring me Kim Himchan. You’re coming out with us tonight, aren’t you?

Himchan throws his head back against the pillow and groans. He has been ignoring Yongguk, and he doesn’t feel good about it. He just keeps telling himself he needs a little more time before he can face his best friend. But tonight … he’s not sure if Yongguk’s going to let him blow off tonight. Tonight they’re going out -- the six of them. Daehyun and Youngjae by some miracle are both on leave for the weekend, and they have plans to go out for barbecue and beer before they head back to their respective posts.

It was, Himchan remembers with some chagrin, his idea. Months ago, before he’d even broken up with Siyong, when life has seemed so much brighter, he’d proposed this B.A.P reunion.

Idiot. He’s an idiot. He buries his head under a pillow.

The phone buzzes again.

I can tell you read the message, you know

Yongguk is too fucking smug for his own good sometimes.

I’m not an idiot, Bbang. I’ll be there tonight. Don’t worry.

Himchan closes his eyes and groans. He really really doesn’t want to do this, but if he’s going to he needs to get up and try to make himself semi-presentable.

His fingers, flung across the bed in frustration, brush something cool and smooth. Oh. It’s the box of Chocopies he’d been munching on before Yongguk’s text derailed his morning. Still halfway full.He pops one of the little chocolate pucks out of the package and into his mouth. No point in letting them go to waste. He needs some cheering up, anyway.

An hour later Himchan is standing in the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Freshly showered, his hair is dripping down his back. It’s longer than he’s ever worn it. He really needs a cut. There’s a carpet of patchy stubble on his chin and cheeks. He’s been lazy about shaving. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t go out, right? He’s pale, even for him, and there are dark circles under his eyes. And, of course, he’s fat.

He’s the heaviest he’s ever been as an adult -- he hasn’t stepped on the scale yet, but that will just be confirmation of an obvious truth.He’s big. A few months of guilty sloth and gluttony have added a thick layer of pudge to his already generous form. His features are softer, and he’s got a permanent double chin. He’s got actual man boobs now, plump and round. They lead down to soft bumpers of fat under each arm. His arms, speaking of, are really thick. He lifts one, and gives it an experimental shimmy. A little flabby wing of flesh under his bicep jiggles. Ugh. His belly has taken the brunt of the damage. It’s big, hanging soft and wobbly over his waistband. He can grab a whole handful of jiggly belly fat now. There are stretch marks on his love handles, and around his belly button. His thighs are dimpled. His ass, from what little he can glimpse in the mirror, is huge. Even his knees look fat.

He hadn’t even realized knees could look fat.

He closes his eyes and takes a step forward onto the scale.

He opens one eye, and then the other. He has to lean forward a little to see over the curve of his belly.

92.4 kilograms.

Shit. Shit. Fuck.

He’s not just the biggest he’s ever been as an adult. He’s barely 5 kilos from the biggest he’s ever been. He’d sworn he’d never let himself get that fat again, but here he is. He digs his fingers into his pudgy overhang. He’s made a big, fat pig of himself and he’s going to have to go out and see the guys. He’s going to have to see Daehyun and Youngjae. Shit. They’re never going to let him hear the end of this.

Nothing to do but make the best of a bad situation.

He feels a little better once he shaved and brushes his hair. He’s still a handsome guy, and even the twenty kilos he’s put on can’t totally disguise that. He smiles, and it’s the same charming smile he remembers. Almost. Except for the double chin. Opening his closet crushes any hint of self-confidence he’s been able to muster. Oh god. Nothing is going to fit. He pulls out a pair of black pants he remembers being a little bit looser than his others, maybe. They get stuck around his big pale thighs. He tries his luck with a pair of baggy, unfashionable jeans he’s had for years, and he can pull those up at least. They’re tight around his calves, though, and the seams are going to be imprinted into his thighs. The zipper doesn’t even come close to doing up. He lies on his back on his bed and tries to pack as much belly fat as he can under the flaps, but nope. Not happening. Not even close

He settles, finally, on a pair of black athletic pants that he can just pull on and an XXL black sweatshirt. The clothes are forgiving and he doesn’t look like a total fat ass. He pulls on a baseball cap and some sunglasses and heads out.

He gets a haircut first. That’s safer. He just goes to some hole in the wall place, not his usual salon. He doesn’t want to explain his absence or his gut. The ajusshi who does his hair is old fashioned and gruff and doesn’t seem to care at all what Himchan looks like. That’s just fine with him. Short on the sides and with a smart part, it really doesn’t look bad. Himchan is pleased when he inspects the man’s work in the mirror. It’s not awful. It makes him feel a little bit better.

He’s much less enthusiastic about trying to find a pair of pants that fit. He remembers this from when he was a kid. Shopping isn’t much fun when you don’t fit in even the largest size in the store. The only difference now is that he has a little more money.

He goes to the Gentleman’s section of a very nice department store and wanders around aimlessly for a while. He’s not even sure what size he is, and he’s not sure he wants to find out. He fingers a beautiful soft double-breasted wool jacket and a pair of fine cotton slacks with pleats. Fat guy clothes, but these aren’t ugly and sloppy. He’s almost worked up the nerve to take a pair of pants into the dressing room when someone clears their throat behind him.

“Can I help you?”

The speaker is an older woman, about his mother’s age, expensively dressed. Only her tasteful nametag reveals that she’s a clerk.

“Uh,” he says. “Um. No. I was just going to …” He makes a vague motion with the pants. “I’m trying to find something to wear to a party tonight.”

She smiles, kind but firm. “I don’t think you want to wear those,” she says. “You want something younger, a bit trendier. A handsome young guy like yourself shouldn’t dress like a grandfather, right?”

Himchan knows she’s just flattering a customer to make a purchase, but still, it’s nice to hear. “Um. Yeah. I …” He swallows. “I’ve put on a bit of weight lately, and I seem to have outgrown all of my favorite stores.” He smiles, hoping she’ll do him the favor of laughing at his joke.

She tuts. “Don’t worry about that,” she says, kindly. “Let’s figure out your size and we’ll a few nice things picked out for you.”

Himchan, cheeks red, follows her into a dressing room. He strips down to his boxers as she asks, and oh god. He looks even more enormous with mirrors on all sides. He’s a big, flabby pale blob.

The clerk is the picture of professionalism, though. She takes out a cloth measuring tape and for one awful moment he’s afraid it won’t be big enough to span his massive girth … But it is. More than large enough.This is a fat guy store, and they’re prepared.

“101 centimeters,” she mutters under her breath.

There was a time when he fit into a 75 cm waist. Now he’s 100 centimeters around. That’s a lot bigger. She keeps measuring him and all the numbers are so much bigger than they used to be. They’d been measured all the time for stage outfits and other clothes, and Himchan always knew his numbers. An increase of a centimeter or two was a warning bell. Now, he’s blown past all those warnings, and the numbers are almost obscene.

“Let me bring you a few things,” the clerk says, when she’s done measuring him.“I know what you kids find fashionable.” She pats him affectionately on the shoulder.

He waits in the dressing room, under the unforgiving glare of the bright lights, confronted with his reflection on all sides. There’s a whole army of fat Himchans.They exhale in unison, setting off a wobbly avalanche of belly flesh. He puts a hand on his belly. It is really soft. It’s not like Himchan’s never known any other fat guys, of course, but a lot of them are the big, thick, solid type of fat guy – beer guts and disproportionately skinny legs. Himchan’s all soft, pliable pudge. He’s almost a little pear shaped, with the way his hips flare out and then curve back in. He would be, anyway, if his love handles weren’t so huge. He’s just big all over.

But, maybe … just maybe … it’s not quite as bad as he’d imagined? There was something about hearing that number that flipped some switch in his brain. He isn’t just fat. He’s big – a really big guy. He has mass and girth and substance. He’s still not wild about being a fat pig, of course, but there’s something about being being that big that he kind of likes.

The clerk comes back with armfuls of clothing. She hands them in to Himchan one at a time, and makes him show her each outfit.

He looks a lot better wearing clothes that actually fit. The first outfit he tries on consists of a pair of soft grey trousers that are big enough that he can do them up over his stomach, and a sweater that doesn’t cling to every lump and roll on his body. It looks … not bad. The kind clerk thinks so too, but she doesn’t let him off the hook that easily. He’s barely back in the dressing room before she’s handing in another outfit.

He leaves an hour later with two shopping bags brimming full. He has new pants and tee shirts, a new jacket and several nice sweaters, all in large enough sizes that he can wear them without feeling like he’s being squeezed half to death.

He doesn’t go totally overboard, of course, because he will lose the weight. Eventually. One day.

Right?

Later that night, he’s standing in front of the door where he’s supposed to meet the guys and his nerves are acting up again. He’s wearing a pair of new jeans and a tee shirt with a sweater over it. In his apartment when he’d admired himself in the mirror, he’d actually thought he looked pretty good. Big and solid. Manly, almost, which wasn’t something Himchan was used to feeling.

Now, though, he’s thinking about the last time he saw Yongguk, and how he’d been ten kilos lighter. He’s thinking about the last time he saw Youngjae and Daehyun. It had been right after he’d gotten out of the army and he’d been in the best shape of his life. He’d been so proud that he’d almost had abs for a little while.

Now he’s got a shelf, he thinks, patting the jut of his belly.

Oh well. Nothing he can do but grin and bear it. He takes a deep breath and opens the door.

They’re all gathered in the back room – everyone is here. They’re sitting around a table laden with food and soju and beer, laughing and talking so that they don’t notice him at first.

“Oh sure,” he says, a little loudly. “Ignore poor old Himchan hyung.”

Everyone looks at him, and there’s a moment of silence, an awful moment where HImchan almost wonders if they don’t recognize him (so fat his best friends don’t even recognize him!) but then the moment passes and they’re all on their feet, patting him on the back and pulling him into hugs. He rubs a hand on Youngjae and Daehyun’s short cropped hair.

“Nice ears,” he says to Daehyun.

Daehyun groans. “My squad calls me Dumbo.”

Himchan slides into his place next to Yongguk. It’s a little bit harder now, a little bit of a tighter fit, but he manages okay. Yongguk smiles at him and Himchan feels a lot better.

Youngjae and Daehyun get caught up trying to get Junhong to tell them who he’s dating, and when their attention is elsewhere, Yongguk leans over and says, “Are you okay?”

Himchan frowns. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Yongguk’s expression is deadpan. “You didn’t return any of my calls for weeks.”

Himchan frowns. “Um. I was kind of depressed, I guess.”

It’s true, he realizes, although he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself.

“But you’re okay?”

Other than putting on fifteen kilos and turning into a fatso? “I’m fine,” he says. “Really. I’m sorry, Bbang. I won’t ignore you any more.”

Yongguk grins. “Good,” he says quietly.

His weight, surprisingly, doesn’t come up until much later in the evening. They’re all a little tipsy by now, having moved on from the restaurant to a noraebang, and Himchan is getting slowly to his feet to do a duet with Jongup. Daehyung, who is pretty drunk, takes a bad step, and falls right into Himchan. He almost knocks HImchan off his feet. Himchan grunts and barely manages to stay upright. Daehyun clings, one hand resting low on Himchan’s belly, on the softest, jiggliest roll of fat.

“Damn hyung,” Daehyun says. He gives Himchan’s belly an affectionate squeeze. “You really have given up on the idol life, haven’t you? You’re huge.”

Himchan’s cheeks go scarlet. “I’m going to leave the singing and dancing to you whippersnappers,” he says calmly, even though he feels like he could crumple up and disappear from embarrassment. “I’m taking on pursuits more appropriate to a man approaching middle years.”

“Daehyun,” Youngjae says, sharply. He’s always been a little too observant for Himchan’s tastes. “Get over here. You said you were going to sing ‘Gee’ and do the choreo. There’s no way you still remember the dance.”

This time, though, Himchan is glad for the out. He closes his eyes and reaches for his glass.

Much later still, so late it’s nearly morning, they are out on the streets. Jongup and Yongguk are gone. They left early, because they’re the smartest ones. Daehyun is throwing up in a gutter, leaning on Junhong for support. Himchan has his hands shoved in his pocket. Youngjae is watching him quietly. There’s another sounds of explosive vomiting, and Himchan takes a step away. He really likes these shoes.

“Sorry about Daehyun before,” Youngjae says quietly, without looking up. It’s funny, but he still looks just as young as ever, even with the shaved head.

“Huh?” Himchan asks. He’s not really that drunk, but he feels a little muddled.

“Daehyun,” Youngjae says. “He shouldn’t have said anything about your weight. He doesn’t … he doesn’t get it though.” He smiles, a little sadly. “He’s always been kind of a dick about that stuff, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Himchan says slowly. There were moments, over the years, when Daehyun said something about his weight that stung, sharp and cruel. Himchan had laughed those comments off, because what choice did he have?

“He doesn’t know how much work it is, how exhausting it gets,” Youngjae says, tiredly, and Himchan remembers Youngjae at eighteen, when they’d just debuted and he’d been just a little bit soft with baby fat. He remembers how embarrassed Youngjae had been when the press had snapped a few pictures of his barely soft stomach, and how diligently he’d worked to lose weight. Youngjae, Himchan thinks, knows exactly how exhausting it is to count every calorie you put into your mouth. He is suddenly intensely sad, for both of them.

“Anyway,” Youngjae says. “I’m glad you’re taking it a bit easier now. You look good.”

Himchan rolls his eyes, “I look …”

“You look good, seriously,” Youngjae says. He brushes his hand over his hair, over the patch on top where it’s getting a little thin. “Are you happy?”

Himchan shrugs. “I’m working on it,” he says, slowly. “I’m trying.”

Youngjae smiles at him, and he’s about to say something else, but there’s a howl behind them as Junhong steps back quickly from Daehyun. There’s vomit splattering his shoes. Daehyun goes down heavy onto his knees.

“Oh god,” Youngjae says. “You go get Junhong and keep him from killing Daehyun. I’ll try to get Daehyun home.”

And for a little while, the fact that Himchan’s carrying twenty extra kilos doesn’t matter at all. It’s almost like the good old days. It’s almost like nothing has changed – nothing important, anyway.

He wakes up early the next morning with a terrible hangover. He hauls himself out of bed, takes two aspirin, and lies down on the couch. When he wakes again it’s two in the afternoon and he feels much better. He feels better, in fact, than he has in months. It was really, really good to see the guys. His heart feels whole again.

He’s also starving. He makes himself three fried eggs and heats up some frozen hash browns. He makes a nice little pile of buttery toast while the eggs cook. He makes a cup of instant coffee and sits down to eat his breakfast at his kitchen table. He takes his time, wanting to make sure he doesn’t overdo it, but this is nothing he can’t handle. When his plate is clean, he sits back with one hand resting on his belly, feeling totally, utterly content.

After he showers and dresses in some of the nice new clothes he’s bought, he actually works up the nerve to call his manager and beg forgiveness. After a well deserved reaming out, his manager tells him that he’s had a few offers come in for new projects.

Himchan clears his throat. “Hyung,” he says. “Listen … I’ve um. I’ve put on a little more weight.”

His manager makes a tired sound. “Okay,” he says. “We can get you a personal trainer again. We can …”

“No,” Himchan says. “I don’t want to do that. I’m … I’m okay with it. I’m just letting you know.”

“Oh,” his manager says, seemingly at a loss.

HImchan clears his throat. “Tell me about these new opportunities.”

Four weeks later, Himchan is signing a contract to be a member of a new MBC variety show focusing on the traditional arts. He’s also, reluctantly, agreed to start going to the gym, but the joke’s on his company. He goes three times a week like they ask but he mostly does strength exercises, capped off by a leisurely walk in the treadmill. Getting a little exercise is a good thing, he thinks, but this routine isn’t going to slim him back down anytime soon. Not with the way he’s been eating.

He’s put on a few more kilos, in fact. He’s tried to cut out the worst of his binging. He’s not eating two pizzas a night any more, and isn’t pigging out on fried chicken, but he’s Kim Himchan and he’s still got a very healthy appetite and a real weakness for sweets. At the development meetings for the new show, there’s always a table of pastries and fruit, and Himchan makes sure to fix himself a nice plate before he sits down. He hasn't switched back to iced coffee -- his default Starbucks order is still a Venti Mocha with full fat milk and extra whipped cream. It just tastes better. He's not going back to those salad days of boiled chicken breast and soybean paste soup. He's just not going to do it.

All the nice new clothes he got start to get a little tight, though. The pants start pulling around the waist. The sleeves of the shirts start to squeeze his pillowy upper arms. Even the sweaters start to get a little tight, clinging to the curve of his belly, not doing nearly so much to disguise it.

He's not sure it can be disguised, at this point. He's getting big. His scale is shoved under the counter in the bathroom -- out of sight, out of mind. He's trying to stop worrying about the numbers, but he can tell from the way his belly looks so huge that he's passing definitively out of the realm of chubby and into the kingdom of fat.

Kim Himchan is a fat man.

It's funny, but those words don't burn quite the way they once would have.

It's even funnier that nobody else seems to care quite as much as he thought they would.

Strangest of all, he's actually had a few people flirt with him. He's not sure, because Himchan's never been the best at noticing that kind of thing. He can turn on the charm when he wants, but he assumes all attention directed his way is mocking. Still, he'd gone out with some of the staff of the variety show to a bar a few weeks back and there had been a woman there -- his age, attractive, very well dressed -- who had talked to him all night. She'd been friendly and engaging and coy, and he'd been nearly convinced she'd been flirting with him.

He hadn't been positive, though, so he hadn't asked for her number. He almost regrets that, except every time he thinks of dating someone his thoughts inevitably drift back to Siyong.

He hadn't realized in their brief time together how much he'd come to care for her. She's the second lead in a new drama, and every time he sees an ad for it he's struck at how beautiful she is. Her beauty is barely the smallest part of what he misses though. It had been so easy to be with her, once he'd gotten past her initial shy demeanor. She was easygoing and kind, and she had a great sense of humor. He'd love just sitting in her kitchen chatting while she whipped up something delicious and sweet.

He regrets now how unwillingly he'd always sampled her baking. It's just one of so many regrets he has when he thinks about Su Siyong.

But, like Himchan's thirty-inch waist, some things are gone and won't ever come back.

In the fall of that year, after the first season of the variety show has ended to general acclaim, Himchan is invited to the wedding of an acquaintance-- it's not someone he knows well, just one of those people he'd run into here and there over the years. The wedding invitation is a generous gesture, and although he has a pang about the +1 on the invitation, he decides to go.

The day he mails in his response, he steps on the scale for the first time in almost half a year. He’s going to need to buy a new suit. He's pretty sure that the nice navy suit he bought in the summer isn't going to fit any more. He knows he's put on more weight. He's big enough now that he can't find anything at all that will fit him in a standard size store. Even XLs are comically small. He goes to specialty shops catering to larger men -- fat guy stores.

It doesn't bother him as much as it should.

There have been a few articles about his weight gain, and he's read them, but all the sting has gone out of it. He feels good. He feels better now than he has in years. He's even gotten more serious about strength training at the gym, so at least a little of his new bulk is probably muscle. He knows people whisper when he eats as much as the other, skinnier cast members, but why shouldn't he?

He realizes now, finally, what Su-su had meant about not hating himself.

There's a strange, residual moment of terror when he stands in front of his old nemesis the scale. He's spent so many years terrified of what it would reveal: every kilo gained was a personal failing, every kilo lost was just a temporary victory against an overwhelming tide.

He thinks he's over that, but twenty odd years of self-loathing aren't all that easy to shrug off.

He takes a step forward onto the scale, eyes closed. He waits, almost trembling with nerves, while it registers his weight. He opens an eye and looks down but all he can see is the pale hemisphere of his belly. He leans forward.

114.2 kilos.

He feels hot and cold all at once. 114.2 kilos. The number sounds so big. Huge, honestly.

The realization that he's not upset is even more shocking than the number itself.

He can't quite define how he feels, honestly, but that awful icky shame feeling in the pit of his stomach is absent. He knows that one well; he lived with it long enough. He feels surprised, definitely. Even though he knew he'd been gaining weight, 114.2 kilos is still a lot. Even more shocking is the thought that in the last year he's put on almost 50 kilos in the last year.

When he thinks about that, he doesn't feel bad at all. Instead he feels almost ... proud?

Yes, proud is the right word, although it still sits a little uneasily. There is something kind of impressive about the enormous bulge of his belly, maybe. If you look at it in the right light. There's definitely something impressive about how much he can eat. It's not like everyone can toss back a pizza like it's nothing. There's something wonderful, certainly, about how much he enjoys eating.

A month or so later, just before Christmas, Himchan shows up at the Shilla Hotel feeling pretty good about himself. He's wearing a new suit, custom-made, that fits him like a glove. (The tailor he works with had thoughtfully added a few centimeters to his initial measurements, allowing for some extra indulgence leading up to the holidays. Himchan hasn't weighed himself recently, but he's more than filling out the 120cm waist pants.) He gets out of his car and hands his keys to the valet. In the glossy plate glass exterior of the hotel, he takes stock of what he sees: a large man, certainly, but well dressed, and with a charming smile. He straightens his lapels, and brushes a stray hair back into place.

It's a lovely evening. Himchan has a great time. The couple is deeply in love, and their joy is infectious. The food is excellent, and provided in such ample quantities that even Himchan eats his fill (or comes close, at least). There's an excellent band playing good music. Opulent displays of flowers cover every horizontal surface, and many of the vertical ones. He catches up with some old friends he hasn't seen in years. Not one of them mentions his weight.

Still, by the end of the evening, Himchan is feeling melancholy. Not sad, exactly, but just a little sorrowful to think that in the midst of all this happiness he's alone, and there are no prospects of that changing anytime soon. He drains his glass of cabernet and gets up to get another. Rather than return to the table he takes a seat at the bar. It's more of an effort than it used to be to haul himself onto the bar stool, but there's a lot more of him to haul.

He's nursing his wine when someone sits down beside him. The bar is pretty full, so it's not surprising. He glances over. It's a woman, looking away from him down the bar, towards the front of the room. Her generous curves are poured into a sleeveless pink dress, and her blonde hair is tucked up into an elegant knot. There's something familiar about the way she's sitting, with one leg curled around the other. He's seen that before. It's so familiar. It's ...

"Su-su?"

She turns around, surprised, and he can see the confusion in her eyes. If it had taken her a moment to recognize him the last time they met, now the reaction is even more delayed. He understands why. He looks much different. Much fatter.

"Himchan?" Her eyes are wide.

"Hello," he says, and he smiles.

"Himchan. Hi.” She turns towards him, eyes wide with suprise.

"You look lovely," he says, because it's truth. She looks more beautiful than he's ever seen her.

"Thank you," she says, smiling. "You look ..."

He forces the smile to stay on his face. "Fat," he says. "I know. You can say it."

She narrows her eyes. "I was going to say happy," she says.

He thinks about that for a moment. "I am happy," he says. "Happier than I've been in a long time. Fat, too, though." He smiles wryly.

Su-su sits back. She looks confused. "What happened? Are you okay? Are you..."

"I'm fine," Himchan says. "Really. It was rough going for a little while there, but I'm in a much better place now."

"I'm glad," she says cautiously. “You do look like you’ve

He is struck suddenly at how badly he must have hurt her. He knew it, but he can feel it now. He'd been ashamed of her and more ashamed of himself, and all that shame had been a twisted, evil thing that had ruined any chance they had of being happy together. He’d been so unhappy with himself, he doesn’t think he could have been happy with anyone.

The bartender comes with Siyong’s drink, and she moves as if to stand up. Himchan realizes that if she does, this is it. They'll never be anything to each other again. And maybe that would be what he deserves, but he wants to apologize before she goes in case he doesn't get another chance.

"Hey," he says, resting a hand on her arm to pause her.

She turns back towards him, eyes hard.

"I just want to apologize again," he says. "Su-su, I'm so sorry."

He can see in her face all the years of effort she's spent fighting against a society and a world that told her she's wrong just for being her.

"It's fine, Himchan," she says. "I appreciate it, honestly, but I've ..."

"No," he says. "It's not fine. I didn't realize." He shakes his head. "I didn't realize how much I hated myself. I spent such a long time worrying that someone might call me fat I never stopped to wonder why I was scared of it to begin with. I didn't realize how brave you were for just deciding to be you, and not ashamed of it." He clears his throat. "So, I'm sorry, Su-su. I know there's nothing I can do to make up for it, but I want you to know."

Something in her face crumples, and she sits back down. "Oh, Himchan," she says. "It's okay. Really." She sighs. "I know it's hard. I mean ..." She closes her eyes. "I try so hard, but you know what they told me when I got the part in 'Moonlight Girl'?

This was the drama she'd just completed. It had been a relatively big hit, and Himchan had been glad for her.

"They said they wanted a chubby girl, but they told me not to gain any more weight. 'Chubby, but not really chubby.' That's what they said."

Himchan frowns. "What did you tell them?"

She shrugs. "Nothing," she says. "I needed the work."

He nods, slowly. He gets it. He really gets it. It's taken him until his thirties to even think of defying conventional stick-thin wisdom, and he knows it must be ten time as bad for her as a woman. Sometimes, the fight isn’t worth the cost. Sometimes, though, it is.

Himchan feels his cheeks growing red. "I knew I was an idiot for losing you, but I didn't realize how amazing you were, Su-su. You're a hundred times braver than I am."

Siyong stares down at her hands folded in her lap. She takes a deep breath, and then looks up. Her eyes are bright. "Maybe ... Maybe we could get dinner sometime? Start over?"

He smiles so wide he feels like his cheeks are going to split, and he doesn't even worry about how chubby it makes his face look. "You still want to? In spite of ... all this?" He pats his fat gut. He’s not the guy she started dating almost a year ago -- he doesn’t look like that guy, at least.

She flushes even redder. "I think you look good," she says. "Really. It suits you."

He laughs, a little embarrassed, but also so happy. Happier than he can remember being in forever. "I kind of like it," he says. "It's a lot easier, eating what I want."

She giggles and nods. "I'm glad I'm done with the drama." She pats her own soft belly. "It's so nice not to worry. I've actually been thinking of getting another slice of that cake."

Himchan nods. It had been excellent cake -- soft and spongy, with a thick layer of custard in between and sugared fruit on top.

"I think that sounds like an excellent idea," he says. He gets to his feet, and offers her his hand. "Shall we?"

She takes it. Hand in hand, they set off to find their cake.

[mattsammonsez]

Brass Tacts: It’s Not Getting Knocked Down, It’s How You Get Back Up That Matters

Oh man...

A few weeks ago I wrote in Brass Tacts on how we’re witnessing a live lesson in marketing with the Popeyes vs. Chick-fil-a (and other restaurants) battle with the southern-style chicken sandwich. Popeyes won’t sell as many chicken sandwiches as Chick-fil-a, but now they control the conversation through smart social media usage and limited advertising. Now we’re witnessing another live marketing lesson at the other end of the spectrum: how NOT to do an ad campaign, and most importantly how NOT to respond to the fallout from a faulty ad campaign. Of course, I’m talking about the now-infamous Peloton commercial than has been skewered and lampooned since being released in late November.

Like a gift-wrapped Peloton, there is sooooo much to unwrap here. And ironically, the one person who will come out of this better is “Peloton woman”, and it’s not because she pedaled her way to happiness on an overpriced exercise bike. And as always, content creators and broadcasters have something to learn from all of this.

Where to begin? Well let’s start with my general thought of Peloton and similar “personal trainer” systems-- it’s a bunch of hooey. At more than $2,200 for the bike and a $39 monthly membership, if you want a Peloton it will cost you about $2,700 for a year’s usage. Depending on the state you live in and how much you pay in taxes, that amounts to about one full paycheck of net income if you make $100,000 annually. Suffice to say, roughly 80% of the population in the United States can’t afford one of these things, so in my opinion any commercial for this belongs in the “Lexus December to Remember” fantasy department. Yes, you too can have a pricey exercise bike featuring someone in a studio yelling at you to pedal harder if you haven’t emptied your bank account on the Lexus with leather seats (or the two GMC trucks you and your spouse gifted to yourselves, or the Buick SUV you treated yourself to). Most people in their right mind aren’t putting a big bow on a $60,000 vehicle in front of their fortress-size home for Christmas like they do on the TV.

I am also a big believer that if you do want to lose weight, or stay fit and trim, or enjoy the energy and confidence boost that exercising can provide you, I suggest from my own experience that you eat less crap and get up and move around more. I lost 40 pounds over the last 10 or 12 years by not eating fast food and limiting fried foods, virtually eliminating my soda intake as well as drastically cutting back on how much beer I drank, and by pushing myself to exercise for 60 minutes 3 times a week. Want a bike? They sell them at Goodwill for $40. There, I just got you a bike for the cost of one month of a Peloton membership, and you don’t have your “personal trainer” Vinny screaming from a sound stage to sweat a little more for him.

Ok, so personal thoughts on Peloton and exercise aside, let’s move on to what’s happening at Peloton right about now. The company is having trouble (surprise!) convincing people not in a six-figure household to buy one of these things, and a weaker-than-expected IPO on NASDAQ in September isn’t helping issues. So the holiday sales time, a key time for anyone in the physical fitness/personal wellness industries, was a must-hit for Peloton. As you know, they released the infamous ad on November 21st, right before you feel guilty about the 8 or 9 pounds of food you’re going to eat at Thanksgiving. At first the ad seems like the usual sappy/fantasy commercial-- much like the husband surprising his wife with a luxury car, here’s the husband surprising his wife with this expensive exercise bike. And like every other Peloton (or similar item) commercial, she pedals away in the spare room of her really large house and ends up in a good mood at the end of the commercial.

But over time came the now well-known backlash. Why is this already attractive and thin woman forcing herself on to the exercise bike? Why is her husband buying this for her, she clearly doesn’t need this? And the cringe-worthy finish: after a year of documenting her Peloton use, she shows off the compilation to her husband who grins and projects this aura of “well I kept her thin and hot for another year!” While the supposed message was empowering women to do great achievements (albeit on an expensive exercise bike), the various messages received by viewers was “fat is bad”, “exercise ‘til you drop”, and “stay sexy ladies or he’ll kick you and that royal lifestyle to the curb”. The reaction to the whole fiasco BY ALL parties is more fascinating to me.

“Now YOU get on that bike you smug little...”

Peloton got clobbered on Wall Street, losing upwards of $1.6 billion of its valuation after the ad became viral (although shares have recovered somewhat). Rather than admit that they were off the mark with the ad, Peloton is shifting the blame to the viewers, shocked that so many people “misinterpreted” what they were trying to sell (Hot tip: NEVER blame the audience for not getting your message. More on that later). Peloton’s CEO, John Foley, is suggesting this is old news (Hot tip: It’s not). And Peloton’s marketing partner, Mekanism, is very quiet on the whole thing, which is normally not a good sign. But these are all people behind the scenes. What about the people playing the roles of the misguided husband and wife?

This is the Brass Tacts lesson-- how you respond to being pulled into something you didn’t plan on being the center of attention on. And I’ll pull my own experience to the middle, as I was featured in a national ad campaign for H&R Block in the winter of 2013. Thankfully there was no controversy with that campaign, but even though I was used to broadcasting to thousands of people during my “day job” as the game day host of the Tampa Bay Lightning radio broadcasts, having my face pop up on TV screens and web ads across the nation for a solid two months was odd. And while the feedback from friends and strangers who saw the ad was all positive, it was still an adjustment for me to deal with the sudden notoriety I had. But after a few days I took it all in stride, and I still think back to that time 9 years ago when I was selected, filmed, and had a spot starring me delivered to the masses. It was a fun experience, but admittedly a little overwhelming. So if someone who is a professional broadcaster can be shaken a bit by a positive commercial experience, let’s see how our Peloton actors are doing.

Sean Hunter, a.k.a. “Peloton Husband”, was the first to speak out. Naturally, the guy who appeared in about 5 seconds of the ad, is playing the role of the victim. In TV and print interviews shortly after the public backlash, Hunter was stunned by the negative feedback that implemented him as a demanding and care-less husband. He was worried that this ad would stunt his day job as an elementary school teacher as well as his burgeoning acting career. But apparently he was so worried about this turn of events, he continued to give interviews and even changed his Instagram account name to “pelotonhusband”. I sure hope he survives to see his imminent stint on Dancing With the Stars.

But what about “Peloton Woman”? Her name is Monica Ruiz, and after laying low she released a statement through her agency on Saturday, also noting she was surprised by the backlash from the ad. But rather than play the victim, which in many ways she is if you see her character as an attractive young mother who has to pedal to nowhere and fast to keep her hot looks to keep her jackass husband happy, Ruiz ends up being the victor in this whole mess. As described in this New York Times article, actor Ryan Reynolds came to Ruiz’s rescue with one of the best response ads I have ever seen in my life. With Ruiz playing the role of a woman who has clearly been through A LOT lately, we find her at a local bar with her girl friends staring into space before chugging down a martini glass filled with Aviation Gin, Reynolds’ own gin product. As any good friends would do in a time of crisis, the friends reassure Ruiz that everything will be great and go ahead and throw back another. And by the way, one of the friends says to Ruiz, “you look great!”

Our hero Monica (center) in the ultimate clap back ad. I’ll drink to that.

As detailed in the Times article, Reynolds’ had to act fast to make the spot happen, and his timing couldn’t have been better with the public outcry at full pitch. Since the spot was filmed and produced by his own production company, the turnaround was quick and the spot debuted this past Saturday. In the end Ruiz’s character, who was supposed to be the damsel in distress who needed to ride this damn bike in her living room at all hours of the day to make her doofus husband happy in a bizarre way considering she was already an attractive young mother living a heavenly life in this beautiful home with a beautiful daughter, turns out to be the heroine. She didn’t need an expensive exercise bike to feel good about herself (and thus her husband somehow feels satisfied), she just needed a stiff drink with good friends away from home.

And in real life, Ruiz is the undisputed champion here, with a primary assist to Reynolds for getting her into the response ad so quickly. Ruiz comes out on top, shows the world that she cannot only take the heat, but she’ll spin it around and make a nice cool drink out of it. The sympathy for the awful Peloton ad, followed by the smart comeback in the Aviation Gin ad, likely means she’ll have more companies knocking on her door as a spokesperson. Meanwhile Sean Hunter looks like a sniveling idiot, CEO John Foley is likely throwing things in his office and blaming someone else, and Mekanism is probably wondering if they’ve lost the Peloton account for good.

I’m not much of a gin drinker, but I’ll be honest in saying while buying whiskey for my wife’s world-famous Irish Cream this past weekend, I glanced over at the Aviation Gin display. Mission accomplished, and I hope Monica Ruiz makes a mint off of every acting gig she gets.

So what do broadcasters and content creators learn from this mess?

KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE: You need to know who you’re talking to, and how you’re conveying that message. While Foley is trying to pretend like this fiasco is old news, even he acknowledges that the Peloton message needs to be clarified. If you think a certain segment of the population needs to be convinced that buying your product empowers them to do great things, then you need to find a smart and delicate way of conveying that message. Having an already attractive young woman playing the role of a married mother living in a gorgeous house needing to ride an exercise bike her husband mysteriously gifts her to apparently stay young and fit and attractive and snuggled nicely into this rich guy’s house in so many ways looks down at that woman-- and any woman watching the ad. How Peloton, or the ad agency Mekanism, thought this was a good idea or continued to green light it to completion is mind-boggling.

Don’t just “know” through demographic stats and information who your target audience is. KNOW your audience by putting their thoughts and feelings in to the equation. I’m willing to bet my weight in Aviation Gin that during the entire concept and execution of this campaign, there weren’t a lot of (or any) married upper middle-class women with children in on the process. That includes at Peloton, Mekanism, or any test audience for the ad. This wasn’t someone knowing the intended audience, it was someone thinking they knew who needed to see this.

Don’t blame the audience: Maybe the audience did misunderstand the intended message, but don’t EVER publicly suggest that they did. By doing so, you’re implying the audience (including your target audience) is too stupid to understand your high-brow style of communication. The fact is, if a large segment of the population throws back your content, then maybe (no definitely) you’re way off with your target. 

I recall back in 2011 when the Tampa Bay Lightning unveiled a brand new logo and color scheme, the one thing that fans were very vocal about was the lack of black in the new uniform design. Black had been part of the team’s identity since its inception in 1992, why did it totally have to go away? Likewise fans demanded that the Lightning’s unique lightning bolt pants, also a staple of the uniform since 1992, be part of the new concept. Rather than try to explain to the fans that they misunderstood what the team was trying to do, then-CEO Tod Leiweke said the team was going back to the drawing board. Not only was black reintroduced to accent the predominantly blue and white uniform, the pants had the lightning bolt down the side. In this situation, the customer is always right, even if they’re wrong for not seeing what you were trying to do.

Don’t get caught up, when you get caught up: Sometimes you get stuck in the middle when something goes awry, even if it isn’t your fault. Sean Hunter didn’t go into the audition process for the ad desiring to be seen as this idiot husband demeaning his wife by suggesting the already rail-thin woman needed to exercise more. And while most reasonable people don’t see Sean Hunter the actor as a real-life embodiment of the husband, understandably some people just connected dots and thought Hunter and the husband were one in the same. But Hunter should have laid low, let the controversy pass (because it eventually will), and let Peloton or the agency take the heat. Instead he was one of the first to speak out, coming off like a whiny victim, and despite this “career-threatening” moment he is still getting paid. And if it’s an ASCAP deal for him, when the ad stops running he’ll still have $10,000-$15,000 in his pocket for being in the ad. That’s hardly a negative game-changer.

Compare that to Ruiz who stayed out of the fire, and was treated to a sympathetic audience not only because of the unfortunate thrust in to being a face of gender inequality but also for being put in a similar position as Hunter. Rather than book every interview and complain about how her life was ruined, Reynolds came along and was able to recast her in a much lighter role that gave he personality the redeeming qualities of humility (”I can’t believe I was in that ad?”) and humor (”I think I’ll suck down another glass of gin with my friends.”). Eventually this will all blow over, but Ruiz will be remembered for looking calmer and wiser than Hunter, and her acting career may last longer than Peloton.

When the waters get choppy around you from a storm that is out of your control, often the best thing to do is put your head down and keep rowing for land.

Matt Sammon has been in broadcasting and content creation for 24 years, and was most recently the Director of Broadcasting & Programming for the Tampa Bay Lightning. Learn more about him and what he can do for you at SammonSez.com.