#that even just having a certain kind of dopey looked his expression after being confronted in a certain way from being caught drunk can put

[skinnypaleangryperson]

I don't know if it's just me, but are they gradually dumbing down Rick's character for the sake of keeping the show popular?

I got extreme Peter Griffin vibes from this episode, and I feel like in general he's a lot less sharp and cool gritty and witty and "unconventional" the way that he was the first couple of seasons. He wasn't an easy character to "swallow" in a lot of ways so to speak, and I feel like he's gradually getting dumber, more cloudy around the edges, less sharp and more conventional and shallow with a lot of the things that he says. He feels extremely typical sometimes this season-like more of the character that people would watch because the character doesn't challenge their headspace in any kind of way, and is someone that encourages their complacent drunk dead personality.

The character used to say things that was really unpopular, or at the very least would occasionally say things that would make people uncomfortable (just things like "if you know how you're going to die because of how boring your life is then you're not even alive" and just things that challenged at the boring drunk complacent status quo that most American sitcom characters are), was an extreme breath of fresh air in terms of how sharp he was and how he wasn't afraid to challenge everything even if it was just in a TV show character kind of way, and it's one of the things that stuck out about me about him the most, especially as someone who is mentally ill and feels detached from most of American culture.

I might just be in a bad mood, but I genuinely feel like Rick feels less sharp and "unconventional"and is starting to feel increasingly more dumb, dopey and easy to swallow as a character.

I still love him and I always will, and sometimes I find it endearing, but this episode in particular felt like he was just being a dumb genuine and boring drunk (really just in terms of the scene with Beth, but considering that the episodes are only about 22 minutes, there isn't a lot of elbow room to work with, especially considering most of this episode was summer screen time).

The only reason why I care so much is because of Rick is one of the very few characters I've ever been genuinely connected with, so I'm just worried that Rick as a character is going down to gradual slippery slope of just becoming an American extremely overly dumbed it down product. The show was so gritty and real and raw and a lot of ways for the first three to four seasons and kept that touch up to season 6, but this season just feels like they're gradually going into "American Dad" type feeling territory, and I'm vaguely worried a little bit about my connection to the show. Especially as someone that does not connect to things easily or ever at all really. And partially because everything is so dumbed down and doesn't seem to have any and genuine philosophy behind it except of being another brainless thing for people to consume to pass the time.

[hq-haikyuu-blog]

First Love, First Heartbreak

Atsumu breakup angst

warnings: angst, one(?) curse word

word count: 2521

It’s definitely cheesy, but you could safely say, Atsumu was your first love. Your first everything, in fact. He was the first person you ever seriously liked and pursued, the first person you went on a date with, your first kiss, and genuinely, the first person you loved.

Your first year of high school was a dream come true. You had met Atsumu at the beginning of the year and you guys had gotten together a little before halfway through the year. For your first date, he had taken you out for dinner before leading you to the waterfront. He spread out a blanket on the ground for you and gave you his sweater, claiming that he wanted to stargaze with you.

Not 15 minutes later however, fireworks began to go off from across the water, the occasion forgotten as you looked over at him in shock and excitement. He had the most loving smile on his face as he cupped your face in his hands.

“Can I kiss you?” he had asked as he stroked his thumb over your bottom lip, leaning in to capture your lips with his as soon as you agreed. You found out later that Atsumu had paid Osamu to follow behind you guys and take pictures of cute moments.

Although a little weird, the picture that Osamu had taken of you two, foreheads pressed together and dopey smiles (though Atsumu’s was more of a smirk) on your faces right after you pulled apart had been your phone screen for the past year and a half. It was his for about a year before he eventually changed it back to a picture of the volleyball team.

You remember confronting him about this, asking him at one point casually why he decided to change it, totally intending to tease him as it wasn’t a huge deal in your mind. Instead of playing along, Atsumu had gotten defensive about it, angry even.

“It’s just a wallpaper, y/n, why does it even matter, huh?” 

You had attributed it to having a bad day or being stressed out and brushed it off, pushing it to the back of your mind easily. He had apologized for it after all, and he had never acted like that before anyways. He began to distance himself from you a few months later and he had just said it was because he didn’t want to end up snapping at you over stress. You knew he was very busy with volleyball, but slowly, you began to realize just how far the two of you had drifted.

But you could still remember the days that certain things changed. You remembered the exact day he started calling you by your name and not by a sweet pet name that he couldn’t get enough of. You remember the first day that he didn’t send you a good morning text, as well as the day that he didn’t reply to your goodnight text. You remembered the day that he stopped hugging you fully, opting instead to loosely throw an arm around you in response to your tight hugs.

And it’s not like he was being weird around everyone. He was still his normal, goofy self around everyone else. But with you, he was as serious as he gets when he serves. He was so serious and he seemed so bored and tired around you all the time. You remembered the day you realized this with a heavy heart.

You had dropped by at the end of practice, only to see him goofing around with everyone and cracking jokes...smiling a smile you hadn’t seen in months. However, you watched as Suna pointed you out to Atsumu, his smile immediately dropping as he said his goodbyes to everyone.

Now, all of these seem like fairly small events but stuff really starts to build over time and that time has been about 3 or so months now. You were patient, all your friends were constantly telling you that. Things like, “y/n, why don’t you dump him already?” and “y/n, why do you keep waiting around for him?” and each time, you would respond with “I love him a lot” or “He’s doing his best but he’s just really busy.” and each time you said it, you started to believe it less and less.

Did you really love Atsumu or did you love the idea of being in a relationship and the idea of the honeymoon phase you both shared. Was he doing his best to be with you while still maintaining his busy schedule or was he choosing his schedule over you and refusing to make any extra time for you. You began to ask yourself this over and over, finally deciding to give it a week after nationals were over to see if things would change.

See, nationals were sort of the break you were hoping the two of you would catch. Atsumu had always been dedicated to volleyball, that much was apparent, but before, he used to make time for you while still focusing the same amount on volleyball. As nationals began to approach, you began to see or even interact with him less and less. You kept trying to convince yourself that things would go back to normal after nationals were over.

But now, it’s been two weeks since nationals ended and nothing has changed. You had tried to ask Atsumu to meet up with you three times in the past week, only for him to ask for a raincheck. So now, you had to take things in your own hands.

“...what do you need, y/n?” Atsumu sighed into the phone immediately after answering your call.

“Are you free anytime soon? It’s kind of important.” you replied, patiently trying to ask if he had time for you once again.

“Um, can’t it wait? I’m kind of busy.” 

“...no, it can’t wait.” you said nervously.

“What do you mean it can’t wait?” Atsumu asked. You could practically see him frowning in annoyance through the phone.

“It’s important, it really can’t wait.” you repeated more firmly.

“Yeah, okay. Just wait for me after practice tomorrow.” he sighed. He said a hasty goodbye before hanging up.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling numbly as you contemplated how you were going to do this. Your chest was tight, as if you needed to cry, but no tears came to your eyes. Pushing the thoughts of tomorrow away, you rolled over in bed and shut your eyes tightly, trying to go to sleep.

After an hour of tossing and turning, you dragged yourself out of bed, defeated, and begrudgingly walked over to your closet, grabbing out an old sweater Atsumu had forgotten he had left at your house, the last article of clothing of his you had left as he had already asked for everything else back at some point or another. 

Curling back into a ball on your bed, surrounded by the once familiar scent of Atsumu, a combination of salonpas and the deodorant he used, you finally let loose the tears that had been building up as you realized, the same scent that used to be comforting now only held dread in it’s grasps as it engulfed your senses as you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of some of the better times during your relationship.

You dreamt about how he had tried to ask you out, approaching you nervously and asking if you were free to hang out with him sometime. You had teased him by asking if he meant hanging out as just friends and he had agreed, a dejected look on his face before you cracked, laughing and telling him that you liked him and wanted to date him.

You saw the birthday you had celebrated with him at your side. He had picked you up early in the morning, tossing you a hoodie as he urged you to get into the car. He had driven you down to the beach to watch the sunrise and had brought a little breakfast picnic basket with him. You had spent the day at the beach together, him having packed your swimming stuff with the help of your guardian.

And finally, you dreamt of one of the last days things had seemed normal. You had cuddled all day as he spoke about his worries for nationals. As you lay face to face, he had told you he loved you more than anything and confessed that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He had littered your face with kisses while he spoke about the future he wanted with you.

You woke up with a bitter taste in your mouth and dried tears on your face. You sighed as you realized the future you both had dreamt of wouldn’t be happening. His promises of a wedding and a house and lots of pets were just empty words now.

You dragged yourself through the school day and then wordlessly watched Atsumu during practice as you planned out what to say to him after practice. You were so deep in thought, you didn’t notice Atsumu leaving until Kita approached you.

“Good evening, l/n-san. Were you planning on leaving with Atsumu or were you waiting for something else?” he asked you kindly.

“Oh...yeah, I was waiting for Atsumu, is he done changing?” you replied.

“Yes, I believe I just saw him walking out, he may have thought you left already. If you hurry, you should be able to catch him.” you felt hurt bubble up in your chest at Kita’s statement as you thanked him and took off hurriedly after Atsumu.

“Atsumu!” you called out when you saw the boy’s figure in the distance. “I thought we were going to talk today.” 

“Look y/n, I’m really tired. I’m busy okay, can’t this wait?” he said, tone coming out clipped as he shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking. You stared at his back in shock before the anger set in.

“We’re done.” you snapped at him. That got his attention as he whipped around quickly to face you, a deep frown on his face.

“I just said I’m tired, I really don’t have time for your jokes.” 

“I’m not joking. This isn’t a joke and neither are my feelings. We’re over. I’m breaking up with you.” you said, accentuating every reiteration of your statement.

“What’s gotten into you? Things are going fine, why do you suddenly want to break up?” he asked, annoyance slowly morphing into concern and confusion. Concern. That was an emotion you hadn’t seen him express for you in a long time.

“What do you mean things are going fine? When’s the last time we talked or hung out?” you exclaimed incredulously, throwing your hands up in the air.

“We talk all the time, y/n.” he said unconvincingly, his thoughtful expression clearly showing you he was trying to recall the last time you guys actually conversed.

“No we don’t. It’s just me asking you if you have time to hang out or even talk and you telling me you’re too busy. That’s not talking, that’s you blowing me off and shoving me to the side.” you snapped, angry at both him and yourself when you felt the knot in your stomach tightening as you forced down the tears.

“I was just busy with nationals, you know how important nationals are.” he shot back defensively.

“Nationals ended two weeks ago and you still have as little time for me as ever. This isn’t a matter of choosing between me and volleyball. The point is, before, you used to make time for me even with your volleyball schedule. Now you don’t even try. It’s not that you don’t have the time, it’s that you aren’t making time. You aren’t trying because you don’t- you don’t care about me anymore and I’m sick of it.” you ranted, voice cracking as the tears began to flow freely.

“Don’t say that. You know I care about you, doll.” Atsumu replied, his own voice hoarse with emotion as he reached out for you. You allowed him to pull you into a hug, though you refused to hug him back.

“I really can’t do this anymore, Atsumu.” you sniffed out when you finally got the tears under control.

“Baby, we can fix this. I can do better. I’ll be better.” Atsumu said desperately, stroking your head softly as his body trembled slightly as he began to cry a little as well.

“I know you can. But right now just isn’t the right time. Maybe in the future we can be together again…” you trailed off hopefully, though you both knew that the hopefulness in your statement showed your finality on your decision.

“...you can’t just expect me to let you go, let go of us.” Atsumu argued, hugging you more tightly.

“I think you let go of us a long time ago, Atsumu.” you said softly as you hugged him back. After a few moments, you loosened your grip around him, letting your arms fall back to your side, Atsumu reluctantly copying your actions. You both stared at each other silently, heartbreak written all over your faces but you knew that what you were doing was the right choice and you prayed that someday he would realize that as well.

But in the moment, he definitely didn’t. As he watched your figure retreat, he wanted to call out to you, tell you that you were making a mistake by ending what you both shared. But he knew that you weren’t the one who had made the mistake. The end of your relationship was his fault and he knew that.

He thought back to a few weeks ago, or was it months, when Osamu brought up Atsumu’s relationship with you. Osamu had bluntly asked why Atsumu was taking a good s/o like you for granted. Atsumu had scoffed when Osamu said you’d leave him eventually if he kept up the shitty behavior.

Now he was realizing just how right his brother was. Why was he neglecting someone like you? You were always nothing but kind, why would he pass that up? You were the best thing that’s happened to him. A patient and understanding s/o who supported his dreams and he didn’t even give you the time of day. 

And as the days passed and turned into weeks and months, Atsumu realized that you were right. You guys weren’t meant to be together. The timing wasn’t right. But now he could see how much happier you were. He was bringing you down by taking you for granted. He had hoped you would give him another chance to show that he could be better for you but...as he saw you move on, he knew he didn’t deserve it. And as he rethought your relationship and reminisced over your pictures together he understood. He understood why they call it a heartbreak.

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

Miss Right

Summary:

You are the person to go to at school if anyone needs any help with their relationships, and your friend is always teasing you for being single despite that fact. But sometimes you have to have patience, and some people are worth having patience for.

5k+ words

-

“I just don’t understand,” your friend sighed. “Your relationship advice has helped hundreds of thousands of people all over the world, not to mention that you are behind saving like… Every relationship at our school. How are you still single?”

You rolled your eyes light-heartedly, batting Hansol’s arm so that he would stop gazing at you with that dopey expression on his face.

“Like I say all the time, people are single for a reason-”

“There’s no need to rush into a relationship if you aren’t in one you just have to wait for the right person to come,” Hansol finished with his own roll of the eyes. He let his hands drop to the table, his fingers clasping his palms together. “Yeah, yeah, but come on- don’t tell me that you don’t like someone.”

You laughed softly, letting your eyes wander from Hansol.

“Well…”

Sitting near the library windows, his chair was propped up on two legs as he blew air frustratedly out of his cheeks sat the real apple of your eye. It wasn’t like you had been trying to watch him but it was impossible not to notice him as he struggled to write what you figured would be his next big hit.

Lee Jihoon was a quiet boy that you were lucky enough to meet earlier this year before you knew who he was. While by day he appeared as just another stressed-out college student with a coffee mug permanently glued to his hand, by night he was a popular singer known by the Pseudonym: Woozi.

Of course, no one was supposed to know that and the only reason you did was because you had been so intrigued by him when you two first met that you couldn’t help but notice everything about him. You recognized his voice patterns, his handwriting, and you had caught him humming a song that Woozi had mentioned earlier that day he couldn’t get out of his head.

He had kept his secret well, but your quiet observational skills were too good for him to deny.

Not… That you had exactly confronted him on it or anything.

Sure, you knew, and it made you like him just that much more. Listening to his live videos meant that you got to know more about him then you did in person and knowing him in person meant that if you had a question that you wanted to ask him you could.

It was perfect.

He picked his pencil back up between his fingers and let his chair drop back down to all fours.

He was perfect.

“I knew you liked someone!” Hansol exclaimed excitedly. “Who is it? When are you asking him out? Who is going to be the lucky, Mr. Right?”

You laughed and leaned forward, resting your hands comfortingly over Hansol’s hands.

“True love can happen to anyone anywhere, and true love sometimes entails knowing when your partner is ready for you and… When they aren’t.”

Hansol’s face fell.

“You’re not asking him out?” He asked you. “Why not? I mean come on, y/n, you are literally Miss Right.”

You laughed off the pun, letting your eyes fall on the boy in question again. You were surprised to find that he had abandoned his work, and had his head turned, his eyes trained on you specifically.

You didn’t let your surprise show on your face. Instead, you let your head fall to the side, sweeping the hair that fell in your face out of your way as you smiled at him and gave him a short wave. He smiled back at you and gave you a small wave.

You could have stared at him like that forever… But you knew that you couldn’t, so you tore your eyes away from him, and pulled your hands back down into your own lap. You couldn’t let Jihoon think you were dating anyone you were seen with. Any chance that you weren’t available, and you knew that any feelings he might ever have for you would disappear.

“Even Miss Right has to be careful,” you assured softly. “One wrong move, one instance of me being too clingy, or not showing that I like him enough is one chance for me to lose him.”

Hansol leaned back in his chair, not really looking like he cared about what you had to say. You just shrugged it off.

“It seems weird, but I have to be careful with this one,” you stated softly. “You can’t just ask some people out. And for me to find Mr. Right, I have to play it right.”

You got up from your chair and began to put your books into your bag, a large smile on your face as Hansol scoffed.

“I think you’re just scared,” he challenged, but today wasn’t really the day for that argument. You just shrugged.

“Maybe a part of me is,” you agreed. “I guess we’ll just find out.”

You were lucky enough to have one class with Lee Jihoon this semester. While it wasn’t much, it was pretty unlikely to have the same schedule as someone else you knew in college unless they had the same major as you, and you were fairly certain that Jihoon did not have that.

He was luckily in one of your smaller classes, which meant that you got to work pretty close to him. You had been partnered with him more than once, and you two worked fairly well together as a team. So well, in fact, that at some point during the year he had begun to sit near you in class, and if he had a question, he asked you.

It was a nice surprise, you reasoned, when he leaned over in your space, his warmth being a distraction for the moment. Sometimes you would end up making it seem like you didn’t understand a concept, simply because being right there next to him made your mind go completely blank.

It hadn’t always been like that either.

When you first met Jihoon, paired with him in a class for a project you had been worried.

He was quiet to start out, and rather stoic. He hadn’t really acted like he wanted anything to do with you, which was stressful considering you two only had a week to get your presentation done.

You had been patient, however, taking the initiative to ask him what sort of things he was wanting to do for the assignment and making sure to go out of your way to fit his schedule for everything. At first, you didn’t think he noticed but then one day as you were packing up:

“So same time tomorrow?”

“Is it… Is it convenient for you?”

You had scrunched your eyebrows together and tilted your head to the side.

“The time, I mean-”

“I just noticed that on Tuesdays you’re always a little late, and you rush to get out. If it’s not a good time for you, I can meet you at a different time.”

From that moment on it had been impossible for you to not notice how sweet Jihoon could be. He was more considerate to you, always making sure to save you a seat in the class that you had to come a little late, sharing notes with you if you missed days. He offered to help you with a subject if he noticed you struggling with them and shyly asked you to study with him for the most important exams.

Quiet nights spent in the library until two in the morning seated beside Jihoon were nights that you spent falling in love with him and all of his little mannerisms. The way he tapped his pencil and pursed his lips when he was lost in the thought. Or shyly looked over to you before nervously clearing his throat when he wanted to say something. He tended to opt-out of it, so then you would look up at him and look over at what he was doing to figure out what he had been going to ask you yourself.

That next semester when you had ended up in another class together you had been so excited you couldn’t help but smile. You weren’t going to say anything to him, figuring he wouldn’t want anything to do with you, but he had smiled brightly and waved you over your name spilling off his tongue.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have someone I know here,” he mumbled softly, moving his things so that you could take the seat directly beside him. This time your face had flushed pink as you sat beside him, honestly, just as excited to see him as he was to see you.

He was decidedly chattier that time around, and it opened your eyes a bit to who he was as a person.

He needed time to get to know people. If he waited and got to learn exactly how a person ticked when he met them, saw that they were worth his every effort and all of his affections he would be able to commit to a relationship with him.

It made it kind of frustrating for you to like him as much as you did.

You kind of wanted to just take the plunge. Tell him how you felt and drag him along with you on a date and laugh and learn everything about him.

“Alright, I see that we have a new question here. ‘I really like this guy, but he’s kind of shy. How should I approach him? I really like him, but I don’t want to scare him away’.”

You sighed softly and leaned back in your computer chair, briefly going over the words in your mind. You tended to be pretty careful about your responses to people.

“I know I say this a lot on this podcast, but the best thing I could possibly encourage you to do is to have patience. I know it’s frustrating some days. To take our time and get to know the person that we like’s limits but it can be so completely worth it in the end. Figure out what he will be comfortable with and ask him from there.”

You tried to keep your persona as Miss Right, pretty far from your relationship with Jihoon. Mostly because you thought it might be a little intimidating for him, to know that you had this alternate persona that seemed perfect at relationships. He needed to date someone that part of him thought would make mistakes like he did. Someone too perfect could be intimidating for him and could lower his self-esteem.

You knew you weren’t perfect in any way, but the worry that he might start to think that if you mentioned it had sort of pushed you to just never bring it up in conversation. While it wasn’t a secret that you were keeping from anyone, it wasn’t really anything that you advertised.

So, you were surprised when one day after class a guy rushed over to you, and grabbed your wrist, looking you in the eyes to say:

“You’re Miss Right… Right? I desperately need your help.”

You cleared your throat nervously, but smiled at him, nonetheless.

“I am always happy to help, but I have plans-”

Before you could finish speaking Jihoon was by your side. You could tell that he was carefully observing the interaction. Your expression, which was pretty calm and joyful, versus the other guys’. You looked down at the hand on your wrist and, without saying much you pulled your hand away from his.

Jihoon’s body had been a little tense. It relaxed a bit.

“We’re like leagues ahead on this project. If Jidong needs your help with an assignment. I don’t know, you should help,” Jihoon suggested. Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, and Jidong’s did too.

“What? No. Not a project. Look I just found out that my girlfriend is going to break up with me because I apparently haven’t been paying enough attention to her?” He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I didn’t know she thought that! I thought that she liked things the way they are, man I can’t lose her I-”

You were quick to reach forward, throwing your rules about not touching other guys around Jihoon right out the window.

“Hey, Jidong, focus,” you said pointedly. “Stop freaking out, doing so isn’t going to get you your girlfriend back.”

The boy stopped speaking, but he didn’t look happy about it. His gaze fixed on you; the pain evident in his expression.

“Okay, if she hasn’t broken up with you yet, then this is your chance to win her back. I would normally suggest a grand gesture, but if she were to find out that you knew she was going to end it, she’d probably think you only confessed so that you could keep her. So instead let me ask, have you texted her yet today?”

He looked at you blankly.

“Texted her?”

“You said the problem is she doesn’t think you pay enough attention to her. What’s her school schedule like today?”

He stayed silent.

“What friends does she hang out with the most?”

Still nothing.

“When was the last time you guys went on a date?”

“Okay, I’m starting to understand why she may be breaking up with me,” Jidong mumbled softly. He looked utterly wrecked at that. “Do I really know so little about her? I thought I cared about her I thought-”

“Jidong!” You interrupted again, an amused smile finding it’s way on your face. “You came to me at a good time. Your solution is really easy.”

You let your hand fall from his shoulder to his wrist which you squeezed comfortingly.

“I prescribe you with texting her every day. Start with right now. Ask her how her classes are going. Start a conversation. Slowly learn the things you don’t yet know about her. It’s never too late to start learning. Ask her out on a date for later this week. Set time aside for her as often as you can. Just show her that you care. She won’t break up with you if you prove her that you are trying,” you assured him. “If anything, bad happens just tell me and I’ll help you guys sort through it, but this should work out well.”

Jidong already had his phone out, typing out a message to the lucky girl in question. He nodded to every word that you uttered, his eyes flickering up at you every once in a while. He jumped after only a second.

“She already responded- what do I say?!” He blurted. You snickered into your hand, raising an eyebrow.

“Dude, she’s your girlfriend, I think you know how to talk to her.”

A light flush crossed his cheeks.

“You’re right, you’re right,” he agreed softly. “Thank you, I’ll keep in touch with how it goes.”

He turned away from you and started to wander out of the room. He stopped suddenly turning to look back at you from over his shoulder.

“Are you…” He trailed off. “Are you sure that this will work?”

You smiled, clasping your hands together in front of your body.

“Absolutely,” you assured confidently. You gave him a thumbs up and that seemed to be reassuring enough. He gave you a bubbly little smile and then briskly walked out the door.

You smiled after him, relieved to find that he seemed assured by your words. You were a little surprised when someone behind you cleared your throat. You had completely forgotten that Jihoon was there.

Your face was a little flushed when you turned around.

“That went by a little faster than I thought,” you said with a nervous chuckle. “Jidong sure is a character, isn’t he?”

Jihoon’s expression was a little curious, and you knew that there were a number of ways that you could paint this situation. You wanted to lie, and make it seem like nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

But starting off a relationship without honesty wasn’t the way to go. Especially not with Jihoon. You sort of recalled him saying at some point that he was born in late November on his podcast. A Sagittarius. You knew that he valued honesty.

“So you…” He trailed off.

“I give relationship advice online,” you admitted with a short nod of your head. He stared at you.

“You’re Miss Right?”

You pretended like it wasn’t a huge deal despite the fact some people at this school seemed to think it was a big deal.

You didn’t quite understand it to be completely honest. You got a lot of attention for a kid who just started off your side career by giving advice to your friends.

You know so much about love… You should tell people the tips you give us. Maybe on a blog, or a podcast or both, I don’t know, you’re just really knowledgeable about this stuff.

You had kind of just done it, liking being able to get it out of your system. Then you picked up fans, and everyone at school knew that you gave the best advice. Which was saying quite a lot considering your school was not a small school.

“You’ve heard of me?” You asked, a smile on your lips. He whistled.

“I seek your advice like… Daily,” he stated. You cocked your head at that, giving him a bewildered expression.

“My advice?”

“Is it that hard to believe?” He asked with a laugh. “Your advice is applicable to like everything. You truly are just… Something else.”

Just something else?

What did that mean? Why did those three words make your heart skip a beat? Make color raise to your cheeks… Make it so hard to just… Focus?

Every time you sat down that night to write, to be productive, to keep your blog updated, you just remembered his smile, and his laugh, and his words. You are just something else.

It was funny how happy that made you. Those five words.

Miss Right: Sometimes people say things to you that you don’t really know how to take. When you like someone it’s hard to interpret their words. Everything can have different meanings and it’s almost impossible to know for sure what things mean. Five words seem so simple to understand in black and white but when coming from the lips of someone you love they mean something completely different. Don’t overthink any words that may be in your mind guys. Sometimes they just mean what they are, and stressing out over any possible second meanings will just end in agony.

You thought maybe you should take your own advice.

Hansol stared at you from across the lunch table, his eyes squinting a little as he stared at you. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” You asked.

He just kept staring at you.

“What Hansol? I swear to god I will kill you,” you stated firmly. He sighed and pulled away from you. “You can’t really go forever without asking this guy out, I mean you won’t even tell me who he is? How is that fair? I’m your best friend!” Hansol exclaimed. You grunted.

“And that’s precisely why I won’t tell you, because you are too close with the others, and soon our whole friend group will know who I have a crush on and then you guys will be convincing me to rush or second guess myself-”

“Do you have no faith in me?” Hansol asked you. You made a face at him.

“I just need to do this on my own,” you assured him. “But if it makes you feel better, set a deadline.”

Hansol gave you a wide-eyed expression.

“What?”

You shrugged and stuck your fork in the dish before you.

“I’m at a good place with my guy, it won’t hurt anything if confess to him soon. So, you set the deadline. When do I have to tell him that I like him?”

Hansol looked at you, searching your eyes quietly for any sign that you were serious, or kidding or going to take it back. When you didn’t show any, he smiled mischievously.

“Valentine’s Day,” he stated pointedly. You thought over the date and then furrowed your eyebrows, pulling out your calendar.

“Wait, that actually-”

“Who schedules a confession?!” Hansol exclaimed with a laugh, snatching the calendar from you. You protested incoherently making grab hands for the small agenda, but Hansol held it out of your reach.

“Look, I-”

“You need to take your own advice!” Hansol insisted. “You said once that sometimes you have to just take a chance and take a risk even if you aren’t certain everything is perfect because-”

“If they’re the one for you, then it will be perfect,” you finished with a sigh.

He was right. God, you hated to admit it but he was right.

You had gotten so wrapped up in just, liking Jihoon from afar that you had forgotten your own words. How could you expect people to follow your advice if you didn’t even follow it yourself?

Still, it wasn’t often that you saw Jihoon on a Friday. You weren’t going to manufacture anything unnatural. You were no stalker. If the Universe really wanted this to happen you would let it- you bought him a box of chocolates and quietly ran over what you wanted to bring up to him.

You had made it through the majority of your classes, and you were sure that nothing would happen. You didn’t think you would ever run into him, you never did on Friday’s after all, but the moment you bumped into someone else, and your eyes fell on a mop of dark hair, you knew that maybe you shouldn’t test the Universe in these ways.

“Ah! Jihoon, you were, actually just the person I wanted to see,” you exclaimed softly. Jihoon’s eyes rose a little in surprise, a tentative smile crossing his lips.

“Really?” He asked. “Me?”

You nodded and began to rummage through your backpack.

“I know it’s a little cheesy, but I thought today was a good a day as any…” You trailed off and then proceeded to pull a small box of chocolates out of your bag. You offered the box to him, your backpack hanging off of your shoulder just so. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh?” Was all Jihoon said. He didn’t reach forward to take the chocolates, and he didn’t make any move to say anything more. He just sat there, staring at the box. You cleared your throat.

“It’s a little sudden,” you continued. “But I have a bit of a crush on you.”

Jihoon looked up at you at that, his attention focusing on you instead of on your slightly shaky hands. That was a blessing in some way… You were sure.

“And I wanted you to know that your smile and your laugh really warms my heart. Seeing you every day makes me happy, especially when it seems like maybe I make you happy too. I know that you wrote that song the other day for someone, so that makes this a bad time to tell you this but I knew I had to tell you at some point.”

You shrugged, but Jihoon continued to stay speechless. His steely gaze fixed on you. You felt like you could see his thoughts running through his brain at rapid speed. He was trying to gauge what he should do, likely- and not to be a pessimist- but likely to figure out exactly how to let you down.

Still, Miss Right as you may be, you weren’t able to keep your nerves from bubbling to the surface. You chuckled nervously and let your eyes fall shut as your head rolled briefly to the side. Your lips were spread out into a nervous smile.

“You know, normally when someone offers you chocolates on valentine’s day, you just take it,” you said softly. You didn’t open your eyes again until you felt him take the box from your hands, and when you finally did open your eyes, you were surprised to find that he looked just as embarrassed as you felt, a pink shade of color settled over his cheeks.

“I hope this news doesn’t bother you much or anything,” you said softly. “But also… Try not to overthink it or anything! No need for you to return my affections. It just takes a lot off of my heart for you to know.”

Honestly, despite your vast knowledge of relationships, you were a fairly anxious person. The thought that you would be able to keep your cool while talking to Jihoon and telling him that you liked him was… Practically unheard of. Still, you were able to smile at him and nod your head just so.

“Okay, good talk, I’ll see you on Monday?”

You didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, you turned your back. A slight panic beginning to brew in your gut at the entire situation, despite it not really being anything to freak out about. Things had gone well, and sure he hadn’t responded but-

“Wait!”

You paused and turned over your shoulder, looking back at Jihoon.

His cheeks were red, his eyes wide. He looked so conflicted, which you couldn’t really say was the best reaction to a confession, but at least it was a reaction.

“Yeah?”

“You… You like me?” He blurted. You looked back at him, a small smile on your lips.

“Well, I honestly thought it was pretty obvious already,” you admitted, nervously scratching the back of your neck, “But since the confession seems now to be news… Yeah. I do.”

He stared at you again, completely silent. So, you let your eyebrows raise a little in surprise.

“Can I go home and scream into my pillow now? I feel like my air of calamity is actually more terrifying than the alternative,” you stated. He cleared his throat, his fingers clenching the box of chocolates you had given him even tighter. He didn’t respond, and you took that as  sign to leave.

You waved at him over your shoulder and walked down the hallway. He didn’t stop you that time, and you were extremely grateful for that.

Later that night, Woozi went live online.

You were always excited when he did so. He was a good musician and you thought that even if you didn’t know that he was Jihoon you would still support him immensely. Still, an unscheduled live today knowing what you did was pretty exciting, so you were more than eager to tune in. There was an image of his desk cast over the camera, and it wasn’t long before you saw his hand pop on the screen, a short wave being his greeting.

“Hello,” he greeted. “Hello everyone. Thanks for joining in.”

The chat went wild, everyone wondering the same thing.

Woozi, after all, was a man who made a schedule and stuck to it. He wasn’t the kind of guy who surprised people or strayed from what he usually did. Everyone was surprised by this live. Woozi laughed nervously into the mic, his hand splaying over the desktop.

“Ah, I see you all want to know why I am going live. Can’t I just miss you guys?”

You snorted at the cheesy comment but laughed even harder as everyone in the chat started to inform him that no, no he could not. He snorted a little too.

“Okay, okay I relent. I went live for a reason. I, uh, I messed up today guys.”

He waited for everyone in the comments to validate him, asking what he had done and why he went live to talk about it before finally continuing.

“At school, I got confessed to. Yeah, I know romantic right? And even better it was by the girl that I sort of kind of have a crush on.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. The girl he had a crush on? Maybe he had been confessed to more than once or-

“She gave me this box of chocolates and was so calm, and pretty and nice and she confessed and I just kind of stood there like an idiot and let her walk away. I didn’t say anything- why didn’t I say anything?”

During the lives, Woozi tended to just… Talk. Mostly about his music. Sometimes not. Not being able to see his face made it hard to truly observe the way he acted when he talked about himself, still he had this way of sitting- you assumed his arms circling the camera- that allowed you to see the way that his fingers fiddled with themselves. Like he would when he was talking about things he was truly conflicted on.

Say, what way a melody should go, if his lyrics were good enough, etcetera, etcetera, he tended to pick at his index finger thoughtfully.

It was always mesmerizing enough that somedays you would focus in solely on that, completely forgetting the words he was speaking, only falling into the lull of his voice.

Today, sadly wasn’t one of those days. Part of you wasn’t focusing at all on his fingers and what they were doing. You were solely focused on his words and every little thing he had to say.

“Doesn’t she know that I’m bad with relationships?” Woozi mumbled though this seemed to be mostly to himself. “There are two more days before I see here again. What will I even do? What do I say?”

The comments were going crazy. Running by so fast that you were hardly even paying attention to what they said. You caught a few things. Well… Two. Two words that were repeated pretty consistently in some of the comments.

Miss Right, they read: You have to ask Miss Right! She’s so good at this stuff.

Woozi groaned, and his position shifted his hands disappearing from view.

“I can’t ask her, you guys don’t understand,” he grumbled. “You guys are my last hope I mean-“

You weren’t sure what made you do it, but you picked up your phone. You stared at the screen, at Woozi’s desk and scrunched your nose as you typed out a message.

You stared at it quietly, wondering if you were really going to do it. If you were really going to send it.

And then before you knew it, you were watching your comment disappear among the others.

Your message made everyone in the comments go crazy, and it made Jihoon jump so hard that his phone dropped down.

Actually, Miss Right is right here. I can offer some advice for your situation if you want?

“I can explain the situation better you see I-”

You don’t have to, you typed out, sending it quickly to interrupt him. He fell silent. My advice to you in this situation is to just relax. If she likes you then she is no rush for you to confess back or anything. Maybe she just wanted you to know. Maybe she doesn’t need you to confess back.

“But I do like her,” he insisted. Your heart skipped a beat again, and your hand clutched at your shirt, just over your heart, willing it to calm down. “I just never imagined she liked me too.”

Suddenly it was like there was no one else in that live with you two. It felt like- in fact, you two were the only two people in the world. You swallowed hard, and your hands shook a little.

Just tell her that then, she sent. Things don’t have to be complicated. They can be just as romantic or as chill as you want them to be. You control your own relationships Woozi.

The next time you saw Jihoon it was for a pre-scheduled study session you two had. He usually sat on the opposite end of the table from you, but today he didn’t do that. Instead he sat directly beside you. He smiled at you in greeting but didn’t say more to you. You would be lying if you didn’t say that your heart was beating like crazy.

You weren’t sure if you should address what you both knew or not.

You opted to keep quiet.

Partway through your time together, he reached towards you, his fingers gripping at yours out of nowhere. You looked at him, but he didn’t look at you as well, just stared at his paper, his face red.

You smiled and let him intertwine his fingers with yours.

You didn’t need some fancy confession, or for him to assure you that his heart belonged to you in some big sweeping way.

This was enough.

You were traveling at his speed, and that would always be enough for you.

[smithereensbymaisie]

There was once a demon named Émond

A brief warning: This is an entirely fictional piece that is based on a dream of mine, but it does mention child trafficking and child labour, so please proceed with care. Your well-being is the most important. This is also written in the heat of the moment, so the subjects that this touches on may be poorly-researched or misinformed. If that’s the case, please kindly let me know. It’s uncertain whether this will have a follow-up, and although I will try my best, there’s no promises. Lastly, English is not my first language. With all that said, I hope you enjoy this weird dream of mine.

---------------------------------

There was once a demon boy. Well, not exactly “boy”, since demons’ age, sex, and gender just did not work that way, but he liked being a young boy, so why not? Wayward was the word that he deeply identified with, and it did not help that he also disapproved of certain rules and values of the demon world. After too many times refusing to perform his duty of being an “upright and devoting member of the community”, The Council of Demonic Society put limitations on his magic before casting him to earth as a punishment. The demon would not be able to return until he successfully tempted seven kings into wrongdoings.

He had no intention whatsoever to complete the task.

On earth, still in the form of a young boy, he decided to simply live on the street and went by the name Émond. His magic, though limited, was still more than enough to suffice, so his new life mainly consisted of magicking whatever food and drink he needed if he was feeling lazy, and stealing if he was feeling particularly bored or adventurous. He could no longer make money out of thin air, though, so that was a shame. He then decided that he would feel adventurous most of the time, which was terrible news for shop owners in the area.

That way of living lasted for about as long as the lifespan of a dragonfly. Wandering the land of the living without any permanent shelters, money or full power, Émond found himself being snatched from the street and sold to some kind of twisted organisation located in a desert faraway. All the manual labour was young boys who had to stay in tents. There were also adult supervisors who lived in brick houses nearby. The children were chained together at the wrists in groups of seven when they worked and forced to dress in uniforms at all times, which consisted of too big a shirt and a pair of baggy trousers that looked like they had been vomited out by an entity that solely produced eye-achingly bright red-colored clothes. There were about five groups of seven red-clothed children. Usually, they had to work in the desert under the sun, digging sand for wood, animal or human bones, and if they were in luck, scattering pieces of jewellery; in general, anything that was not sand and could potentially be sold for money. On special occasions, the boys were given the job to act like “feral cheerleaders” in a spectator sport taking place on a dune near where they put up their tents. The so-called sport apparently included gruesome murders performed by men on horses. They were told to scream, clap and jump manically whenever someone was killed or badly injured to “set the atmosphere”, metal chains clinking and air thick with the pungent smell of fresh blood.

Naturally, Émond did not get on well at first. He was made fun of by adults and children from other groups, as well as having to endure snickers from his own for his rather chubby body and long mop of curly hair, although he did not give a monkey’s about that. He liked this body. What truly annoyed Émond was the fact that he was expected to take commands from these ridiculous, violent, crude supervisors, whom he ignored out of spite most of the time, and just as often, they got furious and took that anger out on the children in his group. Whenever that happened, the demon would use the little power he was allowed to his advantage. He created a strong and urgent urge to fall asleep and planted it inside the minds of red-faced supervisors. Being in the thrall of demonic magic, they had to crawl back into their bed and slumber for the next hour; he then wiped their memory of his unruly behaviour, which oftentimes resulted in a dopey and silly facial expression when they finally woke up from the unnatural sleep.

Very quickly, other boys in the group started to pick up on the pattern and confronted the demon on one late afternoon.

“How did you do that?”, one child named Asher asked him when they had finished the work for the day. The supervisors had taken off their chains and retired to their brick shelters. Their tent had been put up properly for the freezing forthcoming night, and sunbaked wood and dry grass had been provided for each tent for fire.

“Do what?”

“Stop the adults from hitting us, obviously”, another small child, Neil, he recalled, turned to him, squinting his hazel eyes.

The demon soon found himself the object of curious and suspicious gazes from six little humans. Well, he thought to himself, they are going to stay with me for quite some time anyway, I may as well get on with it.

He told them everything, from the fact that he was not as human as it seemed and there was an entire world full of his kind to the event of his punishment and his life before being taken here. Émond also told them that his magic abilities had certain limits, and that yes, he could make the supervisors forget about his scornful attitudes and behaviour, but no, he could not do the same for memories concerning other people, the boys included. As that was the case, the demon could not wipe away the existence of six children from the minds of several supervisors and help them escape. Also, they were in the middle of a desert, it was not a very good idea to venture out without sufficient resources, knowledge of their current location or a map for direction. Émond had expected the boys to get terrified, accuse him of lying, or laugh in his face and consider him insane, but that assumption was quickly proved wrong. Apparently, the demon had not been very subtle with his magic, and as it was, he found himself surrounded by six fearless, inquisitive little creatures.

“Do you have horns?”, a boy named Alex, twelve years old with wide brown eyes and short hair of indiscernible color, asked him. “I heard that demons have horns.”

“Well, I can have horns if I wish to,'' came his answer, “but those things are just terribly inconvenient, are they not?”

“You can change how you look? That’s wicked awesome!”, exclaimed another child, Alfie, who was sitting cross legged next to Alex. The other children just looked at Émond with even more wonder evident on their faces.

“I wholeheartedly agree with you, child.”

“Wait, so are you really a boy, then? And how old are you, exactly?”, asked a fifteen-year-old named Victor, which made him the oldest of the six.

“No, I’m not really a boy, I’m a demon. We don’t normally categorize our kind into boys and girls, or anything like that, really. There are certain types that run The Council, but that place is full of stiff demons that know no fun, so let's not count that. Most of us just exist or don't. And it’s rude to ask people of their age.” Then, after a beat of silence: “Also, I don’t remember. It’s been a while since I last checked a calendar.”

“What about magic? Can you do magic now? I want to see it!”

The children looked at him excitedly. Happy to entertain, and also starting to feel a bit cold, Émond magicked a burning fire next to their tent. It crackled cheerfully and smelt sweeter than any scents the children had ever smelt before.

The last remnant of sunlight was starting to fade on the horizon. The group of seven shifted closer to the fire, basking themselves in the warmth, hoping that the biting cold of the desert night would not seep into their bones.

“Do demons have parents?”

That question took the demon by surprise. He contemplated for a while before settling on an answer: “You know what, I’m not sure. The first memory I have is waking up alone on the floor of a dimly-lit room with only one door. The knowledge of my power and who I was just…magicked itself there, I suppose. I then opened the door and found an entire world of demons on the other side.”

“Oh”

“Right, it did get a little overwhelming.”

“I have a mother,” said Little Henri, aged eight, after a while, “She’s still waiting for me to come back, I’m sure. I just hope she doesn't cry so much anymore.”

And so, the conversation turned to the life stories of each child. Henri was the youngest in the group. He loved visiting the park with his mother when she came home from work. The ducks in the park’s pond, in his opinion, had been the most interesting citizens he had ever encountered, aside from his mother, of course, and a source of endless entertainment. Alex and Alfie were of the same age. They were orphans and had lived together on the same street before being kidnapped. The A-Duo, or TAD for short, was how they had called themselves back in the glorious olden days of mischief. Mind you, they were still TAD and still full of shenanigans, but artfulness was now their main focus to avoid the beating from supervisors, whom they called “visors” because “really, it’s impossible there is anything super about them”. Émond found it funny. Neil and Asher were brothers, aged ten and fourteen respectively. While Neil was an energetic little boy and was often found conversing amicably with The A-Duo, Asher was rather reserved and quiet. They had lived in a loving family, although both knew that “sufficient” could hardly be used to describe their home. Neil had been snatched from a vacant playground on a humid summer afternoon. Asher had witnessed the incident and rushed to his little brother without thinking, which had resulted in him being rendered unconscious with a bat in the head. They had both been dragged away from view in an instant. Asher had woken up with a mild concussion to find Neil hugging him tightly, sleeping, cheeks still streaked with tears. The pair had travelled with a dealer for about a week before being sold to this place. The oldest among the children was Victor, who sported a perpetual grim face. He was reluctant to talk about his family, but the little information he provided was telling enough: he had been sold by the hand of his own kin. The pain of that memory seemed to etch on his brow, cling to the downward corners of his mouth and the dimmed color blue of his eyes. Sensing the unease, Asher steered the conversation away from Victor, asking Alex and Alfie about their latest mischief.

“Well, since you insist,” said Alfie before the duo plunged into every detail concerning The Sandy Bums Operation with obvious pride. Victor looked at Asher gratefully.

By the end of the conversation, Henri and Neil had been fast asleep. Alex and Alfie were struggling to keep their eyes open and failing spectacularly. Victor ushered the two inside the tent, meeting with little protest, and followed them with Henri in his arms, while Asher gently scoped up his little brother. For a moment, the gentle crackling of the fire was the only sound that dared to disrupt the quiet night.

“Why haven't you escaped on your own?” A hushed voice broke the silence. Asher seated himself beside Émond, hazel eyes fixed on his profile. “You know, you have magic and all that, and I reckon you also have better endurance than us humans. So why?”

Chuckling lightly, the demon turned to look at him: “Why do you ask? Do you want to get rid of me that much?”

“Not really,” Asher shrugged, letting out a sigh, “just curious.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. The flickering fire threw long shapeless shadows on the ground, unfailingly scented the surrounding air with its enticing aroma.

“It doesn't sit right with me, whatever that may mean coming from a demon,” Émond said after a while, still resolutely staring at the fire. “Leaving the children here when I walk free and wreak havoc to the world, knowing that I might have been able to aid their escape in some way, doesn't sound very fair, does it? It's bad for business, anyway, that not everyone is given the same chance to do evil.”

A smile grazed Asher’s lips. It was a small, fleeting thing, but in this harsh and unforgiving place, it was more precious than gold. “You know, I think I get why those stiff demons rejected you. You are terrible at being a demon.”

“Wow, thanks so much for that”, said Émond, feigning outrage.

“You would make a pretty decent lad, though, if you were a human being”, Asher carried on, unfazed.

That threw the demon into a lapse of silence. He looked in bewilderment at the child beside him, dirty face and matted blond hair. Then, softly, as if he feared the image of that boy might shatter before his eyes: “But I'm not, aren't I?”

“No, you aren't,” the boy gently shook his head, “but I choose to see you as such anyway.”

They sat in silence for some time before pulling the sweet air into his lungs, Asher patted Émond on the shoulders and stood up, stretching and yawning: “I don’t know about you, but I’m knackered. Going inside now. You coming?”

“The night sky is too beautiful”, Émond replied simply.

“Alright. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight.”

There was a soft rustle of fabric, and then, once again, Émond found himself embraced by the chilly stillness of the desert night. The sky was indeed beautiful. He might as well admire the stars while he could.

[starsandsquids]

A Professional Relationship

I don’t think I’ve posted this story yet, have I? 

I didn’t think this story was going to get workshopped for class but there were extra slots available at the end of the semester so here we go. I know certain people in my class are going to hate this for reasons I really don’t care about, I’m just having it workshopped to find out if I can make the perspective switch more effective.  But since I haven’t posted any writing in a while, have this. 

I should also be getting some accompanying art for this pretty soon! 

The highlight of my morning is getting to see Casey Sorrento.

           He’s always at work before I am, he’s that kind of dedicated. He’s typing away at something, so focused on his work that he doesn’t notice me come in. I wave a paper coffee cup under his nose and he jumps at the sudden distraction.

           “Good morning, Casey.”

           “Renard,” he says.

           “We’ve been working together for five years now,” I say. “At this point you’re allowed to call me by my first name. Nero.” Casey looks down at his shoes and I’m pretty sure he’s blushing.

           “I don’t know how professional that is,” he mumbles. Honestly? Fuck professionalism, it’s not like I’m his boss. Casey and I are equals on this project, and if anyone else that’s not above my paygrade tried to call me by my last name I think I’d tear my hair out. But Casey’s so sweet that on him, the insistence on professionalism is endearing and I let it go.

           “Alright, I’ll play.” I hand him the coffee cup. “Shot of vanilla and more sugar than coffee, right?”

           His face lights up. “You memorized my coffee order?”

           “Of course!”

           Casey has a smile that could light up a room and considering our lab is in the basement, that’s a godsend. I want to tell him that, but he’s easily embarrassed and I don’t want to put him on the spot. Instead I just watch him sip his coffee and scribble down notes.

           “Renard?” he says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

           “Yes?”

           “Do you think you could take a look at this?” He waves me over to squint into the microscope on his desk.

           “Sure can.”

           I realize I’m probably the only person who can find a virus cute. Even Casey calls it “that shit” like we haven’t been studying this genetically engineered super pathogen for the better part of five years. Casey has a…healthy respect for the virus whereas I’ve grown pretty attached to it. It’s my passion project, my baby in a way.

           “It didn’t look like that yesterday?” Casey asks, hopefully as excited as I am. “Did it?”

           “No!” I say, scrambling for a notebook to scribble down a diagram and hoping I can read my piss-poor handwriting later. Casey has penmanship that could be its own font.

           When I look up, he’s across the room and I decide today’s the day I just go for it.

           “Would you like to get dinner sometime?” As soon as I say it I know I must look like an idiot. Of course not, why would someone as perfect as Casey want to go out with his scatterbrained lab partner with terrible handwriting. “Not just the two of us, I mean. Maybe we could invite some of the techs, celebrate this…” I gesture to the microscope.

           “Oh!” Casey says. “That sounds like it could be fun.” Even with a handful of techs there, it’d still be the closest I’ve gotten to an actual date with Casey. I’ve wanted to ask him out before but something always comes up and I lose my nerve, like at the Christmas party. I saw him under the mistletoe with that light up a room smile of his and I wanted to kiss him, just a friendly little peck on the cheek, but I chickened out. At least now I have a foot in the door.

           “How does Thursday sound?” I ask and his face falls.

           “This Thursday?” he says. “I’m sorry, that’s my uncle’s birthday, we’re all going out to dinner. Shame.”

           “Oh.” I can tell he feels bad about it so I wrack my brain for the next day when he’s not working later than me. “Maybe next Tuesday then?”

           “I don’t see why that wouldn’t work?” Casey says. Before the victory dance I’m doing in my head can spill over onto my face, there’s a knock at the door.

           “Come in!” Casey calls. It’s one of the project higher-ups whose name is currently escaping me.

           “How’s it going?” he asks.

           “It’s going,” Casey says, glancing at me.

           “It’s more than going!” I say, gesturing to the shoddy diagram I just scribbled down.

           “Well that certainly sounds promising,” says doctor whatshisface. “Dr. Renard, would you mind bringing your notes upstairs? Quarterly progress check and all that.”

           “I can indeed!” I say, probably giving off the enthusiasm of an overactive puppy. Casey waves as if to say “good luck.”

           I don’t need luck, not this week. I’m sure of it.

###

           Every day I go to work in fear of Nero Renard.

           I have to get up at the asscrack of dawn every day to get to work before he does. It’s the only chance I have of getting anything done without constantly having to look over my shoulder. I can admit that Renard’s a genius, so if he spent his time actually working and not leering at me, I can only imagine how much shit we’d get done.

           I must’ve gotten lost in work because the next thing I know, he’s behind me waving a paper coffee cup under my nose and I jump. I didn’t even hear him come in because the man just doesn’t make noise. I swear, my life would be significantly easier if I could just put a bell on him. Early Renard Warning System.

           “Good morning, Casey,” he says. I bite back the that’s Dr. Sorrento to you.

           “Renard,” I say, hoping he’ll get the memo that he shouldn’t talk to me like we’re friends.

           “We’ve been working together for five years now. At this point you’re allowed to call me by my first name. Nero.” I look down quickly so he doesn’t see the look on my face that says I’d rather choke than act friendly with Renard. I’ll be civil, sure, but not friendly. I don’t want to do anything that might justify his sick crush on me.

           “I don’t know how professional that is,” I say with careful emphasis that of course goes over his head.

           “Alright, I’ll play,” he says, holding out the coffee up. “Shot of vanilla and more sugar than coffee, right?”

           Fuck. He knows my coffee order. How the fuck does he know my coffee order? I’m one-hundred percent sure that I’ve never ordered coffee in front of Renard.

           I must be making a face that looks vaguely positive because he’s smiling now and I swear, he’s even creepier looking when he smiles.

           “You memorized my coffee order?” I ask, hoping he’ll give me some indication of how he learned it. He doesn’t, he just keeps smiling.

           “Of course!” he says. Fan-fucking-tastic. I take the coffee to be polite and go back to my work.

           Renard reminds me of one of those brightly colored poisonous butterflies. Maybe it’s the orange flower tattoos that sleeve his arms or the dopey, excited persona he puts on, but everything about him feels like a carefully placed warning saying I AM DANGEROUS if you know how to read it. Nobody else does though, they’re swayed by the bright colors and what I guess is a conventionally attractive face and have actually told me “you’re worried about Renard? Nero? But he’s basically an excited puppy!”

           A puppy that won’t stop trying to hump your leg, maybe. I can feel him staring at me while I work until I finally find an excuse to get him to stop.

           “Renard?” I say. He tries to act like he wasn’t ogling me just now.

           “Yes?”

           “Do you think you could take a look at this?” I gesture to the microscope.

           “Sure can!” Of course he jumps at the chance. You wouldn’t know we’ve been studying a supervirus, as excited as Renard gets over that shit. You’d think he was being asked to play with puppies and not a pathogen that could kill him if he were careless with it. I swear I once heard him call it his baby, and if that’s not weird I don’t know what is.

           “It didn’t look like that yesterday, did it?” I say, backing towards the door while he’s distracted. I’m taking my lunchbreak early; I don’t care if it’s not even noon, I can only take so much of Renard acting like that.

           “No!” he says. He’s still distracted looking for a notebook to write down whatever he’s taking this to mean. I’m almost out the door when he looks up and I feel trapped, especially when he asks me out.

           “Would you like to get dinner sometime?”

           Like hell I would. Not after the Christmas party. I got buzzed on daiquiris and Renard tried to kiss me, stone cold sober at the time. He’s not the most intimidating man on the surface but he’s still bigger than me and I don’t trust him. The idea of trying to fight him off while tipsy was a terrifying prospect, but thankfully he lost his nerve when I yelled at him to get the hell off of me. It was loud enough for people to hear and I guess he decided not to risk anything with everyone staring.

           Maybe I look horrified because Renard’s got that expression like a kicked puppy, like he’s the slighted party in this whole exchange.

           “Not just the two of us, I mean!” he adds. “Maybe we could invite some of the techs, celebrate this…” He gestures towards the microscope.

           “Oh,” I tell him. “That sounds like it could be fun.” If he gets sick and doesn’t show up. Even if he did actually invite a couple of other people I wouldn’t put it past him to try to put an arm around me and blame it on too many margaritas.

           “How does Thursday sound?” Renard asks, and reality sets in. I’d actually have to go to dinner with him.

           “This Thursday?” I say. “I’m sorry, that’s my uncle’s birthday, we’re all going out to dinner. Shame.” Bullshit. I have one uncle and he lives in New Hampshire.

           My last boyfriend said I need to face this issue head-on, that since constant excuses and filing reports with HR apparently aren’t enough to give Renard a hint, I need to just tell him I’m not interested in him like that and never will be. My last boyfriend had the pleasure of never meeting Renard though. I’m bad at confrontation and I don’t trust Renard to take rejection gracefully. I don’t want to do anything that would give him an excuse to drop the nice guy act.

           “Oh.” Again with the kicked puppy face. “Maybe next Tuesday then?”

           He knows what day I’m not working late. I change the days I work late weekly to avoid a situation like this and those changes aren’t exactly public. He’s somehow gotten his hand on my schedule, how the fuck did he…

“I don’t see why that wouldn’t work?” I say. That means I have until next Tuesday to find a new excuse. Thankfully there’s a knock at the door before Renard can ask a follow-up question.

“Come in!” I say, maybe a bit too eager to have a neutral party in the room. It’s one of the project bosses, Dr. Bell.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

“It’s going,” I say, looking at Renard in an attempt to get him talking about something that isn’t me.

“It’s more than going!” Renard gestures excitedly to his notes.

“Well that certainly sounds promising,” Bell says. “Dr. Renard, would you mind bringing your notes upstairs? Quarterly progress check and all that.”

           “I can indeed!” says Renard. He’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet and Bell seems to appreciate his enthusiasm. I’m glad someone finds it endearing instead of just plain freaky.

           I give a small wave as the lab door swings shut behind them. Being alone again, I can finally get some actual work done.

           I swear, some days it feels like this job is trying to kill me.

[mishamoonberry]

A Change in Attitude

ERASING IMPOSSIBILITY CHAPTER 17 - AO3 / FFN

This chapter doesn’t have Oro-chan-san angst just yet, haha, I think it will appear soon in later chapters.

Thank you so much for your support!

Enjoy reading!!

17 days after Team Minato’s bell test

“Ugh,” is Obito’s eloquent reply to Minato-sensei’s announcement this morning after our daily warm-ups. The boy’s shoulders are sagging, his expression conveying exactly what he thinks about Minato-sensei’s words. “Minato-sensei, why must we take that mission? Another kind of D-rank is better than this!”

“Idiot,” Kakashi rolls his eyes, crossing his arms together as he stares at Obito rather distastefully. “You can’t choose every mission by yourself, idiot. You do what you’re given.” Though judging from his grimace when Minato-sensei announced it, he’s not particularly happy about the mission either.

Obito rolls his eyes in return, his expression somehow mirroring Shikako’s usual ‘I-am-so-done-with-everything-right-now’ expression, in which it’s a clear indication that he’s spent too much time around the Nara. “Yeah,” Obito stresses out, sounding a bit sarcastic, “but they’re D-ranks. Lots of civilians order D-ranks, so there are plenty we can choose from!”

“There’s nothing wrong with catching the cat, Obitobi-kun,” I decide to butt in, chirping happily. My hands are clasped around each other behind my back, and I have to restrain a cackle when Obito sends me a totally betrayed look.

“That’s because the cat likes you, Rin-chan,” he almost whines, his arms flailing about, “the demon almost destroyed my goggles the last time around!”

“I hope it gets destroyed today,” comes Kakashi’s soft mutter from beside me, and I have to elbow him in the stomach lest he says it aloud, making him grunt in a mix of surprise and irritation. Thankfully, it seems like Obito didn’t hear what Kakashi said, and thus no more arguments happen at the moment.

“Ranran isn’t that bad,” I try to placate, watching in amusement as both of them grimace the very moment I said it. The white feline may or may not be this era’s Tora the Demon Cat, considering she is owned by the Daimyo’s young wife, as well. She really isn’t that bad. The last time Team Minato had to catch her, she was willing enough to come to my arms when I tried to crouch and offer her some catnip. I might or might not have placed a soothing genjutsu on her though. Mikoto-sensei’s teaching on Genjutsu really helps a lot in times like this.

Oh well.

What Obito and Kakashi didn’t (and still don’t) know won’t hurt them.

Though I’m pretty sure Minato-sensei knows, judging from his amused glance at my absolutely sweet smile. Seems like I can’t get anything past him. Granted, he’s a Jounin, so… No surprise there, I guess.

He’s still a sadist, though.

He knows neither Obito or Kakashi fancy the cat catching mission. One, Kakashi is a dog person. Two, Obito holds a grudge over the Goggles Scratching Post Incident. Three, while tracking it is easy enough, considering Kakashi’s skills, catching the cat is the main problem in the mission.

I bet Minato-sensei laughs his ass off when the mission ended, the last time around. He didn’t help at all, saying it was a good team exercise and we even spotted him eating dango while watching us, the asshole.

“Alright, alright,” Minato-sensei claps his hands, finally taking charge before any more arguments can happen and breaking my thoughts about the past. “No complaining. A mission is a mission. Let’s finish this quickly, okay?”

Cue groaning ensues.

I smile.

They’re so easy and fun to rile.

19 days after Team Minato’s bell test

“Eh?”

The green chakra around my hands dissipates into nothing as I falter, staring up wide eyed at Kishimoto-sensei. In the Mind Palace, Rinny lets out an equally surprised noise, less because of Kishimoto-sensei’s ability to make both of our concentrations falter, but more because of what he chose to say to the both of us. The older man doesn’t seem to notice my sudden distress as he simply smiles easily and gently like usual, his dark brown eyes meeting my own without any hesitation.

“Like I said,” Kishimoto-sensei says, “I think it’s best if you avoid Oro-tan for a little while.”

“Eh?” I said, again, probably with a dumb expression.

That’s… Really unexpected.

I… Isn’t Kishimoto-sensei good friends with Oro-chan-san? I hastily ask Rinny, who seems to be rendered speechless as much as I am.

I don’t know, Rinny answers, shaking her head, there isn’t any character named Kishimoto in the series but… Kishimoto-sensei calls him Oro-tan, and he seems to be comfortable around Orochimaru-sama, so I thought…

This is really weird, I furrow my eyebrows, and really scary. Why do you think he tells us this all of a sudden?

Um, the Inner hesitates, maybe something happened?

“Uh,” I say outwardly, agreeing with Rinny to ask Kishimoto-sensei on what kind of shit happened to make him said that, “did something happen between Oro-chan-san and you, sensei?”

If anything, Kishimoto-sensei seems to brighten. “Oh, no, no! Nothing of the sort, really,” he waves his hand, “I just heard some rumors, that’s all. You’re my cute little student, and I don’t want your reputation to be stained because of the rumors surrounding Oro-tan.”

“What…?” I breathe out, finding myself very surprised.

“Just do as I told you to, okay, Rin-chan? It’s for your own good.”

For my own good? I can’t help but repeat a bit sardonically inwardly, even though I manage to nod at him, making him smile.

Perhaps—

Perhaps if Orochimaru really is beyond saving at this point of time—when he’s too deep in his experiments, in his desire to know more, to have more—then it really will be for my own good to stay away from him.

But is he really? Beyond saving, that is. Has he really fallen that deep already?

I’ve heard rumors circulating around Orochimaru before, mostly on how creepy he looks and how inhumane his knowledge as well as his repertoire of jutsu, but it’s very weird for Kishimoto-sensei to be wary of the rumors now, because I’m sure as hell those rumors have been around for quite a good while. Especially since Orochimaru looks stone faced whenever those rumors appear—as if it’s nothing of the ordinary, as if it’s to be expected from the people around him—and how he seems to shut himself off more whenever the rumors are within our hearing range. That’s why I always make it a point to scold whoever I find to be talking shit about him. Not only it probably puts me in Orochimaru’s good books—if he even has any—it also causes the miniscule tension in his shoulders and the stony look on his face to melt down completely into something more… soft.

Some shinobi will say I’m hallucinating, but there were certain instances where Orochimaru looks relaxed and completely at peace with himself.

Those are the moments when I was always reminded how human Orochimaru could be, can be.

And would have he stopped being human, the very moment he finds no reason to? As far as I am aware, Canon Rin never had any sort of interaction with Orochimaru whatsoever, and there was never shown an entity called Kishimoto Masashi in the series ever. But Canon world barely covers anything anyway, with how much plot holes it has, and perhaps, perhaps, the equivalent of Kishimoto-sensei did exist in canon.

Kishimoto-sensei is? Was? Close to Oro-chan-san, I mull over, frowning a little bit. If, say, someone who was close to Canon Orochimaru left him behind because of some rumors, would that be the catalyst that set him off the edge?

I’m perhaps guessing things too much here, but I really cannot help but to grasp on the last bits of hope that Orochimaru is not beyond saving. Not yet. I feel like Jiraiya, at this point, or even Sarutobi Hiruzen, for still believing in the good of Orochimaru, for still hoping for a positive thing from the Snake Sannin—

If he really is beyond saving, Rinny says, cutting off my thoughts, what would you do?

I pause.

If he really is beyond saving… If he really, really, has become something similar to the villain that gave Sasuke the Cursed Seal in Canon world, there’s only one thing that I know I would do.

I would run the hell away from him.

He’s Sannin, and I’m just a Genin. I can’t capture or kill him. I’m not in the other Sannin’s or Sarutobi’s caliber. I would just get myself killed if I try to confront him (which shows how suicidal Naruto must be, to throw himself at Orochimaru in his rage and bout of irrationality).

And I… would be sad.

Disappointed, maybe. Because I still believe that Orochimaru can change, somehow. That the soft, insecure man I’ve seen in passing from time to time is there and living and that he still has some good in his heart, somewhere.

Still, there’s not much point in thinking about it now.

I still do not know Orochimaru’s current state. But the last time I’ve seen him, he’s still as normal as ever. I am going to have myself stick with my last Probably Not Reliable assessment of him: that he’s still redeemable and can be steered away from being a traitor, somehow.

I’m not going to let a rumor and a warning from someone who believes on rumors change my perception of Orochimaru. Not even if Kishimoto-sensei is my teacher whom I respect and trust.

It will simply make me more careful, of course; because there are usually small truths within rumors.

Still, whether Orochimaru is beyond saving or not, I will only know when I see him next time.

21 Days after Minato’s Bell Test

“Yahoo, Minato’s little minions!” A familiar voice calls out from the corner of the training grounds, and I perk up. My gaze instantly goes to the source of the voice, Kakashi, Obito and Minato-sensei doing the same. While Obito blinks in confusion at the newcomer, Kakashi simply stares, looking as if he’s restraining a sigh.

Minato-sensei and I, though, we’re grinning widely. The only difference is that Minato-sensei looks more lovesick and dopey than I do.

(I miss the assessing look Kakashi throws at me the very moment he sees me going all goo-goo eyes on Kushina, as well as his furrowed eyebrows when he catches an idea on what’s going on with me at that very moment).

I have to restrain a snort. Hopeless, this one. He’s so whipped, I can see it in his expression.

“Kushina-san!” I greet her, cheerful. The red haired woman approaches us with a grin, her hand already reaching forward to ruffle my hair gently. “What are you doing here?”

“I was bored,” comes Kushina’s answer, “So I thought why not visit Minato’s little minions. I see you’re still as grumpy as ever, Kakashi-kun,” she glances at Kakashi, giving him a teasing smile. Kakashi harrumphs in retaliation.

“And I haven’t met the other minion yet!” She moves toward Obito, bending down to look at him in eye level, watching in amusement when Obito yelps in surprise. “Yo, kiddo, I’m Uzumaki Kushina, Minato’s girlfriend.”

Obito’s expression clears, then, lighting up as if he has some sort of an epiphany. “Oh! I’m Uchiha Obito!” He says, “It’s nice to meet you, Uzumaki-san.”

“Eh, just call me Kushina,” the jinchuuriki waves her hand flippantly, “How about Kushina nee-chan?” She glances at me, “You can call me that too, Rin-chan”.

I brighten up. There is no way I’m gonna pass up this chance! “Kushina-nee-chan!” I exclaim happily.

“Kushina nee-chan, then,” Obito seems to like Kushina too, because he’s smiling as he says it.

Then, the rest of us stares at Kakashi.

The boy looks a bit uncomfortable, but glances away as he says, “…Kushina-san.”

Kushina exaggeratedly pouts, scooting over to poke Kakashi in the stomach. The boy jumps a little, glaring lightly when I snort.

“You’re no fun, Kakashi-kun!”

“…Whatever, Kushina-san.”

“Tch,” Kushina clicks her tongue. Though she’s obviously still in good humor, considering how she still looks happy (and very, very pretty, oh gosh) as she stands up, smacking Minato’s shoulder. “You’ve gotten yourself cute little minions here, Minato!”

“They’re my student, Kushina…” Minato says with a laugh, rubbing his shoulder.

“Students, minions, same thing,” she ignores Kakashi’s mutter of ‘it’s different’ and grins, her hands positioned on her hips, “anyway, you’re not planning anything particular for them today, right?”

Minato blinks. “Well, no, not exactly. Why?”

I have a bad feeling about this. And beside me, Kakashi seems to share the sentiment, considering how he is staring at Kushina warily, as if expecting her to suddenly pounce him or something.

“Well,” Kushina sounds super cheerful as she stares us down, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I wanna play tag.”

The three of us are frozen, and even Minato-sensei seems to gulp. Either out of fear or arousal, I do not know, but either way, I totally understand him at this moment. Kushina looks predatory¸ and for a second I wonder who is the true sadist in the relationship: Minato or Kushina. I don’t have time to dwell on that more though, because she moves into a stance, causing us three genins to be more alert than before.

“I’m gonna be it,” she grins at us, meeting our eyes one by one, “you have five minutes to escape and try to hide. Starting from now.”

We run like our asses are on fire.

XXX

So.

Both of them are closet sadists.

Aside from the fact that Minato-sensei seems to be torn between being worried for our lives or being very turned on at the sight of his girlfriend stomping us to the ground, he still chooses to sit back and watch everything unfold, with a lop sided smile, while eating dango.

And Kushina seems to hold back when she’s catching us, but not enough.

Seriously, she uses her chains to hold Kakashi down on the ground!

Despite myself being tired as fuck and sore, I can’t help but grin and laugh and just in sheer awe.

She’s so cool. Kushina-nee is so cool.

It’s still terrifying though, and she even cackles while attacking us with her chains.

The rest of the afternoon is spent with screaming and yelling children, and a cackling Red Hot Habanero.

Author’s note:

Hello.

I want to apologize for the long wait and the short chapter. As I have mentioned in the latest announcement, I’m having problems both in real life and in writing itself. Making long chapters is beginning to be very taxing for me, whose mind tend to wander here and there most of the time.

I’ve told you this before and some of you have kindly answered my question, therefore I’ve decided to make each chapters shorter than usual. I used to produce 5k-7k words each chapter, and it’s VERY tiring for me. From now on my chapters will be 1k-2k in length, more if I get lucky, and I hope that you can still like my story despite that. Updates will perhaps be faster as well; mostlikely once every two or three weeks.