#yeah i get why people thought images could be burned into your eyeballs

[chateautae]

maybe i do | kth. II

➵ summary :  maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 10k

➵ warnings : none really, swearing, mainly fluffy and funny interactions, some angst! :o 

➵ a/n: and i’m back with chapter two! i really wanted to say thank you for the love and support i received on the first part of maybe i do, it was astounding!! i’m so grateful so many people loved the story and asked to be tagged (all at the bottom <3), it made me feel so motivated to write. if you would also like to be tagged please message me. your feedback is always appreciated! 

chapter two : “on my pillow, can’t get me tired” 

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Taehyung didn’t remember sleeping anywhere near you last night. 

He remembered that even though you willingly agreed to share the same bed, he still opted for caution and slept with the most space between you two as possible.

Though when his eyes fluttered open the next morning, eyeballs burning from the light that bled into the suite, the first thing he realized was that he was not on his side of the bed from last night. 

No, he had somehow gravitated towards the center, and as if almost on cue, your slight movement and the sound of your breathing alerted him of your nearby presence. 

Peering down at you, Taehyung caught sight of your sleepy head turned towards him and lying on his arm, his other thrown over your torso with you unsuspectingly nuzzled into his side.

Taehyung’s eyes shot open, acknowledging he had succumbed to his habit of hugging something to sleep during the course of the night and he internally panicked. He began retracting his arms slowly, just about drawing himself from you until alarms rang in his head at the sight of you stirring in your sleep. 

Taehyung took the golden opportunity to sit up in a flash, having to physically shake his head to rid the image of your tranquil, sleeping face from his brain, crushing the thought that it was kind of cute.

He found himself chanting the same denial from last night, he couldn’t be thinking of such complicated things concerning you when he knew the second he’d step foot inside his home, there’d be a mountain of paperwork ready for him; even more on his work desk.

He had to be thinking about his job, not you.  

Even if Taehyung was married now, it wouldn’t lessen the amount of work that plagued his life nor make it any less demanding. If anything, his life would be harder now considering the fact that he had another priority to add to his list, another aspect of his life he had to split his attention between. 

He didn’t necessarily hate the idea, just found himself needing to work harder than he already was. 

Taehyung sighed heavily at the thought and swung his legs off the bed, rubbing his tired eyes. He took a moment to look back at you, thinking if he observed you a second time he’d be able to piece together how the hell you two ended up in that position, that close. 

By evidence of the forgotten blanket half-thrown off you, he could see you were the tossing-and-turning type, maybe the only explanation for your proximity considering he was the same. 

He also noticed you slept all curled up, like you were cold and the only warmth you knew was snuggling yourself.

Cute.

There it was again, cute. 

Why does that word even exist? 

Taehyung discarded the notion altogether and stood to his feet, stretching out his stiff muscles. He made for the bathroom eagerly to begin his day, though not without fixing at least some of the blanket back onto you. 

“You don’t have a driver?” 

“Not for everywhere I go. I have two hands, I can drive myself.” Taehyung made it a statement to jazz hands at you, showcasing the perfectly capable limbs he was gifted with.

“That’s.. nice, actually. I always see asshole CEO’s getting other people to drive them around.” You relayed as you trailed behind Taehyung, letting him lead you towards the front of the hotel where dozens of expensive cars lined the curb side.

You had no clue which luxury vehicle belonged to Taehyung because quite frankly, he could probably afford every car your eyes caught sight of. It wasn’t until he approached a certain one and retrieved his keys from the valet that your jaw completely dropped, floored.

“This is your car?” You gawked, the sleek design, crispness of its shape and nearly sparkling gloss completely sweeping you off your feet.

“Yeah, think someone like me can’t get a car like this?” Taehyung cocked an eyebrow, gesturing towards himself.   

“It’s just-wow. Mercedes CLS?” You inquired without really looking at him, inspecting the car instead as you admired its every curve. Safe to say, you were beyond in love with it. Even if you were always more of a minimalist and preferred the average product, there was just something gorgeous about luxury cars that appealed to you.

“Yeah, actually it is.” Taehyung looked at you impressed, momentarily reminded of just how different you were compared to any other woman he’s chanced upon. 

How many of them knew car models?

Taehyung was intrigued by the fact before speaking with one of the hotel workers, confirming if they had loaded his car with both your luggage and some wedding sentiments your parents insisted you keep. 

Once receiving affirmation Taehyung made towards your side of the car and pulled the door open. He flashed you a tight-lipped smile as he gestured for you to hop in, drawing you out of your stupor. You thanked him warmly before sliding into your seat. 

He let you scramble in comfortably before shutting the door and walking to his side, positioning himself in and clicking on his seatbelt. He watched as your expression lit up once occupying the car, face beaming with excitement as you touched and drank in at the high-end features the vehicle had to offer. Taehyung found himself smiling before he licked his lips and straightened his face, igniting the engine and beginning the smooth drive. 

It was easy to settle the debate on where you both would be living. Taehyung was an enormously rich CEO who lived in an expensive, massive home while you lived in a measly apartment. You knew it was useless to live separately, even more useless to have him live with you. And so you agreed without protest to pack your things and relocate, begin your move into the house you’d share with him for a lifetime. 

The car ride remained quite silent, you mindlessly bopping your head to whatever mainstream song played on the radio, while Taehyung tapped his fingers against the steering wheel or his lap. 

You found your eyes wandering to his slender fingers wrapped around the wheel every so often, sometimes venturing to the other one he placed against his thigh. You began reprimanding yourself once you realized with all the staring, observing and ogling, you most certainly had a thing for his hands already. 

Fuck. 

They were just so big, bigger than what you’ve seen of the average man and it didn’t help that they looked crafted to perfection. 

There was just something about the veins that decorated them, his palm large in size as his fingers seemed deft turning and working the steering wheel. His little accessories like a ring or two, bracelets and his watch did absolutely nothing to deter your interest either.

It only increased once you realized he looked good driving, really good. You knew men had this common attractiveness to them when they drove, watching them all focused and effortlessly working the car somehow sexy; but watching Taehyung drive was another experience entirely. 

He looked insanely hot, and you felt like throwing yourself out your window for even thinking such a thing. It was another case of you ogling him without realizing until his deep voice suddenly fished you out of your thoughts, questioning. “Did you like the wedding?” 

“Huh?” 

“The wedding, did you like it?” Taehyung repeated, glancing at you. 

“Does it really matter if I did?” You asked, this one phrase seeming to perfectly sum up the misfortune of your life, provoking an ironic laugh even. 

“I think it does. A bride should always enjoy her wedding.” 

“Well, I didn’t.” You deadpanned, your expression turning frustrated having to remember that one of, if not the most special night of your life had just been robbed of you, thrown to the wolves while you were only left to accept the sad fact. 

“C’mon, you didn’t enjoy a single thing?” Taehyung didn’t mean to flash back to the kiss you two shared, though found himself doing exactly so. 

You didn’t enjoy that? he questioned in his head. 

“Not really, I just imagined having more choice in the wedding.” You answered honestly, trying not to sulk so much. “It’s not you, I just... thought I’d be able to decide things at my own wedding. I’m grateful your parents did so much, but I didn’t really get to choose anything.” You grew more solemn as your gaze fixated on nothing, watching the world pass you by through the car window. 

“My favourite flowers weren’t even there.” You said only despondently to yourself, shoulders drooping, though Taehyung didn’t miss it. 

“You don’t like roses?”

Your eyes flashed towards him with furrowed eyebrows, surprised he heard your comment. You straightened up before shrugging back a response. “I like peonies.” 

Taehyung looked at your side profile as you turned away, finding the conversation turning more sorrowful than he liked. He allowed some silence to linger as you leaned your chin against your palm, boringly watching the bustling streets.  

He decided to change the subject.

“So you don’t think I’m an asshole, huh?” 

“What?”

“You said you always see ‘asshole CEO’s’ getting people to drive them around. But I don’t, so I’m not an asshole to you?” Taehyung halved his attention between you and the road, glancing in your direction with one hand working the steering wheel.

You thought the question over, “No, you’re not an asshole.” You said simply, distracted by the thoughts that previously occupied your mind. 

“I see.” Taehyung pursed his lips. Another beat of silence passed through the downcast air before Taehyung perked up again.

“Is it just the driving? Or do you have other criteria?” Taehyung asked inquisitively, leaning back into his seat as he observed you. 

You could detect from the corner of your eyes the way his stance drew attention to his legs, thighs broad as he sat. “I guess there is.” 

“Like what?”

You didn’t really know why Taehyung was so curious. You thought it was common knowledge what the stereotypical asshole CEO was like; they were nearly all jerks with horrible one-percenter mentalities and treated people like gravel.  

You scoffed a bit. “They’re usually so full of themselves. They act like they own the place all the time, which makes sense at their own companies but not everywhere else. It’s like the position gets to their heads. Even the way they talk is condescending, belittling, or straight up rude to anyone not on their level. It wouldn’t kill to be nice.” You revealed almost too eagerly, avoiding eye contact with Taehyung as you viewed the traffic on the road ahead, remembering he was a CEO himself. 

Long story short, you’ve had your fair share of experiences meeting them as you grew up during the beginnings of your father’s company. They were quick to skew your opinion ever since you watched the way they treated your father all due to having a start-up, for simply being small in name or reputation. They acted like he was less than, some even daring to behave as though his company would simply never make it. 

It always boiled your blood, left an extremely distasteful image of CEOs and the business world in your head. 

And you were certain it all sucked after that. 

“Understandable.” Taehyung nodded agreeably. “But you think I don’t fit any of that?” He rested a hand against his thigh, sitting laxed as he spread his legs apart further. This time it was definitely hard to miss the way they appeared, all laid out and long as your eyes drank him in, following up his thighs all the way to his-

“You don’t. I thought maybe since you’re super successful you’d be full of yourself. But you’re not, really.” You snapped yourself out of whatever the hell you were doing, trying to refocus on the conversation.

“Ah, seems like a stepping stone.” 

“Stepping stone? Towards what?”

“Towards you not hating me.” His voice came out with a more solemn timbre than you expected, his jaw tightening for a mere second. 

Taehyung only thought such a thing because even if he decided you didn’t harbour negative feelings towards him, there was no way of him determining whether that was true or not without your real input. 

“I don’t hate you, Taehyung. I don’t.. think I can.” You claimed with poignancy, his statement causing you to reflect on your own feelings about him. 

You don’t hate Taehyung, you couldn’t because he did absolutely nothing wrong in this situation. He was dragged in just like you were. You only despised the unfairness of the arrangement, not him. 

There wasn’t much to hate about him.  

“So you’re saying you like me then, aren’t you?” Taehyung suddenly teased light-heartedly, all smug as his amused eyes flickered to you. 

“Shut up, I never said that.” You turned away, scandalized by his remark. 

“I’m kidding. But, why do you think you can’t hate me? I pretty much.. ruined your life.” Taehyung internally felt his chest tighten at the words, remembering the exact thoughts from where he stood no less than 24 hours ago, seconds from lawfully marrying you. 

“And I didn’t ruin yours?” This time you turned your gaze towards Taehyung, meaningfully. Your eyes instinctively communicated your emotions as they locked with his for a moment, Taehyung all attentive. 

“I took away from you just as much you took away from me. We both ruined each other’s lives, there’s no use in blaming each other. That’s why I can’t hate you.” You finalized, crossing your arms and opting to watch the passing buildings through your window again. 

Taehyung absorbed your sudden confession with reason, realizing that in a sense, you two were partners in this unfortunate case. Even if your matrimony constituted a forced partnership neither of you liked, there seemed to be a natural comradery in having to deal with the aftermath of that forced partnership. 

Trying to accept it. 

“I don’t think I can hate you, either.” Taehyung admitted, ending the more miserable part of the conversation as you fell silent. You thought he was done until he decided to bother you again. 

“I think you’re still saying you like me, though.” 

You turned to him half-appalled before pointing towards the road, eyes narrowed. “Just drive us home, will you?” 

Taehyung laughed at the moment and pressed down on the accelerator, internally grinning at the fact you never said no to his statement. 

“This is your house?” You found yourself gawking again at something that belonged to Taehyung, stepping inside a luxury home you’ve only ever dreamed of living in. Sure, you lived with your parents until you were 18, though your father was still starting out with his company for most of those years, not exactly owning anything too luxurious until after you permanently moved out.

So as you stood trying to prop your heels off yourself, your jaw dropped at the sheer elegance and high-status look to the interior of Taehyung’s home. You had already done enough gawking at the exterior, but being inside and processing the fact that you were now to inhabit this home for the rest of your life sent another wave of shock. 

You immediately observed Taehyung was the type who decorated his home with only the finest, his taste easily identifiable. Aesthetic, lavish, charming. He seemed like a man of utter simplicity though his home said otherwise, showcasing an artistic, exquisite feel you never really expected from him. 

“When will you stop saying that?” He titled his head and smiled through a laugh, removing his shoes and slipping into his indoor slippers. 

“Right, sorry.” You were still struggling for normalcy, somehow forgetting almost every hour Taehyung’s wealth and only registering it once you saw something that indicated it. 

Taehyung sauntered inside and took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of his abode. He enjoyed nothing more than being home, in the comfort of his own space. Especially for someone who worked so busily, he found pleasure in doing the bare minimum at home. Relishing in the feeling right now, he pressed his lips together in a smile before glancing back at your struggling figure, catching sight of your size. 

His eyebrows shot up to the sky. “Woah, you’re short.” 

“Huh?” 

“I think I’ve only ever seen you in heels.” Taehyung informed. “Now that you’re not wearing them you’re a lot shorter than I thought. You’re tiny.” He pointed out as he eyed you from head to toe, processing the amount of height you lost simply from removing your shoes. 

“I mean, that’s kind of what heels do, you know, they add height.” You deadpanned, stating the obvious for him. 

“Sorry, it’s just..” Kind of cute, he thought, though fought for another response. “I could probably throw you.” 

Nice save. 

“Excuse me? It’s not my fault you’re so tall.” You scowled at him. “Besides, you’re all height and no muscle, you probably can’t even carry me.” 

“Wanna see me try?” Taehyung was already coming towards you with his arms held out and you sputtered immediately, “No, no, no.” you held your hands up defensively. “Let’s just start the house tour, yeah?” you offered a smile for compromise. 

“That’s what I thought.” Taehyung narrowed his eyes coyly and turned on his heel, signaling you to follow him. 

What you realized strolling through the home as Taehyung discussed its details was that it emphatically represented him like an open book. Even if Taehyung was predominantly unreadable and seemed to always hide a mystery behind his eyes, you could see nearly all of him reflected in his home. 

You often found valuable trinkets or sentiments scattered around the house. It seemed like he cherished a lot of things in his life, namely memories or people. It would also be hard to miss the exquisite selection of paintings and embellishments he draped the walls with, all harbouring their own charm and adding to the overall artistic feel of his home. 

There were famous works consisting of Vincent Van Gogh all the way to local Korean artists you’ve never heard of, though admired their work. 

It seemed as though he selected the paintings himself. 

Another large aspect you couldn’t miss were the many photos he kept, calling to question whether they were of his own work. 

“Did you take these?” You approached a shelf in one of his grand hallways on the second floor, hand brushing the wooden frame of a captured photo; six men including Taehyung himself posing comfortably, like they were extremely close, backdrop reflecting what seemed to be a trip.  

“I took all of them.” He stated casually, hands tucked into his pockets as he eyed the shelf along with you. 

“All?” 

He simply nodded and didn’t elaborate further as he watched you admire the photos, yourself impressed by his adeptness for photography. 

“You’re really good.” You complimented absentmindedly, enjoying the other photos of not only people but scenery, empty streets, candid shots from what looked to be his own little adventures. 

“Thanks.” Was all Taehyung could manage, trying to mask the sheer gratitude he felt hearing the first ever person to admire his work; something that wasn’t related to being a CEO or a businessman. 

He also felt slightly embarrassed you’d seen a small part of him he usually hid.

Taehyung continued walking down the hallway until he reached the end, revealing what you could tell was the largest room in the house. You were thrown off by just how unnecessarily large it was. It seriously reminded you of an extravagant hotel suite, more like the grandest one among them. 

“This is our room.” Taehyung introduced, gesturing towards its interior. 

“Our?” 

Taehyung nodded “I should’ve told you earlier but I wanted us to sleep in the same room. If we slept apart our marriage wouldn’t look convincing to my two housekeepers. I trust them but I don’t want any information about us getting out to the public, not over my dead body.” Taehyung stated in earnest as he relayed the information, wandering further into the room. 

“You really care that much about publicity?” you genuinely questioned. 

Taehyung scoffed. “Not me, I couldn’t care less about what people think.” He denied instantly, almost laughably. “It’s my father. He hates bad press, especially concerning our family or the company.” 

“I thought bad press is still press, so it’s good.” You suggested as you followed him further into the room, admiring that though large, his room held a sense of comfort to it. Quite frankly, all of his home felt rather welcoming and cozy, surprising of a CEO who ran such a monstrously successful company.

“My father doesn’t think so. Kim Enterprises has always been generational, each of our CEO positions strictly kept within the family. Our name is our brand and pride, it alone accounts for at least half of our success. We’re extremely well-known for our high status, it’s just plain fact in the upper social circles of Korea. We can’t afford to taint our name with petty things like bad press or corruption, our reputation is too valuable.” Taehyung stated this all nonchalantly as he adjusted his suit jacket in his mirror, like it was something he’s grown accustomed to and has known all his life. 

You found your opinion impeding his words.  

“So you can never just, escape this life? As long as you’re a Kim you’re bound to this company?” You found the concept wildly restrictive, clearly shackling down any person that would run the business and you felt a disagreeing shiver shoot through your spine. 

“Of course, why would you want anything else?” Taehyung tiled his head to the side, eyeing you in genuine questioning and your entire being was trying to bite back the desire to correct him, tell him there’s so much more to life than just some company your family owns. Though you opted for changing the subject instead, unwilling to step on his toes and dictate his life when you knew next to nothing about it. 

It wasn’t your place. 

“Woah, you have a balcony?!” You exclaimed with a simper, eyes flickering towards the curtains that revealed two ajar French doors leading to an open space.

You made towards it excitedly and stopped just in the middle of the platform, enjoying the breeze of the fresh air.

“It’s my favourite part of the house.” You didn’t even realize Taehyung followed you until his towering figure stood directly behind you, feeling his proximity permeate through your body. 

You swallowed. 

“Why don’t you look at the view?” Taehyung cocked his head towards the railing of the balcony, though you didn’t move a step. 

You weren’t about to tell Taehyung you’re terribly afraid of heights.

“I-I can see from here. Wow, looks beautiful.” You perked up superficially, trying to throw him off and changing the subject again. “By the way, what’s our closet situation gonna look like?” 

“Ah, let me show you.” Taehyung strided back into the room towards the sliding double doors you spotted earlier. He almost theatrically glided both dark wooden panels open and your jaw dropped for the 47th time today. 

You were welcomed by a ridiculously large walk-in closet, enough to be renovated into its own bedroom. You simply couldn’t normalize its size, especially after registering every suit, tie, watch or accessory Taehyung stored in the gracious space. 

You couldn’t even begin to imagine how much money lied in here. 

“Oh my God.” Was all you could manage, meandering in sparingly as you viewed each and every expensive piece he owned in the room, no doubt of the highest quality designers, finest of men’s fashion. 

“You don’t have to worry about unpacking and moving in here, the housekeepers will do that for you.” Taehyung watched as you looked upon in awe, finding the way your eyes sparkled with emotion very similar to that of Bambi’s.  

“How will I fit-”

“I specifically made space for you, there’s enough.” Taehyung stated, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. He’d resolved a while ago he really would try to take this marriage seriously, victoriously achieve the work-life balance his father kept preaching. 

He saw giving up his closet space as the first step. 

It was indeed so because Taehyung thoroughly enjoyed fashion. He genuinely adored every suit, accessory and outfit in his collection, though if he wanted to reach this new goal of balance, successfully add you to his list of priorities, then he had to be willing to cut down. 

Even if that meant reallocating a third of his exorbitant wardrobe just for you, he’d try not to mind. 

“Are you sure? I could just use another room’s-” 

“I want to.” Taehyung finalized as his eyes turned unreadable from across the room, locking his gaze with yours and you were only left to look back impressed, his generosity unforeseen. 

“Thank you.” You voiced a little weak, still shy by the suffocating nature of his stare. 

“Don’t mention it.” He offered plainly, propping himself off the wall. He looked off to the side eyeing the empty pockets of space he left for you, until your voice called out to him.  

“Taehyung.”

“Hm?” He snapped his vision back to you. 

You wanted to ask him something, more so a favour and you were unsure how to word the request. “Um.. I didn’t want to ask so openly, but..” You found yourself beating around the bush, timid of what his response would be. 

“Go on.” 

“Um, so it seemed like there were a lot of empty rooms in this house, and I was just wondering if I could maybe.. transform one of them into an art studio for myself?” You winced at your own request. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just I had one at my old place and it really grew on me. I would get most of my work done in that room and gained a lot of inspiration from it. I have a lot of art supplies and designed often in that studio, so I need a home for all my supplies and it would suck getting rid of it all. I’m sorry it means I would have to steal one of your rooms in the house, if you don’t want me to then-” 

Taehyung couldn’t help but break out into a small grin as he watched you ramble on, shyly fidget with your fingers, so apprehensive of asking him for something and it reminded him why he was so eager to provide you with anything you wanted. 

You spent too long trying to do everything on your own, achieve everything on your own, relying solely on yourself. Taehyung could see this all as plain as day, quite enjoying of how he’s never really met someone like you, and wanted you to know you didn’t always have to be so independent.  

Especially with him. 

“Y/N.” He called out to you with the same honey-coloured tone from last night, stopping you. Your eyes flickered to his, awaiting his next sentence and Taehyung already found himself having a thing for your doe-eyes. 

Fuck. 

“Of course you can have a room. You can have anything in this house. It’s yours.” Taehyung stated with a degree of assurance, his eyes locking with yours in earnest. 

You both shared a look as your lips curved into a gracious smile, biting your lip to contain it. His stare wasn’t so much intimidating as it was merely.. calm. Gazing at you for the sole purpose of gazing, and you found some heat rushing to your face under his scrutiny. 

Taehyung seemed to realize he was staring and immediately cleared his throat, turning a little nervous as he began another conversation. “So um, I’m sorry to say this,” he began with unease, almost apprehensive and you didn’t know what he was so sorry about. “But I have work today.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

Taehyung internally winced at your reaction, hands finding his pockets. “I took some time off for the wedding, so now I have twice the amount of work left behind. I need to complete it.” He informed straightforwardly. 

“Our wedding was just yesterday, though, aren’t you tired?” You were only taken aback because you were slightly concerned for his wellbeing, wasn’t he tired from yesterday? You recalled him knocking out almost immediately upon hitting the pillow of your hotel bed last night, snoozing away. 

“Maybe, but I can’t afford to rest. I’ll only have more to complete if I do, so I won’t be spending anymore time with you today.” Taehyung relayed the information, readying himself for the even greater disappointing news he’d be passing on. 

“Actually, we won’t be able to go on our honeymoon, either.” Taehyung thought it was best to slip in all the bad news, growing more and more unrelaxed as he was unsure of how you’d react. 

Though what you said next had him nearly floored.

“Honeymoon? Taehyung, that’s the least of my concerns, you should at least rest a day before getting back to work. That’s not really healthy.” You chastised him as lightly as possible, still afraid to be stepping on his toes when you didn’t know his life. 

Taehyung was certain you’d hate having been stripped of a beautiful vacation where you could’ve relaxed in the sun and tropics of Cancun. Your father had mentioned to him you’ve always longed to visit the breath-taking city in Mexico, its clear waters and tropical air as a means to truly get away from your stifling life. 

So when he found you disregarding the trip altogether and instead focusing on him, more precisely his health, he was left damn well speechless. 

There you were again paying attention to the littlest things about him he didn’t care much for; he still had that bandage you offered him a month ago tucked into one of his pockets, not wanting to use the adhesive just yet. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m just sorry we can’t go on the vacation because of me, it would’ve been nice, you know?” Taehyung apologized, feeling genuinely guilty for having ruined the honeymoon. Even if you two weren’t going to travel as some lovey-dovey couple, you both simply could’ve enjoyed the time off.

“It’s okay, just, at least work from home today. Heading to the office would be too much.” You suggested for the sake of the fatigue you could discern on him. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna be home for the next few days since everyone thinks we’ll be on our honeymoon.” 

“Oh. That’s.. good.” You nodded faintly, half at the idea you two were even faking your honeymoon and half at the blasphemous energy he had to work after yesterday. 

The sleep from last night was nearly not enough to recharge from the antics of the wedding, having drained your batteries for the next few days. You were certain his were drained too; he was half the damn couple. 

“I should get going. I’ll send Mrs. Choi and Seo up with your things. They’re probably finished with lunch too, you should eat.” Taehyung advised as he stepped out of the walk-in closet, running a hand through his gorgeous hair and you couldn’t help but ogle at the sexy way his strands fell back on him. 

“Okay.” You voiced as you followed him out, watching him near the room’s door and just about to vacate the premise before you spoke up. “Taehyung.” 

He stopped in his tracks, peering back at you. “Yes?” 

“You should eat something, too.”

Taehyung half-smiled at you with a nod “Sure”, before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone. 

And you couldn’t help but kind of like the way he smiles. 

It was well into the evening now, bordering dinner time as you helped the last of your clothes into Taehyung’s closet, refusing to let the older housekeepers do all the work by themselves considering it was your own luggage. 

You also tried to occupy Taehyung’s room as scarcely as you could with your belongings, feeling odd about suddenly moving in with all your might and changing things around. It just didn’t feel appropriate, like you were invading his space and so you opted for scattering only your necessary items.

“That should be the last of it, Mrs. Choi.” You retrieved your last piece of clothing from the rather soft-spoken housekeeper, tucking the blazer away among the rest. You were satisfied to see not only your wardrobe neatly organized now, but fit just about right with Taehyung’s things. 

He was right about space, there was enough.

“Mrs. Kim, please rest. You didn't have to move a muscle at all for us.” Mrs. Choi remarked, genuinely concerned for you. 

“Yes, please, Mrs. Kim. We can finish up with the little things. I’ve just finished preparing dinner downstairs, you should eat.” Mrs. Seo chimed in as she entered the walk-in closet, gesturing towards the door. 

“Are you sure? I can-”

“Mrs. Kim, you’re very kind for offering your help, we’re very grateful you’ve done so. Though we are Mr. Kim’s housekeepers, we are meant to care for his home and his lovely wife. You need not worry about helping us.” Mrs. Choi stated with an earnest tone, speaking respectfully as she addressed you. 

You were going to protest again before you considered her words, registering that if you indeed helped them, it would technically negate the entire purpose of their work. 

You bit back your reply as a result, crafting a new one. 

“I see, I’m sorry, Mrs. Seo, Mrs. Choi. I’m just.. very used to doing things on my own,” you looked towards the ground. “I apologize.” You almost dipped for a bow until Mrs. Choi rapidly cautioned you, scrambling towards your figure. 

“Oh dear, Mrs. Kim! You do not need to bow to us, you’re Mr. Kim’s wife, you are the one who is bowed to.” 

“Yes, you do not need to apologize either, we appreciate your help, it was very sweet of you.” Mrs. Seo added with a warm smile, bowing to you instead. “Please go for dinner downstairs, I’ve also informed Mr. Kim for dinner, though I’m unsure if he has made his way down yet.” She added on, urging you towards the room's exit and you recognized it was probably better to listen to her. 

Even if all this high-class, status stuff had yet to sink in or make sense to you after being away for so long, you understood there was an eventual tolerance you had to build for it. Just as Mrs. Choi said, you’re Kim Taehyung’s wife now, and that came with a hell lot of status you hadn’t even scratched the surface of yet.

You could already tell it was going to be a pain in the ass. 

“I suppose I should. I’ll get going, then.” You smiled graciously at both women, appreciative of their kindness and began vacating the closet. You just about pulled the room door open before Mrs. Seo suddenly came to you.

“Oh! Mrs. Kim,” she halted you. “I was informed by Mr. Kim to provide this to you. He would have done so himself though he’s quite busy at the moment.” Mrs. Seo extended her hand and presented a pristine looking card, black and incredibly sleek in design. Your eyebrows furrowed until you noticed the telltale symbols, almost ominously minimal branding indicating a rare card only those with some of the highest networths in Korea could own. 

Your eyes widened in horror. 

The Black Card. 

“P-pardon?” You needed her to reiterate, there was no way Kim Taehyung was giving you a black card, the same card that was limitless on credit and only exclusively owned by the affluent one-percenters of society. 

“He’s informed me this belongs to you now, and that you’re to keep it in your possession.” Mrs. Seo elaborated, smiling through the mental whiplash you were currently experiencing.  

“Belongs to.. me? This is mine?” You were still having trouble processing, why would Taehyung be gifting you this? Who’s account was it even attached to? Was it yours and he’s decided to graciously pay all the expensive fees, or worse, was it joined with his own account? 

Don’t tell me it’s joined with his account.  

“Yes, Mrs. Kim. It’s yours.” Mrs. Seo held it out more outwardly, nudging it in your direction. 

Your mouth fell agape for another second before you mentally collected yourself, quickly grabbing the card and thanking her as you made your exit, marching through the house for Taehyung’s unbelievable ass. 

Taehyung could not be providing you with this card. It was irrational, simply had to have been a decision he made with at least two bottles of soju in him, right? You didn’t care what his reasoning would be, you were denying and returning this. There was no way in hell you’d accept this card, especially if he linked his own personal account to it. 

You tried loosely recalling where Taehyung mentioned his study, logically assuming he was working there. You inspected majority of the second floor, working your way through the halls until you finally caught sight of the familiar wooden doors with glass panels, slightly ajar, light bleeding through.

You made for the room quickly and stormed in without a care, attempting to steady your breathing from all the rushing around. You caught Taehyung completely off guard, having shredded his suit jacket to instead sport the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt, adorning black-rimmed, designer glasses. 

He looked 100x hotter than he should’ve. 

Taehyung suddenly propped up from the leaned-back position he’d assumed on his chair, expression caught by surprise. “Y/N?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing. 

You held up the card and addressed him immediately. “Taehyung, what’s this? Why are you giving this to me?” You huffed, looking at him incredulously. 

“The card? For you to use..?” Taehyung responded cooperatively, confused as to why you seemed so frazzled. 

“But why, Taehyung? This is a black card, the annual fees on this are insane and I can’t pay-” 

“You’re not paying for them, I am.” Taehyung cut in, shutting the binder he was holding and placing it on his desk. 

“What? No, no way. If it’s my account then I should be the one-”

“It’s not your account, either, it’s mine.” Taehyung brought his elbows to his desk, hands clasped together in front of his lips. It was now he gave you that same intimidating stare he did back when you first met him, calculative and devoid of expression. 

It seemed he did this when he got serious. 

“Your account? But-Taehyung, this is your money, I can’t just have it. Please, take this back.” You stepped towards his desk to return the card eagerly, but Taehyung’s firm tone stopped you. 

“No, it’s yours. I gave it to you to keep.” His words held this underlying sense of authority, scratch that, dominance when he spoke seriously, resolute. You could instantly tell he possessed a natural sense of alpha male characteristics, enough that even though he wasn’t being harsh or looming, his words and the tone he coated them with held more power than you could manifest. 

You almost cowered, but remained adamant on returning the card. It was worse with the card attached to his account, you couldn’t just keep Taehyung’s money like it was your own, it simply wasn’t. Your money sat ordinarily in a separate account on a separate card, which you were happy enough to use. You weren’t going to mooch off of him, it went against every principle that made up your very being. 

“This is your money, Taehyung. I have no right to use it.” 

“You’re my wife. You have every right in the world to use it.” Taehyung countered with no emotion, or at least any you could discern, uncertain what was running through his mind with only his eyes as a guide towards the answer. 

And you knew his eyes didn’t tell. 

“Taehyung, this doesn’t feel right to me. This isn’t my money and I can’t use it.” You emphasized more strongly, drawing closer to his desk though halting your actions once he spoke again. 

“My money is your money, you can always use it.” You knew he was relaxed, appearing practically unbothered as he leaned onto his desk and eyed you. Though with the intense look in his eyes, his aura screaming for anyone within the vicinity to submit to him, he could easily seem frustrated with the situation, namely you. 

And it made you want to crawl into a hole.

“No, it isn’t. I’ve already intruded your home, taken your closet, your room and even an extra one just for myself. I will not take your money either. Please, take this back.” You held out the card more prominently, desperate to have him understand you.

Taehyung wasn’t necessarily frustrated by you, no, he was slightly pissed you kept referring to everything as just his and not yours, that he was the only one considering you two as a married couple now while you still viewed each other separately.

Did you not see him as your husband yet?

He also disliked the fact that you seemed scared of him, or unable to trust him like last night. He could see you fighting back the urge to cower away, genuinely upsetting him you still held a degree of fear and unsureness in your eyes. 

Why are you so afraid of me? 

“Y/N, everything isn’t just mine anymore, it’s yours, too. We’re a married couple, husband and wife. What’s mine is yours.” Taehyung tried to reason, loosening himself up more to seem less intimidating, more approachable.

“But money, Taehyung-it’s different. I didn’t even want to take my own father’s money, there’s no way I’ll take yours, please.” Pleading leaked into your tone as you lips started doing that thing where they just about pout, emphasizing their plushiness and Taehyung couldn’t help but notice it again. 

He started growing frustrated as he removed his glasses, placing them on his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. It seemed like he was digesting the situation, searching for the best approach.

“Y/N, look. I know the kind of situation you had with your father, but I’m not him. Didn’t you hear what Mrs. Choi and Seo addressed you as?” 

You thought it over, unknowing of where he was taking this. “They.. called me Mrs. Kim.”

“Exactly. Even my last name is yours, everything I have is yours. I’m your husband, I’m always going to provide you with things from now on. That card is just one of many.” Taehyung offered his best explanation, making sure his tone wasn’t as serious to sidetrack any fear you still had.

“I understand. But this is a black card, Taehyung, and it’s your hard-earned money, not mine. It feels wrong even just having it.” You couldn’t fight your inner turmoil, you genuinely believed this to be wrong. After spending almost a decade trying to work for yourself, pay for yourself, seldom seeking the help of another, this just left a disagreeing feeling to churn in your stomach.

Taehyung sighed heavily before pushing his chair back, rising from his seat. He made his way over to you where you grew unintentionally defensive, retracting from him slightly as he neared you. He noticed it and pursed his lips, reaching out for your upper arms and taking them warmly, tenderly, waiting for your eyes to meet his before he spoke to you.

“Y/N, do you remember what I said before I kissed you yesterday?”

Your eyes widened having been reminded of the intimate moment, nodding at him innocently. Taehyung witnessed you trying to avoid eye contact and found himself softening. 

“I didn’t say that without reason. I meant it when I said I would take care of you. Your father is a different story, if you don’t want to use his money, I respect that. But I’m your husband, and I want to be a good one. I want to give you things.. do things for you simply because I want to.” Taehyung reasoned, gripping you lightly. “I want you to use my money, you’re allowed to use it.” He tried voicing with sincerity, earnestly, hoping he could change your mind.

He saw you still hesitating to accept the offer, however, deciding on a compromise.

“Look, you don’t have to use it all the time. You can still use your own card, but you can use mine here and there. Seriously, Y/N, using it won’t even make a dent on me. I’m the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, use it at your discretion.” Taehyung could practically see your gears shifting, searching for your eyes as he wished you’d understand him. 

He saw this as a second step towards work-life balance, only feeling the responsibility and genuine desire to be the good husband in spite of the unfortunate nature of your marriage. He didn’t want any doubt concerning his ability to be a good husband, either.

After all, when Taehyung did something, he always did the best he possibly could.

“Okay, I guess you’re right. But I do have my own money, and I’ll be using that 100x more often than yours.” You relaxed and oddly let him hold you, looking down at the black card that rested in your hand and clutching it to your palm.

Taehyung realized he was still holding you and let go, retiring to fluff his hair instead. You caught a glimpse of his bicep underneath his rolled up sleeve as he did so, and you truly hated you chose a time like this to find him stunningly attractive.

“You should come downstairs, Mrs. Seo prepared dinner.” You ignored your thoughts.

“You go first, I’ll be down in a second.”

You nodded agreeably and turned away, leaving his study. You took a second look at the card in your hand, then glanced around the house as you strolled through it, trying to embed what Taehyung said into the crevices of your resistant thinking.

Everything I have is yours, you reiterated, registering that Taehyung had in fact grown accustomed to the idea of you two as a couple already. He’s accepted it, embraced it, even enforced it now with his earlier declarations and this black card. You automatically felt behind, like you were the tortoise in the race and needed to pick up your pace.

If Taehyung had already come to terms with your marriage, it was only a matter of time before you did as well. Marriage is a two-way street, and if you wanted to make this easier on both yourself and Taehyung, you would compromise with him, accept the true sense of partnership that entailed your status as husband and wife.

Thus was the exact mantra that played in your head as you fiddled with the card, remembering the way his big hands held you.

Warm.

It was night. 

You could say it was like any other ordinary night, though that would be a gargantuan lie. 

This night was the first time Taehyung and yourself were going to sleep in the same bed.

In your own home. 

The hotel suite left you both with your own space and privacy since it was a random, public room with no personality or attachment to it whatsoever, making it easier and comfortable to sleep with him.

So when you emerged from your walk-in closet in a thin camisole, loose pajama shorts and without a bra, you were cursing yourself. God damn you for needing to sleep in minimal clothing for comfort. You’d slept in a loose t-shirt and bottoms at the suite last night since it was a public room, and long story short, it left you tossing and turning more than you liked. 

You had no clue prior to arriving here that you’d be sharing a room with Taehyung. You’d expected to sleep in a different one, in the privacy of your own room where you could prance around as you wished and as a result packed your usual sleepwear. 

But now that you were left having to slumber with Taehyung, clothes on the more revealing side, there was no turning back. 

And what there was truly no turning back from, was when you opened the closet door and your eyes landed on Taehyung’s shirtless, wet self drying his hair after a shower. 

You immediately malfunctioned.

Your eyes fell to his bare back, ruffling his wet hair as his plaid pajama pants hung loosely at his hips. You immediately exclaimed and clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to shut yourself up. 

You did not expect at all for Taehyung to have such honey-coloured skin. It was like it naturally glowed, a healthy tone that made him appear all the more delectable. It certainly didn’t help that his shoulders were broader than you first observed, sincerely an other-worldly experience when he wasn’t wearing clothes. 

You also got an all-access view of his trap muscles, adding to the width of his shoulders overall and when Taehyung turned around to the sound of the closet door opening, gaze locking with yours, you could confirm his neck, chest and collarbones were indeed crafted to perfection.

Taehyung’s eyes widened momentarily drinking you in, not expecting your light sleepwear when just last night he witnessed you in a full pajama set. Not to mention, and he hated that he could tell, but you weren't wearing a bra. 

And the camisole did nothing to hide that. 

Taehyung straightened himself up realizing you two were practically gawking at each other, resting the towel around his neck as he cleared his throat. “That’s what you sleep in?” 

“That’s what you sleep in?” You retorted, arms over your chest. 

“Guys usually sleep shirtless, this is normal.” Taehyung gestured towards his own body and you had half a mind to floor yourself. It’s like Taehyung knew but also didn’t know he was hot, knew the effect he had on people though never grew cocky or proud enough to purposefully parade it around. 

And it frustrated you even more; he was fairly humble about being a sexy Greek God. 

“Girls sleep like this too, this is normal.” You copied him, looking off to the side. 

“I was kidding, I only sleep shirtless sometimes. Just get in bed.” Taehyung narrowed his eyes as he gestured towards the sheets, returning to his palace of a bathroom to toss his towel in the hamper and pull a t-shirt over his head. 

You wanted to move, feet just about ready to carry you but you never abandoned your spot. Instead, you pressed your lips into a thin line contemplating that sharing a bed with Taehyung, in clothes like this and in such proximity, all held a degree of intimacy you didn’t know you two shared yet. 

It’s only been a day. 

So when Taehyung returned to your unmoving figure, arms holding your chest and avoiding eye contact with him, he was quick to get the message. 

“Um.. if you really don’t want to sleep here, I can give you another room.” Taehyung offered, figuring himself this may be too soon. 

“No, it’s okay, that’d be kind of a hassle.” You waved him off. “Besides, your bed looks comfy.”

You were honestly trying to live up to your acceptance that Taehyung was the man you’d spend your life with now, so you’d better start getting use to him. You’d sleep next to him for numerous nights, spend endless days together and share a multitude of things; this would simply just be a first of many first times. 

So you paddled over to the bed and removed the covers to snuggle yourself in, the bed’s coolness sending a shiver through you before you hugged the blanket to yourself. Taehyung stood with a smile before crawling in himself, adjusting the covers to his liking. 

He felt at peace in a matter of seconds, the feeling of his own bed lulling him into a state of slumber already. He reached his arm out to shut off the lamp on his bedside table, leaving the room pitch dark and only his digital clock and balcony as a light source. 

You began to cower a bit in the darkness, thankful for the sheer curtains that allowed the moonlight to spill into the room. 

You felt another shiver run through your body when you shifted, realizing you were cold even under the sheets. You tried warming up on your own by shimmying the blanket around more comfortably, but it didn't do much. 

You were left lying on the bed trying to think warm thoughts, unintentionally breathing in the constant scent of Taehyung from his bed; his cologne, his aftershave, his body wash all filling your nostrils.

It was intoxicating, absolutely distracting and sleep began to slip your mind. It didn’t help that you were still cold too, moving around and turning onto your side where you now faced Taehyung. 

He seemed to have already dozed off, face tranquil as he slept soundlessly on his back. You couldn't help but admire his side-profile, the sparse moonlight illuminating his features. It was hard to not stretch your hand out and nearly run a touch along his cheek, like he was a rare work of art that naturally called for admiration.

You realized turning towards him that he radiated a wave of warmth from his body, remembering boys were pretty much furnaces while girls usually froze.

How wonderful it is to be a woman. 

You desired some of that heat and shuffled just a little closer to Taehyung, nearing the center of the bed. You discerned he was indeed warm and maneuvered slightly closer, just about stopping at the center of the bed. You fought back the urge to shimmy any closer, leaving a mindful gap between you two. 

You were seconds from catching a peace of mind until Taehyung unexpectedly spoke in the silence of the night, startling you. 

“You can come closer, I don’t bite.” The smirk in his voice was obvious, making you scrunch your nose and snap back at him. 

“Shut up, I’m not getting closer to you.” 

“You should, I’m really warm, and I can tell you’re cold.” There he was again teasing, his tone coy as he kept his eyes shut, unbothered. 

“Over my dead body.” You mocked him from earlier, turning away from him abruptly and pulling the covers over your head. 

Coffee was probably your favourite thing life had to offer. One of the couple things you’d fight someone over; coffee and your independence, if you wanted to be specific. 

So it made you genuinely happy Taehyung had such a wide selection of coffee to choose from, ranging from all kinds of beans to instant coffee, cappuccinos, lattes, mochas, you name it. It took no time for you to craft a cup to your liking, shuffle into a seat on the island and begin picking at the breakfast the housekeepers had whipped up earlier this morning. 

You’d woken up early today keeping in mind the day you had planned. You decided this to be another move-in day as part of your studio setup project you’ve entertained for the last week. The granted time off due to your odd honeymoon farce with Taehyung proved to actually come in handy, thankfully. 

It had been another peaceful morning for you, having woken up with sunlight gracing the walls, certain you could hear birds chirping as if you were in a Disney film and little mice would come out to start sewing the gown you’d wear as a princess. 

It had been a peaceful morning indeed, but when you stretched out to loosen your stiff muscles, the chaos that met you was anything but peaceful. Even if it’s occurred at least 5 times now, you kept forgetting that you shared a bed with someone else now, and that said someone had somehow always founds a way to gravitate towards you during the night, even daringly cast an arm over you sometimes. 

It left you in a state of panic registering that Taehyung’s, dare you say warm and cozy body would be just behind you, his chest mere centimeters from your back. You would stay still for some time, calculating the optimal way to remove yourself from his hold until he eventually stirred enough to loosen his grip, darting right out of bed. 

Other times, he’d wake earlier than you and you wondered what would cross his mind once he registered your oddly proximal bodies. 

Did it ever bother him?

Nonetheless, it brought a mischievous smile to your face thinking about the fact that Taehyung had such a perfectly human habit like cuddling. He was always so serious, so put together and a near machine at everything he did, seeming as though he wouldn’t give anything romantic the time of day. 

But it was hard to forget the fluffy feeling that blossomed in your chest when you would sense his proximity, maybe inviting a liking to it. You had always slept alone, only yourself and the darkness to keep you company in your lonely bed, in your lonely home. 

So sleeping next to someone, namely Kim Taehyung left an impression on you you couldn’t quite shake. It was difficult to erase the image of his calm, sleeping face after the handful of times witnessing it. Long eyelashes delicately pressed to the skin under his eyes, lips plush as he seemed to naturally pout in his sleep. The sunlight only accentuated his honey-coloured skin, adding a glow to his features that made him appear prettier than he already was. 

It was nice to think you’d wake up to that every morning. 

You found your mind still playing around with the idea until you snapped yourself out of it, questioning why the hell you always ventured off whenever you thought about him. 

Weird. 

You were scolding yourself until your eyes caught Taehyung strolling into the kitchen with his phone in is hand. He’d foregone a jacket today, black shirt sleeves folded to mid-forearm paired with black slacks.  

You were normal until you almost spat your coffee seeing he wasn’t wearing a tie but instead had the first few buttons of his shirt open, revealing a generous view of his neck and the beginnings of his chest. 

Fucking hell.

You were staring stupidly until Taehyung peeked up at you, smiling “Morning.” 

“M-morning.” you stuttered.

He seemed unsuspecting as he returned his attention to his phone, proceeding to the kitchen counter and retrieving a cup to fix himself a drink. He appeared to be reading something conscientiously on his device, never taking his eyes off and you quickly became bored, ready to use the weapon you’d acquired. 

“So.. you’re a cuddler, huh?”

Taehyung nearly dropped his cup.  

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“You’re a cuddler when you sleep. Cute.” You rested your chin in your palm, playful smile on your face. 

“I think you’re mistaken, I am not a cuddler. And I’m not cute.” Taehyung denied as he only focused on the cup, his back to you. You then watched him reach for his selection of tea and purposefully evade the coffee, your eyes lighting up with mischief.  

“Wait, you’re a cuddler and you drink tea instead of coffee? Very cute.” You pulled on his leg, chuckling as you brought your mug to your lips

This was going to be fun.

“Shut up, I don’t like the taste and tea is healthier.” Taehyung practically sneered back, harshly ripping the packet of his tea bag.

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re a cuddler.” You sipped on your coffee, unbothered as you swung your legs back and fourth. 

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you like it.” 

You nearly spat your drink. 

“What?” 

“I remember a certain someone that shuffles closer to me for warmth, no?” Taehyung snapped back as he returned to his phone and popped his tea into the microwave, his shoulders high to the sky. You could imagine his smug face proud of his remark while searching for your own, realizing that Taehyung was damn good at arguing and you’d really have to upgrade your comeback game to counter him. 

He was unfortunately your match.

“Even if I were one, which I’m not, It’s not like I’m committing a crime.” Taehyung suddenly finalized with a snippy tone, and you realized you may have hurt his ego. 

Men. 

“I never said it was a bad thing.” You commented under your breath and looked away, popping a raspberry into your mouth. 

Taehyung bit back a smirk as he retrieved his cup of tea, taking a sip as he returned to his phone and took a seat across from you. He began compiling his plate of breakfast as he worked his device, typing away with one hand as if he was drafting the Magna Carta. 

You became bored again.

“Why do you have so much coffee if you don’t like it?” You genuinely felt like inquiring, if he didn’t like the taste why would he have so much? 

“For my housekeepers, they drink it.” He took a sip of his tea, all attention on his phone. 

You nodded understandingly. “Why do you have two housekeepers, by the way? Isn’t one enough?” 

“So they can keep each other company.” He answered absentmindedly, eyes still glued to his phone as he bit a piece of his toast. You really hated that he wasn’t actively interacting with you because it only left room to stare at him, and that was never any good.  

He looked illegally attractive with the unbuttoned part of his shirt, your mind profusely bugging out over the exposed bit of his chest. You were reminded of the full view from last night, and began pondering how long you’d survive having to see that for the rest of your life. 

“O-oh, that’s nice.” You stuttered back a reply, squashing your previous thought.

You were actually quite impressed by the kindness Taehyung showed behind that decision, noticing he had these small moments where he was caring, considerate, all hidden behind his unreadable face and seriousness when it came to business. 

It was quite interesting. 

You were mindlessly eating until Taehyung spoke up, eyes flickering towards you. “What are you going to do today?” 

You swallowed your fruit. “I was planning on moving more stuff in again, start finishing my studio setup. Thank you again for the room, by the way.” You expressed your gratitude once more, forking some eggs into your mouth. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

“What are you doing today?” you echoed his question, taking another swig of coffee.

“I’m working again. If you need anything I’ll be in my study.” Taehyung sent you a half-smile before snatching up his plate, bringing his phone to his ear as he stepped out of the kitchen. 

You sighed heavily only being left to think about your day, which would be majorly spent unpacking and arranging things. You had a plethora of art supplies, design tools and canvases to set up in your studio, leaving you constantly thinking of how to even begin. 

It would be a mission alone to sort through everything you had left, knowing you didn’t exactly label out of sheer laziness and would have to individually unbox and organize everything . 

It was this exact task that took up most of your day, time having slipped by in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t easy when you had to be rummaging through your belongings and situating them where you thought appropriate, also trying to envision a new look for your studio. 

You hadn’t realized 3 hours had passed until the ring of the front doorbell caused you to check your phone, curious as to who would be visiting your home in the middle of the day. You assumed it be one of the housekeepers and abandoned your work, cascading down the staircase and striding towards the grand entrance. 

You drew towards the monitor Taehyung had showed you just yesterday, explaining it to be your home security system. Taehyung detailed it had a camera for your front porch that detected movement and the doorbell alike, so you peered at the monitor to see the stranger outside your home. 

Your eyebrows furrowed registering a woman, her back turned towards the door as she fidgeted nervously with her purse in her hand. 

Sheer curiosity took you over and you paddled towards the door, unlocking it. You wore a smile on your face as you swung the door open, though it was immediately wiped off taking in the last person on earth you ever wanted to see. 

“Mother?”

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[kinetic-elaboration]

September 28: Orphan Black 2x06

Fell over the ground today on my way home from work and scraped my knee up pretty badly but other than that, not a terrible day.

Somehow already on episode 6 of S2 of Orphan Black.

This was an excellent episode. I enjoyed all of the story lines without exception and the only thing missing was Cal, tbqh. I especially enjoyed all of the unusual pairings and relationships.

What I most remembered of this ep was the sestras road trip, and in particular the shot of them curled up on opposite sides of each other like twins in the womb. But as I was watching, I also remembered the bonding over singing in the car. I was actually surprised by how little Helena and Sarah there was, because I thought that was most of the episode, but it’s really mostly just the beginning scenes. Still cute, though.

Again, I’m trying not to let Helena grow on me but her transition from serial killer to sestra/protagonist is just too compelling. They never changed her characterization, is the thing, they just put her in a better environment. What a redemption arc should be. She’s still violent; she’s still feral; but she’s no longer being used and abused for others’ ends. When she’s left to herself, she wants a sister, she wants a boyfriend, she wants babies, she wants to go on vacation--normal wants, in a wild mind. It’s endearing and touching and funny and sweet.

Her romance was Jesse was adorable, also. I know they knew each other for 0.05 seconds but it’s true love and I believe in them. She can call him boyfriend. He watched her end a guy and try to take his eyeballs out with her thumbs and he was STILL like “She has done nothing wrong in her entire life you Honor,” I am not even exaggerating.

The sestra road trip ended a lot faster than I remembered but I guess Helena does have to get back to her “babies.” I can already see her and Gracie bonding. I think Helena respects her for the murder attempt and sympathizes with her because of their similar histories of abuse. But there’s another twist coming I assume, because Gracie ends up pregnant with Helena’s babies at some point, I seem to recall.

Sarah’s adventure in the archives was prime spooky season material. What you see will stay with you.... macabre images and weird noises in the basement...

I’m not sure I entirely get the whole Duncan & Mrs. S history tbqh. I suspect it doesn’t matter as it will be retconned a few more times. As of now I think it’s something like: the clones were a military experiment that got shut down (or did it?),then the Duncans moved to Dyad; they weren't the masterminds, just one of the teams working on it; they lost their original daughter bc Amelia ran away and then got Rachel instead; then they started feeling weird I guess and were going to tattle, so Leekie killed them and burned their stuff and took Rachel, but then Ethan got away, and he joined up with Mrs. S's group, who already had one of the clones themselves and were looking for more info I guess?

My mom and I were also talking about what exactly Mrs. S and her friends do and we decided they’re ad hoc vigilantes whose work is entirely about improving conditions for individuals on the ground, not, like... protests or demonstrations or whatever. Like, they hear about something fucked up and they’re like ‘how can we disrupt this?’ There are experiments on children going on? Let’s get those children! They’re very organized in their use of people and resources and hiding spots, but not in their overall ideology. I like this chaotic energy for them but I ALSO suspect it comes from their organization being more Vibe than Story. Like, could the show have fleshed them out more? Yeah, it would have had the time if it hadn’t gone down like 20 different alternating layers of conspiracy.

I do enjoy Leekie returning as a Villainous Figure. I just... I really like Leekie.  like him as a potential ally. I like him as the ultimate mastermind. I like him as the ideologue who turned the benevolent (lol) Dyad Corporation into his own little philosophical playground. I just like him.

A few other quick notes:

Scott was a little annoying in S1 but now I’m remembering why I liked him so much overall. He’s so smart! And rather cute. “I figured out it’s clones... now can I see one?” Lol.

How did Leekie get Kira’s baby teeth stem cells anyway?

I don’t know exactly what Art and Felix were doing today but they ARE the BroTP I didn’t know I needed. Art just making himself at home, like everyone else. “Oh he’s moved in.” “Then why is your hand on my ass?” Etc.

Similarly, Alison and Vic are a BroTP I kinda did know I needed. I hate liking Vic because he absolutely was terrible when he was introduced and now he’s like... comic relief? But he’s entertaining. I feel like this whole working with DiAngelo thing is going to contribute a lot to Alison’s paranoid feelings.

Also I continue to love Alison The Most. Today’s highlights included her threats to Donnie’s balls, every time she told Vic not to say Namaste, and the little way she hit Donnie when he tried bowing to Vic.

“Science is what scientists do” is a great line.

I’m also a fan of “anger is a tool and we use it on problems, not people.” Good advice.

Next is an Alison-centric episode with some Siobhan and Leekie action (not like that), which sounds fun!

[yfere]

M9 Signature Combat Moves (and what they say about them)

AKA, I nerd out over battle strategies and patterns.

Fjord: Fjord is lovely and my favorite person to watch in battle, because his main combat strategy is, get out of dodge, then distract the enemy away from your friends, then get out of dodge, get your friends out of dodge, shove a healing potion down your unconscious friend’s throat while you’re getting them out of dodge. He’s all for the guerilla warfare, and is understandably upset whenever someone implies that it’s not super noble and heroic looking, because it works, right? Keeps him and everyone alive. So among his signature moves are:

Thunderstep. Which he uses to a) bampf himself and his friends (but mostly his friends) out of harms’ way or b) bampf some help to his friends. And by friends we mostly mean “Caleb” because this poor man needs everyone he can looking after him so he isn’t ground into meat paste in .02 seconds. Routinely holds the spell while Bad Shit Is Happening so that he can use it at the exact right moment.

Major Image. For those times you really want the enemy to be looking the other direction while you get out of dodge, or, to encourage them to massacre the group that is not you (an effective distraction!)

Misty Step. Getting some distance, like a hero.

Summon Greater Demon. For chewing spellcasters he doesn’t like to bits, but mostly for absorbing damage from all the mooks that might otherwise be targeting his squishy friends. 

Beau: Beau is also lovely, so lovely that she takes precisely the opposite approach to Fjord in battle. The nature of what she does means she is in the enemy’s face. Grappled in every other fight (3/4 of fights?) and on the main? Thinks escaping from the grapple is a fuckin’ waste of time. She’s right where she wants to be, punching your lights out, and learning how better to destroy you all the while. And sure, it might be dangerous, especially when the creature holding your limp unconscious body splashes acid whenever it’s damaged, but hey. The logical upgrade to punching ghosts is to be a punching ghost. So for this violent, curious bean, you have:

Sentinel. I’m sorry, did you forget who you were fighting? You’re fighting Beau. You’re not fighting anyone else. And she is going to stay in your face, whether you like it or not.

Step of the Wind. Used less often for running away from things than running towards things, like things she wants to punch. But also for running towards other goals--like the Plank King who can put an end to the fighting on the docks, like her friend who is burning in lava and needs to be rescued. The reason she has so much movement, you see, is so she can drag your sorry ass out of trouble.

Stun. And that’s why she’s not leaving your space. The power that gets all of the worst creatures completely destroyed. Bye bye giants, bye bye Lorenzo, bye bye Krynn warrior--no, fuck! Well, whoever was responsible for offing the spellcaster is responsible for that, not Beau.

Extract Aspects. Wherein her punches and curious nature help her friends fight more effectively. Hey--hey CALEB! They’re not super wise! Wait--is Caleb down again? Fuck! JESTER! They’re not super wise!

Caleb: The easiest way to describe Caleb is to say that he has two battle modes. By and large, he is the nice and helpful support caster, making his friends more powerful and his foes a lot weaker while he ducks as much as he can out of the line of fire. But there’s another side to Caleb....when things truly go to hell, he brings hellfire raining down upon you, giving no fucks about anything but death. Leaves scores of incinerated bodies in his wake. Makes Fjord do a happy jig. So for him, you have:

Haste. Along with expeditious retreat, this is the spell that leads the whole party to just take it as gospel that Caleb is “as fast as balls.” In general, Caleb casts Haste on people less as a kind of strategy and more to display in his kooky way his love or favoritism or Desire for Friendship. Wants to get on Beau’s good side after telling her his secrets? She gets all the hastes. Feels guilty about leaving Nott to nearly get mauled to death by a dragon? She gets Haste. Needs to demonstrate to a stressed-out Fjord that he supports him in these trying times? Haste. And even if it’s not combat, we should never forget Hasted chopsticks to show love and friendship for Jester. Caleb....maybe you should use your words instead of your spell components, yeah?

Slow. Fuck you, you are not attacking his friends. Bye bye multiattack, bye bye, crazy AC. He’s so keen on saving his friends that he never even manages to wait for Caduceus to make landing the spell easier for him. It’s like a debuffing race between those two.

Fireball. From Caleb, fireball is a death sentence. You have the fleeing giant, but also...........all those pirates. All those gnolls. When Caleb casts Fireball, chances are it’s when he’s passed the point of caring about his own well-being and is only interested in fucking up other people. Downed with a crossbow bolt and just barely revived by Fjord, his only thought is to stumble forward, bleeding profusely, and finish what he started--make everything blow up.

Counterspell/Wall of Fire. So far, used in tandem, and to accomplish the same purpose--to put a big middle finger up at other spellcasters. His goal is to block their line of sight to his important people, bonus points if he can also light some people on fire, and if you even think about fucking with his spell he will smack whatever you try to the ground. Even half dead from exhaustion, he’s just better than you, and he’ll let you know it.

Nott: Like Fjord, she is all about guerilla tactics, about distracting and attacking, and hiding to attack again. She really likes attacking, and has the kill count to prove it. Also like Fjord, Nott is invested in the purchase and dispersal of healing potions--to the point where she annoyed him by buying the potions he requested (so that he could give them to people in trouble) only to keep them herself (so that she could give them to people in trouble). But unlike Fjord, she utilizes the running strategy not to get herself or others to safety necessarily, but rather as another form of distraction, to draw attention to herself and away from the others. For her, you have:

Phantasmal Force. The spell most likely to make her turn up her nose at Fjord and say, “but do you need me to make the illusion even more realistic?” She takes a great deal of pride and joy in it. Absolutely wonderful--a spell to distract in creative ways, to control other people to “thinking things that aren’t real,” the targets justify the illusion, and it deals damage! While Nott uses it for distraction, she also employs it for more creative purposes, like making Avantika relax and change priorities by thinking her journal was recovered.

Bonus Action Disengage. Or more strikingly, not disengaging. Nott will run like hell, and she will take the hit so that the people she loves won’t.

Bonus Action Hide. When the going gets tough, crawl behind something and wait it out, or wait for a good shot. Sometimes works brilliantly--other times what you’re hiding in is a burning building or beneath a bridge actively being collapsed on top of you. The moral of the story Nott takes from this is, running is probably better. At which point you do what you’re more used to--dashing. 

Fury of the Small. "That’s my secret. I’m always small.” There’s an interesting commentary to this being a goblin racial trait, because in Nott’s case it probably isn’t fury at things bigger than her so much as fury at being made a goblin, a fury that only grows more potent with time, and more deadly.

Jester: Imagination that kills you, with humor and cuteness! You have to wonder if the pink bits on her dress are floral designs or blood splatters. This woman is a terror, and a person who loves to enter the fray--to the point of picking bar fights with her friends for the thrill of it! You might think, “oh, the cleric wants to get in my face to hurt me, I’ll just make her suffer” but the truth is, the one suffering is going to be you. 

Spiritual Weapon. As Iconic a weapon as Fjord’s falchion, and used a lot more frequently. Bludgeons people until they’re nothing more than bloodstains on the ground. Other clerics wish they were as good. Especially Shakaste. Poor Shakaste.

Invoke Duplicity. There to help her friends whenever Jester can’t--or shouldn’t--get somewhere herself. Will fight furniture when Jester needs to look around for a way to help Fjord. Will walk over lava to harm a giant as a distraction. Will, sometimes, be sent over to heal someone who needs it. The beauty of it is that, besides distracting and protecting, it allows her to be wherever she is most needed for a spell.

Inflict Wounds. Jester likes one thing above all, and it is to fuck people up. She’ll do it through her duplicate or she’ll do it herself, but one way or the other she’s going to wind her hands around you and make you bleed through your eyeballs. She’ll cast it on hydras. She’ll cast it on dragons. She’ll cast it on fire giants. She’ll cast it on her best friend who thought that this was a friendly brawl. And it is. Jester is nearly always friendly when she’s destroying you.

Hellish Rebuke. Unless she’s not being friendly. Once upon a time, she had a quip for when she was attacked. Now she will scream and cry out, and just the sound of it will send icy pain to whoever dared to hurt her.

Caduceus: Of everyone in the M9, the most averse to close combat, or more broadly to making a target of himself, ever. Is surprised and upset whenever creatures get close to him, or get it into their heads to attack him. He’s the support. You shouldn’t even notice he’s there. Here are some bugs--how about you attack those? What do you mean he has to get close to do touch-based healing--nope, nope, healing word it is, and only after people are unconscious to maximize its usefulness.

Hidden Step. He really doesn’t want you to notice that he’s here. If he doesn’t do this, he might try literally sinking into the ground to avoid you.

Bane. The quintessential Caduceus spell. Aptly named for how miserable it makes all his enemies. Works beautifully both for protecting those who are close to the enemy, and gels very nicely with Jester fucking shit up and Fjord distracting the enemy and whatever the hell Caleb is planning to do if....if they fucking wait for him to cast it..............

Sentinel at Death’s Door. He really doesn’t want his friends to die. It’s expensive. And there’s a certain impatient ass of a wizard who just might have died instantly if he hadn’t been hovering around him at the time. Sigh.

Path to the Grave. Caduceus is not one to get his hands dirty. Well, dirt is fine, but not so much the living blood of his foes. No, he likes to deal his damage by proxy, through his bug swarm but especially through Yasha. She already deals so much damage, and isn’t it beautiful to watch her deal twice as much of it? Bonus points if it makes Yasha look like the big scary target, and not him.

Yasha: As always, Yasha is a hard one for me, because I want to distinguish Travis-Yasha from Ashley-Yasha, but the fact of it is I haven’t seen much of Ashley-Yasha for a while. So it’s hard. But there’s one thing in particular that has stood out to me about Yasha and the way she works, and that is 

Rage. Or rather, her hesitation to rage. She’s a fighting machine who isn’t happy being a fighting machine, and there are so many times she chooses not to fly into a rage and start hitting things when she thinks being calm and talking things out is an option. She asks the lightning-creature a question, asks if it was sent from the Stormlord. “Yeah...he’s going to attack you,” Matt says. But that’s the important thing--she didn’t instigate. Ever. She didn’t get angry first. She waits, and tries everything other than the killing, until she’s provoked past the point of reason. You could even argue this as a story justification for her low initiative rolls--she just doesn’t want to get angry and attack. Not unless she has to.

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 99) "Shows in Different Country Codes"

@creatureofthen1ght-v3 @crystalbaby12 @mgkobsessed @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @5sosfam1dlover

Waiting for the Xanax to kick in that Luna had given him in their uber, Colson's leaned back into his seat. A thousand thoughts swirling through his head as he stares out the airplane's window.

"FUCK... I hate leaving them...." He sighs at the thought of Casie and Luna. "I wonder if she got in touch with that planner Emma gave her..." His mind drifting to their weddings. Being more nervous for EstFest, there's a lot to do just festival wise. "I'm glad no one gave me shit about adding the extra day..." He thinks of the vendors. Sighing again, his mind wanders to a place it tries to never go. "Maybe I should call my dad.... He should probably meet Luna...." His heart worries as the Xanax helps his eyes close.

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Luna lands in Mexico City around 5A. She wanders around the gift shop for a moment, buying a new shirt before making her way outside. It's pouring, so she pulls her Yankees hat on backwards before she hops into a taxi.

Once checked in at The Four Seasons, Luna doesn't know what to do with herself. Ashley's sharing a room with Dom, leaving Luna alone. Lighting a joint, she tries on the shirt she bought. Heading into the bathroom, she stands on top of the toilet to Snap Colson.

Finally crawling into bed, Luna flicks on the TV as she lights another joint. Drifting off to the sounds of Parks and Rec once she's put it out.

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The Bus is parked in the back of the venue, Colson's playing The Knitting Factory tonight. In the back of a cab, he catches the Snap from Luna. Laughing out loud at her once he opens it.

"She's so fucking adorable..." His heart aches for her as he pays for and climbs out of his ride.

Opening the door to their bedroom on The Bus, Colson isn't shocked to find Baze and Sam. He's definitely not pleased though.

"Yo. Wake the fuck up and get outta my bed." He states, kicking the bottom of Baze's foot.

Both of them wake with a bit of a startle. Looking at each other, slightly embarrassed. They like to think they're on The Low but everyone knows about them. Silly Wabbits.

"FUCK man... I didn't think you'd be back till later..." Baze says groggily as he collects himself.

"Clearly, Truck." Colson rolls his eyes with a chuckle as he turns around so they can dress.

Not one to cock block but desperately wanting to lay down, he really doesn't care. He knows Luna will though. As they begin to leave his room, Colson calls out a Yo. They both turn but he talks directly to Sam.

"You know she's a cunt.... I'd get these sheets washed before she gets back." He says with a light warning.

Tired, Sam stares at Colson. She hates that he knows Luna well enough to be right.

"I got it." She responds, uncharacteristically trying to hide the annoyance in her voice.

With his door shut, Colson Snaps Luna back before throwing himself down. Hoping to find her smell, he can only find other people in their bed. Pissed, he rips the blankets, sheets and pillow cases off, throwing them out the door.

Grabbing her pillow and tucking his nose inside his hoodie, he catches her faint scent. Images of Luna dancing in his head as he falls asleep.

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Luna wakes up to a hard banging on her door. It's just after 2P. Touching the empty side of her bed, Luna wishes Colson was with her.

Hating The World, she let's them bang. Finding her phone, there's a Snap from Colson.

"He's such a dirty Motherfucker..." Luna thinks with a grin.

The door still pounding.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!! I'M COMING!" She shouts as she climbs out of bed.

Winging the door open, it's Ashley and Dom. Impatient fucking Assholes.

"WHY!?!" Luna demands. "Why the FUCK do you need to bang like that?" Luna complains as she let's them in.

"To wake your bitch ass up." Ashley snarks, pushing her way into the room.

"Mornen' Loons." Dom greets her to her silent nod.

"You really are a DICKFUCK sometimes...." Luna says with annoyance.

"Whatever...." Ashley brushes her off. "Got any bud?" She asks, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah.... But it was shoved up my asshole, so do you really wanna smoke it?" Luna deadpans.

"Shut the fuck up." Ashley laughs as she turns to Dom. "She didn't shove it up her ass." She reassures him.

"Oi... Bum smoke is no problem fo me!" Dom responds, making both Girls laugh.

Dom knowing Them well enough to truly understand the nature of their friendship. Rolling one up as Ashley and Luna climb onto the bed together. Luna's ring catching Ashley's eye for the first time.

"HOLY FUCK! WHAT IS THIS!!!" She exclaims as she grabs for Luna's hand.

Admiring the large, sparkling stone, she moves Luna's hand all around as it catches the light. Shining brighter with every different angle. It's definitely NOT a guitar string.

"He picked this out on his own?" She asks in amazement.

"I think Rook might've helped him a little, but yeah... I had nothing to do with it." Luna answers.

"Good job, Kells." Ashley compliments his choice.

Luna, Ashley and Dom burn and chat. Talking about Colson, the ring, what they've both been up to and the upcoming weddings. It feels like forever since The Girls last saw each other. In reality, it's only been three days since the show at The Roxy.

"Alright... We gotta motor. Go shower, we have rehearsal in less then 2hrs. Come meet us in room 202 when you're ready." Ashley directs Luna.

"Alright......" Luna yawns loudly.

She heads into the bathroom as Ashley and Dom close her door behind them. Lighting another joint, she rails three 30s as she gets ready for the shower. Forgetting to Snap Colson back due to her unexpected visitors.

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

"Cool..." Colson thinks when he finally opens his door. His angry linen fit is gone from the floor. "Thanks Sam...." His brain grateful even if his actions are sometimes dickish.

Walking to the front of The Bus, everyone's lounging, burning and waiting for him. Plopping down next to AJ, he asks Rook to throw him a bag of chips. Colson nonchalantly munches on them as they all talk about tonight's show. Working on the setlist, he hates when he has to cut Bad Things as he finishes his snack.

"Dawg... Raise that shit to your face!!" Slim hollers at the picture on the bag.

Looking at it, Colson asks "What like this?" Lifting it up just under his nose.

The entire Bus erupts into laughter. It fits so perfectly. Colson tosses his phone to Slim.

"Here, take a picture.... We'll see if this is wedding acceptable." He laughs.

Tossing it back after he takes one, Slim laughs out a Definitely Not as Colson shoots Luna a Snap asking the same question. Colson shrugs with amusement... You never know with Loons.

"We ready to fuck this day up?" He asks as he begins to lead the rest of them off of The Bus.

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

Throwing on jeans, with a band T and flannel, Luna has her hair up. Red bandana securing it. Only having one pair of contacts left, she chooses to wear her glasses. The sun being her eyeballs mortal enemy today.

In the front seat of an uber with Ashley and Dom, her phone goes off. It's another Snap from Colson.

What the SHIT!!" Luna can't contain her thoughts or laughter. "Look at this crazy Asshole!!" She laughs.

Screenshotting the Snap before passing it to the backseat. Both of them erupt into laughter also.

"Oi. E wears it so well!!" Dom laughs.

"No... No, he doesn't. He looks like a fucking pornstar." Luna laughs as she takes back her phone.

"Pornstache!!" Ashley laughs out loudly to Luna's hysterical agreement.

Catching the older driver's amused eyes, Luna shows him. Bursting out laughing, he agrees... Yes, I'm sorry but Your Boyfriend Looks Like a PornStar. Tickling Luna's funny bone to the core.

"FUCKING JOHNNY WADS!!!!" She shouts, turning in her seat to look at Ashley before she Snaps Colson back.

She's referring to one of the pioneering PornStars of the 70s. John Holmes. Huge cock. 15 inches... If not more. A wild and extremely violent true story. The two of them watching the movie dozens of times as teenagers. Amongst many others.

Even with with one's own solid influences, false advertisements are still intriguing. Filling their young, rebellious souls. Recommending the fucked up movie to anyone who loves drugs, violence, Val Kilmer and unhappy endings.

"Oooh.. Christ!!! You better hope not, Phoebe!!" Ashley laughs.

"Fuck you... I'd be a Smelly Cat BEFORE a fucking SHARON!!!" Luna flicks her off with a laugh and a grin.

Dom chiming in to sing Smelly Cat as they step out of their cab and head into the venue to rehearse for the Awards Show. The Girls singing along with him.

"Wait... What are we doing and why are we in Mexico again?" Luna asks, slightly confused.

"It's the MTV Latin Millennial Awards." Ashley answers as if Luna's supposed to just get it.

"Annnnnd....?" She leads.

"And I'm nominated and performing. They requested Without Me and Nightmare so you HAVE to be here." She teases Luna while draping her arms around her shoulders from behind.

"But we're not Latina....?" Luna's still confused.l

"Dude... I don't know. I just played the Brazil one a few weeks ago. Without Me is a nominee for Global Hit... Maybe that's why." Ashley shrugs. "We've got more important things to worry about. I want us do some choreography with four dancers."

"You fucking what?" Luna asks in bewilderment.

Ashley has her at an Award Show in Mexico and now she wants her to dance like some fucking pop star. She's gotta be out of her God Damn mind.

"Yeah!!! It'll be fun!! Come meet the girls." Ashley says with a grin as she pulls Luna along.

"Fuck my stupid fucking life...." Is all Luna can think.

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

Colson is rehearsing with The Boys. Deciding to take a Burn&Board Break, they head out back. Reaching into his pocket, he finds a Snap from Luna.

Laughing at her smart ass response and missing her voice, he calls her. It rings straight through. Colson can't resist leaving her a voicemail.

🎶Off that fat ass//Imma do a line or two//Before we//Have our own private shoot//Where I//PornStar Fuck//The shit outta you//Be ready//When you come back//Boo//Cuz it's//Only Bad Things//That we do🎶

Laughing after he finishes, he shouts "LOVE YOU, KITTEN!! CALL ME!" before hanging up.

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Luna's BackStage as Ashley and Dom sit in the audience. She's trying not to freak out over the performance Ashley wants to pull off. Even with Patti making her take ballet and gymnastics, Luna is not a dancer. She's a musician, a songwriter, a photographer, a painter, a sculptor. An artist. You could even call her an activist, a feminist, a bitch and an outlaw. What you can not call her is a professional dancer.

"This is gonna be a fucking shit show...." She worries as she hears Ashley's name called. "OH FUCK!! SHE WON!!!" Luna's brain bursts. Any other thoughts disappearing with the excitement for her bestfriend.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Catching up in the dressing room they're sharing, Luna congratulates Ashley with a tight hug. Popping into the bathroom while Ashley puts on her first outfit, Luna shoots Colson a Snap. Not paying attention to her voicemail as she comes out of the bathroom. She always has an unchecked voicemail.

"Change. We're on next." Ashley instructs her, pointing to the latex and chain garments sitting on a chair.

Wiggling into the tight pieces, Luna checks herself out in the stand up mirror. Her outfit consisting of a latex crop top, VERY small booty shorts with metal chains dangling securely around the hips, fishnets and a pair of Docs. Ashley has the exact same thing on under what looks like a 1980's prom dress.

"You know I'm keeping these right?" Luna asks as she slides her hand up her smooth ass.

"Yeah, I figured..." Ashley laughs as a tiara is placed on top of her head.

"See you out there, Miss 2019." Luna smiles, referring to the sash Ashley's wearing as she makes her way out the door.

Luna double checking herself before following behind. Thinking about Snapping Colson again, she decides to wait. He loves the feel of latex and she'd rather show him in person.

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

Colson's phone goes off just as he's about to silence it. It's Luna.

"Fuck, she's gorgeous...." He thinks staring at her picture. Wanting to put his hands on every inch of the bare skin she's showing. More so on the parts she's not.

"Yo!!! You gotta go!!" Ashleigh hollers at him.

Walking quickly down the hall, Colson Snaps Luna back before heading OnStage. Grabbing his guitar, he shouts to the crowd WHAT UP EST FAM!!!! making the factory explode in excitement.

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Ashley presents Without Me almost as a performance piece. Standing alone OnStage in her pretty dress, sash and tiara initially until black, shadowy figures begin to push and pull at her. By the end of the song, they've ripped the gown off of her. Leaving her on the floor.

The lights go down as the opening chords to Nightmare come on. Ashley running to the MainStage to meet Luna. It's a long runway with a large circular stage at the bottom.

Luna and Ashley bounce in between the four similarly dressed dancers. Ashley kicking her leg out high as she begins.

🎼I!🎶

She shouts the opening chorus as the two of them run, bounce and jump down the straight away towards the camera. Of course it's being televised. Stopping MidStage, the dancers squat down. Surrounding them as Luna hits her mark.

🎶I'm out for blood//And it won't be sweet🎶

She sings, dragging her hands around her body as the dancers and Ashley tilt their heads back and forth to the beat. On que the six of them stalk to the center of the stage, Ashley and Luna in the middle. Back to back the dancers pull at them as Luna bellows.

🎶Society has us//Pinching our skin//With our own fingers//Wishing we could//Cut our parts off//With some scissors🎶

None of their performances together are the same but they do carry similar tones. Luna and Ashley still mocking each other about Giving Each Other A Smile. Instead of jumping wildly, they move in sync with the dancers to their sides. Fire exploding as they drop out and let the audience shout that WE DON'T OWE YOU A GOD DAMN THING!

The six of them sit down on the ground, sat behind the other like a human train. Leaning forwards and backwards as Ashley sings how she's No Sweet Dream But A HELL Of Night. Standing up and collectively circling around Luna and Ashley, the dancers move behind them as Luna comes in again.

🎶No, I won't smile//But I'll show you my teeth//And I might let you breathe//If you just let Us be//We've been polite//But we're done with this trend//Of men thinking//They can tell Us//What we can do in our beds🎶

Rolling their hips and hitting different moves together on certain lyrics, the choreography isn't nearly as awful as Luna had anticipated. Fire bursting around them as they squat and move easily with the dancers. The performance rolling smoothly.

"Thank you, Mexico City!! Thank you for having us. Thank you for the honor of my award..." Ashley shouts to the crowd as the song begins to come to it's end.

Luna comes up to Ashley, putting her arm around her. Looking at each other, Luna turns back to the room.

"Yes!! Thank you!! This woman here is AMAZING!! Can you do one thing for her? On this last verse can you go WILD!?!" Luna asks to their roars. "THEN, HERE WE GO!!!!"

Ashley and Luna sing together strong and fierce. Fire and lights exploding around them. Fuck the choreography, they're fully enjoying losing their minds OnStage together. To their credit, the dancers are completely professional and stay on point. Somehow managing to avoid crashing into the Maniacal Girls

🎶I!//KEEP A RECORD//OF THEIR WRECKAGE//AND THEIR LIES//WE'RE STARTEN' TO WEAPONIZE//OUR POWERFUL MINDS//THEY TALK SHIT//BUT//WE WON'T TAKE IT//THIS TIME//AND//THEY'LL FINALLY REALIZE🎶

Coming together again, arms linked around each other and the dancers waists, The Girls yell in unison with a wave.

"THAT WE'RE NO SWEET DREAM BUT WE'RE A HELL OF A NIGHT!!! THANK YOU AGAIN, MEXICO CIIIIITYYYY!!!"

The two bestfriends laughing and holding hands as they walk OffStage. Thanking and complimenting the dancers along their way.

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

"THROW THOSE HORNS UP AND SIIINGIIING!" Colson shouts as he grips the mic, guitar hanging from his body.

🎶Woah, Woah//She said//You need to let me go//Woah, woah//She said I'd die for you//You're like my drug//But I can't get high off you//You're not mine anymore🎶

His Est Family erupting with him as they sing along word for word Let You Go with him. There is NOTHING like thousands of people singing your words along with you.

The Band runs through El Diablo and Rap Devil. Colson climbing onto the top of Rook's kit hitting a guitar solo during Alpha Omega. Bad Motherfucker follows with them finally ending on 27.

It's a great show. The Boys are raw and fearless. Colson jumping and climbing on everything he can find. Shouting THANK YOU, IDAHO! as they exit the stage.

Without Luna there Colson feels a bit lost. Heading straight BackStage, avoiding his dressing room. Grabbing a beer, he slams a shot with The Crew. Random Girls floating in around them. Falling all over themselves to get to Rook, Slim, AJ, Baze and Colson.

Sam is sitting on a couch between Colson and Baze talking about tonight's show, if anyone's heard from Luna and other random stuff. It's when two girls slither over, each perching themselves on the arm rest next to one of the boys. Touching them to get their attention.

Sam looks left. Then Sam looks right. Reaching in her back pocket, she pulls out her blade. Popping it, she looks back and forth between the two females again.

"I'd get the fuck up if you cunts like your tits." She states with a snarl.

The two quickly moving away as Colson laughs. Sam and Luna truly are two peas in a pod. Looking over he catches Baze kiss Sam's cheek. It makes him miss his LunaTic even more.

"Knock it off." He tells them. "If I'm not getting any, neither are you motherfuckers. Now, let's get FUCKED UP!!" Colson declares as he grabs a bottle of Jack.

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

Luna's doing the same. Only in Mexico with Corona and Mezcal. Sitting at an After Party with Ashley, Dom, the boys from BTS and a few other artist, they bullshit and talk about the night. Everyone stopping to congratulate Ashley on her win and compliment both Girls on their performances.

"You won't eat the worm..." Ashley dares Luna as she swigs the bottle with the little guy floating inside.

"Nothing happens if you do...." Luna blows her off.

"Yes hunh.... You start trippen'. Isn't that right, Luis?" She asks as she turns to one of the other artist.

"For dayyys, Mami..." He drawls.

Rolling her eyes, Luna takes the last of the fifth to the head. The other's watching with wide eyes as the worm slides down her throat with it.

"We'll see... But I call bullshit." Luna states.

"Aye..." Luis nudges Ashley. "She's no gallina." He says impressed to her nod.

"Nah, mucho perra." Luna counters to his surprise.

"Aye...." He grins with his own nod, amused by the tiny white girl.

The music is loud as smoke and Mezcal continue to flow. Everyone is drunk. Ashley tries to follow with Dom as Luis teaches Luna to salsa. Politely declining his advances as his hand slips from the small of her back down to her ass.

"I'll be back...." She calls over her shoulder as she goes to check her phone.

There's a Snap from Colson hours ago.

Both sets of Luna's cheeks instantly flush when she reads his words. Missing him, she calls instantly.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Hi, Bunny...." Her voice is low and warm when he answers.

"Oooh, Kitten. I miss you." He sighs.

"Me too... I miss your face. And your eyeballs. And your hands on my body. The way they run threw my hair when I suck your cock..."

Colson's dick had perked up at the sound of her voice but her words have him full on hard now. Wanting to fuck her, touch her.... Shit, just seeing her right now would probably make him cum.

"Where are you?" He demands

"I don't know.... Somewhere in Mexico?" She answers.

"Find somewhere alone and FaceTime me right back." He tells her firmly.

"Okay." She simply says as she hangs up.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Luna heads towards the stairwell. Popping in her air pods, she FaceTime's Colson right back.

Colson had made his way into a bathroom while they were off the phone. Answering, he can't help but break out into a smile.

"Hey, Gorgeous... You alone?" He asks after greeting her.

"Mhmm... Just me and your pussy." She coos. "She's lonely without you...."

"Show her to me." Colson taunts as he adjusts his phone on the bathroom sink and unbuckles his pants. Both of them are drunk and horny.

Luna props her phone against the wall across from her. Standing up, she slips off the black jean shorts she has on. Sitting on them, she drops her left leg on the step below and lifts her right to the one above. Spreading her legs for Colson. Only a screen and Luna's black panties separating them.

"I want you to touch her." He requests as he starts to pull on his hard cock.

Luna can see him playing with himself through the phone. Obliging him, she pulls the cotton to the side. Exposing her bare lips. Opening them for him to see her pink insides. Colson tugs harder on himself as Luna slips her fingers inside her sopping cunt. Letting out a low moan as she arches her back.

"That's right, Kitty... Play with my pussy. Rub that clit with your thumb the way I know you like." He directs her.

Following directions, Luna uses her free hand to yank the Japanese Star Wars shirt she has on up. Exposing her full breasts. With her fingers still inside of herself, she grips one tit. Playing with it's piercing between her thumb and index finger. The sight of his ring on her hand makes Colson rage even more.

"Does that feel good?" He pants as he watches her, feeling close to exploding.

"Unh hunh.... She moans with closed eyes as she bucks against her own hand. "Be better if my mouth had your cock in it." She lets out with another moan, she's close too.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard you can't fucking walk by time I'm done with you." Colson threatens to Luna's delight as he grips the sink.

With Colson's deep voice wrapping around her brain and the memory of his touch hitting all her senses Luna cries out for him as they masturbate for each other.

"AHHHH FUCK! DO IT, LOONS!!" He shouts as his dick shoots his seed everywhere, keeping his eyes glued to the screen.

Luna's spread eagle as she finger fucks herself on the steps. Bucking wildly as her hands please her body. Cumming all over herself as Colson watches in pleasure.

Out of breath, Luna opens her eyes. "Fuck, C....." Is all she can get out as her knees fall together.

"Lemme see her one more time.... Bring her close." He instructs.

Opening her legs back up, Luna pulls her phone up to her box. She can hear Colson telling her pussy that She's A DIRTY Girl. Looking down when she hears him making kissing noises, all she can see is his lips. He's kissing his phone screen.

"Are you trying to kiss my fucking vagina?" Luna asks with a drunken laugh.

"Damn right I am." He grins.

"I fucking love you." She laughs again as she shakes her head.

"Not as much as I love you. Now put your fucking pants back on before I have to kill someone." He smirks.

Doing as she's told, Luna slips her shorts back on over her soaked panties. Staring at each other, both of their heads are dancing in ecstasy.

Luna and Colson sit on the phone for another 45mins just talking. About anything and everything as usual. Luna telling him about the choreographed performance. Colson chuckling, saying He'll Be Finding It On YouTube to Luna's Fuck. Agreeing to meet in Seattle tomorrow, they exchange sweet Love and I Miss Yous before hanging up.

***********************************************

"Jesus fucking Christ, that girl can make me cum from ANYWHERE!" Colson thinks as he walks out of the bathroom contently.

***********************************************

"Holy cock on a cracker...." Luna sighs to herself. "That fucking voice gets me every time...." She thinks as her heart throbs for her Lover.

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

Still on the same continent, they both head back to their respected parties separately. Colson eventually moving his party to The Bus. Luna moving her's back to The Four Seasons.

He'll ride through the night while she'll fly out tomorrow. Bringing Dom and Ashley with her.

Even apart, they're still on each other's minds. Even with shows in different country codes, they still mange to fuck only each other.

Truly showcasing A Day In The Life of a LunaTic and Her Gunn.

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

To be continued.....

[an-unknown-writers-world]

The Little Things

Day Two: Decorating the Tree

Part of @panicfob​ 25 Days of Christmas Challenge

Warnings: Angst,  

Paring:  Bucky Barnes x Reader (First Person-nameless)

Word Count: 1798

A/N: Thank you fo all the wonderful feedback on Christmas Cookies, it means so much! If you missed it you can find it here, but for now, enjoy the slow burn.

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

**Crash**

A loud thud echoed through the foyers causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. Afraid someone might have been hurt I abandoned my post decorating the dining room. This was my first Christmas at the compound, and I seemed to be the only one with any holiday spirit even after making cookies with Morgan. When I asked Sam and Bucky to pick up a tree, I couldn’t help but laugh at the childish tantrums I was met with. Rounding the corner, I was met with Sam and Bucky’s bickering and the smell of fresh pine.

“You’re going to break it,” Sam grumbled.

“You can’t break a tree.” Bucky retorted.

“Why are you such an idiot? If you ruin this tree, she’s going to ruin your face.”

I laughed breaking up the argument.

“This better be big enough. We’re not going back.” Bucky eyeballed the tree.

Bucky stood the tree up giving me a clear image of it; a beautiful noble fir tree, perfectly shaped from top to bottom and standing near seven feet tall.

“It’s perfect.” I beamed.

“Perfect, then you can help him set it up,” Bucky grumbled before storming off.

“Thank you,” I called out as he walked away.

He waived his in response but never turned back.

“He hates me,” I mumbled to Sam in disappointment.

“Don’t worry about it. He hates everyone.” Sam reassured. “Where do you want it?”

I pointed to the tree stand already set up in the sitting room. It wasn’t commonly used in group settings, let’s face it, there aren’t many group events here. But I’m determined to change that this Christmas.  “Thank you, Sam.”

“You hold and I’ll tighten?” He smiled.

I nodded,

It only took a few minutes for him to situate the tree into the stand, there were several huffs and grunts as he tried to situate it. It probably would have been a little smoother if Bucky would have stayed to help. We stepped back to admire Sam’s handy work. He may not be in the holiday spirit, but he at least wasn’t fighting me every step of the way like Bucky was. I thought Bucky might have been a little more on my side after yesterday with Morgan, but that clearly wasn’t the case. Bruce came and went as needed, but he was gone more often than not; and Wanda, she tried her hardest to be present, but she spent a lot of her time alone or with Clint on his family’s ranch.

“Thanks again, Sam.”

“Sure thing,” He hesitated for a moment, “You’re not gonna make me help decorate it, right”

I laughed shaking my head, “No, I’ll do it.”

Sam kissed my cheek and disappeared down the corridor.

It left me alone in my own thoughts, standing to look at the plain tree standing in an already decorated room. I was questioning if I was making the right decision, this time of year was hard on most people, especially someone like Bucky who has lost everything. Christmas now days was incredibly different than it was in the forties, and I imagine Christmas wasn’t exactly a top holiday in Hydra bases. I tried to rack my brain on things that might make this special for Bucky, that may try to bring the Grinch some joy in this hard time.

I leaned against the archway and pulled out my phone to utilize the best piece of technology ever created – Google. It didn’t take long to find a classic recipe for Christmas cookies, it was one I actually remembered my Grandmother making when I was a child. Looking over it I found I had all the ingredients but one. I looked at the clock and decided I had enough time that I could run to the store, eat dinner and make cookies and have plenty of time to decorate the tree tonight.

 **** A few hours later ****

It was dark outside, city lights illuminated the skyline beyond the trees outside the compound, the only sound was Christmas music that played on my phone while took the lids off all the decoration boxes, they were a surprise from Pepper; when she found out about my love for Christmas her motherly instinct kicked in and she wanted to help spread the cheer with the team. They had been delivered this afternoon while I was the grocery store, Bucky was nice enough to at least get them into the sitting room, and either he or Sam had wrapped the tree in lights already.

A soft light fell in the room from the foyer, but it was still mostly dark, lit mostly by the beautiful white lights from the tree. I grew up decorating the tree with my parents and brother so the thought of decorating it alone was a little depressing. I grabbed my Mimosa glass and took a drink from it staring at the tree. All of the balls for the tree were red, blue, gold and white – an obvious nod to those we were missing this Christmas. One box had nine hand decorated balls, cleared painted by Morgan and seemed to pay tribute to those lost and those of us still around.

“You know it won’t decorate itself,” Bucky said walking in the room.    

I jumped feeling like my heart ripped right out of my chest.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He said coming to sit on the edge of the couch.

“It’s okay, I thought everyone was asleep.”  I shrugged.

“Tried.”

His presence was distracting, to say the least, his white V-neck clung to his chest and his black sweats hung low on his hips.

“Did I wake you?” I asked.

He shook his head no.

I put my glass down and picked up a strand of garland, “Wanna help?” I asked.

Bucky looked at me slightly unimpressed.

“Oh wait!” I exclaimed. “Stay right here.”

I ran out of the room before he could respond. Grabbing the plate of cookies from the counter I made my way back into the sitting room. It was hard to miss the smile that broke out on his face, it was a magical sight that was rarely seen.

“Are these?” He broke off.

“Nutmeg Cookie Logs.” I finished. “My grandmother used to make them when I was a kid.” I hesitated, handing him the plate. “I can only imagine how hard this time of year is for you, everything you’ve been through and lost.  These, I guess I just hope maybe remind you of some happy times in your life.”

He took the plate from me, our hands briefly overlapping.

“Thank you,” Bucky smiled at me genuinely, “This is great, really great.”

I couldn’t help the bit of pride the welled up in me, I was going to take this as a victory; a small one, but a victory none the less. Directing my attention back to the tree I started taking the Morgan painted balls out handing three of them to Bucky.

“I think you should be the one to hang these,” I said softly.

The Christmas balls had Caps Shield, Natasha’s hourglass and Bucky’s star on them. He looked down at them with a bittersweet smile, taking them from my hands.

“Pepper had to have helped with these,” Bucky said hanging them.

“Totally,”

“I saw what she did with those cookies,” He laughed, “This had to have been highly supervised.”

“Hey, we supervised.” I retorted hanging some of the plain colored balls.

To my surprise Bucky continued to hang ornaments on the tree, the colors balanced and beautifully arranged. He softly hummed along with the music that played in the background, it was a Bing Crosby Christmas album. It was sweet moments like this that reminded me why I stayed, through the terrible sleepless nights from both of our nightmares, the days that neither of us would talk, and the constant battle between him and Sam.

“Hey, Buck,” I asked moving the empty containers out of the way.

“Yeah, doll?”

I smiled at the endearment, “Did you hang these lights?”

He paused and looked at me, his hand nervously rubbing at the back of his neck, “Yea, ‘s no big deal though.”

I smiled at him, “Thank you, I never could have gotten them so even and straight.”

He smiled back at me and grabbed a cookie from the plate.

“Growing up my dad was always the one who hung the lights and then left the decorating to my brother and me.” I laughed a little, “My mom always went back in behind us kids to rearrange the ornaments. But when we were finally done decorating us kids would lay under the tree and look up through the lights.”

“Sounds like a nice tradition.”

I sighed standing back to look at the now full tree, “It was.”

Bucky looked at me, “You miss them.” It wasn’t a question.

I nodded, “I’ve never been a touchy person, but my dad used to give the best hugs in the world. They were the kind of hugs that you could feel in your soul, they’d fix any problem you had even if it was just for a few seconds.” I looked up, “Steve’s were a pretty close match.”

Bucky smiled, “He must have been a pretty great man to have a daughter like you.”

“He was,” I smiled back. “He was my hero.

We both fell silent as we looked at the tree. I knew I should say something, but I wasn’t sure what. The tree looked beautiful and the room felt Christmasy, I was afraid I’d mess it up if I did anything. Rather than risk it, I bent down to pick up my now empty glass and decided to head to bed.

“I think I’m going to head to bed,” I turned to him. “Thank you for your help tonight, Bucky.”

“Sure thing,” He smiled back.

“Goodnight,”

“Night,”

I walked to the kitchen to dispose of my glass in the sink before making it back towards the stairwell in the foyer. Just barely passing the archway of the sitting room I heard my name be called, turning back I saw Bucky step out.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“I know its not the same and I could never replace either of them, not that I’m trying to, that’s definitely not what I’m trying to do here,” He was babbling, it was cute and endearing.

“Bucky,” I said softly trying to get him to refocus.

“Sorry,” He smiled, “What I was trying to say was, anytime you need a hug I am happy to oblige.”

I smiled back at him, that was not at all what I was expecting. “That means a lot, thank you.”

“Sweet dreams,” Bucky said before turning back into the sitting room.

[frombeginingtoend]

Program and Control - Stefan Butler

Summary: Graphic artist (y/n)(l/n) has worked on numerous games with Colin Ritman. When Stefan comes in to present Bandersnatch, (y/n) helps him complete the less story oriented parts of his game.

Notes/Warnings: slow burn-ish, language

Word Count: 3k

---

July 9th, 1984

Your alarm screeched, jolting you from a peaceful slumber. A heavy groan left your chest as you realized you needed to work. You were exhausted, and you wanted an extra ten minutes that you could rarely indulge in.

Sleep In | Get Up

You clicked the snooze button, eyes slipping closed and allowing those prized extra minutes. However, all good things must come to an end. In this case, a very loud end.

You took a deep breath as you sat up, massaging the back of your neck. You were not ready to go into work. Mainly you just didn't want to deal with Mohan, but what must be done, must be done.

Still bleary-eyed, you searched through the closet for something that matched.

A dissatisfied sneer crossed your face when you looked at your reflection. "Yeah, that's about as good as it's gonna get." A small smiled pulled at the edges of your chapped lips as you adjusted your dad's old bomber jacket. You looked back at the clock to realize half an hour had already passed. "Shit!" If you didn't hurry you'd miss the bus.

You slammed into the walls on your way out, hopping into your shoes as you left the house. Luckily they didn't have laces, and you could run without much difficulty. You got to the bus stop without breaking anything or twisting your ankle, which was surprising based on your clumsy history with those very shoes.

Entering TuckerSoft drained every stray remnant of adrenaline in your blood.

"Hey, Colleen," you called, waving at the receptionist. She said hi back, an undertone of distaste in her voice. You have no clue why she didn't like you, but she seemed to have decided that by the first time you met.

You flopped into your chair as quickly as you could, not wanting to be on your feet anymore.

"You're late," Colin commented, keeping his eyes on his screen, probably scrutinizing his code, trying to weed out a flaw. "And who, exactly, are you trying to impress with that number?" He peered around his computer, looking at you over the rims of his glasses.

You looked at the button down and tight slacks you picked out this morning. "Am I not allowed to dress nicely for myself?"

"I'll never understand you," Colin murmured under his breath as he turned back to his code, to which you rolled your eyes and smirked.

While getting your supplies from your desk to continue the mock-ups for the game Colin was working on, you heard your names being mentioned. Across the room was Mohan and a young looking man who fidgeted when he looked over at you.

You smiled and waved before turning back to your work.

"Looks like you've got a fan," you casually mentioned to Colin. You put on your headphones and played a cassette, drowning out the noises of everyone around you.

A tap on your shoulder made you jerk, scratching a line of graphite across your current project. You slid the headphones off with a heavy sigh. "What is it, Ritman?"

"You coming with?"

"No, I'm- I need to get this done." You gestured to the concepts for his newest game. "Fill me in if he gets the job. I'll probably be forced to work on his game."

"Will do." Colin pat you on the back before following the other two into the conference room.

You watched as the group of three walked into the conference room. The kid paused for a moment, looking in your direction. You waved once more, shot him a double thumbs up, and mouthed good luck.

His chest rose with a heavy breath before he nodded and continued through the doors.

Maybe twenty minutes passed before the three men exited the conference room.

"(Y/n)," Mohan called, "I'm sure you'll be glad to know we're picking up Stefan's game! You'll head the art department on it."

"Head it?"

"Well, if we get any other artists on it, yeah, but you're in charge. Just follow Stefan's lead."

You were left nodding like a broken animatronic from It's A Small World, knowing that you shouldn't have expected anything more from Mohan Thakur.

The next few months felt like a blur. You felt as if everything was going more and more downhill as the project progressed. You worried not only for yourself, but for Stefan as well, whom you ended up building a bond with.

He started inviting you over after work, but it tended to revolve around the game rather than personal matters. You wouldn't be opposed to admitting you had a crush on him. He had divulged his thoughts to you on many occasions. You even helped him remember to take his medication. After spending months together, it felt natural to connect like that.

But that was just one part of it.

All the heads working on Bandersnatch made the game feel like more of a clusterfuck than a branching story. You ended up making thirty different final images for it. All of them were shot down by the team until the last one, which you hated.

When the review came out, you waited anxiously with Stefan for at least some good response. However, that's not what happened. The coconut-headed son of a bitch gave the game two and a half stars.

You squeezed Stefan's hand, hoping to keep him calm.

"I need to try again."

"Stefan, what do you-"

"I need to try again."

He stormed off to his bedroom, leaving you in the living room with his dad.

July 9th, 1984

Your alarm screeched, and a pit grew in your stomach. Something felt off today. You'd had this feeling before, and for some reason the whole day felt like it had already passed.

Sleep In | Get Up

You were exhausted, and you wanted an extra ten minutes that you could rarely indulge in, but a pit in your stomach urged you to get up.

You took a deep breath as you sat up, massaging the back of your neck. You were not ready to go into work. Mainly, you just didn't want to deal with Mohan, but what must be done, must be done.

Still bleary-eyed, you searched the closet for something that matched.

Giving the outfit a once over in the mirror, you yawned. "That's 'bout as good as it's gonna get." You pulled at the edges of the bomber jacket, reminded of your late father. A reminiscent smile pulled at the corners of your lips.

You didn't need to rush this morning, so you decided to walk to work. Normally you waited for the bus, which got you there only two minutes before you were supposed to be, but you could likely walk there and be earlier. As a matter of fact, you were even able to stop and get coffee.

You entered the building without much of a care. You enjoyed your job, but work is work. Really, you didn't want to deal with Mohan's demands. Every once in a while it seemed he forgot that you were an artist and not an assistant.

You got into the elevator, deciding the normal route up the stairs would be too long for you to handle the hot cups in your hands. As the doors close you hear someone shout, "Wait, hold the door!"

Hold the Elevator | Let the Doors Close

Your foot shot out without you having to think about it. The sensor stopped the doors half way through their journey and pushed them back.

"Thank you," the young man said, shifting his backpack and staring at the ground. You smiled when you realized who this might be.

"Are you Stefan? Stefan Butler?"

His head shot up, mop of curly hair bouncing. "Uh, yeah. How do- how do you know me?"

"Right, sorry. I'm (y/n). I work at TuckerSoft. I design concept and promotional art. Mister Thakur told me you'd be in to demo." You rose both your coffee laden hands. "I'd shake your hand, but..." you nodded to the coffee, and he smiled, a little blush creeping to his cheeks.

"You did the art for Metl Hedd, right?" he asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." Your chest swelled with pride at his acknowledgment. No one seemed to care about your role in the games the great Colin Ritman created.

"Hey hey! You must be, uhh, Steven." Mohan called when the elevator doors opened.

"Stefan," you corrected, passing both men to get to your desk.

"It's alright, really. I get it all the time," you heard Stefan assure.

"Colin," you sat on his desk, "I have a gift." He looked away from his monitor, raising his eyebrows. He didn't say anything, just left it open for you to speak. "Coffee: black, three sugars."

"Wonderful, thank you, (y/n)." He turned back to his game, coffee already pressed to his lips. "You look nice today," he commented offhandedly.

"Since when do you care about what I look like?" you questioned with a chuckle.

"Since I realized you care."

You were taken by surprise. You never took Colin for the type of guy to care very deeply for people, but then again, he had Kitty and Pearl. He kept them out of the limelight, safe, treasured them, and made sure they both knew how much he cared about them. You supposed, maybe, he could care about his desk partner and friend like a sibling.

"Colin! I'd like you to meet Stefan..." Mohan looked at the aforementioned boy for his last name, which was murmured for him to repeat. "Butler."

Colin offered the two to look at what he was working on: Nohzdyve, but seconds into the demonstration, it crashed.

"What was that?" Mohan asked.

"Eyeball sprites overshot the video memory," Stefan quickly answered.

"How did you know that?" Colin gave Stefan, who merely shrugged, a suspicious glance.

"Anyway, you have a game for us. Let's go." Mohan lead the men to the conference room. Colin stopped before closing the door, gesturing for you to come with. You gestured to the graphite drawings, but Colin gave you a disapproving look. You hustled to get there, recieving a pat on the shoulder when you passed Colin.

Stefan gave a short demo, very compelling and interesting. A choose your own adventure with given choices that interwove to create one massive story. Just like the original book.

"Don't worship him," you bartered. "He's the thief of destiny."

"You've read Jerome F. Davies?"

"Of course, he was a genius." You shared a smile.

"Didn't he go bonkers and cut his wife's head off?" Mohan asked.

"People do tend to focus on that, yes," Colin replied. However, Mohan didn't seem to care as he snatched the controller out of Stefan's hands and selected an option. The screen went blank.

"What's with that?"

"Well, I haven't programmed that path yet."

"So there's gonna be multiple paths?" Mohan asked.

"It's... going to be like the book." Stefan almost seemed confused as to how oblivious Thakur appeared.

"Amazing. When can you start?"

"You... you mean you're interested?"

"Yeah! Write it here! We can put together a small team just for you, and if course Colin will be here. What do you say?"

Stefan was silent, a huge smile across his face as he took in the offer. "No," he said cheerily. "I mean yes. I mean..." he took a deep breath, "I just think that I need to work on it alone, y'know. It's just, I've got it all in my head, and I feel like, if I have more people working on it, it'll get all... stressy."

Mohan looked irritated, but understanding. He'd worked with Colin long enough to understand a creative genius doesn't bode well in groups. He accepted the offer with the exception that it be finished by November eighteenth.

Before you were able to leave the conference room, Mister Thakur stopped you.

"I want you working on the artwork for Bandersnatch. Are you up for the job?"

You really didn't want to take on the additional game, but you knew it would mean a raise, and you did feel some strange form of obligation to Stefan. Still, the work load of two games- working with two separate minds- was going to be a heavy burden. You wanted to decline the offer but

Accept | Decline

You couldn't. "Of course, Mister Thakur."

November, 1984

You stared at the pages of drawings. Tears stung your eyes, throat tight, and screams being swallowed by your stubbornness. Your jaw ached from grinding it together so much, and your hands cramped from their hours of exercise. The next stroke on the paper broke the graphite tip of a freshly sharpened pencil.

You threw it down onto the desk, head falling into your hands. Tears finally slipped between your tightly clenched eyelids. Hair tugged against your scalp, pulled by your fists. No feelings other than anger pulsed through your veins.

Yell | Break Something

A guttural growl left your throat as you bolted to your feet. The backs of your knees collided with the chair, sending it tumbling to the ground with a loud clatter. Chest heaving,

It didn't take long for you to gather your things and head to Stefan's. He told you his address in case you ever needed to stop by for consultation with the artwork.

You would admit that showing up at his door in the middle of the night made you feel a bit awkward. You'd been here a few times before, for the original consultation for the cover work and other times to give him company. He showed you some of the sketches he made himself as well as the sprites and art from Davies himself.

Each time you came over, sitting in his living room, at the kitchen table, or on his bed, you found yourself growing more and more attached. Standing in front of the red door now was making you nervous. You had never showed up uninvited before.

You knocked, hoping he wasn't in the bathroom or so into what he was doing that he couldn't hear you.

When the door swung open, it wasn't Stefan.

"I'm sorry. Is Stetan Butler here?"

"Yeah, I'm his dad. Do you need me to get him for you?" Stefan's father asked, gesturing an extended thumb behind him.

"Actually, would I be able to come in? I have a few questions about his game that could help me finish the art."

"So, you're the artist he's always going on about! Come in, come in. Stefan's room is upstairs. I'll show you."

"Oh! Actually, I-I know where it is, but thank you."

You made your way up the stairs, quiet and very conscious of Stefan's father watching you with incredulous eyes.

His door opened with a soft creak, alerting him but not giving him a reason to turn around.

"I don't need any tea, dad."

"Good, I didn't bring any." You took a seat at the end of his bed.

Stefan could have broken his neck with the speed his head spun to face you. "(Y/n)! What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood. Figured I'd stop in to check on you, and," you gestured to the scattered papers and his disheveled state, "it looks like you've been at it for a while, Stefan. Maybe you should take a break."

"No, I-I need to finish this last bit. I have to finish this route."

"That route's gonna turn into three, then five, then eight. You need a break. Just for tonight. Get some sleep. I'll stay here, make you breakfast in the morning." You stood from his bed, your arms wrapped around yourself. Stefan's gaze fell to the keyboard as he took deep breaths. Was he trying to calm himself down?

"Why are you doing this?" His eyes, like his hands, clenched shut. "Why won't you just leave me alone and let me work?"

Reason | Let Him Work

"Because I'm worried, Stefan. We may have only met a few months ago, but I care about you. I'm scared that if I don't force you to stop, you're going to run yourself into the ground."

"I have to! If I don't spend all my time on this it will never get done, and then we wont be able to release it. I'll have wasted all of this time with noth-"

"Stefan, look at me." He kept rambling. "Stefan." You turned his chair toward you, one hand above his shoulder, the other on the arm of the chair. Your faces were now mere inches apart. That jittery feeling in your chest came back as you met his green gaze. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed down his nerves.

Your view drifted from his large pupils to his pink lips, warm breath ghosting his skin. After a slight hitch in your breath, you leaned in to capture his lips with your own.

His hands hovered over your hips before settling and roaming your back. Subconsciously, your own hands migrated to his jaw, and your legs situated on either side of his. You tugged on the dark curls at the base of Stefan's skull, eliciting a groan. His lips followed yours as you pulled away, greedy and yearning for your touch.

"What are we doing?" you whispered.

"I don't know, but it feels right. This is the only choice I've made in the last six months that feels so right." He stroked a thumb across your cheek. His mind was entirely enamored by you. You: gentle and caring, intoxicating, unique, his lapse from the confused, garbled darkness of his head. Of all the things to get lost in, you were by far the best.

"Why don't you take a break."

Stefan nodded and muttered, "yeah, okay." He let you pull him from the desk chair. He smiled when you pulled back the sheets of his bed, clearly meant for one person, and positioned yourself to cuddle with him. He pressed his back snug against your chest, letting you wrap an arm around his waist. His eyes slid closed just as you pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. He drifted to sleep with a smile on his lips.

[thdorkmagnet]

Chapter 11: Masquerade

Summary: His whole life Marco Diaz has been raised by monsters, living under the cruel rule of their leader, Toffee. But one day Marco escapes into Mewni where he meets a magical princess and Mewman like himself, who begins teaching him all about her world. Together they will learn about life, love, and the lights within each of them, as they change their world forever.

Chapter Synopsis: The Orphan’s Ball begins!! Now Star must pick someone to dance with, will she be swept off her feet by a masked boy in a fancy suit? You already know the answer. ;)

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Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters are owned by Daron Nefcy and Disney. All rights go to them.

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The ballroom was packed as the three friends approached, everyone all dressed up in expensive looking tuxes or ballgowns, the room alive with festive energy. The second they stepped through the doors, Marco began scanning the crowd for any signs of Star but saw no sign of the lively blond anywhere in the crowd. Jackie and Janna led Marco quietly along, pushing their way through the party-goers, Jackie keeping a firm hold of Marco's hand, the masked boy too distracted by all the sights and sounds around him to keep an eye on where he was going. Finally the three reached a relatively secluded spot and all took a moment to catch their breath from their claustrophobia. “Where's Star?” Marco finally asked the two, his inquisitive eyes still scanning the crowd around him, standing on his tip-toes to try and get a better a look around.

“Don't worry, Marco, it just started, there's still plenty of time for you two to dance,” Jackie comforted, smiling at the boy's antics.

“Yeah, the night is still young, so just relax and play it cool,” Janna added, putting her hands on his shoulders, holding him still.

Marco took a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah, okay. You're right.” Suddenly Marco froze, seeing a strange sight next to him.

“Um guys, there's a... thing here and it's... staring at me,” Marco whispered and the two followed his gaze to a floating eyeball, hovering off to the side of them, it's large eye trained on the three friends.

“Seeing-Eye-Cam,” Jackie and Janna said as one, Marco looking to the two with confusion.

“The what?”

“It's a recording device, Marco,” Jackie explained. “It films whatever it sees and uploads the image onto magic mirrors. We actually have something similar to this on Earth. Just... less creepy.”

“Why is it staring right at us?” Marco quietly whispered to the girls, keeping a weary eye on the device, nervously trying to hide behind the skater girl.  

“Relax,” Janna said, taking a step forward and tapping the device. “It's not filming yet. It'll only be active during Star's dance.”

Marco breathed a sigh of relief, stepping out from behind the skater. “Oh that's good... Wait! That thing's gonna be recording Star's dance!” The boy exclaimed, sounding nervous again.

“Don't worry about it Marco,” Jackie comforted. “You'll do great.”

But now Marco was anxious once again. How could he dance with Star now? He didn't even know how yet. What if he messed up in front of everyone? What if he made Star look bad? What if-

But Marco's pestering thoughts were interrupted as the lights in the ballroom dimmed and a spotlight lit up a nearby stage. “There she is,” Jackie said, putting a hand over her eyes, trying to see over the suddenly screaming crowd. Marco felt his heart leap in his chest at the thought of Star, pushing off into the crowd, hoping to get a better look at her, his two friends following quickly behind, trying not to lose the eager boy in the fancily-dressed crowd.

As Marco drew closer to the stage he was finally able to spot Star, in front of a microphone, preparing to make a speech. Her normally flowing blond hair had been tied back into a bun, two streaks of blond hair framing her glowing face perfectly, her headband resting delicately on her head. Her face was graced with a soft, regal smile as she observed the chanting crowd awaiting her speech. She was wearing a beautiful single-sleeved pink and red dress, long white gloves and matching white boots, all of the garments highlighted by hearts and ribbons and Marco couldn't think of a time when she had ever looked more beautiful. And as he stared, starry-eyed, at his beautiful bestie, he slowly lifted up the mask off his face for a moment, trying to get a better look at the girl, his suns spinning in an eager, endless circle, his mouth agap at the girl's unparalleled beauty, as her image permanently burned itself into the boy's subconscious. Jackie and Janna, who had finally managed to catch up with the boy, both smiled at the sight of the entranced boy, before turning back to Star who cleared her throat preparing to begin her speech.

The crowd went silent as Star took a deep breath in, partially to clear out her nerves, putting a shaky hand on the microphone. “Welcome everyone, to the fifth annual Orphan's Ball!” she began, her voice projecting perfectly around the room, a bright smile on her face. She paused for a moment, as a cheer erupted from the crowd, waiting for her subjects to calm down enough for her to continue. “It's hard to believe that five years ago I started this ball when many of you began leaving to pursue lives and careers outside of this castle and I began wondering how I was gonna be able to keep in touch with so many people who had touched my life in so many ways.” She put a hand to her heart for emphasis.

“So, this happened.” She spread her hands out, gesturing to the packed ballroom. “And I have been so amazed that you all have come, despite your busy lives, to be a part of this magical evening.” Star slowly gazed up to see the Seeing-Eye-Cam hovering above the crowd, a little red light blinking to indicate it was filming. She took a deep, shaky breath in, hoping that the microphone didn't pick it up, even though she knew it did. “I feel very blessed to have so many people a part of my life. Because you're not just my friends, you're all my family.” Her voice grew choked up on the word and the crowd released a quiet awww.

Star cleared her tight throat, ignoring the blush on her cheeks as she continued. “And I know in my heart that you all will always be here for me and for each other.” Marco leaned forward, getting a good look at the smiling faces that had surrounded him, Star's words echoing around the room. He smiled, feeling much less like a stranger in the crowd, as he leaned back, his gaze returning to Star.

“And as I look around this room I see all of my wonderful family, old...” she smiled, spotting Oskar in the crowd, looking as handsome as ever in his tux and she felt her heart pound.

“And new.” Star froze as she her eyes landed on Marco in the crowd, tucked between Jackie and Janna, her heart stopping altogether. He looked downright adorable in his tux, Star seeing through his mask in a second, his brown eyes as bright and vast as ever. It did give him a cryptic edge though, Star finding his little masquerade charming and tempting at the same time, wondering who's idea if had been for him to wear it, Jackie or Janna. Probably Janna. Still, only Marco could somehow be both mysterious and precious at the same time, Star loving him all the more for it.

Finally, reality returned to Star as she remembered where she was, feeling the hundreds of eyes of the crowd focused on her, waiting for her to continue, burning into her skin. She finally pulled her attention away from the masked boy, as she turned to the crowd once again, praying that they couldn't hear her heart pounding into the microphone. She held back another blush, biting her lip, as she tried to recall the rest of her speech, mentally hearing the chiding words of her mother telling her a princess did not bit their lip, especially in front of a crowd.

“So we don't ever have to feel alone or unwanted,” Star said, her prewritten words finally returning to her, her voice as strong as ever. “Because no matter what, we'll always have a family.” The room went silent for a moment, Star's eyes gazing lovingly over the familiar faces around her.

“But hey,” she continued, her voice much lighter than before. “That's enough of the sappy stuff let's get to what you all really came for.”

A cheer quickly rang out from the crowd, Star smiling widely at them, as the crowd began chanting, “Dance! Dance! Dance!” over and over again, the royal feeling the room shake with every repetition of the word. She laughed, her eyes darting between the two points of interest in the sea of excited faces. Oskar and Marco. Her old crush and her bestie. The handsome bad boy and the adorkable innocent. The boy who she had known and cared for for years and the one who, in the short time she had known him, had changed her life in ways she couldn't have imagined. They were both special to her in their own way and yet she had to choose one to be her dance partner, to share that special, magical moment with. Finally, Star took in a deep breath, coming to a decision as she turned away from the microphone and made her way down the stairs.

The still-chanting crowd parted to let her pass, as she walked forward with purpose, ignoring the excited stares of anticipation, her sight set on her chosen partner. Finally, she stopped, the room going silent, every mouth dropped open in awe, as she held out a hand to him, a spotlight lighting up the two in it's hypnotic glow, the boy eying the out-stretched hand. “May I have this dance?” Star asked, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Me?” Marco asked, his voice a shocked whisper, quivering slightly, though if it was from nerves or joy Star couldn't tell.

“You.” she simply repeated, moving her hand a little closer.

Marco tried to will his hand to move, but it was frozen at his side, panic and nervousness beginning to rise inside the boy. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his back, giving him a gentle push forward, making the boy stumble, forcing his arm into action as his hand grabbed onto Star's in an attempt to keep balance. The two's gaze locked as Marco felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, thankfully covered by his mask. But Star just smiled, pulling him to his feet and out onto the dance floor, the masked boy following in a daze, the spotlight tracking their movement.

Once they were in the middle of the dancefloor, Star turned back to the boy, giving him an expecting smile. But Marco made no move toward her, awkwardly looking around at the Mewmans that surrounded them, feeling their judgmental stares burning into his skin, mentally thanking Janna for making him wear the mask, afraid his skin might burst into flames without protection. “What's wrong?” Star asked in a whisper, her quizzical eyes twinkling in the spotlight, a fact Marco noticed immediately, feeling his knees go weak a little.

“I-I don't know how to dance,” the boy whispered, moving closer so only she could hear. The blond looked deep into her friend's begging, nervous eyes and couldn't quite hold back a giggle.

“Don't worry, I'll teach you,” she whispered back, taking his hand in hers again. Slowly she pulled closer to the boy, till their faces were inches from touching, sky blue and chocolate brown shining in equal measures. Gently she took the boy's shaky hand, pulling it to her side, allowing it to rest on the small of her back, before placing her own hand lightly on his shoulder.

The music suddenly kicked in, a gentle, peaceful melody filling the crowded ballroom, Marco quietly squeaking to his friend, “Star?”

She leaned in closer to him, in response, whispering softly into his ear, “Just follow my lead.” She quickly pulled away, listening to the music, waiting for the right moment to begin. Finally, the gentle melody's pace picked up a bit, Star giving the boy a small nod, Marco taking a deep breath.

Star slowly began to move in time to the music, Marco doing his best to mimic her steps as she began spinning him into a graceful circle, the two moving smoothly across the hushed ballroom. At first, Marco seemed nervous still feeling the stares of the crowd, moving slowly and unsure, keeping his eyes on his feet, trying desperately not to step on the girl's toes.

Star just smiled and shook her head at his adorable behavior, removing the hand from his shoulder and gently lifting his chin so he was looking into her eyes. “Hey, relax,” she soothed, Marco feeling his heart skip a beat at her soft voice. “Don't think, just feel the music.”

Marco wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that, but he took her advice, keeping his eyes on her, as he allowed Star to lead him expertly across the dance floor. Slowly, Marco began to relax, the soft, smooth beat relaxing him and bringing a smile to his face... or maybe it was the tingling feeling he was getting from holding Star's hand so long. Regardless, the masked boy began enjoying himself, letting the music suck him in as he confidently matched Star's movements, the two in perfect synch as the song swelled though the hushed ballroom. The world around them seemed to fade, the burning stares of the watching crowd all seemed to vanish, the quiet whispering of the excited onlookers were subdued by the encompassing music. All that existed was each other and their dance, captured perfectly beneath the bright spotlight.

Jackie and Janna watched the two with pleased smiles from the sidelines, taking in the look of pure joy and love on both of their friend's faces. “Well that went well,” Janna said, Jackie nodding in agreement. The skater held out her glass of punch to her friend.

“To a job well done,” Jackie said. Janna just smiled and held out her own cup, letting them clink together, before both gulped down the sweet liquid. The two went quiet for a moment, just watching the princess and her partner continue on with their dance, looking dazed in each others arms.

“So,” Jackie said. “This doesn't count, right?”

“What do you mean?” Janna asked in confusion.

“The bet. We both helped out so it doesn't count right?”

“Sure.”

There was a short moment of silence, before Jackie sent her roommate a knowing look out of the corner of her eye. “Unless one of us did do something more to interfere,” the skater said, a suspicious tone to her voice.

“Huh? How do you mean?” Janna asked, sounding nonchalant at Jackie's questioning tone.

“Well I just mean, Marco did look a little frozen up back there but something seemed to get him moving.” Jackie turned fully to Janna, with an accusing gaze. Janna kept her eyes focused directly in front of her, the tiniest of smiles gracing her lips.

“I'm sure I don't know what you mean,” Janna simply said, taking another sip of her punch, hiding her smirk beneath. Jackie held her glare on her half-monster friend. “But you know, now that you mention it, I do remember seeing someone else's hand reaching towards Marco. You wouldn't know anything about that, though, would you, Jacks?” Janna asked, giving Jackie a knowing smirk. The skater's face switched to one of shock, feeling her cheeks blush, before looking away from her friend.

“Well, he did seem like he needed it,” Jackie whispered sheepishly, trying to will her blush away, rubbing a hand up and down her arm.

“Guess everyone needs a little push from time to time.”

Jackie and Janna shared a look for a moment, before they both chuckled. “Yeah.,” Jackie finally agreed. “So we both interfered. Or at least tried to.” Janna nodded her head in agreement.

“Looks like. One of us just interfered faster than the other.” Jackie gave her friend a playful glare.

“Fine, fine,” Jackie said, sighing, before offering her friend a handshake. “Truce.”

“Truce,” Janna said, taking the skater's outstretched hand in her own, the girls holding their cryptic glares, neither refusing to break.

A little further off from the dance floor, Ferguson and Alfonso also watched Star and Marco dance, the former frowning at the two. “I can't believe he got to have a dance with Star but not me!” the chubby boy muttered, looking downtrodden. “And just when I thought it was going to be a lucky break for the Ferg.”

Al just rolled his eyes at his friend. “Come on, Ferguson, you have to admit they are pretty cute together.”

Ferg took another look at the dancing couple, Star giggling as her masked partner dipped her low to the ground, keeping her there for longer than necessary, as she clung tightly to him, the boy's face unreadable from beneath the mask, but his infectious laughter filled the air as he finally pulled Star up, the girl getting her revenge as she spun him into a dizzying circle, the boy begging her to stop in between fits of laughter. Ferg sighed. “Yeah, I suppose you're right.”

“Besides I'm pretty sure your wife would get pretty jealous if she found out you danced with another girl.” Ferg's eyes grew wide, as he remembered how jealous his pixie wife could be. Like the time she threw a poor innocent sprite in the dungeon for 10,000 years because she smiled at him too long. “Oh you're right, Al,” Ferg groaned, face-palming. “She would kill me!” His voice grew cryptic and mysterious, his face looking surprisingly serious as he softly whispered, “Thank you masked boy, whoever you are, for saving me.”

His nerdy friend raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious? You don't know who that is?”

Ferg's serious expression immediately switched to a playful smile as he lightly chuckled. “Oh no, it's obviously Marco. Any idiot could tell that.”

Oskar also watched Star's dance, trying not to feel jealous of the unknown boy in the mask. He admitted he did wish it was him who had swooped the princess off her feet but, as he took in the look of pure joy on the young royal's face, he was unable to stop himself from thinking that that was the happiest he had ever seen her. And it really was all thanks to the masked stranger.

For the longest time Oskar had known that Star had had feelings for him, I mean it was pretty obvious, all he had to do was smile and she would turn into a blushing, giggling mess, which he admitted was pretty cute, but sadly the boy had never really felt quite the same way. Not that he didn't care for her, oh no, quite the opposite, he owed her everything. She had given him a place to stay when he had nowhere to go, had comforted him when he had been at his lowest point, always encouraging him to keep moving and never give up on his dreams. She had been the reason he had continued to pursue his music, telling him that he had a true talent (even if the rest of Mewni didn't agree) listening to every new song he had wrote, introducing him to Master Ruberiot, heck she was the one who had even bought him his keytar, just randomly giving it to him out of the blue one day and never expecting anything in return. And he was grateful for everything she had ever done.

So when she had reached her lowest point, when the world around her came crashing down, when her bright, joyous smile had ceased to shine, Oskar had taken it upon himself to help Star become the happy-go-lucky princess he had always known her to be, the princess he knew she wanted to be, wishing to repay the debt he felt he owed to the girl. And at first he had thought it was working, Star would smile and blush just like always, but it wasn't the same, her smile seemed fake and forced and Oskar began to realize that there was nothing he could do to cheer the grief-stricken princess up.

But now, it seemed while he was away, someone new had done the impossible, the unknown boy had found a way to cheer her up, the smile on her face the most real and genuine Oskar had seen in years. And it seemed he wasn't needed after all, all those years of flirting had been unnecessary, Star had recovered without him. And though he wasn't exactly pleased about it, he also felt a weight lift off his shoulders knowing Star was in good hands and that he didn't have to fake his feelings toward her any longer. His friend was okay.

The song slowly began to fade throughout the ballroom, its pace slowing, as the song prepared for its finale, Star and Marco smiling ear to ear as they stared deep into each other's eyes. Though Marco's face was hidden from beneath the mask, Star could see the joy in his eyes, as she brought the two into a final spin around the ballroom, the world blurring around the two, feeling her heart float around in her chest as he tightened his grip on her, pulling her a just a little bit closer to him.

Marco felt like he was going to faint as Star pulled him into a spin, her eyes flashing a hint of mischievousness, the lights brightening her face, giving her an angelic look, as her sky blue irises filled him with that same wonderful feeling, Marco afraid he might burst with the startling strong emotion, as he subconsciously pulled her closer to him, craving her presence.

Finally, the last cord of the music swelled, Marco dipping Star, the princess losing her breath at the boy's sudden movement, releasing her hold on his hand and wrapping her arms around his neck. The room was silent as the spotlight blinked off, the only noise coming from Star and Marco, who panted breathlessly, their eyes not parting for a single second, as the boy held her gently aloft.

After what felt like a life-time, someone in the crowd began slowly clapping, Oskar nodding in approval at his kinda-sorta rival, impressed with his ability to literally sweep the girl off her feet, the awestruck look on the princess' face cementing her properly wooed state.

The clap was quickly followed by another, then another, then another, until the whole room shook with the loud clapping of the crowd, cheers of joy echoing through the ballroom.

Star continued to stare up at the memorized boy, before finally whispering, “Umm, Marco you should probably lift me back up now?” She held in a giggle, as Marco finally snapped out his daze, Star picturing his cheeks blushing from beneath the mask, as he realized how close he currently was to his friend.

“Oh right,” he sheepishly responded, lifting the girl back up to her feet, the two regrettably separating from each other, already missing the other's touch. Their was a short awkward silence between the two as the cheering around them finally ceased, everyone waiting to see if something more was going to happen. Finally, Marco coughed, trying to clear his tight throat, before addressing his princess. “So... um... that was really...” He thought for a minute of the right word to say.

“Amazing,” Star finished for him, her eyes looking deep into his own, a shy smile on her face.

“Yeah,” he breathlessly agreed. “It really was. Thank you, Star. For sharing that with me.”

Star felt her heart leap at his words, her voice cracking, as she said, “Your welcome, Marco.”

“But why'd you chose me?” he asked, lowering his eyes from the girl.

Star smiled and shook her head at the boy's low self-esteem, taking his hands into her own. “Because you're my bestie. And because there is no one else I would rather spend time with.”

Marco's face softened as he looked back into her eyes, giving her that same adorably quizzical expression, flashing one of those bright smiles that made Star's heart pound. She turned to the still-watching crowd, finally remembering that they were there. “And that concludes our first dance,” she said loudly to the crowd, just a hint of dismissiveness in her tone, the whole crowd immediately turning away from them, pretending to go back to their own activities.

Star turned back to her bestie, with a guilty look on her face. “I'm sorry. I'd love to hang out more, but this ball isn't going to run itself,” she apologetically said.

“That's okay,” Marco said, shrugging. “You go, I'll just hang out with Jackie and Janna.”

Star nodded, still looking slightly guilty, as she addressed the crowd once again. “I hope you all enjoy the rest of your evening!” She smiled at her friend, releasing his hands. “I'll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

With that the two parted, Star disappearing into the crowd, leaving Marco in a daze. Jackie and Janna watched the two separate, another song immediately starting up.

“I'm gonna go get a refill,” Janna said to Jackie, the skater nodding and handing over her cup.

“'Kay, sounds good,” she replied.

“Don't have too much fun without me,” Janna teased, before separating from her, quickly disappearing in the crowd. Jackie just smiled, looking around at all the happy, dancing couples around her, not aware of the shadow slowly darkening over her.

“Hey there beautiful,” a flirty voice called behind her, making her jump. She swerved to see a cocky, well-dressed boy standing over her, giving her an an uncomfortable grin that made her skin crawl. She could tell instantly that this boy wasn't another orphan but some rich upper-crust who had snuck in, his expensive suit and arrogant smile giving him away. “So what's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” He grinned, his eyes openly scanning her figure, Jackie's hands clenching into tight fists.

But Jackie took a deep breath hoping to get out of this as quickly as possible, giving him a pleasant smile. “What's a well-dressed, obviously wealthy aristocrat doing at a ball exclusively for orphans?” she shot back, her voice full of suspicion.

He chuckled, his confidence still brimming even after getting called out. “And here I thought I was being subtle.” He gave her a flirty wink, Jackie holding in her gag. “But truth is I'm not an orphan.”

“No,” Jackie said in mock surprise, rolling her eyes.

“Fact is I only came here to try to pick up that little beauty over there.” Jackie followed his pointing finger to Star, talking and laughing with some of the other guests. Figures, Jackie thought.

“But, uh, seems I lost my chance,” he continued, not sounding at all torn up over it. “And then I saw you and thought to myself, now there is a girl who doesn't belong hanging with this crowd of rejects.” He leaned a little closer to her, his voice growing softer, his eyes narrowing on her form. “She should be with a guy like me.”

Jackie inwardly groaned in disgust at the boy's attempts to “charm” her, while outwardly keeping up her normal, calm demeanor as she shook her head at him. “Look I can tell you're obviously trying but I'm just not interested, sorry,” she said simply, trying to keep the hate out of her voice as she turned to leave, but was stopped as his hand wrapped around her wrist, holding her in place.

“Oh come on,” he said, his voice dripping with over-confidence. “Don't be shy, dance with me.”

“No thanks,” Jackie said between clenched teeth, pulling against his iron grasp trying to get loose.

He chuckled dryly. “I don't thank someone with your background has the ability to say no,” he said, shooting her a toothy grin and Jackie gave him a hate-filled glare.

“I said no, now let go!” she hissed, raising her voice hoping to draw the attention of the crowd, but everyone was too caught up in their own activities to notice the skater's increasingly uncomfortable situation, as her admirer released his hold on her, making her stumble, her back hitting the wall behind her. Before she could even react, the boy had closed the distance between them, pressing her against the wall, resting one of his arms on the wall to prevent her escape. “Now come on, gorgeous, you and I both know you're better than all these other filthy brats the princess keeps around to make herself look better...” Jackie stared hate-filled daggers up at the boy, trying to think of some way to escape the arrogant aristocratic. “...you're far too pretty to live in the dirt like the rest of these peasants.”

He gave her another slimy smile, playing with a strand of her white hair. Jackie tried to smack his hand away, but he easily caught it, Jackie giving him a hard look, but the boy's “flirting” tone never ceased. “Why don't we leave this dump and you can come back to my place. No one will even be able to tell you're one of these freaks. Come on, just say yes and I'll make all your dreams come true.” He pressed, Jackie becoming more and more off-put toward the flirty boy, she knew Janna was on her way back, but still she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold this cocky, self-indulged brat at bay. She really needed a way out of this situation as soon as possible, she just wasn't sure how yet.

Marco casually strolled though the crowd of well-dressed Mewmans looking for any signs of his friends. “I'm not interested,” Marco heard a desperate, but familiar voice call and he turned to see Jackie pinned against the wall another boy towering over her, giving her a strange smile. Marco wasn't sure who the new boy was but he could see that his friend was quite uncomfortable being so near him, her face a grimace, her body shifting uncomfortably from beneath the fancy Mewman's relentless stare. The boy immediately felt the urge to go over and help her, but he hesitated. He knew so little about Mewmans and their interactions he wasn't sure if interfering would be the right thing to do, for all he knew this was completely normal. He felt conflicted, looking around in hopes of finding some help in the matter, but Star was busy doing her own thing, having yet to even notice their friend's dilemma and Janna was nowhere to be found. It was all up to him. Marco took a few steps closer to the two, hoping to learn more about the situation and what he should do to help.

“Come on, beautiful,” the boy gushed at Jackie's rejection giving her fake frown. “Don't hurt my feelings.”

“I'm gonna hurt more than that if you don't get off of me!” Jackie spat at the boy, giving him the most off-putting glare she could.

“Fine,” he said in surrender and Jackie felt a rush of relief run through her. “I'll let you go.” His cocky smile returned and Jackie felt her heart drop. “After you give me a kiss.”

“What?!” Jackie exclaimed in utter disbelief. The boy smirked, leaning in closer to her face, his target within sight.

“Come on, gorgeous, just one kiss and- Agh!” The boy's confident air smashed to pieces as Jackie kneed the boy as hard as she could right between the legs, the creep releasing an unmanly squeak, as he pulled away from the girl, barely having the strength to stand. Jackie smiled in victory over the arrogant boy's pain-filled face, freeing herself from the cramped position against the wall and walking confidently away from her tormentor.

But the boy wasn't going to let her get away that easily, growling at the impudent brat who dared to reject him, anger and rage fueling his actions as he loudly yelled, “You filthy peasant!” This drew the attention of several members of the nearby crowd, watching in horror as the angered boy raised a hand back, obviously going to slap the unsuspecting girl. “How dare you disrespect me!” Jackie turned in surprise, barely having time to see the hand closing in on her face, in too much shock to move or guard herself against the incoming attack.

The smack echoed around the room, drawing everyone's attention, the music ceasing as silence filled the large ballroom. Star slowly turned in the direction of the sound, her eyes wide with fear and confusion.

Jackie hit the floor hard, a hand instinctively rising to her face, filling for the scar. But she found no defects on her speckled skin as her eyes slowly raised up to see the shaky form of Marco, standing over her, the skater freezing up at the sight. Marco's face was scrunched up in pain, as a burning sensation spreading across his cheek, tears of pain blinding his vision. The impact had been so strong it had even knocked his mask off, the object laying haphazardly at his feet.

The rich snob at first did nothing, just staring in confusion at the boy, hand still raised, but he quickly snapped out of his stupor, feeling a rush of anger at the interfering welp. He grabbed the boy roughly by his collar, making Marco squeak, before drawing him in closer, openly scowling at the frightened Mewman. “Just who do you think you are?!” he hissed, Marco flinching at the raised tone. “You think you're something special just because the princess took pity on you.” He laughed harshly. “You're nothing! Just a worthless piece of garbage like all the others here.”

“Let him go!” a voice screamed, making the wealthy bully jump, just now realizing their display had attracted an audience. He turned in the direction of the yell to see the princess a short distance away, looking the angriest anyone had ever seen their beloved monarch, her normally calm, smiling face now morphed into a hate-filled glare, the look in her eyes making every party-goer shudder in fear.

“What?” the rich snob asked, his panic-stricken mind having trouble processing the girl's enraged tone, feeling an unfamiliar feeling of dread overtake him.

“Put Marco down right now!” she screamed, her voice shaking with rage and her enclosed fists doing the same.

Finally, he seemed to recover from his initial shock, scoffing loudly. “Look it's not my fault the idiot walked right into it-”

“Put. Him. Down.” she commanded, her voice darkening with every syllable, her eyes narrowing on the boy, as he felt a shiver run up his spine.

At last, the bully obeyed, releasing his hold on the shuddering Mewman, Marco crumpling to his knees, a hand on his throbbing cheek, Jackie crawling forward to try and comfort him. Meanwhile, Star stormed forward, her hands still clenched into tight fists, glaring hate-filled daggers, as she came face to face with the startled snob, protectively putting herself between Marco and the bully. There was a short moment of silence, as Star just stared up at the boy with crossed arms, waiting for an explanation, no one in the room daring to even breathe, the tension in the room almost unbearable.

“Listen, princess I can explain-” the boy began, trying to make his voice as light and charming as possible. But this only angered Star more.

“Oh really,” she grunted, her voice low and dangerous. “Well as much as I'd love to hear you lie your way out of slapping and insulting my best friend, you clearly weren't invited to this party in the first place so I suggest you leave... now!”

The boy looked surprised by the statement, but tried to stay calm. “Look this is all just a big misunderstanding.” He gave a lighthearted shrug, attempting to put an arm around the girl. “I'm sure if we all relax everything will-”

The boy was cut off as Star smacked his hand out of the air, making him take an uncomfortable step back. “Oh don't even try it, you creep!” she screamed, struggling to hold back her temper.

The bully's eyes narrowed at the insult, angrily shouting, “How dare you?! Insulting me and taking the side of that worthless idiot!” He pointed to Marco, still hunched over at Star's feet, Jackie holding him from behind in a comforting embrace, trying to calm his shaking, as she glared daggers at the jerky aristocrat.

“Don't ever talk about Marco that way again!” Star screamed, her whole body shaking with mirth. “Marco is not worthless. He's an infinitely better person than you will ever be!”

The snob scoffed loudly. “He's nothing. Unlike me, he'll never amount to anything.”

“Unlike you, he actually cares about people, all you care about is yourself!”

“Do you know how I am?!” the snob screamed into the princess' face, enraged at the girl. “If you kick me out I swear there will be repercussions-”

Star closed the distance between the two, ceasing the boy's rant, as she shot him a frightening glare, hissing into his startled face, “I already asked you once, now if you won't leave then I will remove you from this party myself!”

The boy opened his mouth to retort but the look in the princess' eyes was giving him the creeps and he felt his confident air quickly evaporate as he fumbled around for the proper insult. “Yeah well.. your stupid and this party is lame, I didn't want to be here anyway.”

With that the wealthy boy turned and cut open a portal with his dimensional scissors, stomping angrily into the portal, with a defeated glare. The second the portal closed, Star turned on her heels to Marco, immediately dropping to her knees, trying to get a good look at the boy. “Marco, are you okay?” she asked with concern. “Where did he get? Tell me where it hurts?”

But the boy remained silent, keeping his head down, his face concealed by his hair. Though Star was slightly comforted to see his shaking had let up immensely. For just a moment her and Jackie shared a look of concern. “Marco,” Jackie tried, keeping her voice as comforting as possible. “Come on, dude, we can't help you if you won't let us.”

The boy was taking short, shallow breaths, sounding like he was on the verge of breaking down into tears. Star felt her heart break seeing him so upset. “Marco?” she said, her voice barely a whisper, her voice shaking with worry, putting a hand lightly on the hand still pressed tightly against his cheek. “Please.” Finally the boy allowed Star to remove his hand, as he looked up at her, his brown orbs damp with unshed tears and Star felt her heart break at the hurt look he was giving her. But what hurt worse was the cut running all the way across Marco's cheek, the whole thing red and swelling. “Oh Marco,” she breathed, her eyes growing wide, putting a hand to her mouth.

Marco felt his heart rate spike at Star's pain-filled voice, filling lost and confused at her bizarre behavior, his hand slowly looking down to see the blood on his fingertips. Marco felt a wave of fear run through him, his stomach twisting with guilt, the old feeling of dread overtaking the boy. The world around him broke and faded from existence as those same, pain-filled words returned to Marco frazzled mind. These scars are proof of your crimes.

Star heard Marco's weak, shallow breathing, the boy going into a panic attack right before her eyes, but as she reached out a hand to comfort him, he pulled away, leaping to his feet and out of Jackie's arms, already running for the door. Star and Jackie quickly stood, the princess shouting after her frightened friend. “Marco!”

Star was on his tail in a half a second, the startled crowd parting to let her pass. Jackie started to follow but stopped as she felt a hand on her shoulder, turning to see Janna. “She needs to do this one alone,” she said, her voice the most serious Jackie had ever heard, the skater regrettably pulling back, allowing Star to chase after their friend alone.

“Marco! Marco wait!” Star screamed, trying desperately to get Marco's attention, but he no longer seemed interested in listening. The doors to the ballroom slammed open as Marco rushed out, tears blurring his vision as he tried to find his way back to his room, but he had taken the wrong door, now in the lush castle garden, lit only by the moon above.

Marco didn't even hesitate as he ran deeper into the foliage, Star reaching the door quickly after, panting as she looked around for any sign of her friend. “Marco!” she screamed again, but there was no reply. “Marco please!” Star's voice cracked as concerned tears filled her own eyes. But she didn't have time to waste, the boy quickly gaining distance, so she took a guess, running off in the direction she hoped the boy had gone.

She ran as quickly as possible, calling the boy's name, suddenly regretting wearing the uncomfortable boots, finding running extremely difficult in the fashionable shoes. At last, Star spotted Marco a short distance ahead, trying to rub the tears out of eyes with the back of one of his sleeves, the boy slowing down as he found running more and more difficult being half blind. Star quickened her pace, gaining distance on the boy as she managed to grab onto his arm, pulling him back toward her. Marco was too startled by the sudden weight change to stop her, as he felt himself being forced to turn on his heels, seeing the half-blurry image of his best friend, as she pulled him into a comforting hug.

The two remained still for a moment, both panting, trying to regain their breath, feeling each other's racing hearts pound against their chest, Star with her head buried deep into the boy's shoulder, Marco with his arms stiff at his side, tears still falling freely down his face.

“It's okay,” Star soothed, rubbing a hand up and down his back and Marco sobbed, his legs finally going out, as he dropped to his knees, Star following right after, refusing to release her hold on him.

“I-I'm so sorry,” he sobbed and Star shushed him, squeezing him a little bit tighter.

“What on Mewni do you have to be sorry for?” she asked, trying to understand why the boy would be feeling guilt of all things.

“This scar,” he sobbed, his throat tight. “It means I did something wrong!”

Star felt her heart shatter at the hurt tone in his voice, realizing he must have triggered his memories of Toffee's attack. “Oh, no, no, Marco, you didn't do anything wrong,” she instantly soothed, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

“B-But I-”

“No! You didn't do anything wrong.” She finally pulled away, looking deep into his eyes, putting both hands softly on his cheek, wiping the tears from his face, careful not to touch his scar. “Don't believe anything that  jerk said. You saved Jackie. You're a hero, Marco.”

Marco sniffed, his breathing slowly slightly. “So you don't hate me?” he choked out, his eyes pleading and Star gave him a sad look. She sighed as she pulled him into another hug.

“Of course not,” she said, her own voice cracking slightly. “There is nothing you could ever do that would make me hate you.”

Marco felt a rush of relief at the statement, her words soothing him, bringing a familiar feeling of comfort with it. “Really?!” he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

“Yes,” Star said confidently, no doubt in her tone. “Yes, Marco. You're my best friend and I will always be here for you. No matter what.”

Marco's tear-streaked face finally broke into a smile, as he returned the hug, wrapping his shaky arms around Star, burying his head into her shoulder, as his breathing slowed to a more normal pace, finally relaxing in Star's warm embrace. The two just sat there for a moment, letting the hug drag out for as long as they could, neither wanting to break the comforting hug, enjoying the warmth and joy it was bringing them, though neither would quite admit to it.

“Are you ready to head back to the party?” Star asked after a short while, though not letting up on her embrace, and Marco gently shook his head in reply.

“Can we just... stay like this a little longer?” he asked back, tightening his grip slightly.

Star smiled, giving a little chuckle at the boy's unbearable cuteness. “Sure, Marco. Whatever you want.”

…

The whole crowd of orphans looked out into the garden, waiting, as they all looked around awkwardly, none quite sure what to say after the incident. Finally, a figure pushed their way out from the thick bushes, every orphan staring in anticipation at Janna, as she strolled forward with a blank look, Jackie taking a few steps closer. “Well,” the skater questioned and every orphan leaned forward eagerly. “Did you find them?”

Janna's face grew into a smirk. “Yep.”

“And?” Jackie pressed, concerned for the answer.

“He's fine,” Janna replied, giving a dismissive wave, Jackie and the rest of the crowd all sighing in relief. “Though they didn't seem like they were in too big of a hurry to head back.”

Jackie nodded in understanding. “That's fine. Let them have their moment. Marco earned it.”

“Yeah he did!” someone in the crowd yelled and everyone cheered in agreement.

“Three cheers for Marco!” Ferguson screamed, the crowd instantly obeying his instructions, loudly chanting the masked boy's name loudly.

In the garden, Star and Marco broke their hug, hearing the boy's name loudly echoing around the lush woods, the two sharing a look, the boy's cheeks blushing at the unexpected praise. “Are they cheering for me?” he asked in awe.

Star put a hand on his shoulder, shooting him a proud smile. “I told you, you're a hero now.” Marco's face broke into a shy smile, as he turned in the direction of the crowd.

Oskar whistled, drawing everyone's attention to him, ceasing the loud cheering, Jackie biting her lip, concerned the boy was about to ruin Marco's moment. He flashed them all a confident smile. “What do you say we get this party going again, for Marco?”

The crowd erupted into another cheer and Oskar smiled widely. Suddenly, he pulled his keytar from behind his back, none quite sure where he had been keeping it all that time. “And I'll play a song in Marco's honor.”

The cheering instantly ceased, everyone shouting in concern and fear, “No!”

...

The room was dark and silent and cold, a deep chill settling into the poor soul being forced to enter the dark room. Beard Deer tried to hold back a shudder as he stood in the dimly lit doorway, his night vision doing little to see through the almost enchanted shadows that surrounded him. He was not looking forward to the conversation that was coming and the punishment that no doubt would follow, no, he was really not looking forward to that. Stupid Buff Frog going rouge and forcing him to become the cruel lizards right-hand monster.

He sucked in a breath and finally braved the darkness, walking hesitantly forward, his footsteps echoing off the cold cobblestone. He saw a small light nearby and walked hesitantly over to it. There he saw the lizard sitting in a chair, his eyes on a small mirror screen, lighting up his blank face, making him look even more menacing.

Beard Deer swallowed down his nerves as he saluted his master. “Master Toffee, second-in-command Beard Deer reporting from scouting miss-”

“Get to the point,” Toffee said in an uninterested tone and Beard Dear jumped at the sudden outburst from his superior.

“U-Uh of course, Master Toffee.” He cleared his tight throat. “Well unfortunately, even after searching close to the Butterfly Kingdoms border, as you suggested, we were still unable to locate either Marco or Buff Frog.” Beard Deer tensed up, waiting for Toffee to snap.

But in typical Toffee fashion he didn't react at all to the news, his eyes on the mirror's screen. “M-Master Toffee?” Beard Deer said in concern, leaning closer to the lizard.

“How long has it been now, Beard Deer?” Toffee finally responded, making the monster jump.

“How long?” Beard Deer repeated in confusion.

“Since Marco was taken from us.” Beard Deer felt his claws clench into fists, his hatred toward Buff Frog showing even in this fearful moment. He had no idea why Buff Frog had kidnapped his own son, but he wasn't really sure if it mattered at this point. All of the monsters hated him for it anyways. And if he ever got his hands on the traitors amphibian he swore he would make him regret it.  

“A few weeks,” the deer monster said bitterly, feeling slightly responsible for Marco's abduction. He should have protected him better.

Toffee sighed, sounding more bored than annoyed, but Beard Deer remained tensed and ready. Finally, Toffee looked over to his new second-in-command. “Tell the others to begin searching within the Butterfly Kingdom.”

Beard Deer blinked, unsure if he had heard the lizard right. “But Master Toffee, Queen Moon and King River's army are surrounding the border-”

“Which means they've foolishly left their inner kingdoms completely unguarded. You should have no trouble getting around unnoticed.”

“But what makes you think he's there?” Beard Deer risked and Toffee gave him a slimy smile that sent shivers down the monster's spine.

“Oh, just a feeling.” Before the monster could question him further Toffee turned back to his screen. “You're dismissed.”

Beard Deer hesitated for a moment, considering questioning him further, but wisely thought better of it saluting his superior and exiting the room quickly, blowing on his cold claws trying to get feeling in them once again.

The lizard didn't even hear the door close, his focus entirely on the mirror's screen. Its video had frozen on the image of the Mewman's beloved princess Star dancing with a young boy in a mask. Though his face and cheek marks were concealed, Toffee had seen though his facade in a second. He wasn't sure if it was supposed to be clever or not, but regardless he had finally found his missing pawn.

Toffee's calm exterior broke, smiling wickedly, his eyes narrowing on the image of the boy. “Well, well, little Marco it seems you've made yourself a powerful new ally. Not that it will do you any good. I will reclaim what is rightfully mine.” His gaze slowly shifted to the image of the perfect little princess, feeling his hatred burn at the sight of the Butterfly heir. “By any means necessary.”

[leupagus]

Musician AU, again, some more

True facts: I keep reading my own term “Musician AU” as “Magician AU” and honestly, what would that even look like. This is more of the Schitt Records AU idea; takes place after the first section because writing in order is for cowards.

*

When Stevie finally brings up offering Patrick Brewer a contract, all he can really come up with is “he drinks bad beer and thinks it’s funny to wear a fringed vest onstage,” neither of which are dealbreakers that anyone else will respect. So Stevie’s given the green light and David clenches his jaw.

"What’s your problem?" Stevie hisses. They're downing some dubious hotdogs just outside Yonge Dundas Square right before the lineup for tonight starts; Ronnie's performing, wedged between some sort of belly-dancer act and a guy who looks exactly like Marlene Dietrich with a harp. The Believe Guy is having a fun night, at least, bellowing at the concertgoers streaming in. David’s going to have to leave him another 5/5 review. “You thought he was good, too.”

“Yeah, I also thought if I had to look at that vest for another second I was gonna pull my own eyeballs out,” he says. “And I also also thought that anyone who’s serious about this would already at least have a demo tape, which, might I remind you? He does not.”

“David, hate to break it to you,” and whatever she’s about to say is something that she’s not really going to hate breaking to him, “But anyone who’s serious about this isn’t going to sign with us in the first place.”

She’s right, which is unacceptable. “There’s more to talent spotting than—“

“Spotting talent?” Stevie says. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re not exactly in a position to be picky. Patrick’s good and he can work a crowd and we can get him different clothes.”

“Better clothes,” David insists. “And then burn the ones he has.”

Stevie eyes him over her lemonade. “So that’s how it is,” she says, and doesn’t answer his increasingly strident demands to know how what is for the rest of the evening.

*

It’s a moot point, anyway, because Patrick declines. Stevie shrugs it off at their next meeting, already moving on to an elderly beat poet she knows who’s been getting some buzz and might want to put together some sort of spoken word thing that they could produce, but David’s still processing.

“He said no?”

“Yeah, he said no,” Stevie repeats, not sounding nearly as outraged as the situation calls for. “Anyway, Bob isn’t always that, uh, sober, but I think if we—“

“Why did he say no?”

She spreads her hands. “He didn’t really give a reason, just said ‘no thanks, good luck,’ and said something about financial planning management. At which point I kind of tuned out.”

“’No thanks and good luck’?” David takes a deep breath.

Mom clears her throat. She’s on record as hating these meetings, which makes sense because they’re awful, a sort of enforced family time combined with enforced listening to other people talk combined with Dad’s rule of no drinking in the office, and clearing her throat is the most she’s contributed in six months. But David takes the hint.

He’ll just have to get more information elsewhere.

*

“‘No thanks and good luck’?” David demands, a few hours later.

Patrick blinks at him. “Hi,” he says. “Have a seat.”

They’re in some sort of office, with a door and two windows showcasing the dreary efficiency of downtown Toronto. It’s honestly nicer than David might have imagined, if he’d imagined Patrick’s day job; his experience with businesses like this comes mostly from Office Space, but there don’t seem to be any cubicles or men with distressing Winchester shirts.

Still, it’s very beige and David waves his hands in negation. “I’m not staying. Why did you say no?”

“Okay,” Patrick says, in response to something, but David has no idea what. He sits back down in the desk chair. “Did you want me to say yes?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but most people who have a dedicated wardrobe when they go to an Open Mic Night are thrilled when a record company comes sniffing around.”

“Well, Stevie did say I’d have to ditch the vest,” says Patrick, who David is learning is a real asshole. “That was a bridge too far for me.”

“Okay,” David sighs and sits down, rubbing his face, because this wouldn’t have worked. Even if Stevie had signed him, he’d be the one who’d have to work with the guy, and he already wanted fire him.

“Look,” Patrick continues, “It’s flattering, not least because you went to all the trouble to track me down at my office, where I work, during business hours, which is when I work, in order to tell me I should be thrilled to have the chance to get yelled at you every day for the rest of my life.”

“Well,” he admits, “When you put it that way.”

“David—“ For the first time since they’ve met, he thinks Patrick’s being serious. “For what it’s worth, it’s not about you. I just don’t think I’d be very good.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” David has to ask, smiling in spite himself, because he’s been on the receiving end of that too-serious look far too many times but usually he gets to at least touch the guy’s dick first. “Because for the record, I prefer the line ‘you deserve so much better’ or some variation thereof.”

Patrick laughs, louder and deeper than David expected; like it’s been bubbling inside him all this time and finally had to come out. “You do, David,” he says, expression open and — fond, is the word, something David’s not used to and isn’t sure he could handle on a day-to-day basis, anyway.

Which is why it’s so confusing when he leaves ten minutes later with a signed contract, the addendum that Patrick Brewer retains personal image control written in cramped pen at the bottom and initialed, under protest, by both of them.

It doesn’t get less confusing.

[duskholland]

Patching Things Up - Peter Parker

Summary: You hate Peter Parker. You really do. So how well do you cope when you get trapped in a shop together overnight?

Word count: 3k (it grew I’m sorry!!)

Warnings: Lil bit of angst, fluff

Request: ‘could you do one with peter where he and you are stuck in a store together overnight? and alSo you guys haTE each other. thank youuuu’

A/N: I’m slipping in a liiiiiiittle bit of canon divergence here. Just imagine that Peter doesn’t have to go out and try to defeat Falcon whilst they’re in D.C. and instead chills with the rest of the team...

Your trip to D.C. wasn’t supposed to go like this.

Admittedly, you hadn’t expected much from the academic decathlon trip, but you’d had a general idea of what to expect: a few group bonding activities, early bedtimes and hours and hours of studying. Maybe there’d be a few laughs here and there, but nothing too intense.

You’d expected a busy trip. You’d expected to have some fun with your friends. But what you hadn’t expected was to find yourself locked in a grocery store overnight with your ex-best-friend Peter Parker.

The moment Liz had conned you into finding some ice cream for the team was the moment your fate seemed to have sealed. You’d been perfectly willing to go traipsing the streets surrounding your motel alone, but she’d demanded you pair up with someone, and seeing as where Liz is, Peter Parker is always one step behind her, you’d been partnered with him to go ice cream hunting.

Peter Parker. Peter Parker.

God, you were fuming.

But you went, because you’re a team player, and you found a grocery store just down from the motel. You spent the entire journey ignoring Peter and trying to pretend he wasn’t trailing sadly behind you with an image of sorrowful guilt branded to his face, and pushed your way into the dimly-lit shop. It was late, so a part of you was surprised it was even open, but the door gave way so you marched on in there, ignoring Peter’s quiet sounds of reluctance.

After a few minutes of searching, you found the ice cream, but just as you went to grab it from the freezer, a loud beeping sound cut through the air. The lights cut out, a mechanical click filled the shop, and an eerie silence followed.

So that was it: this was how you ended up here: clutching a gallon of ice cream in the dark, your eyes wide, listening out as Peter calls, “The door’s locked. They must have an automatic security system.” Then he pauses and adds, voice quiet, “I think we’ll be trapped here until morning.”

You blink, your fingers slowly numbing around the container. “You’re wrong,” you state automatically. Using the dim lights from the freezers and the street lamps outside, you walk down the aisle to the front of the shop and decide to investigate for yourself. “I’m sure- I’m sure you just didn’t pull it hard enough.”

You try the door and it’s stuck, and you know he was right: it’s locked.

“Told you so,” Peter mumbles. You immediately turn to glare at him, your heart beating in your chest as your nerves begin to mix with anger, your mind running at a thousand miles an hour. You can’t think of a situation worse than being stuck overnight in a shop with him.

“Do you have your phone?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Peter pats down his body, his loose brown hair flying around a little. “Nope,” he finally replies. He glances up at you, and you see the beginnings of nerves dancing in his gaze. “Do you?”

You grunt. “No,” you reply, voice flat. “I left it by the pool.”

“Brilliant,” he mutters. His eyes pull away from yours, and you observe as he nervously looks away to a point on the floor. “Y’know, Y/N, I’ve actually been wanting to talk to you for a while about- about everything that happened, so maybe this is a good opportunity to talk-”

“No.” You turn on your heel, feeling your cheeks burn as you begin to stalk away down the cereal aisle. You know it’s childishly immature to walk away, but if you’re being honest, you don’t give a fuck about Peter’s feelings. You don’t owe him a thing. “Leave me alone, Peter!” You call back.

Even from across the shop, you’re able to hear his exasperated sigh. “You can’t avoid me forever!”

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

You try your best to stay away from Peter, but it’s hard.

After you’ve been trapped in the shop for a little after thirty minutes, you decide to go exploring. To your disdain, you discover the staffroom is locked, but at least there’s access to a bathroom. The main body of the shop is dark, excluding the various fridge/freezer lights and the constant flashing of various security lights. You spend a while puzzling over the lack of alarms going off, but come to the conclusion that they must only be tripped if someone attempts to pry open a door.

It’s probably about 1am when you stumble into Peter, quite literally, in the middle of the pasta aisle.

“Watch where you’re going!” You exclaim, your voice a low hiss as you stagger a few feet forward. Whatever Peter was holding in his hands goes tumbling to the ground as he groans, and you rub at your knee as you see his shadowy figure double over. When he fails to respond and continues to moan loudly, you feel the alarm begin to grow. “Hey, are you okay?”

You catch a flash of brown as he looks up to you, eyes lit with a childlike innocence that takes your breath away. “Yep,” he stammers. Slowly, he begins to unbend himself. “Just hit me in a place no man wants to get hit.”

Before you can correct his use of man, you find yourself stifling an embarrassed giggle. “I’m sorry,” you say, your lips twisting around the words.

“‘S okay,” he mutters. “I probably deserved it.”

You find yourself kicking at the floor. “Yeah,” you agree, “You did.”

A silence falls over you both, and you suddenly become aware of how close you’re actually standing. “Listen, Y/N, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I- I’d really like to clear some things up with you, and seeing as we’ll be here for the next six hours, can we just talk?” His words are quick and weak, and you can practically feel the anxiousness rolling from his tongue.

Maybe it’s your sleep-deprived brain, or maybe it’s the thrill of being stuck overnight that causes you to agree. But you think truly it’s the vulnerable way his voice quivers through the air towards you that makes your resolve crumble. Suddenly, you aren’t greeted with a wash of anger at the thought of talking to Peter. Suddenly, it seems agreeable.

“Okay,” you whisper. “We can do that.”

His surprise is evident in the way he squeaks softly. “Oh- oh right, okay.” He pauses to take a moment to breathe. “This way? I found some cushions behind one of the cashier’s desks.” He leads you towards a set of large fridges, and your eyes widen as you see a spread of blankets and pillows arranged over the tiled floor. It still isn’t ideal to be trapped in a shop, but you know this makes it slightly more bearable.

Peter sits with his back against a fridge and awkwardly pats the spot beside him. The unearthly blue light being emitted from the large machines gives his face a ghostly look, and you can’t hope but shiver as you slide down to sit beside him, your bodies a few inches from each other. You rest a cheek on your knees as you tilt your head to face him, finally able to look at the face of your ex-best-friend properly for the first time in four months.

“I know I messed up,” he starts, voice a little unsteady. He isn’t looking at you - instead he’s drumming his fingers over the watch wrapped around his wrist. “I didn’t- I didn’t tell you what was going on, and then you found out, and you must’ve been betrayed, but I never wanted to hurt you.”

You feel your breathing stiffen. “I didn’t feel betrayed, Peter.” You shake your head at the incredulity of the situation. “You think I started hating you because you hid the fact that you were Spider-Man from me?”

He looks over to nervously meet your eyes as he nods. “Well- Why else would you suddenly..?”

You groan. “Let’s walk through this year for a sec,” you start. You can feel the anger return to your blood as you glare at the anxious boy in front of you. “Freshman year started off well. You, me, Ned, even MJ - we’re all friends, we’re all hanging out. You’re my best friend. You’ve been my best friend for six years.” You have to close your eyes, feeling a wave of frustrated tears prick your eyeballs. “And then suddenly, you and Ned go really… Really weird. Super weird. You avoid me, and blow me off, and cancel on me every single time-”

“-That’s because of Spider-Man - I couldn’t just abandon those people, Y/N, you know-”

“I know that, Peter,” you remark. “I know that.” You pry your eyes open and blink back a few tears before meeting his gaze, flushing when you see the concern there. “It didn’t hurt me any less. If you’d told me, I would’ve understood. But you didn’t tell me, so I spent months walking around with absent friends, wondering what I’d done to fuck it all up.” Your heart pulses weakly as your memories take you back to that miserable part of your life. Peter and Ned were all you’d known - being without them for weeks on end had been indescribably lonely.

“I know,” he murmurs. “I know, Y/N. And I can’t apologise enough for ignoring you. I just- We didn’t want you to find out, because that’d put you in danger. Ned thought I shouldn’t tell you, he-”

“Don’t put this onto Ned,” you whisper. “Ned has nothing to do with this. Ned was my friend, but you were my best friend.”

Peter stills. You know your words are taking a while to sink in.

“If I hadn’t walked in on you in the changing rooms wearing that stupid costume, you never would’ve told me,” you mutter bitterly. “You were just going to drop me and pretend I never meant anything to me. So excuse me if I wanted to get a step ahead of you and decided to remove myself from that situation.”

You sit back, finally done with your rant. Your mind already feels a little lighter, and your body isn’t throbbing with the usual undertones of anger. Just the act of telling Peter what you’ve been mulling over for months has helped you.

“I didn’t tell you what was going on because I didn’t want to ruin the only bit of peace I had left in my life,” Peter starts, voice full of a quiet trepidation. “You were- Y/N, you were like an anchor to me. Every part of my life was shifting and changing, and you were the only one who didn’t seem to know. You were the only one left out of the situation - the only one who hadn’t been- been poisoned by the dark things going on.” He pauses to pick at his watch. “It was selfish and cruel, but if I’d told you what was going on, you would’ve changed how you were around me. And- and I really liked what we had going on.” He meets your eyes, gaze firm. His pink tongue slides out to moisten his lower lip before he adds, “I really liked you.”

You swallow. Peter had been your best friend, but… Your feelings had always been a little more than just platonic. Just a little. Nothing other than a few lingering stares and brushes of fingers had ever transpired, but maybe the thought of what could’ve been was the most haunting of all.

“You went MIA, then you dropped me, then you came back and fell in love with Liz.” Your voice isn’t heated anymore: more defeated. “You can’t even imagine to know what that was like.”

Peter shakes his head. “I’m not in love with Liz,” he mutters. “I tried- I tried to fill the void, but it didn’t work, Y/N.” He looks hesitantly to you. “I miss you. I want you. I need you. I don’t- I don’t care in what form, I just need you back.” His eyes well with tears as he plays with his fingers to try and calm their shakings. “I’m so sorry for everything. If I could take it back, I would, I just- I needed you to be on the outside, and I didn’t want to hurt you, and I just… I really messed up.” He breaks off to gasp for a breath. “I’m sorry.”

You know you’re at a crossroads.

On the one hand, you’re still hurt. You’re still bitter and resentful and reeling from the months without Peter, and the mere thought of all the times he’d blown you off without a second thought burns holes in your heart.

But… He’s here, and he’s tearful, and in your gut you know he regrets it all. You know Peter, and you know he hasn’t got a mean bone in his body. You know he won’t make the same mistakes again, and as you look at him, you see the outline of your broken, snivelling best friend, and you feel your heart begin to beat again.

“It’s okay,” you breathe. “I forgive you.”

His eyes widen. “Thank you,” he says, voice full of emotion. He reaches over to grab your hand, his shaking fingers weaving around yours as he squeezes you. “Thank- Thank you so much.” It’s with quivering hands that he brings your hand to his mouth, and he seems to be acting on adrenaline as he kisses the back of it because as soon as he’s done it, he freezes and coyly meets your eyes. “Sorry, that was probably really weird, there’s just- there’s so many things I want to say.” He clamps his mouth shut and releases a slow breath through his nose. “Thank you.”

Still a little unaccustomed to the sudden physical contact, you tentatively brush your thumb over the back of his hand. “I’m sorry I was unreasonable,” you say, taking your turn. “I’ve said some pretty mean things to you recently, and I should’ve stopped to listen to you instead of continuing to lash out.”

Peter rapidly shakes his head. “No, I deserved it. It’s okay.”

You smile sadly at him. “Tell me about being Spider-Man.”

The next few hours blur by in a series of snapshots: Peter telling you all about his adventures swinging around Queens, you filling him in on the past four months of your life, and the two of you slowly warming up. With each minute, the rift between you seems to heal, the broken shards of your friendship slowly picking up and stitching back together. As time slips by, you shift closer to him, and as the time inches to 4am, you’re pressed to his side, a tub of ice cream balancing on your knee, and a large blanket wrapped around both him and you.

You stifle a quiet yawn just as Peter’s coming to the end of the story about his trip to Germany.

“Tired?” He asks, squeezing the arm he has draped over your shoulders. You jostle closer to him as you hum quietly. “You can get some sleep if y’want,” he murmurs, “I’ve probably talked you half to death by now.” His voice slips down to the shy dulcet tones you recognise, and it makes you frown.

“I love listening to you talk,” you reply. “It’s all so exciting. I’m just really tired, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Sleep, Y/N.”

You pull your head from the crook of his neck to look up at him, your mouth slightly parted. A sudden realisation hits you: you really want to kiss him. God, you need to kiss him.

As you look at the curves of his features, you can’t help but grin. The sun’s beginning to rise, so a scattering of golden rays are splashed across the wide expanse of his forehead. His brown locks look a rich gold, and when he tilts his head, the sunlight bounces off his eyes and gives them a sparkling glow. Moving down, his lips look soft and relaxed, and your heart throbs at the prospect of leaning in and sealing the deal.

Before it broke, your friendship with Peter had been good. But it hadn’t all been there. There was always something missing - a prophecy unfulfilled. It was so close to being perfect, but it wasn’t.

You think you’ve finally found the missing piece.

Acting a little on impulse, you reach up to cup his cheeks with your hands. You feel the blanket cascade from your shoulders as you lean up towards him, and after pausing for a moment with your mouths mere millimetres apart, you finally press your lips to his.

Kissing Peter is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s slow at first - a little tentative as you try to explore his mouth. But quickly you find a rhythm, and as you press your lips against his warm ones, you can’t help but grin against his mouth. It feels right. Your heart burns in your chest as it feels a little like that missing piece finally slots into place, and as you pull away to gasp for a breath of air, your head’s spinning from the gravity of it all.

“I don’t want to be your friend again,” you whisper, your forehead resting against his. You blink your eyes open slowly, your terror of rejection slipping away when he grins warmly at you and squeezes your sides.

“I don’t want to be your friend either,” Peter murmurs. He smiles slyly before inching in to peck your mouth softly, his lips gliding over yours.

Your fingers play with his curls until a second elongated yawn breaks free of your mouth. So after pausing to steal a final giddy kiss from his lips, you reach back to tug up your blanket and snuggle up against his side, resting your weary head against his shoulder. He wraps you in his arms and pulls you close, and as you begin to feel your consciousness tugged away to dreamland, you’re aware of his lips brushing your forehead.

(And in the morning when the shop owner arrives to find two sleeping teenagers on his shop’s floor, it takes a lot of explaining. Liz is the only one not surprised - apparently she’d been convinced the reason you hadn’t reappeared had been because you’d snuck off to make out.)

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

any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

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[nitroidwrites]

body switch

Relaunching my ancient drabble au on Aomine and Kise getting switched into each other’s bodies. I hope to make this into a complete fic soon!

Also had some amazing art drawn by the incredible amanduurr here. ❤

body switch I

Getting through the school day is hard.

Aomine cannot get over how slender Kise’s body is, the clean shape of his well cared for nails, the gentle curve of his waist before it meets his hips - all things the tanned teen is definitely not used to.

He shifts his feet under Kise’s desk, studying the flow of Kaijo’s school slacks around Kise’s long legs. The blond is so lanky; Aomine was surprised to discover that his shirt was a couple sizes larger than Kise’s.

In Kise’s notebook, the name Ryouta is scrawled in elegant cursive - in English letters, which surprises Aomine - on the first page. The second page is decorated with cute and slightly grotesque looking monsters that Kise had probably sketched out and then outlined later with a thin black marker. Aomine recognizes one of the monsters as a keychain on the blond’s bag.

Kise has a slim, barely there pencil case that unsurprisingly hosts two gel pens, a blunt 2B pencil, an eraser, a marker, and surprisingly, a slim, sleek and dangerous looking box cutter. Aomine ponders over why the blond would own something of the sort but decides that he is better off not knowing.

When the bell rings for lunch, Aomine moves Kise’s body out of class and into the sunshine. He’s even more surprised to note that Kise has really pale skin; so pale he can even see the greenish-bluish veins connecting at his wrist to his thumb, sprawling out all over his hand. The tips of his fingers are soft. The skin at Kise’s elbow is so white; Aomine decides this is a welcome change from his usual tan.

He locates a good spot behind Block C of Kaijo’s chemistry lab, and sits down on the grass, holding the small bento Kise’s mother had lovingly packed for the boy in her son’s body. She has no idea that he isn’t really her son.

Aomine cranks open the bento cover carefully to discover it is a thin onion soup with chopped carrots, potatoes, seaweed and a few spoons of rice. While Aomine usually sleeps through lunch, he knows that this is somehow much-needed nutrition for the blond, who almost never has time to eat or hang out due to rushed modeling gigs.

He drinks and eats every last bit for Kise.

And when the bell rings again to signify the continuity of lessons, Aomine curls Kise’s body into a ball and allows the blond some good old sleep.

body switch II

Kise trips, slips, and slides in Aomine’s basketball shoes. Although they fit well, he isn’t used to the larger teen’s body size at all and is having major trouble trying to wrap his mind around fitting into a couple sizes bigger than he usually wears. He trips over shoelaces he’d stupidly forgotten to tighten, and lands on his face. Well, Aomine’s face. It still hurts, for a bit.

He feels his cheeks burning hot as he tries to appear normal.

Nothing about this is normal, not even with his added bonus of modeling skills, and Kise is very certain that he can pull off almost anything and look good for the camera.

Except that there is no camera, but a multitude of eyeballs watching him participate in a practice match with awkward stunts only toddlers display. After landing a three-pointer, Kise slides down awkwardly in the middle of the court and covers his eyes and cheeks with both hands.

“Aomine?”

The rest of Touou’s teammates collectively gather around his trembling frame.

“Oi, Aomine!”

“Whoa…”

“You alright?”

Kise manages a nod and excuses himself politely. He doesn’t want to offend anyone by screaming that he needs some form of spiritual shift, preferably back into his own body, but by the looks on their faces, he must have done something wrong.

“You taking lessons on mannerisms from Momoi?” A bespectacled teen asks with a worried smile.

Kise recognizes him as the Touou team captain.

“I mean, you did come to practice today… that’s a first.”

He jerks back with the sudden realization that he is behaving in a way that is highly unlike Aomine and has absolutely no idea what the tanned teen does in his free time, but concludes that now is the perfect time for a getaway.

He stretches his arms as chill as he possibly can, and mumbles something about being tired as he fakes a yawn. He hauls Aomine’s ass out of the gym and bolts for the only place he is used to hiding from people - the school library. He ducks behind the farthest shelves from the entrance and slides down into a seated crouch as he breathes in the strong masculine scent of Aomine’s sweat, basketball jersey, and a spiced wood sort of smell, possibly from his aftershave.

Kise lets out a whimper.

He checks his phone when he receives a text - it’s Aomine, telling him to cheer up and that he’s given his body a good amount of sleep, mostly by skipping several classes. Actually, he skipped about five out of six classes. Also, there had been a test and his body had not been present.

Staring at tanned fingers, bathed in testosterone-soaked sweat, smelling like everything Aomine, Kise buries his face in his hands and inhales. He can’t help it.

He is so in love.

body switch III

Aomine is fairly certain Kise’s body is incredibly fragile.

He demonstrates a halfhearted dunk in Kaijo’s indoor gym and pushes Kise’s long fringe up over his damp forehead. Somehow, Aomine isn’t used to this light, nimble body. His mind is hyper-aware of the fact that using Kise’s body with his usual lackadaisical manner of which he normally treats his own body would somehow break the blond teen, much like a porcelain plate being thrown onto a hard surface. Aomine nurses the thought of Kise smashing into a million and one pieces in his mind, and shakes his head to clear his brain, which is on the verge of panicking at the sudden flood of images that consist of Kise’s naked body disintegrating into an abysmal void.

So far, the tanned ace has spent the entire night discovering the other teenage boy’s body, from his face to his torso, his armpits - such light colored, barely there hair! - to his well-manicured nails, slender legs, the strange curves of his hips, and most intriguingly, Kise’s cock.

Aomine smirks at the memory of a mole, a tiny, but still noticeable dot on the inside of Kise’s left thigh, barely a finger’s length away from his crotch.

The blond is so beautiful, Aomine feels a sense of protectiveness blanket the rest of his functioning nerves with vigor. The feeling intensifies whenever anyone lays a hand on Kise - be it anywhere on his person; shoulders, arms, hands - and Aomine’s tolerance level does a flip, a twist, and a leap into annoyance.

He barely notices when the ball rolls to his feet.

Kise’s captain, whom Aomine has come to like, gently drops a clean towel around his neck and guides him carefully to the bench beside the court.

“Is it your leg again?” Kasamatsu asks quietly, cautiously not making eye contact, but every fiber of his being shows Aomine he is very perceptive of Kise’s injury.

Feeling a wave of mixed emotions overcome him, Aomine sits Kise down as gently as he can manage without straining the blond’s knee and ankle - he winces as he feels a twinge accompanying the movement - and tries not to think about the pain Kise has been allowing himself to constantly endure since the last match against Seirin.

“I’m good.” He manages to make Kise say.

“Are you sure? You did skip practice yesterday. Did you have another gig on?”

Aomine, feeling his stomach churn slightly for having to lie to Kise’s kind captain, nods tersely and attempts an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Don’t strain yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Kise’s voice comes out thin. Aomine clears his throat.

Kasamatsu gives him a skeptical look, but jogs away to find some water for both of them.

Folding in on himself, Aomine wraps his arms around Kise’s legs, bringing his chin to rest on his knees. It is a pose he has often seen the blond do during Teiko days.

He is surprised that he can still remember.

Inwardly, he wonders how long he can pull this off, pretending to be Kise, and avoiding questions, concerned looks - and most of all, keeping away from random girl groups, women smiling at him in the streets, calls from talent hunters, and other humans in general. Aomine can feel exhaustion seeping through his bones, and wonders how Kise goes through life day by day in this manner.

A chilled Pocari touches his cheek, and a warm hand rests on his shoulder.

Kasamatsu and Kise’s other senpai, Moriyama, peer down at him.

“What do you need?” Kasamatsu places a hand against Aomine’s - nee Kise’s - forehead. “Tell me.”

“Let’s take a break. We could go to an onsen. Hit on girls. Get numbers.” Moriyama felt Kise’s neck for fever signs before looking at Kaijo’s worried captain. “Temp’s okay. Think he just needs some air.”

The other teammates crowd around whom they assumed was Kise, concern marking their features as they watch him quietly.

“Did anyone hear what I said, give the guy some space.” Moriyama is saying.

Kasamatsu places a cool damp towel on his forehead, almost lovingly. He offers Aomine a worried smile.

“Lie down for a bit, Kise.”

Beyond speechless, Aomine stares up at them and feels a genuine warmth spread through his chest and throughout Kise’s body. He decides that Kaijo’s team seems to consist of sunshine, glowing stars, and angels.

He thinks he knows why Kise wanted to win so much, back then. It was all for these guys.

[ofrosaspina]

How It Began — Darcy and Jae

How Darcy and Jae ( @a-crack-in-the-marble​) first met. Written over Discord. 

Darcy written by myself (obviously) Jae written by T (@a-crack-in-the-marble)

Jae-

Jae was annoyed. He had to find a photographer for the shoot he was directing but they were all shit. They all claimed to be fucking visionaries but it was the same old photos of girls with ball gowns and jean jackets… fucking original… Of course he charmed all of the photographers, lead them on. ‘Your portfolio really has that extra something we’re looking for.’… ‘ it’s too early to say but I think you’re the best candidate we’ve interviewed,’... It was all utter bullshit. Jae was fucking with every single last one of them. They were all shit. He walked up and down the street, smiling sweetly at everyone he passed, men and women alike seemed to swoon. It was all very boring. He wanted to get a rise out of someone. He vaguely considered getting drunk right in the street just to see if he could get away with it, but that too was boring… been there done that. He flopped down onto a park bench, sitting on was was unmistakably a portfolio. He opened it without a second thought. Clearly whoever left it was fucking stupid and got what they deserved. He opened the portfolio and started to flip through. He was considering dumping it in the garbage three towns over but the images intrigued him. Fire. Lots of fire. He grinned. This was the kind of photographer he wanted.

Darcy-

He had to leave quickly. Too quickly. He supposed the police didn’t like that he was setting fire to things in the park, pouring gas on statues, and water fountains and setting them ablaze. They made for beautiful pictures however, and Darcy truly and honestly couldn’t help himself. He had circled the park twice in search of his perfect models, and took over twenty polaroids before he had to flee. Unfortunately, his little black portfolio had been left on a bench. Darcy was annoyed if anything, and had to wait for the police to clear out before he could go retrieve it.

Darcy had this thing for fire. Thing being a light term, it was more of a complete obsession. It was clear with the hundred or so pictures in the portfolio. Nothing he passed by wasn’t scorched. It was beauty. It was grace, Darcy loved the look of flames crawling up a wilting creature. There was a quiet judgement about it. He had so much power when he held his zippo in his palm. Like he could control any situation that came to him. It gave him purpose.

The young man was mildly disturbed.

He was well aware. Everyone around him was aware.

It was then, mid thought, that Darcy came back to that bench he had left, horrified that someone had his portfolio in hand. How dare they—

Darcy-

Darcy hummed low in his throat, "Ayo! Asshole!" He snapped, storming up to the stranger, and snatching the portfolio from his hands, "The fuck you doing with this?"

Jae-

Jae looked up, only letting his surprise show in a quick flash before he smiled slowly at the guy standing on front of him. "Hello there," he spoke low and slow, a combination he knew few could resist. "Your work is quite...impressive,".  He drew his gaze up and down the other.

Darcy-

Darcy just scoffs and tucks his work into his bag, sneering in the man's direction, "Yeah, I'd say thanks, but fuck you and your condescending face." He shoves his hands in his pockets, fiddling anxiously with his lighter, "Forget you saw anything."

Jae-

Jae's interest was immediately sparked... someone not so easily charmed. "Which one is it going to be, fuck me and my condescending face... or forget I saw anything?". He stood, shifting his body slightly toward the other guy. "I'm jae." He grinned.

Darcy-

Dark hues narrowed dangerously, fingers flexing around the cool metal of the lighter. He didn't do polite conversation, but neither did this man it seemed. He takes a step away as this stranger, Jae, shifts closer to him, "You're a Grade A piece of shit arent you? You have a real nice smile, but dude your eyes scream asshole..." he pauses, "Darcy--"

Jae-

Jae's eyes widened the tiniest bit. Usually all it took was a smile and his presence and people all but fell at his feet. Hell... sometimes they did fall down to his feet. His smile only grew. He needed this photographer. "Darcy," the name lingered on his lips. "I'd say you have a nice smile too but I haven't had the pleasure... yet."

Darcy-

His lip twitched the slightest bit, but it was just that. A twitch. He just sighs, "Save it." Darcy grumbles, and turns on his heels, worn sneakers carrying him a few steps away from the other, "Next time, don't touch what isn't yours, got it? Learn some Goddamn manners or some shit..."

Jae-

"My manners are impeccable. I could show you over dinner some time..." he blatantly followed Darcy. "Or... you could let me hire you as the photographer for a photo shoot I'm directing tomorrow."

Darcy-

He could hear Jae following him and that alone made his tremble ache slightly. This guy was insufferable, but hell he was persistent. Darcy continues to walk, annoyed, "Why the hell would I wanna do either of those things." He glances toward the street where cops were talking. Fuck. He turns lifting a brow, "You're awful you know that? Do like bugging strangers this much?"

Jae-

"Nope. Only you." He walked shoulder to shoulder with Darcy. "I think I could probably make it worth your while," he winked. Jae actually winked. Normally that would make any fucking normal person throw themselves at him. "I think your particular talents Re what the shoot needs." Jae followed Darcy's eyes to the cops nearby. He smiled slyly.

Darcy-

Darcy notices the wink, "Did a big fly into your re just then?" He almost sounds amused, but doesn't let on that he is mildly interested. He notices that Jae is eyeballing the police and his heart leaps into his throat, "How much does it pay?" Ducking his head a the two officers spot them, "Will you leave me alone if I agree?"

Jae-

"It'll pay however much you want," he shrugged. Like he fucking cared about the money. He just wanted Darcy. Jae caught Darcy avoiding the police officer's' gaze, and smiled wickedly. "I'm unlikely to leave you alone. You've sparked my interest Darcy." Jae walked straight up the two officers. "Hello gentleman. Can we help you?," his smile was sickly sweet.(edited)

Darcy-

Darcy was mildly horrified as Jae brushed passed him and up to the two officers, he couldn't breathe. He turns and immediately grabs ahold of the back of Jae's shirt with a threatening amount of force. He couldn't run though, he just kept close and ducked his head, "Ah yes, we’re looking for an individual who was setting fires in this park.   " they look at Darcy, "Have either of you seen anything?"(edited)

Jae-

Jae felt Darcy grab his shirt and he casually reached his hand back and grabbed hold of the other's hand with an innocent smile. "Setting fires in the park?," he cocked his head to the side with mock concern. "How awful!," he shook his head, playing the part of concerned citizen. The cops ate it up. Fucking idiots. Not even a challenge at this point. "We didn't see anything. We just met up a few moments ago to go have dinner together," he smiled and flicked his eyes to their hands.

Darcy-

Darcy was going to vomit. Seriously. He felt the bile burning in the back of his throat as Jae laced their fingers together in such an innocent fashion. He's rigid as the officers glare down at him. He hated this. Hated every moment of this. His breathing is quick, but he grits his teeth, "Is that right, son? You two just got here? I could have sworn I've seen you around." Darcy curses quietly. "No. Just got here." his answer is clipped and defensive. He was going to get arrested. He knew it.

Jae-

"Oh! you probably have seen him around. I direct a lot of photoshoots for a lot of the local fashion brands...Dee here photographs them for me and i've even convinced him to model a couple times so you've probably seen him in some of the magazine releases," he smiled at the officers. He knew better than to give them Darcy's name and he also knew it was unlikely they knew a fucking thing about fashion. "Now if you don't mind excusing us officers, we're a little late to our dinner reservations," he gave the men one last smile before tugging Darcy along with him down the street.

Darcy-

Dee? Fucking Dee? Absolutely fucking not. What a hideous nickname. Hell, this guy shouldn't even be touching him, and now he was acting like they were fucking. Sure, Darcy understood why he was doing it, but he didn't need to be protected. He had two feet, and he was quick. He could run and get out of town in a flash, but Jae was insisting to get in the middle. The officers just smiled and apologized for keeping them, and Darcy wanted to turn himself in. He'd rather be in jail at this point. He waits until they round the corner before yanking out of Jae's hand, "Fuck you." Darcy snarls, shoving him by the shoulders, "Who the hell do you think you are? Does it look like I need your fuckin' help man? I'm not a charity case, and I sure as shit don't need you protecting me like that."(edited)

Jae-

Jae smirked at the other. "I don't think you need my help...in fact I know that you don't. people who burn shit for fun don't often need help from others." He allowed himself to be shoved a little, starting right into Darcy's eyes. "But isn't it fun to fuck with people who are more weak-willed than us?," the gleam in his eyes was wicked. Darcy was different, he wasn't blind and ready to bend to Jae's every whim. Jae instantly liked this about him.

Darcy-

Darcy huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, palming his lighter as he did so. He constantly had it on him, it was like a child with their favorite teddy bear. It was a comfort mechanism. It was a pacifier. His thumb smooths over the metal, "You're twisted dude..." Darcy is quiet for a moment, "If the offer still stands I'll do that fuckin' shoot tomorrow. I want payment upfront. Cash not Check. I also want lunch." His brow lifts, "That won't be any trouble now will it?" he challenges. He didn't need anyone, that much was true, but Jae was interesting to say the least, so he didn't mind playing along a little. It was very rare for him to want to be around another human being. This was an anomaly.  "Oh, and call me Dee again and I'll make sure to set your car on fire next."

Jae-

Jae's eyes flicked to where Darcy played with the lighter. It was an odd habit, but it seemed to suit Darcy. "Excellent," he smirked. "And to think I was considering letting you off the hook for a dinner... Lunch will do and cash up front is no problem," rising easily to Darcy's challenge. He didn't care how much Darcy wanted. He'd pay it. "Did you want me to give them your real name instead?," he questioned.  "By the way...setting fires in parks?... I think I did you a favor by finding your portfolio before the cops did."

Darcy-

Darcy knew Jae was right. That he could have just given the cops his first name, but didn't. Still. The man before him was sparking a fire in Darcy. It wasn't often that he allowed himself to get this chatty with a stranger. Though, here he was. He heaves a troubled sigh, "Fuck off. I'm not normally not this fucking careless. It's just not my lucky day." Darcy eyes him up and down, "Clearly." The blonde pushes his free hand through his hair, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then. I wanna get this shit show over with, then we can continue on with our lives."

Jae-

"Maybe it was fate? Ya know 'you're going to meet a tall, handsome stranger', type deal?" Jae met Darcy's eyes as they skimmed him up and down. "Like what you see?," he smirked. "Give me your phone number and i'll text you the address... although I think i'd like your number regardless," he mused, blatantly trying to flirt and charm the other. "you say that now, but i'll bet you'l be begging me to bring you to lunch again after you see me at work."

Darcy-

Darcy wasn't amused by the disgusting display of flirting, and he sure as hell didn't want to give him his phone number. He pulls out a old, shitty flip phone. It had a crack on the left side,a few scorch marks on the back, and it looked like it was ready to completely fall apart. He couldn't afford something nice than this. So, if Jae wanted to call him out on it. So be it. "You can't text me, so just call and keep it quick." he mutters out, scoffing, "You're pretty repulsive. I don't know if I'll be able to keep my food down if I'm honest." Darcy despite all his complaining reads off his phone number.

Jae-

"You wound me Darcy," he said as if the comments had hurt him. He typed the number into his phone smiling to himself. "Id say I grow on people but truthfully I don't normally have to work this hard to charm people." Jae had every intention of continuing though.

Darcy-

"I can see why you'd normally not have a problem, but I've been around people like you. People who can twist and manipulate other with ease..." Darcy pauses, tucking his phone back into his pocket, "I see right through you, Jae. You don't scare me, and you sure as hell don't have me charmed." Though, to be honest, Darcy was actually enjoying himself. Despite how his face might look.

Jae-

Darcy knew just what to say to get under his skin and Jae loved it, loved the challenge of it all. "I'm not trying to scare you... I guess I'll just have to work harder to charm you though," he sighed dramatically.

Darcy-

Darcy's quiet for a long moment, sighing eventually and turning away from Jae. "Right...I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

Jae-

"Looking forward to it," he winked at Darcy again.

Darcy-

Darcy woke up to a phone call and a location. An hour later he was standing awkwardly in the middle of a gaggle of models who stood at least a head taller than him. His blonde hair flicked in the wind, "So, is this a bridal shoot then?" Darcy asks with an annoyed tone. It was all to clean and white. Boring. "Why did you think I'd be a good fit for this?"

Jae

Jae smiled and sauntered up to Darcy as soon as he saw him enter the room.  He shrugged at Darcy's comment. "Not my first choice either, that's why I wanted a photographer who could bring something different to the shoot." He glanced around at the room full of flowers. "Do you think you can handle that?" He smirked, leaning towards the other slightly

Darcy-

He leaned away as Jae came closer, holding his camera with sweaty hands. There were too many people. He didn't think this through. He could have easily blown this off. Why did he even come? "Yeah. I can handle it. Don't worry about it. I know what I'm doing."

Jae-

"Okay then. Let's get started," he flashed Darcy a smile and turned to address the room. Immediately his voice was authoritative but also silky smooth, drawing everyone in. "This is Darcy, he's going to photographing our lovely models." He gestured to the other. He pointed to one of the models, the tallest one with long black hair and wide eyes,"you... I want you on the couch in the middle of the flowers, please dear. He cocked his head a little and grinned, "be good for our new friend here and get some pretty shots." He stood back to watch.

Darcy-

Darcy watched with a stoic face, jaw set and eyes cold, and distant. The models smiled at him, but he could tell they were a little uncomfortable. He got right to work, quietly instructing the model into different poses, but despite the pictures looking gorgeous-- Darcy wasn't feeling it.

Jae-

Jae watched the shoot, allowing Darcy to take control, but something felt off. He needed to stir up some shit to get this moving. He walked up behind Darcy, "mind if I look at the photos?," his voice was polite and lacking his normal confident charm. He wanted to throw Darcy off, he wanted to get a rise from him.

Darcy-

Darcy blinks, startled by the man's appearance behind him, "Go for it..." he moves to flip through the photos on the camera, but for some reason he felt nervous, "Well?"

Jae-

"Hmmm...," Jae stared at the photos. They were good in the technical definition... better than actually, but they weren't what he was looking for, not what he was expecting from the guy who set fires in the park. "I think they're still missing something. What do you think, Dee?" He was trying to piss Darcy off a little. He wanted to see the same spark he saw yesterday.

Darcy-

Darcy physically twitches as Jae spoke, tearing his camera out of the man's sight, and hugging indignantly, "Don't fucking call me that, and what the hell could be missing?" Some of the models were beginning to shy away from the two as Darcy's tone became tight, "I'm working with what I got--"

Jae-

"Dee seems fitting for now. I think Darcy had a lot more fire in him," he practically purred at the other. "My models are the best around," he said it sweetly, but he knew they weren't. Models just had the fucking worst confidence and he really didn't feel like dealing with them. "What do you need to make these photos spark? I'm willing to try anything," his tone suggestive as he smirked at Darcy.

Darcy-

Darcy shoved passed Jae, "Fuck off." He snarls and points at one of the models, directing her to lay back on one of the sofas, and had her fluff the dress to the side. She looked terrified, and he could see a little shine in her eyes, "Good." He snaps, " Move to the left a little. Good. Pout a little." He just wanted to get this over with.

Jae-

He watched closely...these would be better but still not quite what Jae had imagined. He just needed to push the other a tiny bit more. "I wanted more spark, not crying models," he clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. He didn't really care if the models cried or not. He walked right up to the photographer and stood just behind him, whispering so only Darcy would hear him, "Where's the Darcy I met last night...the one ready to burn the whole park down?... that's the Darcy I want," his voice was low a just a little breathy. He was determined to test out all his normal tricks on Darcy, curiously watching for his reaction.

Darcy-

Hearing the voice behind him made his heart jump into his throat, and out of pure adrenaline he spun around and socked Jae right in the mouth. His fist ached, "Why the fuck did you hire me?" Darcy snarled, "Are you fucking with me?" He laughs dryly, shaking his head as he storms away. Without a second thought his lighter was out. If he wanted passion and fire...Darcy would give him fire. The flame licked the flowers, and spread quick.

Jae-

People immediately ran to jae and he waved them off. His hand rubbed against his jaw but he couldn't help but smile. that had certainly never happened before. He couldn't help but be amused. He let Darcy walk off the set, eyes going wide as the flames engulfed the flowers around the model. She started to run but Jae was there in an instant. "Stay. For the love of all things fucking holy, stay. He stepped up to the model, knowing he had a limited about of time before sprinklers went off. "Okay honey, lift your hand up, towards the flame, tuck your legs to the side up on the couch and let the dress hang over the edge. Chin up and slightly away from the fire. Just stare straight ahead. Do that and I'll let you take the diamond earrings home," his voice dripped like  honey. He chased after Darcy. "You're going to want to see this Darcy! Please just come take this shot. One shot. Everything is up and flames and it's calling to you, I know it is." His voice was slightly more urgent, his usual lazy tone gone. This was the shot he needed. Out of fire, Darcy created beauty.

Darcy-

Darcy was shaking. He was heading toward the door, the chaos ensuing behind him making his heart hammer against his chest. He so bad wanted to spin on his toes and watch the entire venue go up in flames, but he knew the police would soon be called, and he had to get out of here. Unless of course, he wanted to be sitting in jail for the next ten years. Which, no, he did not. So, he was out of there. It wasn't until he heard that irritating voice once again, begging, yes, Jae sounded like he was begging him to come take the shot. Darcy was confused, rightly so, but the flames were so pretty. smoke billowed up toward the ceilings, and with one nod he sprinted back over with his camera. He didn't say anything, he just lined up the shot and took a handful of photos of the terrified model. Then, the alarms were going off, and the sprinkler system was set off. Everything was soaked in seconds, Darcy's waterlogged clothes pulling his shoulders down. He was entranced, completely by the sight of the flowers fizzling out. He could feel the tears dripping down his cheeks, and he was just thankful that no one could tell with the sprinklers.

Jae-

Jae watched in awe as Darcy worked. He was entirely different with the flames creeping dangerously all around. He could see it in the way he stood, the way he focused, and in the way his body seemed to mimic the fluid beauty of the flames. It was all incredibly dangerous and mind-bogglingly alluring. Jae stood silent and speechless as the sprinklers drenched them all. People panicked around him, running to protect all the expensive, useless things. Jae walked up to Darcy, keeping his distance for once. He smiled genuinely at Darcy, a rare sight indeed. "That was the spark I was looking for Darcy."

Darcy-

Darcy felt like he was being physically pulled out of his body when Jae spoke, clearly shaken by the events, but he's quick to pull himself together. That is, until he sees that smile. It wasn't like before. It wasn't that look that made Darcy want to drown the man in the nearest bathtub, no, the smile was — Nice. It made his skin crawl. "Fuck you..." but this time, there was no malice in those words. No, instead, Darcy tips his head back letting the water wash over his flushed face, and he laughed. He just couldn't help himself. Who in their right mind would encourage Darcy's behaviour? Clearly Jae had a few screws loose. He liked that.

Jae-

Jae could do little but stare as Darcy's head tilted back, chin high in the air. The other's laugh sent shivers up his spine, the sound intoxicating. He barely registered the water running off his own face. Everything about Darcy was different, he didn't fit any mold that Jae had cataloged in his brain. He didn't respond to his presence like everyone else around him did, and he wanted more of Darcy's biting remarks. He was bored with people, they never could keep up with him, but Darcy clearly could. Soon the flames were extinguished and people were looking to him for guidance. He looked at one of his assistants stating flatly, and without his usual charm, "fucking handle it." He turned to Darcy, "Lunch?," he asked softly.

[blueneonlightshow-blog]

Flowers are the best medicine

Star moaned in pain as she felt her body ache from her cold. She rolled over in her bed, pulling the covers over her face. Her eyes felt too sensitive to the light, her body felt hot but somehow had cold chills hitting her every now and then. Needless to say, she wasn’t having a good day so far.

“Hey Star?”

She slowly opened her eyes and lowered the covers to see her best friend standing next to the bed.

She smiled and weakly responded, “Hey Marco.”

Marco gave a sympathetic look to the poor girl. This was her first cold on earth, meaning her immune system wasn’t prepared to deal with the oncoming sickness. He knew he should’ve done more than just scold Star when she went dumpster diving for stale donuts and bagels. The only thing that surprised him was the fact that she didn’t catch anything sooner. “I brought you some soup. Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

He handed over a nice how bowl of chicken noodle soup, carefully placing it on Star’s lap.

“Uuuggghhhhh Marco, I don’t feel like eating,” she complained, wanting to hide under her blankets again.

“I know, but you haven’t eaten anything all day. You’re body’s gonna need something if you want to get better.”

Star gave a sigh of defeat before picking up the spoon and bringing it to her mouth. She took a small sip when-

“OW! Hot hot hot hot hot hot!”

Marco laughed to himself. “It’s soup, Star. It’s supposed to be hot.”

She pouted. “And here I thought you were trying to make me feel better. Death by burning...  You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“No, that’s not-”

“Admit it! You fiend! This was your plan all along! Star Butterfly will not submit to your torture!! I will- ow…” she held her head as she felt a sudden pain.

Marco shook his head. ‘What am I going to do with you?’ He gently pushed Star back on the bed, taking the bowl away. “Alright, Star. Just rest a bit and you can eat the soup later. I’ll be back to check up on you in a couple of minutes.”

Star grabbed Marco’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Actually Marco, I have an idea…”

The boy blushed at the sudden contact. “Y-yes Star?”

“I think… I know of a way you can make me feel better…” She whispered suggestively.

Marco shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah? A-and what might that be?” he asked, his voice cracking from embarrassment.

She pulled him closer, bringing her lips to his ear. “Do you think…”

His heart was pounding at the distance between their faces.

She snaked her arms over his neck. “...that you could…”

His face turned bright red. Was she actually about to ask what he was thinking? She couldn’t! She didn’t think of him like that! Did she? DID SHE?? He closed his eyes, waiting for the question to drop.

“...go to Mewni?” she asked innocently.

Marco opened his eyes and look at Star. “...What?”

The princess reached further behind Marco and pulled out her dimensional scissors, waving it in front of his face. “There’s a plant in a cave that’s said to cure all illnesses and I want to see if it’ll help at all.”

Marco stood there, his heart still pounding from the close proximity of their faces. “Uhhh….”

“Don’t worry! It’s perfectly safe… You should probably take my wand though.”

The boy shook his head, regaining some of his senses back. “Wait, hold on, what? The wand?? How dangerous is this cave? I don’t even know where it is!”

Star brushed off his concerns and continued to ramble on about how to use the wand in self defense. “And then there’s the usual cupcake blasts and super flaming rocket wave. I’m sure you can handle it.” She pushed the wand into Marco’s chest.

Marco desperately tried to push back the wand, but Star wasn’t having any of it today. “But- but what if Ludo attacks you while I’m gone?”

She shrugged and pointed to the puppies. “I got those guys. They may be cute, but they do shoot lasers. Besides, it shouldn’t take you more than a couple of minutes depending on… how fast… you can run from…”

The princess started to trail off as she slowly closed her eyes, falling back to sleep.

“Run from what? ...Star? Staaarrrr? STAR!?” Marco practically yelled in her ears, but it did little to stir the princess awake. She simply rolled over to the other side with her back turned towards him. He looked down at the two magical items in his hands before looking back at the girl. He sighed, putting away the wand in his back pocket and stroked Star’s hair. “The things I do for you…”

He stuck the scissors in the air and cut open a portal leading to Mewni.

------

Marco stepped out of the portal and into the exotic world of Mewni. Despite exploring different dimensions, Mewni always seemed to impress the human every time they visited. Star would occasionally come back just to show him around (without her parents knowing of course), and while Marco had a general idea of where everything was, Star didn’t specify where exactly the cave he needed to travel to was. He looked around, looking for someone to ask, although the commoners of Mewni didn’t look quite friendly to him.

“Hey you! Kid, come over here!” a merchant shouted from his stall.

Marco looked around to see if he was talking to anyone else besides him. He then pointed to himself questioningly.

“Yeah, you. Come here!”

Marco hesitantly walked up to the stall and gave a sheepish smile.  “Um… hello?”

The merchant scanned the area, making sure no one was listening on their conversation. “You look like you’re new in town, kid.”

“Actually, I’ve been here before-”

“Well you’re in luck. I’ve got just the thing for you. These souvenirs are a perfect gift to give to your girlfriend!” the strange Mewman revealed his intricate objects on the table for Marco to see.

Marco blushed, an image of Star coming to mind. “Girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend-”

“You’re telling me those scissors are actually yours?” he pointed to the magical item that was still in Marco’s hand.

“Oh uh…” He put away the scissors in his pockets. ”Well no, it’s not, but I mean, she isn’t my-”

“Yeah, yeah, not your girlfriend. I’ve heard that story a million times before.”

“But she’s not-”

“Any of these items interest you, kid?”

Marco shook his head. “I’m not here to buy anything. I’m actually looking for-”

“Ohhh, I see. You want something real unique, don’t you? Well I got just the thing.” The merchant pulled out a small box and opened it, revealing a watch from Earth.

Marco looked unimpressed. “It’s a watch…”

“It’s a thing of beauty. People come from other dimensions just to gaze upon this rare piece.”

Marco seemed unconvinced at the merchant’s offer. “Is that why you have so many people here wanting to buy your stuff?” he sarcastically mentioned, looking around at the nearly empty streets.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, kid. These things are awesome.”

Marco let out a sigh. “Yeah, well, I’m not here for you. I need to find a cave that has some magical plant or something.”

“A cave you say…” the merchant scratched his chin. “That sounds familiar. I could’ve sworn I saw one while I was walking here.”

Marco lunged towards the Mewman. “What? Really? Where is it?”

“Hmmm… I’m not sure. I’m having trouble remembering where it is. If only there was something that could jog my memory…” he suggested, pushing the cheap items towards Marco.

“Seriously, dude? I don’t have time for this,” Marco said with a deadpan voice. He pushed the items off the table. “Just tell me where it is, man!”

The merchant gave a dirty look. “Hmph. Kids these days. It’s over there.” He pointed behind him towards the Forest of Certain Death.

Marco felt a wave of disappointment and fear wash over him, yet he wasn’t all too surprised at the news. “Not this again…” He began walking towards the dark forest, dreading at thought of monsters that were waiting for him. He stopped at the path and took a deep breath. “Come on, Marco. you’re doing this for Star…”

More images of the bubbly girl came to mind. He felt his heart race, not from fear, but from his well kept secret feelings for his best friend.

“You’re doing this for Star…”

He pulled out the wand, gripping it tightly as he entered the woods. He could hear unsettling noises in the distance. A roar every now and then, some hisses that sounded as if they were right next to his ear, and glowing eyes that followed the boy as he slowly made his way through the woods. He held the wand close to him, ready to blast any monsters that might jump at him. After a few minutes, he found an opening in a rockside. Marco felt a sense of relief as he ran towards the cave, but stopped just short of the entrance.

“It shouldn’t take you more than a couple of minutes depending on how fast you can run from…”

Marco groaned, remembering how Star never finished her sentence. Now he has to worry about something dangerous lurking in the cave. He readied the wand and began to walk forward. The light began to fade as he travelled deeper into the darkness. He used the walls to guide him forward, hoping that he wouldn’t get lost. He didn’t want to experiment with any spells just yet. He was afraid it would backfire and only make things worse. Besides, the only ones he knew were attack spells, and that’s just because Star constantly shouted them out while they were fighting monsters. Attack spells weren’t going to help much for lighting up the cave.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to worry about having light as he saw something glow in the distance. Marco squinted and could see that it was a flamboyant flower with all the colors of the rainbow on it. He smiled, thinking it was probably the plant that he needed. He approached the glowing flower and plucked it from where it grew. “Finally. Now I just need to…”

He stopped when he saw a floating ball of light hovering in front of him. Star’s warning came to mind as he watched the ball come closer to him. Unsure of what to make of it, he slowly backed away, keeping the light at a distant. The light stopped and opened, revealing an eyeball. Then an entire shellfish like body began to form as the light began to disperse across its body.

Marco let out a girlish scream before sprinting in the other direction. The shellfish monster chased after him, its claws snapping at Marco. It grabbed a hold of his hoodie, lifting up the flailing boy. Marco quickly let himself fall through the clothes and landed with a hard thud. The monster ate the hoodie but quickly spit it out. It locked eyes with Marco and let out a screech before chasing after him again. The boy pointed the wand at the giant being and shouted, “N-Narwhal blast!”

The wand shot out its rainbow colored narwhals, impacting against the monster.

“Cupcake blast! Super rainbow dolphin slam!” Marco shouted all the spells he could remember at the shellfish, hoping it would be enough to push it back. The monster cried out, retreating back to the darkness. Marco took this chance to make his escape. He pulled out the dimensional scissors and cut open a portal back to Earth and jumped in before anything else could surprise him.

----

Marco landed face first on the ground, groaning at the pain.

“Marco!” A familiar voice called out. He looked up to see a completely healthy Star by his side.

“Star?” He sat up, still aching from the encounter.

The princess hugged her best friend. “I’m so glad you’re okay! What happened? Where’d you go? What happened to your hoodie?”

Marco gave a completely puzzled look. “What? Star, you told me to go to Mewni and get you this plant.” He lifted up the intact glowing rainbow flower. “You said people use this flower to make you better.”

“I did?” Star examined the flower before realizing what it was. She looked down, letting her hair cover her face. “You… got that for me?”

“Yeah. And let me tell you, it wasn’t exactly as safe as you said. There was a giant glowing lobster thing that chased after me!!” He shuddered at the memory. “Remind me never to eat seafood again…”

“M-Marco? That’s… not just any plant…”

The boy gave an exhausted look. “You mean I got the wrong plant? You gotta be kidding me…” He fell back and stared at the ceiling.

“That plant… is meant for people who…” Star quietly muttered.

Marco didn’t have the energy to care what she was trying to say. He was exhausted. He just wanted to rest. “Alright, I’ll get the right thing next time… But can you promise to tell me where exactly the cave is next time?”

“Yeah… next time…”

Marco sighed. “I’m going to my room. Wake me up when my parents get home.” With that, Marco painfully exited the room and shut the door, leaving Star with her rainbow flower.

Star pushed her hair away, revealing her bright red face and glowing hearts on her cheeks.

“This plant… is meant for people who deeply loves someone.”

She carefully picked up the glowing plant and set it next to her bed.

“Marco… got this plant for me…”

She let the thought sink in as her face began to burn from blushing too much. She placed a hand to her face.

“I… think I have another cold…” she said, smiling to herself.

[theliterateape]

...fucking Mark

...fucking Mark.

Imagine a sad, defeated Mitch McConnell. He’s seated hunched over all alone in his dark empty office. Obamacare just passed. He’s got his glasses in one hand while the other pinches the bridge of his nose right between his eyes. And between the dry gasps that always precede a good cry, shakes his head, and says, not without humor, “...fucking Obama.”

That. That right there. That is how you say, “...fucking Mark.”

The ‘g’ is typically silent. Like when you say something is “rootin’ tootin,’” which is becoming so commonplace these days it’s just chiche. Everything is “rootin' tootin.’”

So, just to clear the air of the elephant in the room of long tailed cats and rocking chairs, this is not a story about what it is like to fuck Mark in the biblical sense of “fuck.” It is a true story, though Mark is not his true name. I am really nice that way. Not quite nice enough to not use a name so incredibly close to his real one. But, you know, nice.

I was hired to be part of the entertainment for a corporate Christmas function in Iowa. The entertainment was to involve an interactive improv show, with drinks and dancing to follow DJ’d by fucking Mark. Altogether I spent about two days with him. In a row.

Mark was an almost last minute replacement recommended by someone’s weed dealer. Mark had about two-and-a-half day's notice.

The first time I saw Mark, we were arriving in the van at his pick up point in the far north Chicago neighborhood of Edgewater. It was the middle of the marrow-deep Lake Michigan cold that is the true dead of Chicago winter. Fucking Mark was wearing a red winter beanie, work boots, over sized dark blue jeans that he had, apparently, painted his floor in at one point (I asked and he confirmed), fingerless gloves, and a loose fitting gray tank top.

Beady little eyes, always fidgeting, his long brown hair that stopped just above his trapezius muscles. Honestly pretty impressive. The dude was stacked. He looked liked Scott Stapp from Creed had a baby with Cheddar Bob from 8 Mile. The Google image search you should do based on that last sentence is worth it.

As we turned into the corner and parked, he popped one eye wide open and turned it toward the van. This facial expression gave the impression that we had just severely insulted him. It was like you had just crossed a serious line with Popeye, and he's just decided to eat an entire can of spinach he doesn't even need to beat your ass.

We stopped at the curb, him still giving us a one-eyed glare. He just stood there like that, looking at us, for about 10 to 15 seconds, which feels much longer than it is. Something in his head clicked, and he began walking toward the van. Cautiously. He craned his neck forward with his rib cage sucked in, his hands hung from disengaged wrists at his drawn back sternum as his feet seemed to pull the rest of him along with his legs acting as leashes. He looked like Mr. Burns, but a bird, trying to figure out if we were food or, in fact, a trap, with a coked out eye of Sauron on top.

I thought we were either about to be robbed or offered free samples of the type of drugs you shouldn’t do.

He got to passenger window, my window. He moved his head around the window to see in like he was searching for a keyhole. I lowered the window.

“Hi, I’m Mark. I’m the DJ. Are you here for Mark the DJ?”

“Hi Mark, I’m Boss,” said Boss, driver, and owner of the company we were booked through, “Hey, it’s pretty cold out, if you want to go in and grab your coat that’s totally fine, we have time.”

“It’s no problem, I don’t live here. Besides I have really good callouses.”

Boss, “What?”

“Plus a hat.”

Mark was 32, and blind. Partially. Mostly. That’s why he approached the van the way he did. Every time Mark looked at something, he would get that one eyeball so close it would practically touch its subject. He did this with people too. I would describe the first handshake with Mark as "startling".

I assure you that I am not picking on Mark because he is blind, nor would I anyone ever. Being blind is not Mark’s biggest problem. His problem, from which all others grew, is that he is what my grandfather would have called, “dumber'n two turds fightin’ 20 turds’’.

Mark got in the van.

Boss asked where his DJ equipment is.

“Oh it’s in storage on the south side.”

A pause. Boss asked for something that you might maybe call specifics. “I don’t know the address. But I know where it is.”

Using “south” as our guide, and with a sundrop of hope, we made our way to the highway and around the city toward this mysterious storage facility. About halfway around the city, I smelled that burning leaves smell that, to me, always reminds me of running through the seemingly endless rolling plains and orange forests to explore that is rural Michigan in the autumn. To this day and forever my true heart will always reside there.

I contributed some small talk, something like the above, but shorter.

Others said something like, but longer than, “Me too.” Mark contributed:

“Yeah, I still love going into, like, you know those old general stores? I love just sticking my head in bags of manure and inhaling as fast and deeply as I possibly can through my nose.”

The rest of us, simultaneously, sucked in an egg sized pocket of air. And held it. I was the first to break.

“You mean like... like, horse... like horse, uh, poop?”

“I mean yeah but it’s not like it’s human shit.”

“Oh.” I was willing to forgo all questions if I could be promised no answers.

“Yeah. I mean, other than my shit. Or farts. I like the smell of those. They’re actually, seriously? They’re not bad. Just not other people’s shit.”

“Yep,” I yepped.

“What in the Ever-Loving Sun God of fuck.” I thought.

I just accepted that there are places where there are giant sacks of shit on display, and all the customers come from miles around to smell them. These places are called “old general stores.” I held onto that information, put it in my back pocket, and moved on.

We arrived at the storage facility after stopping three different times to check the internet maps on our pocket robots while Mark left some voicemails. I know this sounds crazy, but even though we were on a schedule, through that entire search time did not stop even once.

Are you starting to see how any one of these little pieces of Mark so far are relatively easily forgivable in isolation? But fucking Mark pokes at this primordial nerve in your brain over and over and over. It’s death by tiny spears. You cannot understand. You are young, and I envy you.

His equipment was in a square concrete room in the basement of the storage facility. It smelled like bong water and burnt food. I had a suspicion he slept here. He assured me he did not (I didn’t ask) because “no bitches would fuck me here.” I suppose he wasn’t wrong.

None of the equipment was ready to move. We broke down and packed up two large speakers, wires galore, two turntables, a crossfader/mixer, a home stereo sized dual CD player, crates of vinyl, CDs, more wires, and stuff. And yes, he owned a laptop. Three of them, laying on top of each other, underneath a half eaten hot pocket with a cigarette stubbed out in it, in the storage space.

Here is the best game; guess how much of this he ends up actually using other than the speakers. Now hold onto that guess, put it in your pocket. It’s one turntable, a handful of records, and his phone.

We made the six- or seven- hour trip in the van. Mark kept farting to prove to us that his farts really didn’t smell bad. He would get indignant when you told him to stop. Here is another fun game; guess if they did or not. I will tell you the answer after this sentence. Yes. Here is that same game on hard mode; guess how many scovilles.

There’s so much other stuff. Little Mark instances and stories. Thousands of the little nuggets of odorless Mark shit. Too many to include all of them. We lost him at a gas station because he walked across the street to another gas station to “check out the area.” He argued at every perceived opportunity, and poorly. He said the solution to gun violence was "little helmets with guns that detect when someone is pointing a gun at you" and “they probably already have them.” He had many, many opinions. Here is the last game: Guess how they tended to land politically. This is actually the most difficult of the games. If you guessed “alt-right internet forum memes,” congratulations, nobody wins. There are no winners in any of these games.

We arrived at the venue. It was a large event rental space with catering in the middle of a nothing but a frozen tundra of dead Iowa cornfields. Snow and freezing rain was falling, and the DJ equipment needed to be brought in.

Mark asked if he can borrow my coat.

In the middle of the two of us carrying a speaker, he said he needs to go talk to the manager of “about this one thing.”

“Um,” I said. Mark dropped his side of the speaker, jogged in and did not return.

Boss relayed the story to me later. In the interest of setting up the tone that Mark would proceed to lay waste to, you should know that our boss could sell you a ketchup popsicle. He is a seasoned performer, legit funny, and a trained experienced natural salesman. And Boss was in mode.

Mark followed our boss’ voice, found him, shook his hand and asked where the fuckin’ manager was at.

Boss, “Mark! This is Client McClientsname, he hired us. Client, Mark will be your DJ for the evening!”

Mark grabed Client's hand and shook it, shoving his wide open eye right in Client’s face, “Are you the manager?!”

Client said, “no” like he was just asked if he had fucked Mark’s wife.

“OK,” eyeball still close enough to count pores, “I need some help because I’ve only ever actually done this I think maybe one or two times on my own and...”

“Mark!” shouted my boss’ skeleton from behind a polite smile belying the hunger pains he felt in his gut that only revenge satiates. “I think the other guys need help bringing in the rest of your stuff?” Boss said it without breaking character in front of the client. Boss could sell you a pickle-flavored boat.

When Boss told me that story later, I laughed so hard I grew tits.

Mark asked us to introduce him “DJ Tushy Flex.”

“That sounds like you’re puckering your asshole, Mark.”

“What, that’s not what it is.”

“...what is it?”

“Dude it’s my fucking DJ name.”

We did the improv show. It was great. Fun was had by all. Mark stood behind us and his DJ equipment, arms crossed, unmoving, the entire show. He just stood there the whole time with a neutral expression and blinked.

The show ended and it was time for Mark to DJ. We introduced him as “Mark the DJ.”

Just to establish my credentials as one to stand in judgement of a DJ set, let me just say that I am a long time fan and hobbyist with an above average level of appreciation for the craft of DJing.* I want you to know this so you can understand how serious I’m being when I say, that DJ Check-Out-My-Glutes was, by far and by away, the absolute worst god-dang rootin’ tootin’ DJ I have ever heard in my whole entire life.

He refused to take requests. He would only play what I can only describe as rasta house. Corporate America, of course, long known for their affinity for obscure electronic dance music subgenres.

He would cross back and forth between completely incongruent songs that made no sense. Like when he rapidly switched back and forth between Kiss from a Rose by Seal and some fucking drum circle happening near a murder. Not in some cool mash up way either. In no universe did those tempos match. There was no rhythm to the switches either. Just back and forth between those two songs, playing with the crossfader like a hyperactive kid flipping a light switch.

In a heroic effort, boss took over the sound, plugged in his mobile pad and bought a subscription to a music streaming service and started playing requests. People started having fun.

Mark would somehow keep getting control back and switch in the middle of the song to a recording of some guy yelling over the sound a middle school marching band warming up.

Several hours of this went by and it was time to leave. Mark didn't help with the load out because he was smoking weed in the green room, which was really a large business meeting room with high ceiling to floor windows that faced the parking lot. When chastised, he angrily insisted that we’re the true idiots here because nobody told him he couldn't and “cigarettes smell worse.”

The freezing rain made the roads unsafe and we were exhausted, so we decided to stay overnight and drive back to Chicago in the morning. Mark held us up at the gas station so he could spend over 3/4 his night’s paycheck on a bottle of “real Iowa whiskey.” Back at the hotel I try some. If a politician running in the next primaries compliments Iowa on their historically good whiskey, I will know they are a liar.

Later on than we would have liked, we were in the hotel room hanging out with the TV on. Mark had the remote. He was seated directly in front of the TV, eyeball practically making a smear on the screen flipping through channels. It occurred to me that this might actually be how he went blind.

Mark landed on Women’s college basketball. His accompanying comment made between the landing and subsequent dismount from this channel was, and I quote: “Ha ha ha, women’s basketball. Show me your titties. Take her titty out and bite it. Whoa, that one’s actually hot.”

Myself and another cast member exchanged a knowing pained look at each other that we knew he would never see, then pretended to be distracted by our phones.

He flipped some more and eventually stopped on A League of Their Own.

"Oh sweet, A League of Their Own," he said.

A League of Their Own is a timeless and distinctly American romp featuring unforgettable characters and heart. I think there is a good argument to be made that it is the greatest baseball movie ever made** But I think Mark might have missed one of the central messages of A League of Their Own. It may even have been, in fact, the central message. I am also pretty sure that, at some point, Mark has voted. I can’t be certain of this because if he ever told me he voted I surely would have repressed that memory.

The next day, during the drive home, I was woken up from a nap by Mark. He was shouting about how unfair it was that he couldn’t say the N-word but the two other cast members in the van, who were both African American, could.

Of course he never once said “N-Word” or “the N-word.” I mean, of course. And though I haven’t said so explicitly, you guessed it. Yes, of course he is white.

“Why? Why, Mark. What, do you need permission ahead of time just in case? Like, if you find yourself in this situation where you really need to use it?” I attempted, among other things, despite what was clearly a brick wall.

“No, but what I’m saying is why not.”

“Because it’s a hurtful thing to say, and the people in this van are asking you politely to stop.”

Later, Mark asked me what I thought of his DJ set. This was long past me being fed up, so I told him the truth as delicately as one can tell someone that they were awful. Mark told me he had a gun, then threatened to kill me for “talking shit.” He was serious. I told him, I shit thee not, that he’d have to fucking aim at me first. That was not a nice thing to say, nor smart. But I did.

No, I am not afraid of him reading this.

It's too long.

We got back to the storage facility and put all the equipment back. Mark met a ride who was waiting for him there. We said "good" and by the time we got to "bye" our backs were turned.

By the end of the trip, Mark had gone from being an obnoxious but mostly harmless joke to being legitimately... not a good guy. Maybe even dangerous. He had no mental impairments or disabilities, as least no diagnosable ones I could see.*** He was never doing a bit to mess with us. I never detected in him a desire to be seen as funny, and I know my own.

I think that at some point somebody should have told him that how he’s behaving is not OK. Though I am not qualified to be the arbiter of who deserves to have painful criticism handed out to them, surely in this case somebody at some point should have been willing to hurt this guy’s feelings. Not to hurt this guy’s feelings, but being willing to have that a price Mark might have to pay for his and the world’s greater good, because he's a dick. And nobody ever did that for this guy.

He's racist, misogynist, self assured with no qualifications to be, ignorant, genuinely unintelligent, has a crushing confidence, and defaults to aggression at the any criticism. Does this remind you of anyone?

That is why when I turned around after hearing him slip on a patch of ice, I thought to myself, “Welp, there by the grace of God goes The President of The United States of America.”

It’s OK. Let it out. You deserve that sigh.

...fucking Mark.

*I love dance music. I have always loved dance music. When I was a kid I listened to Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation cassette on repeat. I had a poster of her in my room. When my dad went to music stores to look at guitars, I always wanted to play with the synthesizers. What is generally (and stupidly, because none of the bands sound the same) called “’90s electronica” is my favorite music of all time. I started making my own dance music in high school with a cheap little computer program. My freshman year of high school, I auditioned for battle of the bands with a full heavy as stone 1996 or ’97 desktop computer and giant CRT monitor and a synthesizer. I got in. I got more equipment. I started sneaking out to go to and play at raves in high school. I swear on my life, I did nothing stronger than pot, and even that was seldom. I just loved the music and the energy so much. Dance music used to be hippie culture, even though now it’s more club culture. I will be that guy and say dance music was better before it was popular, and please stop sarcastically calling me dad.

I have favorite DJ mixes, I’m constantly seeking out new ones. I make them in my head for fun. If I wasn’t poor and had DJ equipment and a laptop that could run the necessary software, I would be spending all my time playing around with it and making mixes for fun. Somewhere in Michigan in an attic there are tons of old mix tapes I made as a kid. I can even appreciate a DJ on the level of a wedding DJ. What song follows what? How did that energy match? What’s the crowd doing? You don’t need to beat match to be able to read a crowd and play a good song.

Once, in line for one of those underground parties, I saw two guys speaking to each other in sign language. I inquired, for it was a music event. I was a bit of an asshole that way. He told me that his friend was deaf, and because of the bass and volume this was the only way he could experience music. That is how much I like dance music.

**Yes I am including every movie you just thought of. A League of Their Own is the only one where they are fighting for just being able to play which is just an extension of them fighting for their very meaning  as the devastation of the largest war ever waged plays as a backdrop to what is already a very stressful situation. Highest emotional stakes. Also most quotable. Funniest by far. These are but a few among variety of reasons I say A League of Their Own is the greatest baseball movie ever made.

***If it matters, I have worked with people with special needs of all ages through several different jobs.

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Girls’ Last Tour 1 - 2 | Juuni Taisen 4 - 5 | Ancient Magus’ Bride 2 - 3 | Idolish7 1 - 2

The only one I’ve properly kept up with out of my 5 shows this season is Juuni Taisen, so I’m going to roll out the tag for that show first. Also, the Idolish7 first two episodes became free recently so I cover them here too.

Girls’ Last Tour 1

Pipes…grunge…hey, doesn’t this look familiar? *glares at Princess Principal*

I’ve only seen one episode of Made in Abyss but I get a bad feeling about these character designs…

I’m worried about this falling into the Yuri Divide. Sure,the fandom can do what it wants, but please don’t ship the lolis.

Oh right. Wind, meaning there’s an opening somewhere.

That dramatic eye opening made the outside world seem like an anticlimax. C’mon, show. You can do better than that.

I feel like Chito says “shut up” a lot, even though she’s only said it twice. I get how she’s kind of relatable, but this show’s not on the level of MMO Junkie or even Juuni Taisen. It’s just kinda…average.

Did Tangled ever teach you how to use a pan, Yuu?

Everything’s kinda WWI-esque. It’s kinda unsettling for a person who’s never properly seen war.

Even in this snowy world, you could still learn to hunt and cook, right?

If you kill your friend in a post-apocalyptic world, you’ll be lonely by war. Don’t kill each other, kiddos. Lives are precious.

This is serious, kiddos! C’mon!

Eating snow is meant to quench your thirst, but it’s not any good for hunger. Apparently.

Well, I’m quite lukewarm on this. I’ve already found my seasonal hits and I study globalisation, so it’s no surprise I find this stuff a lot like my weekly content. Nonetheless, whoever decided to put Classicaloid behind a paywall’s gonna have to pay (pun not intended)!

Girls’ Last Tour 2

I half expect a “hey you!” joke but they don’t work in Japanese…

What are the wiggly things on the ground next to Chi and Yuu in the OP??? Leeches???

Oh geez. Now they even draw cleavage on the lolis. Meaning these guys are just drawn young. That’s both a good and a bad thing.

Those letters seem to be…no language in particular.

Book burning. What a thing to throw in.

Oh. The blocky writing is actually hiragana or katakana. You just need to look at it closely.

I think that was meant to be comedy…but it was so cruel. Poor book.

I think what they’re saying is “don’t burn history”, but I think we learnt that a long time ago when the Chinese burnt books.

Maybe if these gals had Bear Grylls they’d survive a bit longer…?

Lemme guess: either Yuu burnt them all, destroyed them all or read them all.

The original joke was gomen wa, where ne is similar to wa. At least, I think it’s a wa. It could be a re.

The red circle said Yuu wrote the me wrong, so it’s actually probably gonun ne.

Well, someone funded a sakuga ending. Like the one from ACCA with dancing Lotta.

Juuni Taisen 4

I find it heavily symbolic that Nezumi likes eating eggs. Eggs represents chickens…and conundrums…

Ooh…bam. Nisio Isin’s going the Middle Eastern proxy route.

Hmm. Interesting, it’s basically Bystander Effect: the War.

The anime’s currently ahead of the manga, so I got slightly startled by Boar’s appearance. However, I’ve read some spoilers elsewhere, so I knew she was going to be in Monkey’s story somewhere else. I just didn’t think it was this soon.

Recycled footage…bad show! Bad!

LOL, CGI tank. Sorry for ruining the mood, but that stood out a bit too much for my liking.

“…participation is mandatory…” – Huh. I never saw that detail coming.

“Ow. I thought you were against violence.” – (LOL.) Yeah, but apathy isn’t good when something’s coming to get you in the sewers, so I’m with Monkey on this.

Wa-wait! Y’mean, Rabbit can use Chicken to use Eye of the Cormorant…so Monkey will die this ep??? [Monkey dying]’s exactly what I’ve been fearing for the duration of this episode. Update: If you want the spoiler version from the end of the ep…she didn’t die.

Notice Monkey uses moves that use the strength of her opponent against her. It’s a very pacifist touch, so to speak.

There are a series of images that flash by before the casual clothes part of the ED. If you observe them closely, you’ll see a lot of them involve the number 12. (Example: the cubes have lines on them that read “12”.)

LOL, I think I only just now spotted the bodyguard behind Boar. He’s hard to spot behind all the splatter.

Home boy and his T-bars make me laugh every time. Then of course, there’s Mr Floofy Jacket.

Oh, it’s Duodecuple who’s doing these next ep previews. I couldn’t figure out who it was last time I tried.

Juuni Taisen 5

Genius, with a capital letter? They keep calling him the Genius of Slaughter in his backstory, so I guess that’s where it’s from.

A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing is the same in Japanese as it is English, so at least the pun is there.

LOL, this episode is pretty much all “stuff goes kaboom!”, and that’s pretty much the way of the Sheep. Haha.

Of mice and men, eh??? (I read enough spoilers to know who the victor is…but I don’t know how they win.)

Whoa, yeah, baby! Bring that action! (That happens to be exactly the way I imagine my own action stories – from the front seat, so to speak.)

The snake’s winking! So cute! I want me some plushies like those!

Old-Timer. Haha, great pun on so many, many levels.

Ancient Magus’ Bride 2

I started doing a productivity blog and got caught up in it so much, I neglected anime! Imagine that – me, neglecting anime!

Oh, there’s a little “open” sign near the door.

It’s anime Hogwarts! Only the train is more colorful…LOL. (Actually, Little Witch Academia is anime Hogwarts, so scratch that.)

Ooh, Elias has a good taste in faces. Not that I’m complaining or anything. (Looks like En-chan, to boot.)

Elias is like the NEET genius of the magic world here. It’s kinda funny.

What’s a Gem’s Bee? (No spoilers, I’m not a manga reader!)

Angelica’s like her (Chise’s) mother, LOL. Seeing Elias properly emote is hilarious, hilarious! (Why I procrastinated on this show? Because it’s a slow mover that should be appreciated in its own time, but I’m not good with binging so…that’s why I’m only watching it now.)

Oh! No wonder Angelica seems like a mother. She is a mother.

Ooh! Ice flowers. Pretty. I’ve already gotten way too many screenshots for my own good out of this show…As a writer, I feel like I could never make a story like this.This is a story best fostered under someone else’s hand.

Poppies, eh? To me, poppies symbolise war and sticking out, but that’s just a product of where I was born. In the case of war, poppies represent the blood of the fallen and those who rise above that.

Speaking of stories I couldn’t write, I’m currently bringing Next to Me to a close. I feel like that’s my best match to AMB, which is why my thoughts dwell on stories so much right now. Next to Me is one of those stories where the world matters just as much as the character building, if not more, which is why the understated majesty of AMB is a good match.

Seeing a blonde Englishman use –kun like a Japanese is a bit disorienting.

Simon really treats Chise like a child, eh?

The “open” sign now says “close”. What is this house, an apothecary?

The CGI door was a bit weird…

Whoa! That was a bit of a fast approach into the dragon scene, but apparently the dragon part of AMB was really hyped…

Ancient Magus’ Bride 3

How does skelly-man see like that?

The dragons look like…Pokémon! (That was my first thought, LOL.)

This blonde is Lindel from the promo material I’ve read. He looks like zaShunina (Kado), so it’s best to be wary of him.

Ooh, now there’s an application of shadows I’d never be able to think of!

Holy flame spirits, Batman! Elias has a tongue! (I got spoilered on that by ANN, but it’s crazy seeing it in context.)

Ancient mages shouldn’t be hot like zaShunina! Where are the real old fogeys like Kiku(hiko, SGRS)?

Uncle Nevin! I found it extremely charming this uil has a name beyond “Uil”.

Can these dragons read minds? Or is it just the power of Dragon Knowledge (TM)?

When they say “Anime saved my life”, I guess they never meant it this literally…or at least, Chise never meant it this literally.

That dragon has way too many eyes!!! Yipes.

Huh. I haven’t felt this feeling since SGRS. The feeling of a masterpiece on my eyeballs.

羽鳥チセ <- That’s how you write Chise’s name, so they did another “Western creature uses Japanese knowledge” thing…

D’aww. That was beautiful! No wonder people like it, now I like it too. Nothing short of majestic, guys, nothing short of majestic.

Hey, the guy who voiced Nevin is called Ryuuzaburo. Ryuu means dragon in this case. (Meta pun!)

Idolish 7 1

Crunchyroll really tried to hype this thing up! Wow. So, here I am at what could pretty much be called a premiere event of the simulcast commentary. Enjoy, friends.

By the way, I’ve tried a bit of the Idolish 7 game (but since it was on BlueStacks, I couldn’t do the “rhythm” part of the rhythm game very well and subsequently couldn’t get too far) and of course, there’s a vested interest through Shirai, Masuda and Nishiyama. Update: There’s no Nishiyama in sight. Sorry, guys.

Oh wow. This is exactly as I remember it in the game, right down to the word!

Yay! I was looking forward to seeing the basketball scene adapted, since it’s possibly the only scene I got to experience in the game in its (Japanese) entirety. Bring the dang game to the Western world, Bandai!

Riku is such a pure cinnamon bun when he gets the basketball back.

LOL, Nagi is such a flirt, kyaa~ (semi-sarcastic).

I don’t remember them dropping Trigger’s name so early…geesh, my memory must be sketchier than I thought it was.

Just as a reference, Iori (black) is 17 while Riku (red) is 18.

Ooh, I just spotted a Trigger ad on one building during that cut.

Ooh, good sense of drama these guys have got going.

Idolish 7 2

Expressiveness for a grump like Yamato, LOL.  

LOL, there’s a shark in the back…

Iori has a cat shirt, hahaha.

Cool and sharp…stationery? Like a compass?

Iori’s so sarcastic, I can’t tell f he’s ever being serious or not.

I don’t know who’s my favourite so far out of these i7 boys. Probably the one similar to my husbando, Tamaki.

Ahh, gotta love me a good, honest hardworking anime gal. You don’t see them very often, y’know. It’s refreshing.

That was a great Iori impression Mitsuki did, even visually (note: I didn’t listen to Mitsuki do the impression, I only read the subs…hence my comment). Troyca really captured the style of the game, to boot, which is another cherry on the cake.

Notice Iori stands in front of the D.C. (da capo) and leaves to reveal it.

I researched who Riku’s brother is while I was watching ep 1 and…(spoilers for the uninitiated!) the brother is Tenn of Trigger!

There was a soba ad in the back in one lingering shot…

Hey, I get the feeling there’s CGI involved in this dance segment, but it’s…hardly detectable! Amazing! These guys seem to have gone a long way since the horribly animated Monster Generation MV.

Notice they (Troyca) only use CGI in (mostly) shots which don’t involve closeups.

Of course Nagi winks in the middle of his performance…

Whoo, yeah. That was a bold move by Crunchyroll, and of course that would grab me more than just leaking the first ep. I wonder if any critics covered this on their blogs…? Or would it not matter, since critics wouldn’t cover this “uncritical slop” anyway? Nonetheless, I covered it, and that’s what matters! (Update: Yeah, all the critics – Frog-kun, Lauren in Space, Mage in a Barrel etc. - passed on it. As expected of those critics…)

[archiebwoollard]

The Part-Time Nihilist’s Guide to Marketing Terms You Hate, But Need

It’s about time that we take a step back and have a little chuckle at ourselves. Image via Shutterstock.

Plenty of products and services help people, making them healthier and happier. For those things, marketing is great — but sometimes, the way we talk about ourselves is absurd. Yeah, I said it, it’s absurd, but it’s all right because this post has a happy ending (stay tuned).

If you work in any sort of marketing role, you might have noticed that as a collective, we’ve done something incredible:

We’ve turned buzzwords into real, salaried jobs.  

You can be a Growth Hacker these days, or a Content Marketer. If you work somewhere really cool, you might even be a Conversion Ninja. Plenty of people do these jobs (myself included) and one day we’ll have the awkward pleasure of explaining to our grandchildren what it was like being paid to be a Solutions Architect, or a Dev Mogul.

“Neat, grandpa! Did you invent a new form of calculus?”

“No, son. But I had over 25,000 Twitter followers. I was an influencer.”

This is the part-time nihilist’s guide to all those marketing terms you hate (but need). It might also clarify why your parents will never understand what the heck your job is.

Homer gets back to basics with marketing. Video: Fox.

Disclaimer: This post tears down marketing terms and the idea of becoming an influencer. We hope that it is popular and that you share it. We see the irony, and we’re disgusted by it, so just move on, okay?

Being considered an “expert” or a “genius”

To be considered an expert in most other professions, you need to have studied and practiced for years and years and years. You study, you’re tested, you pass, you advance. After what feels like a lifetime of this, people trust you as a voice of authority, as an expert.

Pro tip: Inclusion in a listicle or roundup guarantees automatic employment — should you want it — with some of the most prestigious companies in Silicon Valley.

There are expert marketers, of course: people who have been to school, who dedicate their lives to the craft of combining insight and communication into the most irresistible calls to action. But if you’ve got a profile photo, maybe a Linkedin Premium account, and a byline on somewhere like Unbounce (Hey, that’s me!), you might be considered an expert.

This will do one of two things to you:

It’ll make you lazy, because you’ll think that you’ve reached the top of the mountain. (By the way, there’s no top. There’s no mountain either.)

It’ll scare the crap out of you, and you’ll work your ass off to become a genuine expert, or at least, someone with useful insights.

I hope for everyone’s sake that it’s the second one.

Bonus option: You’ll develop a nasty case of Imposter Syndrome, where you’ll live in constant fear of being called out. It’ll make you triple your efforts, but it’ll never be enough.

Pursuing “thought leadership”

As a marketer, when you have a good idea, you call it a thought leadership piece and you milk it until it’s red and sore. Never mind the idea that “thought leadership” sounds like some sort of mind control, it’s just damned impressive that we managed to turn the act of having ideas into a tool for marketing.

In a way, being considered a thought leader is a lot like being considered an expert. Not so long ago there were real thought leaders, people like Albert Einstein and Martin Luther King Jr.. Now, all you need to do is tip that scale from 9,999 followers to 10,000 and praise, be! You’re a thought leader.

“One of us, one of us, one of us.” Video: Fox

Free infographics and ebooks

The only real way to tell whether a post is legitimate — whether the author’s really serious about the information they’re giving you — is to check for an associated infographic or ebook. At Unbounce, they call these in-post giveaways Conversion Carrots. Some other places call them Lead Magnets. I call them necessary evil.

“Can we make it go viral?”

I once worked at a place where a department, armed with five grand, asked us if we could make them a viral video. In their defense, they didn’t understand the process of how something becomes viral (another gross marketing term), so points at least for the thought. But directly asking for a viral video, or setting out with the intention of making a viral video, is like marrying a stranger for the tax benefits, and not because you love them.

Influencer marketing

Hey bud, if you RT me, I’ll RT you.

As a marketer, you want eyeballs. You’re hungry for eyeballs, you want to pour them all over your website. Some people have lots of eyeballs looking at them; those people are called influencers, and if you’re kind to them, sometimes they’ll let you borrow their eyeball collections.

People with a lot of eyeballs in their collection tend to be good at making things go viral. They often make infographics and eBooks, as well. They are the Aaron Orendorffs of the world (Hey, man!), and they are all-powerful.

“We simply could not function without his tireless efforts.” Video: Fox

“Epic,” “unicorn,” “guru,” etc.

No, it’s not. No, they’re not. No, you’re not.

“That’s hilaaaaaarious.”

“We need more user-generated content.”

The idea behind user-generated content is sound; it’s word-of-mouth for a digital age. Having a strategy to develop user-generated content, though?

Do you ever watch those videos publications like Gothamist do on some donut shop in Brooklyn that’s been around for 140 years? You think, “Wow, they must have a lot of user-generated content!” No, they just make great donuts. If you want your users to generate more content, just make stuff they like.

“Can’t get enough of that Sugar Crisp!” Video: Fox

Time to follow in mommy and daddy’s footsteps?

For over 20 years my dad spent most of his days with his hands plunged into ice water, gutting and slicing one fish at a time. I spend my days trying to get prospects to type their names into a CTA form field. In those final years before the sun explodes and we’re all plunged into an every-man-for-himself scenario, who’s going to be more useful? My money’s on the old man.

I told you that there was a happy ending, and in a way, the sun exploding and annihilating everything from Mercury out past Pluto is a happy ending. It’s a reminder that we’re all in this together, from your parents and their grinding manual labor jobs, to us word-pickers and graph-checkers who moan when we can’t find the right long-tail keywords to optimize conversion rates. One day everyone that’s left will go together, burning up with all the finest email lists, and all the leads. It’s all going to be fine.

People make some great stuff, and for the short time we’re here, it’s up to us to help get it in front of as many of the right people as possible. That’s your job, and it’s a fun one.

What are some of the marketing terms you hate to need? Drop them in the comments below, then download this free infographic. Jokes, there’s no infographic.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8217493 http://unbounce.com/online-marketing/marketing-terms-you-hate-but-need/

[maxslogic25]

The Part-Time Nihilist’s Guide to Marketing Terms You Hate, But Need

It’s about time that we take a step back and have a little chuckle at ourselves. Image via Shutterstock.

Plenty of products and services help people, making them healthier and happier. For those things, marketing is great — but sometimes, the way we talk about ourselves is absurd. Yeah, I said it, it’s absurd, but it’s all right because this post has a happy ending (stay tuned).

If you work in any sort of marketing role, you might have noticed that as a collective, we’ve done something incredible:

We’ve turned buzzwords into real, salaried jobs.  

You can be a Growth Hacker these days, or a Content Marketer. If you work somewhere really cool, you might even be a Conversion Ninja. Plenty of people do these jobs (myself included) and one day we’ll have the awkward pleasure of explaining to our grandchildren what it was like being paid to be a Solutions Architect, or a Dev Mogul.

“Neat, grandpa! Did you invent a new form of calculus?”

“No, son. But I had over 25,000 Twitter followers. I was an influencer.”

This is the part-time nihilist’s guide to all those marketing terms you hate (but need). It might also clarify why your parents will never understand what the heck your job is.

Homer gets back to basics with marketing. Video: Fox.

Disclaimer: This post tears down marketing terms and the idea of becoming an influencer. We hope that it is popular and that you share it. We see the irony, and we’re disgusted by it, so just move on, okay?

Being considered an “expert” or a “genius”

To be considered an expert in most other professions, you need to have studied and practiced for years and years and years. You study, you’re tested, you pass, you advance. After what feels like a lifetime of this, people trust you as a voice of authority, as an expert.

Pro tip: Inclusion in a listicle or roundup guarantees automatic employment — should you want it — with some of the most prestigious companies in Silicon Valley.

There are expert marketers, of course: people who have been to school, who dedicate their lives to the craft of combining insight and communication into the most irresistible calls to action. But if you’ve got a profile photo, maybe a Linkedin Premium account, and a byline on somewhere like Unbounce (Hey, that’s me!), you might be considered an expert.

This will do one of two things to you:

It’ll make you lazy, because you’ll think that you’ve reached the top of the mountain. (By the way, there’s no top. There’s no mountain either.)

It’ll scare the crap out of you, and you’ll work your ass off to become a genuine expert, or at least, someone with useful insights.

I hope for everyone’s sake that it’s the second one.

Bonus option: You’ll develop a nasty case of Imposter Syndrome, where you’ll live in constant fear of being called out. It’ll make you triple your efforts, but it’ll never be enough.

Pursuing “thought leadership”

As a marketer, when you have a good idea, you call it a thought leadership piece and you milk it until it’s red and sore. Never mind the idea that “thought leadership” sounds like some sort of mind control, it’s just damned impressive that we managed to turn the act of having ideas into a tool for marketing.

In a way, being considered a thought leader is a lot like being considered an expert. Not so long ago there were real thought leaders, people like Albert Einstein and Martin Luther King Jr.. Now, all you need to do is tip that scale from 9,999 followers to 10,000 and praise, be! You’re a thought leader.

“One of us, one of us, one of us.” Video: Fox

Free infographics and ebooks

The only real way to tell whether a post is legitimate — whether the author’s really serious about the information they’re giving you — is to check for an associated infographic or ebook. At Unbounce, they call these in-post giveaways Conversion Carrots. Some other places call them Lead Magnets. I call them necessary evil.

“Can we make it go viral?”

I once worked at a place where a department, armed with five grand, asked us if we could make them a viral video. In their defense, they didn’t understand the process of how something becomes viral (another gross marketing term), so points at least for the thought. But directly asking for a viral video, or setting out with the intention of making a viral video, is like marrying a stranger for the tax benefits, and not because you love them.

Influencer marketing

Hey bud, if you RT me, I’ll RT you.

As a marketer, you want eyeballs. You’re hungry for eyeballs, you want to pour them all over your website. Some people have lots of eyeballs looking at them; those people are called influencers, and if you’re kind to them, sometimes they’ll let you borrow their eyeball collections.

People with a lot of eyeballs in their collection tend to be good at making things go viral. They often make infographics and eBooks, as well. They are the Aaron Orendorffs of the world (Hey, man!), and they are all-powerful.

“We simply could not function without his tireless efforts.” Video: Fox

“Epic,” “unicorn,” “guru,” etc.

No, it’s not. No, they’re not. No, you’re not.

“That’s hilaaaaaarious.”

“We need more user-generated content.”

The idea behind user-generated content is sound; it’s word-of-mouth for a digital age. Having a strategy to develop user-generated content, though?

Do you ever watch those videos publications like Gothamist do on some donut shop in Brooklyn that’s been around for 140 years? You think, “Wow, they must have a lot of user-generated content!” No, they just make great donuts. If you want your users to generate more content, just make stuff they like.

“Can’t get enough of that Sugar Crisp!” Video: Fox

Time to follow in mommy and daddy’s footsteps?

For over 20 years my dad spent most of his days with his hands plunged into ice water, gutting and slicing one fish at a time. I spend my days trying to get prospects to type their names into a CTA form field. In those final years before the sun explodes and we’re all plunged into an every-man-for-himself scenario, who’s going to be more useful? My money’s on the old man.

I told you that there was a happy ending, and in a way, the sun exploding and annihilating everything from Mercury out past Pluto is a happy ending. It’s a reminder that we’re all in this together, from your parents and their grinding manual labor jobs, to us word-pickers and graph-checkers who moan when we can’t find the right long-tail keywords to optimize conversion rates. One day everyone that’s left will go together, burning up with all the finest email lists, and all the leads. It’s all going to be fine.

People make some great stuff, and for the short time we’re here, it’s up to us to help get it in front of as many of the right people as possible. That’s your job, and it’s a fun one.

What are some of the marketing terms you hate to need? Drop them in the comments below, then download this free infographic. Jokes, there’s no infographic.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8217493 http://unbounce.com/online-marketing/marketing-terms-you-hate-but-need/