#'lise why' you may ask
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thirteen pages twelve footnotes and I think I allllmost have a completed essay about punitive justice in mdzs
trying to decide if i want to try to wrestle this essay into tumblr formatting submission or just go post it on my other blog and external link it. pros to the latter: not having to fight tumblr on formatting. cons: people don't click links out of tumblr
#important text posts#'lise why' you may ask#'this is still shorter than the 8k essay i wrote about journey into mystery/agent of asgard'#i reply#look this just happens sometimes
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Now that submissions are closed, we can talk stats. There were 881 valid, unique submissions for 474 characters! Woof, women have it rough out there!
The most submitted characters, with a relevant propaganda snippet included, are:
1. Sakura Haruno (Naruto): 28 [where do i even fucking begin]
2. Cordelia Chase (Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel): 21 [OH SO MANY THINGS]
3. Misa Amane (Death Note): 20 [The author of Death Note invented new forms of misogyny just to apply them to Misa.]
4. Kaede Akamatsu (Danganronpa V3): 15 [Oh, you thought we would have a female main character in one of our mainline games? With a cool defining talent, no less? That's stupid of you]
5. TIE: Kairi (Kingdom Hearts): 14 [I'm so mad. I think she deserves a gun.]
5. TIE: Stephanie Brown (DC Comics): 14 [She does eventually get retconned as surviving the event and hiding out in Africa (don't ask, it does not make more sense in context)]
The canons with the most submissions, with a relevant propaganda snippet included, are:
1. DC Comics: 61 [DC has SO MUCH sexism it's laughable]
2. Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel: 35 [Fuck Joss Whedon, man.]
3. Naruto: 33 [because Kishimoto hates women]
4. Warrior Cats: 26 [Warriors is one of the most misogynistic children's series I've ever seen]
5. Danganronpa: 25 [I honestly had to think about it just to decide which woman is treated the worst because this series hates them so much]
The canons with the most characters submitted, with a relevant propaganda snippet for a specific character included, are:
1. DC Comics: 21 [Free her from the huge tits back breaking pose.]
2. Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel: 12 [Anyways she was so hot and for what. 10/10 my lesbian awakening.]
3. Supernatural: 11 [Yeah, she got randomly killed off-screen for shock value and manpain, but she sent an email right before she died so at least her death wasn't in vain, right?]
4. TIE: Star Trek: 9 [She literally gets teleported out of her clothes in one episode.]
4. TIE: Yu-Gi-Oh!: 9 [One loss is particularly brutal as she falls from a large height directly onto her head and goes into a coma (again. yes this was the second time).]
5. TIE: Warrior Cats: 8 [I'm sure she'll get submitted again just ask any reasonable fan they'll tell you about her and her sister]
5. TIE: Attack on Titan: 8 [As a child soldier, she does commit some war crimes]
And here are some charts to show how some of these entries fucked the scale on my charts:
Look at Sakura, fucking up my chart with her numbers.
On a similar note...
Good god, DC, I know what you did, but add fucking up my charts to your list of crimes.
And now, enjoy some rankings of my favorite things:
My favorite universal sentiment quotes from propaganda are:
She lived she served cunt and then she got killed off super early so that the male characters could experience man pain and also because I guess she would have been too powerful if left alive. [Wen Qing (Mo Dao Zu Shi)]
That design. Dear god. I don't want to live on this planet anymore. [Mitzi (The Queen's Corgi)]
In the end she may have girlbossed too close to the sun, but I support her anger. [Ling Wen (Heaven Official's Blessing)]
the victim of “writer doesn’t understand women and also hates them” disease. [Naomi Misora (Death Note)]
She could 100% kill somebody but nobody ever effing lets her. Rip queen. [Kairi (Kingdom Hearts)]
My favorite raging at a writer quotes from propaganda are:
1. You took every single protagonist to weird lion heaven, Clive, but suddenly Susan isn't good enough. [Susan Pevensie (The Chronicles of Narnia)]
2. Being a woman written by Joss Whedon should automatically entitle her to financial compensation tbh. [River Tam (Firefly)]
3. A lot can be summed up in a couple words, namely, "Furman, why?" [Arcee (Transformers)]
4. Can you tell respect women juice ran in Tolstoy's veins. [Lise Bolkonskaya (War and Peace)]
5. TIE: (specifically a guy called Dan Didio, who we all hate) [Stephanie Brown (DC Comics)]
5. TIE: until Geoff motherfucking Johns comes into the picture [Pantha (DC Comics)]
My favorite quotes from propaganda that have nothing to do with misogyny, y'all are just funny:
I wish I could use bold here, because there's no such thing as uppercase numbers. [Arcee (Transformers)]
the most convoluted and lore dense piece of media this side of the afton criticality. [Jane Crocker (Homestuck)]
ended up starting a gang war by accident [Stephanie Brown (DC Comics)]
Ashfur, who later turns out to be a murderous incel [Squirrelflight (Warrior Cats)]
Hawkfrost is actively seeing Brambleclaw and his evil father in cat hell. [Squirrelflight (Warrior Cats)]
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Slippin’ || P.JS
Genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, high school au, skater boy au, PG-15
Pairing: skater boy!jisung x tutor!reader
Word Count: 14.6k
Warnings: lots of swearing, underaged drinking, non explicit details of injury, kissing, she/her pronouns used, inaccuracy about skateboarding (i know nothing bare w me)
Synopsis: Three days a week, two teenage hearts, one boy to tutor and several missing assignments. If there’s one thing you’ve learned since you started tutoring the one and only park jisung, it’s that it’s not just his grades that are slippin
Sophie’s Salutations: OH SHE’S FINALLY HERE!! I am so so sorry for how overdue this fic is 😫 but she is finally here and I couldn’t be more happy to release it! A special thanks go to @lebrookestore for helping with formatting, editing and listening to me ramble and rant about this fic. Feedback is highly appreciated!
playlist
Taglist: @lunaflvms @mora134340 @hanniejisungi @jisunglttlstar @yixingtion @flower-lise @mark-wife-renjun-whore @beemarkie @thesunsfullmoon @grassbutneo @jaeyunverse @lebrookestore @earth-to-that-asian @heartshyuck @jenotapes @fullbitchsun @sunfuls @duolingofanaccount @gyuwrites
Prologue: The One and Only
“Do you know Park Jisung?”
God, at this point, who didn’t?
He was the boy who never said much, never paid too much attention, not even to the girls who gave him goo-goo eyes during class. To him, all that mattered was his bluetooth headphones, his god awful music taste and most of all, his skateboard. He spent more time mastering tricks on that damned piece of wood on wheels than he ever did studying. It would definitely explain his straight D’s on his semesterly report card.
It would also explain why you were asked to stay after class by your English teacher for a quick talk.
“I mean, I know of him. I wouldn’t say that I know him,” You answered, readjusting the strap of your backpack in an effort to dilute the awkwardness. She smiled gently, turning away from you to retrieve a brown folder from her desk. It was labelled in thick bold writing, most likely from a black permanent marker.
‘PARK JISUNG - MISSING ASSIGNMENTS’.
She thrusted the folder towards you and gave you a sad, sympathetic smile.
“Jisung is failing my class. No matter how much I’ve tried to engage him, he won’t listen to me,” she explained, watching you as you flicked through the familiar papers, “I’ve given him the highest grade I possibly could without any of the coursework, but it’s not enough.”
“Miss Barnes, with all due respect, what makes you think that I can help him pass?” You looked up at her, seeing her hopeful expression.
“Trust me, if there is anyone that can help a struggling student like Jisung pass this class, it’s you,” she placed her hand on the folder one last time before she grabbed her keys, “Good luck, Y/N.”
Luck? Yeah, god knows you would need it.
i. Miss Optimistic
“Are you Jisung?” You asked. Considering he was the only student who had their skateboard resting against the desk he had claimed as his own, and the only one who had a fringe long enough to act as a barrier between him and the outside world, you could only assume you had the right person.
He didn’t respond.
With furrowed brows, you repeated your question once again, but to no avail.
You bent over, the covers of your books pressing into your chest, and were met with strands of his hair in front of his partially closed eyes. Had it not been for the slight nodding of his head to a silent beat, you would’ve mistaken him for asleep. From this angle, you could see the dark cups of his headphones and you were going to take that as the reason he couldn’t hear you.
After another failed attempt to get his attention, you knew why it may not be the best first impression, desperate times call for desperate measures. With one swift movement, you yanked his headphones from his head and undoubtedly a few of his hairs too.
“What the fuck?” He exclaimed, looking up to you, an unfriendly scowl on his lips. You sighed, only pulling back the seat across from him.
“I did call your name at least three times,” you said emotionlessly, sinking into the plush seat and placing your belongings on the table.
“Whatever,” he said in annoyance, shaking his hair out of his eyes. In a desperate attempt to fix the impression, you held out your hand to him, inviting him for a handshake.
“I’m Y/N, your English tutor,” you introduced, the best expression you could offer him was an awkward lopsided smile. To your unpleasant surprise, Jisung laughed in your face. The mean and sarcastic manner he did only dwindled your hope of helping him.
“Miss Barnes set you up to this, didn’t she?” He ran his tongue over the fronts of his teeth, a possible habit you pondered.
“You seem like a smart girl, so let me give you some advice,” Jisung watched you in amusement as you leaned closer to him. “You’re wasting your time. You want my opinion? Take this back to Miss Barnes and we will never have to deal with each other again,” he pushed the folder back towards you, a smug smile on his face. You, determined not to be discouraged by some boy who cared more about a piece of wood than his grades, slammed the folder back down to prove your point.
“I will not. If I didn’t want to do this, I would’ve told her,” you told him matter-of-factly, opening the folder so the two of you could look at the contents of it.
“And what makes you think I care?” He asked, boredom lacing his words. You realised you weren’t making any progress with him, your mind frantically looking for a way to engage him.
“You know, Miss Barnes said that if you don’t pass her class, you’re gonna be held back a year,” you lied, keeping a cool and composed front, but behind your eyes, you were panicking and hoping he didn’t detect your lie. A long groan left his lips, slowly turning himself back to you.
“Fuck, fine. Fine. I’m listening,” he groaned, his hands raised on either side of his head like he was surrendering to the authorities. “What do I need to do?” Satisfied with how smoothly you managed to trick him, you started pulling out assignments and tests that Jisung had either failed or failed to turn in.
“This is the coursework you need to complete, and depending on whether or not you do well enough, the coursework you need to pass,” you explained, laying out each one on the table. Jisung ran a hand through his hair and let out a long sigh at the sight of the workload, stress becoming evident on his face. Most papers had been marked with a rather large ‘D’ or ‘D-’ and on the rare occasion, a ‘C-’. They weren’t exactly grades to be proud of, in fact, you found it quite disheartening that Jisung hadn’t even tried to reach out for help, but it was his own choice.
“It seems like a lot, I know, however, there’s still another quarter left until summer break. I’m sure we can get through this,” you offered him a friendly smile, but it was quickly rejected by a scowl.
“Right. Not to burst your bubble, Miss Optimistic, but I’m not exactly a good student, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” he leaned forward, the scowl turning into a smirk, “and you expect me to finish this in a matter of weeks? Keep dreaming, sweetheart,” his mocking laughter made your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but this kid was getting on your nerves, and you were convinced he knew it too. Brushing off the pet name, you stared him down.
“If you want to be kept back a year, then that’s your decision, but if I were you, I’d rather not be the laughingstock of my friend group because I couldn’t keep my feet off a piece of wood with wheels. I’m here to help you, and you have a test next week, so you better start paying attention.” Another angsty teenage groan later and he straightened his posture.
“There. Are you happy now?” He complained, and in return, a sarcastic comment of your own.
“Ecstatic.”
ii. A Deal with the Devil™
“D+? Really, Jisung?” You scoffed as you looked over the results of his most recent English test, and it wasn’t exactly the turnaround you were hoping for. The black-haired boy could only shrug in response, obviously not too fussed by the result. “I literally went over these topics with you yesterday. How did you forget so quickly?” Again, you were met with a shrug. With a groan, you threw the paper to the desk and pressed against the back of the chair.
“What went wrong?” You asked gently, not wanting him to feel guilty for his grade. Yet again, he shrugged.
“I don’t know. I just forgot,” he dismissed, his bangs covering his eyes. A long sigh fluttered past your lips as you glanced between Jisung and the test.
“Okay, let’s go over this step by step,” you said, twiddling your pen between your fingers, its nib pointing at the first question, “what is the difference between an adjective and adverb?” Jisung mumbled, but his voice was too deep for you to decipher what he was saying, “Park, speak up and clearly.” He cleared his throat and tried again.
“One describes a word, one describes a verb in particular,” he answered, which satisfied you. However, it was his written answer that disappointed you.
“So why did you explain a proposition instead?” You lost count of how many times he chose a wordless response over actually answering you, but it was better than being ignored. You didn’t understand why he didn’t just provide a reasonable explanation, but upon pondering this, you noticed Jisung wasn’t looking you in the eye. In fact, he wasn’t looking at you at all, and you didn’t have to follow his line of sight to see what he was looking at.
“You went to the skate park instead of studying again, didn’t you?” You deadpanned, biting the tip of your tongue to kill the long string of insults and pent-up frustration from flowing freely. “Jisung, if you want to pass, you can’t keep doing this,” you felt bad at the fact you sounded like a teacher scolding a misbehaving student, but given the situation, you both found yourselves in, it wouldn’t be too far from the truth.
“Please, you think I want to?” He looked away and scoffed, as if he was trying his absolute hardest to stop himself from laughing in your face, “Listen here, sweetheart. Why should I have to suffer through something I find no joy or passion in, just to appease the capitalist views of society?”
His hands comfortably sat within each other, waiting patiently for your answer. His blunt yet pointed response, paired with the nickname that dripped with sarcasm, flustered you and rendered you speechless.
You gaped at him like a fish out of water, desperately trying to breathe again. Amused, he placed his pointer finger underneath your chin and forced your mouth shut, “Didn’t want you to catch flies,” he snickered as you swatted his hand away.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” you hissed, folding your arms across your chest, “then what? At this rate, we are making no progress. Surely, there is something I can do to engage you.” You admit, your approach was desperate and another teasing opportunity on his end but you were running out of options, and never once was one of them to quit.
“There is actually,” Jisung answered, clicking his fingers as a lightbulb went off in his head, “what is your view on skateboarding?” His question made you roll your eyes, which apparently was enough of an answer for him.
“Good, I know exactly how you can engage me.” He gestured to the skateboard that leaned in its usual spot against the desk, “if I do well on my next test, you come to the skatepark with me, at any given time.” You groaned, your eyes rolling so far back, Jisung was convinced you were looking at your brain.
“Seriously?” Of course, he chose the skatepark, what else would he have said?
“If I have to suffer through something I don’t like, so do you,” he smirked, unclasping his hand to stick one out towards you, “so do we have a deal?” He looked at you expectantly, stifling his laughter at your conflicted expression. Pushing all voices to the back of your mind, you completed the handshake, giving it one firm shake at that.
“Deal.”
What the fuck were you getting yourself into?
iii. only Idiots catch feelings
“He’s so annoying,” you ranted to your best friend as you paced around your room, practically ripping your hair out of your head. “He thinks he’s top shit, like he has this sort of power over me.”
“Well, from the state you’re in, he kinda does,” your best friend Wonyoung commented, having to hide her smile to avoid having a cushion throttled in her direction at a hundred miles an hour. You swiftly turned on your heel, squinting your eyes at her.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” You interrogated, walking towards her. Wonyoung snorted with laughter behind your pillow, her only source of protection.
“Repeat everything you just listed off to me. Everything about him you find irritating,” she prompted, placing the pillow in her lap.
“Well,” you started, a little confused, “he’s never on time, he gets some sort of separation anxiety if his skateboard isn’t within his field of vision, he is constantly listening to this shitty underground artist and thinks it’s the greatest piece of media to grace this planet, he never studies, he always has this stupid smirk on his face, he keeps calling me ‘sweetheart’. The list goes on, what’s your point?” You couldn’t comprehend why Wonyoung was giving you such a strange look, not until she spoke.
“Someone has a little crush,” she teased. You picked up the teddy bear that sat at the end of your bed and threw it at her.
“What the fuck? No! Absolutely not!” You denied loudly, flabbergasted by her outrageous statement.
“Well, do you think he’s cute?” She asked, hugging the teddy close to her body. You froze, her words drowning out your sense of reality.
Jisung wasn’t unattractive, by any definition of the word. He was devilishly handsome, which went hand in hand with his devilish personality. In fact, he was quite popular with the girls at school, and he either flirted with them out of boredom or ignored them completely. Sure, he was cute, but to go as far as to say that you had a crush on him? No way, absolutely not. You scolded yourself for even entertaining the stupid idea.
“Earth to Y/N? You never answered my question,” Wonyoung reeled you out of your thoughts so fast, you swore you felt dizzy. You straightened your posture and folded your arms, ignoring how your heart was hammering in your heart.
“No,” you answered curtly, your voice certain and sharp. She snorted and looked at her phone, the fast tapping on its screen signifying that she was texting someone.
“Sure,” she raised her eyebrows with her unconvinced response, thankfully deciding to abandon teasing you. The conversation may have been over, but her words still swam in your head and mixed your thoughts and feelings into a strange concoction you could only describe as confused. Despite all the mixed feelings and incoherent thoughts, you concluded that you did not like Park Jisung.
Only an idiot would catch feelings for him.
iv. Nerds are NOT morning people
You didn’t understand why Jisung looked so smug when you came in for the first of three tutoring sessions for the week. He adorned his regular black hoodie, black ripped jeans that were more holes than style in your opinion, and white vans with the skeletal structure of a foot painted on them with black paint. The only difference you could pinpoint was his headphones hanging loosely around his neck, translating to he was listening for you, waiting for you. It was a foreign idea, and one you had mixed feelings on.
“You’re here,” he spoke first before you had even sat down.
“It does seem that way,” you quipped, moving to place your pencil case and book on the desk when you noticed a sheet of paper on the table. Curiosity tugged at your heart, your fingers gently pulling it towards you.
“What’s this? Did you put this here?” You questioned him as you picked it up, your heart thumping as you flipped it over. Your eyes focused on two things, his name written surprisingly neatly at the top of the page and the large 72.5% marked at the top of the page. Your jaw dropped dramatically as you stared at the red number, and you could feel Jisung’s eyes boring into you, his smirk undoubtedly growing wider.
“I believe I recall a certain someone promising that she’ll come to the skatepark with me if I passed my next English test,” he spoke, cockiness coating every word he spoke like chocolate-dipped strawberries. You slammed down the paper, your face showing utter disbelief.
“How? How did you-” you stammered and stuttered before Jisung shut you up.
“You told me to study, so I did. Are you pleased?” Pleased would be a stretch. You were beyond ecstatic but you couldn’t properly express it, still trying to get over the shock of the whole situation.
“Jisung, that’s a B grade,” you stated stupidly, your speech granting you the ability to finally able to formulate full sentences. He cocked a singular eyebrow, smirking in amusement.
“Does that mean you’ll come to the skatepark for the whole week?” He pushed, testing your limits. You glared at him.
“What? No? Well, I-Maybe? Fuck, fine!” You knew you might grow to regret your decision but you would come to that consequence when it came around.
“Gimme your phone. You’re gonna need my number in that case.”
Ping! Ping! Ping!
Oh lord. The time had come. You groaned tiredly, rolling over to check the rather loud notifications on your phone.
demon spawn: hey
demon spawn: i’m at the skatepark
demon spawn: i expect u here in 10
You slammed your phone back down onto the nightstand, looking up at the time. 5:41 am. The numbers glared at you in their bright red light. You refrained from throwing a fit in the bed, in fear of waking your family.
You silently resented yourself (and Jisung too) for dragging yourself out of bed at five am on a Saturday because of a stupid bargain you made with a failing student just so he would study. He passes a singular test and thinks he’s on top of the world. Smartass.
“Fucking hell,” you grunted as you pulled on a warm jacket and silently slipped out the front door. You momentarily worried about how you were going to explain yourself to your parents when they realised that their child was not residing within the warm covers of her bed, but eventually abandoned the idea when you started to think about the possible consequences that would be in place. It was still dark outside, and the early morning air was cold, cold enough that it quickly numbed the tip of your nose.
Whilst recounting the last ten minutes of your life, your mind became a forest and you were very, very lost. You walked, and walked, and walked. You would’ve kept walking if it hadn’t been for the voice that called out to you.
“Is the skatepark that hard to spot?” The familiar voice that belonged to the one and only, Park Jisung. Grey beanie, white shirt, the classic ripped jeans, however switching out his regular black for blue, and black Converse, a style you had never seen on him.
“You know, judging from your personality, I never took you like a morning person,” you teased as you rubbed your eyes, an attempt to dispel the last of the sleep from them. Jisung snickered at your remark, stomping on the end of his skateboard to flick it upwards.
“Applying that logic, I never took you as someone who wasn’t. Aren’t nerds, like, supposed to like mornings?” You scoffed at his side smirk, crawling up the skate he was standing on.
Having only seen him hunched over on the cushioned chairs in the library, you hadn’t realised how tall Jisung really was, around 6’, 5’11 at the very least.
“There’s a reason I brought you out so early,” he announced, breaking your train of thought.
“You mean at the ass crack of dawn,” you quipped grumpily but listened closely for his explanation.
“Whatever you wanna call it, drama queen,” he rolled his eyes, shifting his skateboard to the edge of the dip, so his back wheels were touching the silver tube-like barrier, “but I wanted to show you the sunrise over the city. Thought it would be pretty,” he shrugged slightly, his eyes cast back to you.
“Really? You dragged me out of bed at a ridiculous hour of the morning to watch the sunrise?” You huffed, feeling annoyance rise in your chest, yet when he looked at you like that, you couldn’t channel that annoyance towards him.
“Well, and this,” Jisung winked as he placed his left foot at the front of his skateboard and he fell into the bowl. Picking up speed as he whizzed towards the other side of the bowl, he shot his hand out, catching the piping, the other hand holding onto his board as he turned it and his body to you, zipping in the same direction in which he came from. He slid back into the position he originally held next to you as if he weighed nothing as if he had the dynamics of a feather in the wind. You looked up to him, clearly impressed with his stunt.
“Wow,” was all you could muster, making Jisung laugh. Not snicker, not sneer, but genuinely laugh, as if he had just watched a puppy fall over itself from excitement.
“I can do it again if you’d like,” he suggested, which was met with a positive reaction. You sat down, your feet dangling into the bowl as you watched him excitedly skate around the cemented pit. Your eyes followed him, drinking in every trick and stunt he pulled. An unknown smile broke across your lips, one that contained no nasty emotions, hidden by a sickly sweet facade.
Your heart gave a flutter when he skated past you and flicked his hair out of his eyes. Your previous annoyance had evaporated into nothingness and was replaced with something completely new, something different. Due to your nature of order and organisation, you didn’t like different. It threw off your whole balance and it would take a while to rebuild the balance you once had, now with the added weight of whatever ruined everything in the first place. However, this difference felt sweet, it warmed you against the chilly early December air. It felt safe, a homely feeling.
Still intoxicated by this feeling, you glanced to the sky, noticing that the previous deep navy that was littered with tiny stars had been broken up by streaks of burnt orange, pink and white.
“Jisung!” You called to him, pointing to the sky. The boy in question whipped his head around, almost slipping off his skateboard from his lack of concentration on the concrete he was skating along. You stifled a laugh and patted the empty space beside you, inviting him to fill it. He smiled softly, clamouring up the steep bowl and accepting your invitation.
“I understand why you wanted to show me now,” you sighed, shifting all your weight onto the palms of your hands. Jisung nodded wordlessly, mimicking your position. His feet kicked to and fro, an absentminded habit of his as his gaze shifted from the sky to you. He noted every feature of your side profile, specifically how the sunrise gave you a heavenly glow as if you weren’t a mere human being beside him, but in fact an angel. He examined every part of your face that was so uniquely yours.
“It’s so beautiful,” he breathed. You nodded, agreeing with him, but you didn’t see the context he was speaking in. Jisung knew it wouldn’t be long before you caught him, choosing to glance at his watch instead. “It’s nearly 7. We should probably leave before your parents realise you’re missing,” he commented, expertly hiding his reluctance to end this moment. You let out a deep but short sigh.
“Time flew,” you noted, stretching as you stood up, brushing the dust off your backside, “wait, what about your parents?”
“They won’t be out of bed until at least 9. They probably haven’t even noticed that I’m not at home,” he shrugged, tucking his skateboard under his arm, “and because of that, let me walk you home.” The bluntness of his request spooked you. You didn’t think it could even be classified as a request.
“Jisung, that’s not necessary-”
“Nonsense. I dragged you out here, let me at least take you home.” Your heart gave a soft squeeze at his words, and you knew you couldn’t turn him down. You pointed him in the direction of your house and set off down the path together.
You walked in silence, partly awkward, partly not. It was as if you had spent every word in your vocabulary on each other and neither of you had a new word to say. The chill was still by and froze the tips of your ears. Jisung noticed you trying to rub your ears, as you would your hands, to warm them up. Without skipping a beat, he tugged his beanie off his head and offered it out to you.
“Here,” he muttered, his long fingers holding it loosely.
“Oh,” you whispered before breaking into nervous chuckles, “it’s fine. I don’t need it,” you held up your palm to push it back towards him, but he shoved it back.
“I insist,” he declared, his eyebrows raised expectedly. You groaned a small ‘fine’ and snatched the beanie from your hand, pulling it onto your head. Jisung let out a chuckle, tugging at the side so it properly covered your ears. You fell back into the silence and completed the journey to your house. You stopped outside the small wooden gate that allowed access to the front yard and the pretty garden. You turned on your heel and gave Jisung a small lopsided smile.
“Thanks,” you said, stumbling over your words and thoughts to say anything more than that. He nodded and smiled back. You bowed your head to take off his beanie before he stopped you.
“Keep it,” he insisted, “I’ve got plenty more at home. Besides, it looks better on you.” His words heated your cheeks, convincing you that if it were to start snowing right now, the snowflakes that landed on your cheeks would melt at first contact.
“O-Okay. I’ll see you later,” you smiled at him one last time before lifting the latch of the gate and walking towards the front door. Jisung nodded and spun on his heel, impulsively crossing the street towards his best friend Jeno’s house.
You pulled your phone out of your pocket, opening up your text messages with Wonyoung.
y/n only: fuck you. you were right. i think i am catching feelings
Satisfied with your sudden declaration to your best friend, you pushed open the front door. No sooner did you step through the threshold, than did you feel your heart stop dead.
“So,” your father started, “do you wanna tell us where you’ve been so early in the morning?”
v. Studying (your face)
You had dodged a bullet with your parents, the only punishment you received was to wash the dishes for the next two weeks without complaint. A single complaint would result in not leaving the house for however long they saw fit. However, you weren’t too distraught about not hanging out with Wonyoung, but more about the tutoring sessions with Jisung.
Ever since that morning in the skatepark, your feelings about the skater had been mixed around and twisted. Sure, he was annoying, and boy, did he make sure to remind you, but it didn’t seem to bother you as much as it used to. You found it charming if you defined charming as the stupidly irritating characteristic someone has that you learn to tolerate.
As ‘charming’ as he may be, he still had assignments that were missing and needed to be done, whether he liked it or not. He still had to hold up his half of the deal.
You shifted from one foot to the other anxiously, waiting for someone inside to answer your timid knock at the door. Your palms felt slick with sweat, why were you so nervous? Maybe it was because Jisung had randomly texted you, asking if you could study at his place instead. His excuse was ‘a change of scenery’ or something like that.
Your ears pricked up at the sound of shuffling behind the door. The door creaked open and revealed a petite middle-aged woman, presumably Jisung’s mother.
“Oh, you must be Jisung’s friend,” she smiled, one that perfectly replicated her son’s.
“Yes. I’m Y/N. It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Park, I assume,” you extended your arm for a handshake, which she graciously returned.
“Yes. It’s so good to meet you too. Jisung doesn’t bring many friends over, aside from Jeno and Chenle. It’s nice to see a new face,” you felt your cheeks heat up over her words and you nodded.
“Speaking of, where is Jisung?” You asked politely, leaving your shoes by the door. Mrs. Park pointed up the staircase, her other hand ghosting over your shoulder.
“Up the stairs, third door on the right. There’s a sign with his name on it if you get lost.” You thanked her and trekked your way upstairs.
The decor was enough to tell anyone that entered the home that the Parks were a happy family. The wall beside the stairs was lined with family photos, ranging from the perfect nuclear family of a mother, father, and two boys; to sporting events, family gatherings, and birthday celebrations. It blended in perfectly with the white paint on the walls, with not a scratch or smudge of dirt in sight.
You reached the top of the stairs and spotted Jisung’s room immediately. A small sign was tacked at eye level to the door that read, unsurprisingly, ‘Jisung’s Room’ in childlike font, a glimmer of his childhood innocence shining through his hard outer appearance.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Come in,” his voice called from inside. You cracked the door open to see Jisung, one earphone embedded in his ear, a pen in between his fingers, and a small smile curved on his plump lips. “Took your time,” he teased as he paused his music.
“Interrupt study time, did I?” You teased back, placing your bag at his door.
“If that’s what you want to call it,” he gave you a sly smile as he tugged the other earphone out and swung his chair around to you.
“Right,” you strung out the sound, paired with a sarcastic nod of your head. You leaned over, doing a quick once over of his desk, disappointed but not surprised when you found Jisung had not been writing out the notes you had set for his homework, but in fact, he had been writing what seemed like poetry on several different pieces of paper.
“Really, Jisung? I gave you one job,” you exasperated, collecting the pages to get a better look at it. Before you had a moment to decipher his almost illegible handwriting, he snatched them out of your hand.
“Don’t look at those!” He squawked, pulling them out of your reach, his cheeks colouring a dark pink. His reaction had caught you off-guard.
“Jisung, they’re just sheets of paper,” Jisung shook his head at your claim.
“To you, maybe,” he corrected curtly.
“What are they, then?” He opened the drawer of his desk, messily shoving the papers inside.
“It’s not important right now,” he dismissed harshly before seating himself on the end of his bed. You occupied his desk chair and cleared a spot to place your book and folder.
“Alright,” you began, retrieving an assignment from the folder, Jisung’s name etched on the paper in his teacher’s handwriting, “this is the next assignment you’ve been set, well reset,” you explained, watching his fingers steal the paper from your fingertips. He skimmed over the task outline, his eyebrows furrowing the more he read.
“Short story task?” He deadpanned, glancing at you over the paper. You shrugged at his apparent annoyance.
“I can give you some ideas,” you suggested, swivelling around to grab your book, accidentally nudging a pencil of sorts off the desk. Cursing under your breath, you leaned down and collected it off the ground. As you went to place it back on the desk, you noticed the gold inscription on it. ‘Salem Black Eyeliner Pencil’. You spun back around to the boy sitting not a metre away from you. You flicked your gaze between Jisung and the pencil. How had you not noticed?
“Are you wearing eyeliner?” You asked, amused. He snapped his neck towards you, seeming just as amused.
“Yes I am. Is there a problem?” He mused, going back to the rubrik in front of him.
“No, just didn’t expect you to wear it,” you admitted, twiddling it between your fingers.
Jisung shrugged, “It makes me look cool.” You cocked an eyebrow at his comment and scoffed.
“News flash, Park. Wearing eyeliner isn’t a personality trait,” you taunted. Jisung laughed quietly, leaning closer to you.
“Have you ever worn it?” He was met with silence, “No? Too much of a goody two shoes?”
“I-It’s not like that-”
“Then let me put it on you.”
You have no idea what compelled you to say yes. Maybe it was the cute way his lips turned up at the thought of you wearing eyeliner. Maybe it was the sparkle in his eye, or maybe it was just because you simply could no longer say no to him. You were now sitting opposite him, your hands resting in your lap and bumping knees with him. His left hand held your jaw to prevent your head from moving too much.
“Keep your eye open and look up,” he instructed, pointing to his roof, helping you notice the twenty or so glow-in-the-dark stars tacked to it. He began his fiddly work, keeping his hand as still as possible so as to not poke you in the eye. Your bottom eyelid spasmed from the sudden contact of the sharp pencil to it.
“Do I really need to tell you to stay still?”
“Sorry.”
Jisung’s finger wiped across his work, smudging and blending it a little, again causing your eye to twitch. He leaned away for a second to study his handiwork. You watched as a grin painted onto his pretty lips. Did you just call his lips pretty?
“Y/N,” your friend breathed, “you’re staring.”
“Am I?” You stuttered, your cheeks heating, clearly embarrassed. Jisung didn’t say anything, choosing to lean in closer. Your noses were millimetres away. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. As if on cue, Jisung’s gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips. Hesitantly, he slipped his hand along your jawline and cupped it gently. You would’ve squeaked had your voice not failed you.
Slowly, your lips touched his in a gentle kiss. It was hesitant, sweet, and filled with teenage exploration. Feeling him kiss back, your hand fell on top of his and added to the sweetness of the kiss. Your lips moved in sync with one another, each movement more heart-fluttering than the one before. Jisung pulled away reluctantly, the sparkle in his eye growing brighter with astonishment.
“Woah,” was all he could manage to say.
“Woah indeed,” you gave a breathless chuckle, your lips stretching into a smile. Jisung nodded before turning back to his paper, now a little crinkled.
“You should probably go home. It’s getting dark and you’re already on thin ice with your parents,” he advised, giving you a tight-lipped smile. Nodding, you climbed off his bed, stacking your belongings on top of each other before pressing them against your chest.
“If you need any help with the assignment, you have my number,” you rattled off as you picked up your bag from the door, “oh, and Jisung?”
He raised his eyebrows at his name, “Hmm?”
“Thank you,” you said bashfully, “for doing my eyeliner and, you know,” you couldn’t bring yourself to say it, but he knew the silent words that died on the tip of your tongue.
“Anytime,” he winked and with one last giddy smile from you, you left the room.
Jisung let go of an unknown breath, slumping into his desk chair and opening his drawer. He retrieved the papers he had hastily stuffed away. His eyes lazily glided over the words, thoughts and rhymes messily scribbled onto the page.
He promised himself that he was going to rewrite it in a manner that was readable, but that’s what made it so precious to him. The raw emotion and scrambled thoughts were poorly printed, words crossed out for various reasons, the simple doodles that decorated the white space in between.
He exhaled again, picking up his pencil, searching for a blank space to fill in at least one thought. The scratching of an HB pencil against paper was satisfying to Jisung, but not as satisfying as the sound of the pencil nearly bouncing off the table from how hard he slammed it down. He gave a peaceful smile as he reread what he had written, the words flowing from his lips effortlessly.
“If only you knew how my heart races for you, Y/N.”
vi. Complicated
“Wonyoung, you know I’m not a party person,” you reiterated to your friend. She was begging and pleading for you to accompany her to the seasonal party she attended.
“Please Y/N, Jaemin’s gonna be there and I don’t want to show up by myself. I’ll look like a loser.”
“You’re gonna look like a loser either way,” you teased lightheartedly, tossing your phone to the side.
“Hey, that’s not nice. I’m practically your older sister,” she furrowed her brows at you.
“What’s in it for me?” You groaned, propping yourself up on one elbow to better glare at your friend.
“I heard Jisung might be there,” she gave you a suggestive eyebrow raise, “he’s skating buddies with Jeno, so knows Jaemin by association,” she continued. She was dead set on having you attend this party with her.
“Ugh. You know what? Fine,” you caved, your best friend’s face lighting up like a golden sunrise.
“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?” She squealed, tackling you in a hug.
You snickered, “Only when you get your way.”
“Oh, do not. Now, come on. We need to get ready,” she pranced around the room like a child on Christmas morning and you had to laugh at her ridiculously high energy. The things you do for friendship.
When you pulled up to the address of this party, your jaw hit the floor. The ‘house’ was more like a mansion and was like a sister location to the White House. The outside’s plain exterior was decorated with LED lights, displayed from hidden projectors, and you could already hear the bad EDM music blaring from within.
“W-Whose party is this again?” You asked your friend in a state of shock.
“It’s Donghyuck’s, but Chenle’s parents are out of town for the weekend, so he offered up his place,” you understood why Hyuck wouldn’t pass up on such a gracious offer. You felt like a fish out of the water as you walked along the cobblestone pathway to the entrance. You forgot what made you say yes to this, but you refused to believe that was by the mention of a boy’s name and informing you of his attendance.
Before you could work out what to do, Wonyoung had been dragged away by people who you assumed were friends of hers, leaving you alone at the threshold.
“Congrats on your first party,” you mocked to yourself, a hint of fear behind your words. This is not what you were about. You were all rules and dress codes, expectations, and high grades. Certainly not cramped spaces and sweat, loud music, and underage drinking.
You weaved through the sea of strangers, faces blurring together beyond recognition. You had no idea where you were going, looking around desperately for someone to stand out to you. It wasn’t until you fled to one of the many hallways that you finally did.
Ripped jeans, customised Vans, a silver chain, and a tank top of a band he definitely didn’t listen to. That was Park Jisung to a T. He hadn’t noticed your appearance, wrapped up in a conversation with three girls you didn’t recognise. You assumed they were friends of his. You took note of the phone in his hand, the Mickey Mouse cover confirming that it was undoubtedly his. You pulled out your own and typed out a quick text under his name.
y/n only: look behind you, dummy
You saw him crane his head away from the conversation to check the new notification. He squinted as he read it before turning around, looking around like a lost puppy. His lips curved into a grin that pushed up into his cheeks when his eyes fell on you.
“You were the last person I thought would show up,” he greeted you with a side-on hug, one you reciprocated. You let out a breathy laugh.
“So did I,” you explained, “my friend dragged me here.” He nodded as he tried his best to hear you over the thump of the music, loud enough to resonate in your chest. He hadn’t dropped his arm from around you, somewhat pulling you into him and allowing you to inhale the intoxicating amount of cologne he had. You weren’t going to voice your complaints, it did have a pleasant aroma to it, one that you could get used to.
“Judging by how you dressed, you’ve never been to a party,” he poked fun, looking over it. Embarrassed, you pulled your top down a bit.
“Blame Wonyoung. She convinced me to wear it,” Jisung broke out in a smile, his hand trailing down your arm.
“It’s fine. You look good,” he commented, “did you want a drink?”
Your eyes blew wide. “Jisung! Neither of us is old enough,” you sputtered, shocked beyond words. He couldn’t help but laugh at your naivety.
“Thank you for reminding me,” he said with gentle sarcasm, “it’s really not that bad.” You shook your head.
“My parents would kill me if they found out I’ve been drinking,” you declined, resulting in a snicker from your friend.
“Goody-two-shoes,” he teased.
“Lawbreaker,” you quipped, albeit weakly. Jisung shrugged and looked into the swarm of people.
“I’m gonna grab one. Wait for me, okay?” His hand came up slowly, his index finger gently brushing against your cheek. The small action was enough for butterflies to erupt and flutter in your stomach. He stared at you for a moment longer before dipping his head downwards and pressing his lips against your forehead. You felt like a malfunctioning robot, unable to process and turning you into a giddy mess as he disappeared into the ocean of strangers. Amidst your flustered state, you hadn’t noticed the three girls Jisung had been talking to before he ditched them to talk to you instead. The daggers they stared into the side of your head were sharp, burning hotter than your cheeks. It wasn’t until you heard voices that you saw them, ogling you like three hungry wolves hunting the same rabbit.
“Is that her?” One muttered to the rest of the group. You weren’t sure if they were trying to be discreet, but if they were, it certainly wasn’t working.
“Has to be. Did you see how quickly he left the conversation? He never acts like that towards any of us,” another whined, her arms folded over her chest and her bottom lip jutted out like a spoiled brat who had been told no.
“Right? He saw her and suddenly we didn’t exist,” the third one rolled her eyes, shooting you a side glance, “I don’t know what he sees in her. What does she have that we don’t already offer him?
Your heart hit the floor at her words. You had honestly forgotten how popular Jisung was, especially when it came to the ladies. You remember your friends referring to him and his friends as ‘heartthrobs’ and ‘stupidly attractive’.
With that in mind combined with what you had heard, you reevaluated your social status compared to him. How much higher he was on the social ladder than you, how he was compared to a god on a skateboard, and you were compared to nothing more than dirt under his mostly pristine Vans.
The thought of it all was sickening. Suddenly, your heartbeat was the only thing you could hear, the hallway felt like it was collapsing around you, and the butterflies started to lodge into your throat like bile. You shouldn’t be here. You don’t belong here.
Fragments of thoughts collided in your mind, each one a ridiculous question with no solid explanation. With every person you bumped into, a new thought would project itself into your mind like a lottery, and with every ‘sorry’ you muttered, you would compare that thought to the situation you currently found yourself in.
The atmosphere was suffocating, the heat from the attendants mixed with the amount of sweat in the air made you feel flushed, in some sort of drunken daze, despite not having tasted alcohol in your life. Your sights were set on the door, your one way ticket out of here without having to consider the window as an option.
Between his conversation with Chenle, Jisung caught something moving from the corner of his eye. Normally, he would’ve ignored it, waved it off as someone desperately trying to make it to a bathroom for whatever reason. However, something about it made him turn his head, and his eyes landed on you. You seemed skittish, unwell. He swore he hadn’t been gone more than five minutes.
“Hold that thought, and my drink,” he thrust his aforementioned drink into his best friend’s hands and rushed after you. He shouted your name over the music, his calls falling on deaf ears.
He squeezed and pushed through people in an attempt to catch up to you. Winter’s freezing breeze brushed against his cheeks, the sensation enough to make him shudder.
“Y/N, slow down,” he called after you and you stopped in your tracks.
“I’m going home,” you told him, refusing to look behind you. You couldn’t bear to look at him, knowing that if you did, you would come face to face with the reason those girls had talked about you in the first place.
“I know the first party can be intimidating, but it’s not all that bad. Trust me. I can show you,” he continued, his hand resting on your shoulder. You slapped it away.
“The party? This has nothing to do with the party,” you hissed at him, throwing him a sour look over your shoulder, “this has got everything to do with your little fanclub.” Jisung furrowed his brow in thought, recalling the situation.
“Mina, Hyejung and Yoonah?”
“I’m guessing so. I don’t know who they are,” you swallowed.
“That doesn’t make sense. Sure, they may be a bit thick, but I’m sure they didn’t mean it that way,” he defended, though his tone was gentle.
You scoffed, “I find that hard to believe.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He glared through squinted and harsh eyes.
“It’s supposed to mean that they helped me realise something,” you worded it vaguely.
“Care to enlighten me?” Sarcasm dripped from his words as if to hide the toxic venom behind them.
“They made me realise how girls act around you. Pretty girls. Girls who are aware they have a sliver of a chance with you. Girls that aren’t like me,” a singular tear slipped down your face. How cliché of you, “They were right. What do I have that they don’t already? I’m not worthy enough to even stand in your shadow.”
Jisung could only look on as tears fell like falling stars down your cheeks. He hated this. He hated seeing you like this, he hated this cold winter night and even a twinge of hate towards Jeno for convincing him to come along. The feeling was mutual between the both of you.
“I hate you, Park Jisung,” you hissed bitterly before walking up the path you had come from not twenty minutes beforehand.
Jisung silently watched you, the girl he had applied eyeliner to and kissed in his bedroom just days before, walk away from him. He felt empty, void of any and all emotion. The alcohol in his system mixed with the headache-inducing music and what just played out in front of him was enough to make him feel nauseous. He trudged back inside, mood noticeably dampened.
“Hey, what was that about?” Chenle questioned, his concern for his best friend grew when he walked past him and grabbed his skateboard.
“I’m going home. If anyone asks, I’m feeling sick,” his words were rushed, distracted.
“Dude, you can’t just say that and expect me not to be worried,” Chenle’s brows furrowed, spinning Jisung round by his shoulders, “what’s going on?”
“I’ve fucked up, man. I’ve fucked up big time.”
vii. you have one (1) new voicemail
“Hey, this is Y/N! I can’t come to the phone right now because I’m out living my life, but if you leave your name and number, I will get back to you as soon as I can!”
“Hey Y/N. It’s me, Jisung. A-Again. Look, I know you’re still upset at me, but please. Surely we can talk this out. Please call me when you get this. If you pick up and actually listen-or text me! Anything. Please. Bye.”
Jisung’s throat went dry when he heard your voice again. It was happier than it was the last time he encountered you. You hadn’t spoken to him since the party, whether it was at school, or through texts and missed calls.
You had started cancelling tutoring sessions for reasons he described as ‘bullshit’. Feeling unwell, even though he had seen you looking glowing and healthy that very same day, was your most recent excuse. It was one you had used previously, maybe because people tended to sympathise when they find out someone is sick. He didn’t like being lied to, but he can’t say he blamed you. Hell, he’d be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t used the excuse to get out of things he didn’t want to do.
However, this wasn’t some church activity his mother had signed him up for and he wasn’t eleven years old anymore. He was a high school student, a failing one at that, and his tutor, the girl he liked, refused to speak to him.
“Hey, this is Y/N! I can’t come to the phone right now because I’m out living my life, but if you leave your name and number, I will get back to you as soon as I can!”
“Hey. It’s me again. I wanted to follow up on when our next session will be. I have a test coming up and I’d really love it if you helped me study. Please return my calls or messages. Bye.”
“I know she’s upset, but I just don’t understand,” Jisung confided in his closest friend and partner in crime (sometimes quite literally) Chenle, “I don’t know how to fix it if she doesn’t speak to me.” Chenle nodded, pretending he understood the heartache his friend was going through.
“Have you tried approaching her? Like, at school or something?” Chenle asked, shrugging his shoulders slightly.
Jisung shook his head. “What am I supposed to say? ‘I know we’re fighting right now but let’s talk about that’?” Chenle gave him an apologetic smile and gave him the classic “maybe” shoulder shrug, hands positioned out and all.
“Helpful,” he rolled his eyes, falling back into his mattress and gazing at his ceiling.
“What did she say that night?” Chenle questioned, copying Jisung’s actions and laying next to him. His memory worked too quickly than he wanted to admit. The memory was stuck on replay in his mind, and had been for the past two weeks.
“She said something about pretty girls always falling at my feet. Made a comment that she wasn’t part of that category. How she wasn’t ‘worthy of being in my shadow’,” he made the air quotations as he recited his memory. Chenle hummed, the cogs whirring in his brain.
“So she feels unworthy of your attention?” He wanted to make sure he had Jisung’s story straight.
Jisung shrugged, “I guess so. In case you forgot, she hasn’t spoken to me since,” he said sarcastically and exhaled so harshly, his fringe flew upwards and stuck up awkwardly.
“She can’t ignore you forever. Especially if she’s your tutor,” Chenle offered, lifting himself up onto his elbows, now able to make eye contact with his best friend.
The best friend in question only sighed, muttering a ‘yeah’ before pulling his lips in a tight lipped smile, a habit of his.
The hours ticked by. Chenle had long returned home, leaving Jisung to his own thoughts and devices, probably the worst mistake anyone could make right now. His bedroom was completely dark, only the glow of his phone screen and the pale moonlight that shone through his window illuminated the small space.
He was staring at your contact. He hadn’t changed it since the day he logged it into his phone. The same stupid nickname with the same stupid emojis on either side of aforementioned nickname.
It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for him. You were one button click away, and yet he felt butterflies lodge in his throat, knowing the rejection that lay on the other end of the line. Jisung was strong, but temptation’s urges were stronger than anything he had ever encountered. He chewed on his fingernail nervously as the line rang. To no one’s surprise, you did not answer.
“Hey, it’s Y/N. I can’t come to the phone right now because I’m out living my life, but if you leave your name and number, I will get back to you as soon as I can!”
Before he could speak, he was surprised to learn that you had changed your voicemail.
“If this is Jisung…please stop calling me. Just don’t call me.”
viii. F in Feelings
Sunshine bathed the hallway Jisung trudged down, juxtaposing the horrible feeling that sat at the bottom of his stomach. He hadn’t tried to contact you since the last time he tried. That was nearly a week ago, and right now, he was scheduled for a progress meeting with Miss Barnes. He hadn’t done much with his schoolwork.
You kept cancelling sessions in the library, he had passed his English test by the skin of his teeth, and his grades were, once again, slipping.
As he walked, Hyejung and Yoonah appeared at his side.
“Jisungie!” Hyejung squealed, the nickname and pitch of her voice making Jisung grimace, “We haven’t seen you since Donghyuck’s party!”
“Yeah,” he said dismissively, trying to walk away.
“Oh come on, Jisung,” Yoonah whined, grabbing him by the cuff of his jacket, “we should hang out soon. Now, even.”
“I have to get to class,” he hissed, swiftly shaking off Yoonah’s manicured hand. Both girls looked at each other, both confused and shocked.
“Come skip with us, Jisung. Pretty please?” She batted her eyelashes at him, which only repulsed him further.
“I said no, Yoonah,” he reiterated bitterly, readjusting his backpack.
Hyejung scoffed, “What has gotten into you?”
“Yeah, since when have you been like this?” Yoonah added.
Jisung furrowed his brow, “Like what?”
“You’re telling me you actually want to go to class?” Forced laughter rang throughout the hallway, “You’re so funny, Jisung. Did you know that?”
“Like what?” Jisung repeated through gritted teeth.
“Like a nerd! You’re acting like a nerd. Are you trying to suck up to teachers so they’ll fix your grades?” Hyejung went to slap his shoulder in laughter, but he batted it away harshly. She hissed in pain (Jisung knew she was faking it. She just liked his attention) and looked to him, confused.
“What the fuck? Jisung, I-” Jisung cut her off.
“A nerd? Is that what you called Y/N?” That name. It felt heavy on his tongue, foreign even.
The girls looked confused, “Y/N?”
Jisung nodded curtly. “The reason I have been avoiding you lot is that you hurt her. She heard you talking about her and now she won’t talk to me,” he confessed venomously, anger rising quickly in his chest. His chest ached as he thought of you, the hurt expression you wore that night on the cobblestone path. Anger and hurt are a lethal combination.
“For your own selfish gain, you put someone else down, someone else who I care deeply for. How stupid and self-centred do you have to be to act so recklessly?” His words were like bullets, forceful enough to pierce through skin and loud enough to attract the attention of other students going about their day, “you want to do me a favour? Fuck off.”
The two girls stood before him bug-eyed, and with one final warning from him, they scampered away, their tails between their legs.
Jisung readjusted his backpack one last time before continuing down the hall to Miss Barnes’ classroom whilst occasionally throwing warning glares at students who were staring a little too long.
If he wasn’t upset before, he was now seething. The audacity they had was laughable.
Self-centred, airheaded idiots.
He knocked on the door, catching his teacher’s attention.
“Jisung, you’re here,” she smiled brightly and gestured to one of the two chairs placed neatly in front of her desk, “take a seat.” He nodded and accepted her invitation. “Now, we’re just waiting on Y/N,” she announced, plopping down in her chair and starting to remove his assignments from his folder.
“I’m not sure if she’ll come,” Jisung muttered, swallowing thickly. Miss Barnes looked up, concerned and a little confused.
“Whatever do you mean?” He felt his mouth dry out at her confusion. She doesn’t know.
“Ah well, you see, Y/N and I-”
“I heard my name.” Speak of the devil.
“Y/N, so lovely of you to join us,” Miss Barnes smiled, repeating the gesture she made to him when he had first entered the room. You reciprocated the smile and took your place next to Jisung. He swallowed thickly, deciding it best if he didn’t look at you. Did it make him look like a dickhead? Maybe, but he wasn’t ready to turn into a flustered, sobbing mess in front of his teacher.
“So, how has the tutoring been going?” She wasn’t asking him, she was asking you.
You visibly hesitated. What tutoring? There hadn’t been any for weeks, and it was obvious in Jisung’s grades as of recent. Your facade was faltering, and you needed to keep it up for the next few minutes of your life.
“They have been going well. Jisung struggled for a bit, but he was able to fix his study habits, and he has managed to make up most of his missing assignments, as I’m sure you’ve seen.” The most fluid set of lies you’ve ever told, especially to someone with so much authority over you. Sure, you had lied to your parents, who hadn’t? But to the faculty? Never in your life.
“I certainly have, and he’s made quite the improvement,” Miss Barnes agreed, licking the tip of her forefinger before flicking through the stack of assignments on her desk. Jisung reacted repulsively and made a mental note to wash his hands when she hands his assignments back to him.
“Jisung, your short story is absolutely beautiful. I had no idea you were capable of such things,” the compliment felt backhanded, but Jisung simply brushed it off for the time being.
“The development between the characters, the raw emotions between the both of them, the storyline. Everything was so well thought out,” she paused to skim over one of the paragraphs again, “if I’m being completely honest with you, I cried whilst reading it.”
You looked at him. Short story? He had never mentioned a short story to you. Sure, you had discussed that he needed to do it, the night that you both were majorly distracted by one another.
“Thank you, miss,” he mumbled, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.
“Now, even with all this good work and high grades I can award you with, Jisung,” she said, placing his work on top of the neat stack of papers, “there is one point of concern. Your last test score.”
Chills ran down your spine. You briefly recalled Jisung asking for help with his study for it, and yet his plea fell on deaf ears.
“It’s the first time you’ve received a score like this in quite a number of weeks,” the teacher explained, her face riddled with concern, “I just want to know how this could’ve happened.”
“Oh Jisung, you goose,” you piped up and slid the test paper towards you, “we went over this the week before, don’t you remember?” Lies dripped from your tongue like honey, your voice sickly sweet like it too.
He was absolutely dumbfounded. “What?”
“Come on, Dory. We covered this.” Your lies were multiplying, and doing so rapidly.
“So, he just simply forgot? Could it be to do with your study plan at home, Jisung?”
Jisung shook his head vigorously, “I-It’s not like that-”
“I’m sure these concepts just slipped his mind, miss. I’ll work with him on improving his study routine,” you gave the teacher a pseudo smile and gathered your things, “I have to get to my next class. If you’ll excuse me,” and with that, you were gone.
“Um, I-I have to get to my next class. Thank you for your time, Miss Barnes.” He grabbed his bag, and made a beeline to the door, hot on your heels.
“Wait, Y/N! Wait up,” he chased after you down the hall until you turned around.
Your face was void of any emotion when you swivelled around. No sickly sweet tone, no smile visible on your face. Instead, you looked annoyed that he had to interrupt your day.
“What, Jisung?” The way you said his name made his heart clench and twist to the point of near shattering, and yet, it pissed him off further. Acting like nothing ever happened, like you hadn’t just spouted countless lies to your teacher.
“What the fuck was that?” He pointed back in the direction from whence he had came. You glanced over his shoulder, pretending to look around. A few seconds ticked by and you turned your attention back to him.
“I don’t see what you’re talking about,” you shrugged your shoulders. He clenched his jaw in response.
“I’m not as dumb as I seem,” he spat, venom lacing his tongue, “don’t play it.”
“I thought I made it clear that I don’t want to talk to you,” your arms were folded across your chest, clearly disinterested in the conversation. Jisung’s anger bubbled and rose in his chest. How could you be so nonchalant? How could you act like there was nothing there?
“Now if you’re quite done, I have a class to get to,” and with that, he watched you saunter away, leaving him agape and speechless.
Were things ever gonna get better?
ix. this is what happens when i leave you unsupervised (kiss and make up)
Things were not improving. Not even the faintest glimmer of hope gave Jisung the slightest chance of having you back in the life he was cursed to call his own. He heard the rumours that were chanted in the hallways that the closeness between you and him was for a different reason and the turmoil was due to a disgustingly messy end to whatever students say your official title was.
“Dude, just ignore it. It’ll die down in a couple days. It’s not all that important,” one of his close friends Mark advised. For someone who always boasted about being the eldest and demanding the most respect, he wasn’t very wise, Jisung noted.
Nothing changed. Rumours continued to circulate, tension was high, and once again, his grades were slipping. Jisung was never one to believe in destiny or luck, but in this case, he truly believed that both decided to simultaneously fuck him over and run his senior year of high school into the ground.
His grades fell from a lack. A lack of studying, a lack of attention in class, a lack of tutoring sessions with you. Initially, he thought tutoring sparked the want to learn and improve for him, so he asked Miss Barnes if he could be tutored by someone else after making some excuse about you having picked up after school shifts at a new cafe.
It took him no less than three minutes of sitting at the same table as Shin Ryujin to realise that it wasn’t tutoring itself that sparked his want to study. It was you. The very same person who would evade him in the hallways like he was the carrier of some kind of deadly virus, would pretend there was music blaring in her ears to excuse why she wouldn’t answer when he called her name and didn’t seem affected by the rumours that were spiralling out of control.
He had started to frequent the skatepark more often like the place was a drug and he was an addict. His preferred time of day was in the ungodly hours of the night when the air was the chilliest and the population of the park was one, Park Jisung.
Setting his decorated board down on the ground, he took a deep breath. The week had been terrible, a repeat of the last three weeks and each spookily identical to the point where Jisung had pondered whether or not he was stuck in a time loop.
His heel balanced on the back of the board, the front stuck out over the bowl like a pirate’s plank, that is if a pirate’s plank was covered in stupid stickers and meaningless graffiti.
The euphoric rush of adrenaline was what he craved, the feeling that he was untouchable and free. It was his drug and over these last couple of weeks, he relapsed into his addictive ways in his desperate attempts of escapism. He rolled back and forth in the bowl like it was second nature, occasionally adding a trick into his routine. He felt free, happy, and relieved. Hell, he even felt invincible. However, that analogy was short-lived.
Amidst his impressive moves and tricks, he was gaining speed with no hope of slowing down anytime soon. His vision was blurred by the velocity of his skateboard, the wind whipping past his face and numbing his cheeks from the sensation. He went for another lap around the bowl when his footing on his board slipped, throwing Jisung from his skateboard with a crash.
Wearing pain ripped from his wrist down his arm, crying and hissing in pain. He clutched his wrist tightly and rolled onto his back, continuing to wail into the silent abyss of the night. He was sure that his wrist was broken, or at the very least sprained, but he didn’t have the stomach to look at it.
His phone was within arm's reach from him. Must’ve flown out my pocket when I fell, he thought. Bracing himself for the worst, he momentarily released his wrist to grab my phone. With one hand, he scrolled through his contacts until his eyes caught on one. His thumb hovered idly over the top of it, twitching in hesitation. It was your contact. He hadn’t altered anything about it, not even bothering to edit the emojis he had placed there out of it. He sighed gently, he knew his options were narrowed down to two; you would pick up or you wouldn’t, but the situation was much different than it had been over nearly a month, he thought it would be different. He was injured and he was in desperate need of your attention, medically and physically.
Ring ring! Ring ring!
The shrill sound of your ringtone echoed throughout the room and more importantly, rudely interrupted your studying playlist. You glanced at the contact, a pit forming at the bottom of your stomach. You had given up your tally on how many times he had called after 17. It was getting slightly ridiculous, to the point that the sight of his contact sent your blood boiling. How many times did you have to tell him that you didn’t want to talk to him? How thick was he?
Enough was enough. The record had to be set straight between him and you, besides your ringtone was irritating. You made a small mental note on the urgency of changing your ringtone. You tapped the green button, stirring up a thousand nasty sentences on your tongue before he even had time to speak.
“Stop fucking calling me! How many fucking times do I have to tell you that I want nothing to do with you. Seriously, how delusional are you-”
“Y/N,” Jisung interrupted, his voice raspy and quiet. The sound of your name on his tongue sent alarm bells off in your head, something was wrong.
You softened, visibly and verbally, “Jisung, is everything okay?”
A halfhearted chuckle tickled your ear, “Not particularly.”
Your heart rate spiked as you thought about every horrible scenario your brain could conjure up in seconds.
“What’s wrong? Where are you? Are you hurt?”
His silence was telling as if it told a thousand words he couldn’t.
“Are you at the skatepark?”
“Yes,” he muttered, hissing at the pain that was planted in his wrist.
“I’ll be there in five minutes with a first aid kit. Stay put,” you instructed, clicking off the call without a goodbye, and began rushing around to find your coat and the first aid kit your family stored somewhere in the house. You located it quickly (it was under the bathroom sink behind the year’s supply of hair products) and raced to the door. Your parents’ confused demands to know where you were going so late at night fell upon deaf ears. Your priorities were on Jisung and making sure he was safe.
His voice rang in your ears. You recalled the way it broke in certain places like he was trying to mask his pain, his tears. You cursed yourself aloud for letting your damn pride get in between your job and Jisung. There wasn’t a day that slipped by that you didn’t think about the damned boy. Sometimes, you would groan and mumble obscenities when you did, but in others, an ache settled heavy in your heart.
The skatepark grew closer in your peripheral vision. Your legs pumped faster as you raced up the hill and looked into the bowl. There sat the black haired boy, his bangs still covering his eyes just like the first day you had met him. The only difference between that first meeting in the school library and now was he was nursing his wrist against his chest.
“Jisung,” you called to him. He snapped his head in your direction, his eyes softened the moment he saw you.
“You actually came,” he replied, a little astonished. You shuffled down the sides of the bowl in an attempt to not slip and land face first onto the concrete similarly to Jisung.
“Of course I came. You’re hurt. I couldn’t just leave you out here in the cold,” You exaggerated your sigh as you knelt in front of him, plopping the first aid bag beside you and rifling through it to find the equipment you needed to patch up your skater boy.
Your. That word, when associated with Jisung, felt foreign in your mind. Proclaiming the injured boy as yours, pretending that for the last two weeks that you hadn’t been ignoring him, ignoring his calls, his texts, his entire existence.
Yet you picked up his call tonight. You remember the gut-wrenching feeling that set in your stomach like cement when his caller ID flashed across your screen. Something compelled you to pick up the phone, and that ‘something’ was the boy who preferred his skateboard to his textbooks.
You gently touched his wrist, earning a hiss of pain in return. You glanced up at Jisung, whose eyes were glazed over with a thin sheen of tears and he jerked his hand away from you.
“I can’t stop it from hurting if you don’t let me touch it,” you scolded lightly. Jisung it down on his bottom lip in thought for a split second before letting go of his wrist and letting you take a look at his swollen wrist.
Your eyes blew wide. “Well, that’s a sprain if I’ve ever seen one,” you commented, which was met with a blank glare from him.
“Wow, really? I never noticed, Captain Obvious. Thank you for that astute observation,” his voice dripped with sarcasm, making your face fall into a similar expression as his.
“I could leave you here and let your wrist heal incorrectly,” you threatened, turning to pack up the first aid kit. Jisung visibly panicked and shook his head.
“That’s what I thought,” you couldn’t suppress the small smile that graced your lips as you picked a bandage and ice pack out of the bag and pressed it against his wrist. Jisung winced at the cold surface of the ice pack that made you laugh.
“How did you even get yourself into this mess?” You asked as you compressed the pack to his wrist, sounding a little astounded. Jisung snickered and shrugged his shoulders.
“I fell off my skateboard. There’s not much more to it than that,” he laughed, his shoulders shaking as he did. His laugh was like music to your ears, soothing and pretty to listen to. It was a perfectly full sound, like it would play whenever you opened the lid of a child’s music box.
“You never fall off your skateboard,” you crinkled your brows and looked him up and down as you removed the ice pack and picked up the bandage and began to wrap his wrist.
Jisung knew you were right. The last time he had fallen off his skateboard was freshman year, and even then, the biggest injury he sustained was a moderately sized scrape on his knee.
“Distracted, I guess,” he tried to play it off but you were stubborn and adamant.
“Bullshit,” you replied.
“Maybe,” he gave you a small smile.
“So, tell me.”
He swallowed thickly and diverted his eyes from yours, trying to pull his hand away from your touch, however your grip was firmer than he anticipated.
“Why are you acting like this?” Annoyance bubbled inside your chest.
“L-Like what?” He stumbled over his words, shifting his body weight onto his good hand, the uninjured one.
“Like you’re hiding something from me,” Jisung scoffed at your words.
“Why would I be so quick to tell you anything? You haven’t spoken to me in weeks,” he hissed as he attempted to push your hand away, yet was met with yet another fail. His words made you freeze mid-wrap.
“I was selfish, I know-”
“No shit,” he spat. Your heart sank in your chest at the sharpness of his words and the way they plunged deep into you.
“I’m sorry. Really I am,” you apologised gently, your thumb running over the back of his bandaged hand. It was a small gesture but one that meant a great deal to Jisung. It brought back colourful childhood memories of his mother and the caring and gentle ways she would handle situations with him and his older brother.
“You,” Jisung blurted out. You gave him a strange look.
“What? What about me?” You asked, making him shake his head.
“The reason I fell off my skateboard was that I was thinking about you.” His sudden confession took you off-guard, like someone had knocked the wind out of your chest.
“O-Of me?” You swallowed thickly. Had ignoring all of his attempts at conversations, all the chances of reconciliation made you a constant thought? A thought living rent free in his mind, and one that was eating him from the inside out.
“Do you need your hearing checked again? That’s what I said,” there was a teasing tone behind his words, and it lightened your heart.
“Even after everything?” He nodded, seeming a little distant to be thinking about the topic.
“As much as I didn’t want to, you seemed to be the only thing on my mind for weeks. I tried to convince myself that I shouldn’t miss you, but somehow that made me miss you more.”
You sat there, the silence between you growing larger. Somehow, you became hyper aware of how his hand twitched and moved under your touch. Your words sat uncomfortably on your tongue and you swear you could see the twinkle of the stars taking its pretty place in his eyes.
Jisung’s gaze drifted upward and the smallest yet prettiest smile formed across his lips. “You kept my beanie,” he noted aloud. His public observation made you fluster quickly, unintentionally telling yourself to touch the soft woollen hat. You fumbled over your words in a poor attempt to explain yourself, cut off only by his gentle laughter.
“Dork,” he teased, pulling it off your head. You squawked in surprise and swiped at the hat with your free hand to try and grab it. Damn Park Jisung and his long limbs.
“I’m surprised you kept it. I thought you would’ve thrown it out or burned it by now,” he said half jokingly as he admired the hat, swiping the pad of his thumb over the brand patch on the front of the beanie.
“I couldn’t bring myself to do either,” you admitted, shrugging your shoulders and disguising the fact that your heart was beating so erratically you could hear it in your ears. The thought of destroying something that a, didn’t belong to you, and b, belonged to the one and only Park Jisung, was against your moral code.
“Also, stay still, you need to elevate your wrist,” you instructed and lifted his forearm upwards.
Jisung threw the beanie back at you, “It’s cute,” he commented. The conversation fizzled back into silence and fleeting glances. Time froze as he tried to ignore the way your fingers would delicately glide over his like he was made of glass. His mind focused on how your fingers gently curled around the space between his thumb and his index finger.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” You asked as you fixed his bandage and tightened it. Jisung nodded wordlessly, ready for whatever question you had.
“Do you think we could…try again?” He picked up on the slight yet unmistakable crack in your voice.
You missed him, and greatly at that. It didn’t matter how many times you ignored his texts or calls or his presence when he walked past you in the corridor, you felt this twinge of pain in your heart. You still had to see his contact pop up in your notifications every time you looked at your phone. Hell, even your voicemails were full because you didn’t have the heart to delete his voicemails. Sure, you were an asshole to Jisung after the party, and you regretted every moment of it, but you missed him. Even right now, when sitting in his presence, you missed him.
“We could,” he said stoutly. His tone didn’t immediately indicate if he was joking around or not, but your gut told you that it held a slight bit of resentment. You swallowed thickly and sighed loudly.
“Would you let us?”
“I might,” he said in the same tone as before. You looked down before shifting on your knees.
“Jisung,” you groaned at his lack of response, and he visibly caved.
“Okay,” he breathed, “we can try again. But no storming out on me at parties,” he teased gently as he watched you tighten his bandage.
“Don’t take me to parties and that won’t be a problem,” you gave him a loose smile, scooting closer towards him. The dark haired boy gave a hearty chuckle, until he jerked his hand in the wrong direction, to which it was sharply cut off by a hiss of pain.
“Alright, maybe we should take you to the ER,” you suggested, “I may have done my best but I’m no doctor.”
Jisung nodded wordlessly, looking over to his skateboard. Dissimilarly to him, it had sustained no injuries.
“Don’t even think about, Park Jisung,” you warned him as you helped him up, trying your best not to worsen his injury, and better yet, get him away from that stupid ass skateboard.
“Well, I can’t just leave it here! I paid good money for that skateboard!”
“You spent $150 for a plank with wheels?”
“And I’m not letting some runny-nosed, sticky-fingered iPad kid get their grubby hands all over it.” He huffed, leaning down to collect his skateboard, “also, it wasn’t $150.”
“Oh really?”
His cheeks tinted pink, “it was 175,” he mumbled. You reprimanded him for wasting such a large sum of money on a piece of driftwood and Jisung only scoffed and rolled his eyes, reminding you that it was a very good piece of ‘driftwood’. Despite your distaste for the activity, you picked up his skateboard and tucked it under your armpit.
“Now no little sticky fingered kid can get their hands on your ridiculously overpriced skateboard. Happy?” Jisung gave you a closed lipped smile, his cheeks causing his eyes to disappear a little.
There was a pause.
“Hey, Y/N?”
You turned to him.
“Yes, Jisung?”
He displayed a small but grateful smile.
“Thank you.”
You reciprocated the smile, and a soft hue coloured your cheeks.
“Don’t mention it.”
The two of you walked together down the path. The air was still freezing and the silence between was just as bitterly cold. Your feelings on Jisung were mixed and stirred, like a drink whose flavour was bittersweet. Yes, you disliked him for the shitstorm of a party incident, but that didn’t stop you from thinking. Thinking about the hours you spent on him, hours of your life you would never get back. Did you really regret those hours? The answer was no. Time flew past before you could conceptualise it, which paled in comparison to how slow these last couple weeks moved for you. Not to mention that Jisung had loosened you up. You felt less tense in strange social settings and admittedly less uptight than you were before. He showed you that your teenage years were still meant to be fun, that you didn’t need to figure out what to do with yourself immediately. Jisung was your guide through a different side of the world you thought you knew.
You looked over at Jisung as you walked. He was nursing his injured wrist against his chest, his other hand helping support it. His bangs were pushed to the side and revealed his eyes and their deep shade of hazelnut brown. Slivers of light shimmered like stars in his irises whenever he passed underneath a streetlamp and swore he had this heavenly glow behind his figure, and you felt a little awestruck just looking at him.
The bright lights of the hospital buzzed quietly as you made your way to the front desk. A middle-aged woman with dark circles under her eyes and an expression that explained that she needed a cigarette and a nap sat behind it, mindlessly tapping on her keyboards and only drew her attention away from her monitor when the two of you approached.
“Can I help you two lovebirds?” Her comment alone turned the tips of Jisung’s ears pink and he looked away from the receptionist.
“Uh yes. My friend here hurt his wrist while skateboarding and I have reason to believe that it’s sprained,” you calmly explained as you pointed to Jisung’s wrist.
The woman leaned over the desk to get a better look at his bandaged wrist. She briefly raised her eyebrow before plonking herself back into her office chair and sluggishly pulled her keyboard towards her.
“Friend, huh? Is that what you young people call your partners now?” She joked. At least, you hope she was joking, “And does your ‘friend’ have a name?”
“Yes. Uh, Park Jisung,” Jisung spoke before you could. He may not know much but he can at least remember his own name for his medical records. His answer was responded with the obnoxious clacking of her keyboard before she asked for her date of birth, residence and emergency contact.
“Alright, just take a seat over there. We’re not busy tonight, if you couldn’t tell,” she gestured to the empty waiting area, “so the doctor will be with you shortly.”
You and Jisung thanked her before taking seats opposite each other and began to wait. The receptionist was right, they weren’t very busy. Obviously, they didn’t usually get patients who have sprained their wrist because they were trying to skate their feelings away. In fact, this whole situation was laughable. You swore you despised him twelve hours ago, but all it took was one phone call and you were running back to him. Did you even despise him at all?
Ten minutes had passed before the doctor emerged from the main hallway to the waiting area, asking for ‘a Park Jisung’. The boy in question pricked up his ears and twisted his neck in the direction his name was called. The doctor smiled widely.
“Park Jisung?” He said again in a cool voice.
“U-Uh yes, that’s me,” he stammered and scrambled to his feet. He turned to you, looking at you as though he was asking for your permission.
“Go. It’s your wrist that’s fucked, not mine,” a teasing smile displayed on your lips, “Unless you need mommy to hold your hand.”
Jisung scoffed in mock disgust and announced that he’d be back soon. With a final nod of your head, he followed the doctor into another room.
The room was in pristine condition. Every surface seemed to sparkle under the fluorescent lights and he was convinced if he looked at the counter, his own reflection would stare right back. The room was decorated with space related decals that were meant to appeal to young kids; planets and stars strategically placed on the door and wall next to the desk, and an astronaut with a visor that obscured his face and holding a flag that said ‘Dr Lim’. On the other side of the desk was a chair reserved for patients, and that is where Jisung sat himself down.
“So,” Dr Lim started, making Jisung turn his attention to him, “you’ve done something to your wrist?”
Jisung nodded to confirm his theory, lifting up his hurt wrist ever so slightly as to not cause himself more pain. Dr Lim gestured for him to bring his hand closer to him, and once it was in his reach, the doctor began unwrapping his hand.
“Did you wrap your hand yourself or was it the girl you came in with?” The doctor asked, noticing how well done it was.
Jisung shook his head, “Oh no, it was her. I think she did a good job.” Jisung felt flushed just thinking about those brief moments.
Dr Lim nodded, “She did a fantastic job. You’re quite lucky to have a friend like her.”
Jisung was sure that the good doctor hadn’t realised how much those words meant to him, but they made a small giddy smile settle onto his lips and painted the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks a dreamy shade of pink.
“Yes, sir. I am extremely lucky to have her.”
#neowritingsnet#ficscafe#nct writers#kpop#fanfiction#kpop fanfiction#kpop fluff#nct fanfiction#nct fluff#nct dream x reader#park jisung x reader#jisung x reader#park jisung scenarios#nct jisung#park jisung fanfiction#park jisung fluff#nct angst#nct dream angst
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Tagged for the 'fic writer interview' by @veliseraptor!
I feel like I may have seen this meme going around before? Some of these questions strike me as familiar, particularly the 'thoughts on foreign language dialogue?' one, since I'm puzzled as to what this question is asking and I remember being stymied by it before. I think that I want to fill this one out with any answers that have changed since last time and any questions I like to talk about, and skip the questions that don't have interesting answers.
Fic Writer Interview
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
207 as of current!
2. What's your total AO3 word count?
2,939,672. Getting close to the 3million mark there -- possibly, as with Lise's case, this year's MDZS big bang may put me over the top. (If not, that + other current project probably will.)
3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Without even looking I'm pretty sure that the top two spaces will be Loki fics and the third will be Ceru's fic, lmao. *checks*
Close! Loki fics take up first, third, and fifth place, and Ceru's fic is in second. However *yakety sax arrangement for guqin and xiao* has crept into the top five, at place 4, making it the first of my Untamed fics to do so. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes, usually. There are some factors that may lead me to not respond including 1) too short or had no content for me to reply to (i.e. a string of emojis), 2) it's on a fic from a fandom I don't really consider myself part of any more, or 3) too negative, such as when people for some reason have chosen to use the comment box as a space to rant about how much they hate a character, oftentimes with little to no connection to what I actually wrote.
On the other hand, I will almost always reply to a comment that poses a direct question, also incl. requests for permission to translate or podfic. I love when people ask questions. It used to be an ongoing source of angst to me when people would leave comments with questions on Fanfic.net, but without any way for me to reply. ╯︿╰
5. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?
Probably Rise From Ash, a downer ending Loki fic where Loki got caught in a timeloop trying to prevent Ragnarok from happening. More recently, probably nostrum. In both cases though the Bad Ending is simply a reversion to canon mean, so it probably could have been worse.
6. What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?
I do love happy endings! There's usually at least some element of melancholy or bittersweetness, but the ones I'd say are most happiness-loaded with that regard would probably be either One Elegant Solution (which was literally written for the purposes of giving the characters the happiest possible ending) or the coda ending of the refrain series (where I literally spell out at the end what I think the ideal ending for each character would look like.)
7. Do you write crossovers?
Not in the old-school understanding of the term crossovers, where the characters and settings of series A and series B literally meet and interact, but I write a lot of fusions, where characters of series A are placed in setting of series B or are otherwise remixed together. Modern fandom seems to have largely elided the distinction.
8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?
A few times. I'd put these into three buckets: 1) people who didn't like what I was doing with the character/story and told me so, but were civil about it and merely stated they were not going to continue reading; 2) people who write unprompted character hate in my comments, usually unrelated to whatever's going on in the text, which I don't enjoy but don't really take personally; and 3) people actually writing callouts or otherwise putting me 'on blast' for a specific fic. That last one has only happened once (that I know of) and while it wasn't particularly upsetting to me either then or now, it sure was A Trip. This is already a long post, so I won't elaborate here unless someone asks.
9. Do you write smut?
Occasionally. It's one of my less favorite things to write, but I'll do it if the story seems to call for it.
10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
This rings a very very faint bell, possibly sometime in the aughts I have a vague recollection of encountering one of my own stories on some geocities site under someone else's name, but I don't recall who it was or which fic. Not since then that I know of.
11. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Yes! Enough times that I have lost track of all the specific instances, but I think maybe once or twice a year I'll get a request by someone to do a translation or podfic. I do not recall any instance where I said no, but I do prefer to be asked first.
12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Yes! With @faux-fires, a Tsubasa Chronicle sci-fi AU, many years ago. Alas the currents of life took us in different directions before we could write the next part.
13. What's your all-time favorite ship?
Don't have an interesting answer for this.
14. What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?
I do have lingering regrets over my abandoned WIPs from Critical Role fandom, Molly's Moving Castle and Fjord Mustang's YEEHAW! Fun and Pony Ranch, both of which fell victim to the march of canon and my eventual departure from the fandom. The latter fic in particular was going to go some wild places.
15. What are your writing strengths?
I think my pacing is excellent, my character voices are usually solid, I can do humor very well and action competently. I can spin a coherent plot and an exciting adventure. I both enjoy and am good at AU worldbuilding and can convey exposition without infodumping, and can do melodrama and angst that packs a solid punch.
16. What are your writing weaknesses?
Mostly those of career fanfic authors everywhere: I'm weak at developing original characters and largely unmotivated to write plots that don't shadow or mirror the original text in some way. I've also noticed a recurring and growing difficulty with romance; I like romance, but when trying to write a romantic story, often fail to move the romance arc convincingly forward. (See also above answer re: smut.)
17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
Don't have an interesting answer for this.
18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?
Gundam Wing, baby! I feel like there was a bit of a GW revival on tumblr recently? Man, now there was a fandom whose fanon vastly overshadowed its canon.
19. What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?
Fandom - I have a half-written draft for an Encanto fanfic lying around somewhere, if you can believe it; I'd also like to do some ZhanChengXian work, but haven't figured out an approach for it yet. If a romance with two principals is hard for me, imagine how much harder adding a third participant must be!
20. What's your favorite fic you've written?
Not gonna pick one! I like some fics more than others, for various different reasons, but none of them stand out as an All Time Favorite.
And that's it! For tagging people... @cerusee, @faux-fires, perhaps @tavina-writes or @nyoomerr?
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anonymous asked: may I rq some jeanlisa were jean is stressed and lisa offers her a massage?? can be sfw or not u pick. tyyy <33
the walk from the library to the acting grandmaster's office is short; and despite this, jean rarely has time to pop in and see lisa during her workday - even when she really, really needs a break. the tension headache from staring at paperwork, the way her back is beginning to betray the once fit and agile knight she was before taking over varka's position: there aren't enough hours in a day to take care of herself as well as mondstadt, and mondstadt is what's important. especially at a time like this.
a familiar, short rap on the door and the appearance of her girlfriend as she calls for the visitor to enter surprises jean for many reasons - lisa doesn't work late, she has no reason to still be around headquarters. she should be at home, with some kind of sweet beverage on the nightstand and a book in her lap.
"jean," she says, a small smile on her face, though her arms are crossed and her head is tilted to one side, as if trying to feign annoyance. "aren't you forgetting something?"
forgetting? the word is like a lightning strike hitting her in the center of her chest, panic alarms ringing in her brain. defence, recruitment, budget, complaints, mediation, meetings, payroll, interviews, correspondence... jean's daily checklist should be near completed, is there anything specific to be done on a wednesday? something to do with lisa? an issue with her work at the library, or something personal, a chore at home or a birthday or a...
"relax," lisa chuckles. "sara said you never came by to collect your order of fisherman's toast. which means you didn't take your lunch break. which means you didn't listen to me when i-,"
"oh!" jean can be pretty time blind - it had been way past four when she remembered that she even had a lunch break still to take. "it's been hectic."
"i don't see why you won't delegate some of your tasks to the rest of us," she tuts, crossing the floor to stand behind jean's chair and wrap her arms around her neck; allowing her to tilt her head back and exhale a little. "you can trust us, you know. me, kaeya, even lumine is in town. she was asking for you."
"all three of you have plenty on your plates. plus, you help me enough just by being here."
jean knows by the brief silence broken only by the sound of an out of place breath that lisa's blushing. "i mean it, lise - just seeing you for a minute has the same effect as an hour of respite."
"you flatter me, sweetheart." the affection is obvious in her voice. "your shoulders feel tense. how about i give you a massage while you finish up there?"
a massage... jean nods, and shivers immediately when lisa takes this as her cue to begin; brushing through her blonde ponytail with care before lightly dragging her fingertips down jean's bare neck, taking her time rubbing her shoulder blades first, then applying more pressure, kneading into the stiff muscle with her palms. jean doesn't know where she learned to give such good - "oh," she can't help but moan when lisa finds a knot and digs her knuckles in to unwind it. "oh, that's...,"
"shh," lisa breathes against her ear, another sensation that jean can feel ripple across her skin like static electricity. "eyes on the work."
lisa continues, now switching to broad, but rhythmic circular motions, and lets out her own sigh of relief when finally, jean slumps under the pressure and relaxation of her touch. she's so different when she lets go of the stress, the tension she carries so high up in her body - always anxious, her heart pumping too fast and her thoughts all shouting out at once for attention. her expression turns softer, her eyes brighten, her skin begins to glow again, though that could be lisa's imagination.
"i love you, jean," she reminds her.
jean drops her quill, giving in, and closes her eyes fully. "i think we can go continue this at home."
#jeanlisa#lisa x jean#jean gunnhildr#lisa minci#jeanlisa fanfic#jeanlisa imagine#genshin imagine#genshin fanfic#prompt fill#anonymous#jeanlisa fluff#genshin fluff#genshin wlw#genshin impact fanfic#*
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incredibly dumb question (and bit nsfw) pls feel free to ignore; I've just realised reading war and peace just fried my remaining brain cells: if topping anatole just made andrey worse, do you think ever bottoming would fix him or? I was thinking it'd make him even worse but idk one should never doubt the healing powers of a prostate orgasm ig
ANON YOU *LITERALLY* HAVE NO IDEA HOW CORRECT YOU ARE IN ASKING THAT QUESTION. JOURNEY WITH ME BELOW THE CUT TO HEAR MY EXTENSIVE THOUGHTS ABOUT ANDREI BOLKONSKYS SEX LIFE (spoilers i actually go more in depth about my interpretation of andreis psychological issues than ever but you have to get through the stupid sex stuff first. Sorry. Also I'm finishing writing this at the airport at seven am after not a lot of sleep so I take no responsibility for how coherent it may or may not be)
Ok I cannot emphasise enough that. Part of my initial take on Andrei (and a partial basis for my andretole au) was LITERALLY "guy who needs to get fucked but is too full of toxic masculinity to let anyone top him". Like, it's 1805 and everyone is obsessed with ancient Greece, they probably just started unpacking ancient Greek ideas about homosexuality, someone as proud, misogynistic and self-possessed as Andrei would absolutely see bottoming as some sort of shameful dishonour, if only subconsciously. (But like, if mercury was in Gatorade and the heavens collided and Pierre actually realised one day that Andrei has the hots for him and offered to top, Andrei would agree in a heartbeat because the thirst is even stronger than the internalised homophobia)
But silly sex headcanons aside I do think there's genuine psychology going on here so let me elaborate. I think Andrei is chronically incapable of being vulnerable with people. Even when making an effort to talk openly about his emotions (like in his first one on one with Pierre), he's very distanced from them, cold and disdainful. He talks about emotions but doesn't exhibit them. And if strong emotions of any kind threaten to get the better of him, he defaults to anger - see his anger at Lise in the same scene, his anger at Pierre after his refusal by Natasha and again before borodino - probably because anger feels easier and doesn't imply weakness like other emotions - sorrow, fear, regret - might. I mean in that scene after Natasha's refusal the narration openly states that Andrei hates being pitied... So like, if he can't bear to be vulnerable with others in life, how could he possibly do so in bed, right?
(Though I suppose it's not as clear cut as that because hatefucking Anatole IS a sign of weakness and feeling ashamed of it is also a sign of weakness and anatole's refusal to be bothered by it reminds Andrei of that fact every single day. He just can't win! Can't have shit in 1805 Russia!!)
All this being said, it's equally as important to my understanding of Andrei that he does WANT and even NEED to be vulnerable with someone. He wants to be able to trust and respect someone enough to lean on them and rely on them for comfort. I think that his extreme self-reliance and internal strength belie a deep-seated desire to have someone in his life who will render those traits unnecessary. Hold on I just realised Andrei has mommy issues uhh
In all seriousness tho. This is why those relationships Andrei tries to build fail, isn't it? He doesn't approach those people as equals, he wants them to be his superiors. Natasha can't just be a girl whose company he enjoys, she has to be his angel of rejuvenation and moral redemption. Speransky can't just be a man whom he respects, he has to be this flawlessly committed and morally upstanding reformer. And when he dares act like an imperfect human being, Andrei is totally turned off. His relationship with Pierre is actually probably the healthiest precisely because of its internal contradictions - he cherishes Pierre's earnestness and artlessness, but sees his naiveté and weak will, and therefore doesn't build him up to such an impossible standard of perfection as others.
(This actually contrasts in an interesting way with Pierre's (imo) final and most important transformation - that into someone who can acknowledge people's flaws and love them, without judgement or delusion. Very Christlike of him)
So um tldr. Yes Andrei SHOULD bottom (slash not be such a dom slash be vulnerable with anyone) and it WOULD fix him but also he'd need to already BE fixed for it to ever be on the table so like. F. He'll have to make do with blowing anatole's back out and hating himself for it, and count himself lucky that my stupid au gives him that much
#ask#anonymous#war and peace#andretole#andrei bolkonsky#ALRIGHTY ONLY TOOK ME 14 HOURS BUT I FINALLY COMPOSED A REPLY#i Hope this sums up my thoughts in the matter in an exhaustive succint and understandable manner but again. i did get uo at 420 am today#so we shall see later if this holds up in court
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NCT 00′ LINE HOGWARTS DRABBLE
Part of a Hogwarts Collection
Hogwarts!AU
Pairing: Reader & Haechan
Featuring: Hufflepuff!Reader, Slytherin!Haechan
Genre: Angsty
Warnings: Some mentions of being nervous and anxious, talk of insecurities
Taglist: @flower-lise @heyyyun @sunflowerhae @neocityfile @winc1ty @imgettinlocoloco @ashkuuuu @marklexleaf @cookydream @dnylwoo @sanisms @juoirs @luvdroids @yuxnan @jenyoonoh
Slytherin!Haechan found out during the past week that you must have changed your usual getaway spot.
Perhaps with the snow lingering on the ground and the near freezing wind, you'd rather not spend the night with dropping temperatures outside alone.
Though it makes sense for you to seek shelter in a warmer safer place, he couldn't for the life of him figure out where it was. And because of this, it made apologizing to you very impossible.
It got to the point where he finally figured he should ask around about you. Of course he started with his friend who you shared a house with.
"Do you happen to know any sixth year Hufflepuffs?" Haechan asks Hufflepuff!Jeno as they walk together between classes. He hums, eyebrows furrowing as he thinks. "No one that plays quidditch," he adds knowing it would help narrow down his search.
"Well there's Sungchan, or Chaeryeong," He purses his lips struggling to think of younger members of his house that aren't on his team. "Oh! There's Winter and Heeseung too!" Though only a small number of people, Jeno is proud of himself for know at least them.
Haechan only nods at his friend, he figured Jeno wouldn't know you but he thought asking him may be a good start.
"Why do you ask?" The Hufflepuff continues the conversation while the Slytherin moves to adjust his scarf as they walk along the courtyard. "I have this," he pauses, "Friend who is a sixth year Hufflepuff. She forgot one of her books last time we were studying and I'm trying to get it back to her but I haven't seen her".
Though it was a lie, Haechan felt it was a good enough excuse to tell him without raising too many questions. "What's her name?"
Haechan tells Jeno your name only to leave him still unsure, "Yeah, I'm sorry I'm not familiar with her. But I'll look out for her in the common room and let her know you have her book!"
---
True to his word, Jeno spends the next couple of days asking around the common room for you only to have no luck. Was Haechan pulling his leg? Was it really possible for one to be on their sixth year of Hogwarts and have this many house members not know who you were?
Until after dinner he returned to the Hufflepuff common room, Jeno took a few moments to ask those around about your presence. Finally there were a couple of girls sitting next to the fire who recognized your name, "Yeah! She's our roommate actually, though we don't know her that well either". Jeno felt relieved, so you did exist. Another speaks up to him, "She's usually out pretty late, but if you wake up early enough she sometimes sits by the fire here and reads before anyone else is up". Though you never really told them about your whereabouts, the girls you roomed with were able to take notes of your habits after all this time. Thankfully they never were aware of your sneaking out in the middle of the night.
The next morning Jeno awoke before the sun did, eager to finally tell Haechan's friend about her missing book. Trekking down the stairs into the main common room he sees a figure sitting alone on the couch in front of the fire, similar to where the other girls had been sitting last night.
Once he was close enough to you he clears his throat to announce his presence as you had not heard him beforehand. He watches as you nearly jump out of your seat, clasping the book in your hands to your chest as you look up to him with wide eyes.
Jeno tries to offer a friendly smile as much as he could as he felt he was still half asleep, "Sorry about that," he starts, taking a moment to clear his throat that was still hoarse from sleep, "My name is Jeno. I'm friends with Haechan. I just wanted to let you know he's been looking for you. He has one of your books".
The boy feels slightly awkward as he stands there in the silence that follows his announcement. He gently looks over you as he waits for a response. He can tell your chest is heaving slightly heavily, he guesses from his sneaking up on you. Your eyes, though wide and doe-like, have dark circles around them and seem heavy. As though whereas he had woken up, you had yet to sleep.
He watches as you finally take a deep breath before answering him, "Alright, thank you". Your voice is extremely soft spoken and Jeno is sure if you weren't the only two here he wouldn't be able to hear you. He scratches his neck awkwardly not expecting such a short answer. Deciding it's best to take his leave and try to catch another hour of sleep, he nods his head at you, a "Nice to meet you", ringing through the room as he turns to ascend the stairs once more.
---
"You talked to her?!"
Haechan exclaims as he sits at the table in charms next to Jeno. He's glad the Hufflepuff boy decided to bring up the topic before the rest of their group got to class.
Jeno sends him a confused glance, "Yeah? You told me you needed to get her book back so I've been looking for her". He moves to cover his mouth as he yawns, "Although I had to get up at crazy early time to do so. I'm not sure how she gets up so early everyday, unless she doesn't sleep". Haechan frowns knowing that must be the case but drops the subject as another classmate comes to join them at the table.
---
Haechan peaks around the corner and down the hallway for what felt like the millionth time that night. Just beyond the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room he was flush in a corner trying to hide from everyone while still keeping a look out for you.
He came straight after dinner, his plan was to catch you before you made your way back in the common room but it had already been an hour after the meal and there was no sign of you and the portrait behind his back was starting to get on his nerves with its threats to tell of the Slytherin boy lurking out here.
But atlast, he sees you walking down the hall.
You were alone and walking slowly, almost sluggishly with your bag slung over your shoulder.
This is it, you think to yourself, I've gone crazy.
You find the lack of sleep must have finally got to you as you hear someone whispering your name in the empty hallway. You shake your head and trudge closer to the door hoping tonight you were tired enough to fall straight to sleep without any worries.
However the voice calls you again.
It seemed louder this time so you stop for a second and look around. Your eyes widen after they adjust to the dark end of the hallway and you see a familiar Slytherin boy waving you down.
Your brows furrow but you begin taking small steps towards the boy who you haven't seen in a month. You figured he had completely cut you out of his life for the troubles you caused but you walked towards him anyways curious to see what he was doing here.
He lets out a sigh once your close enough, "I've been looking everywhere for you". You frown at his words, and remember what his friend said when he approached you this morning, giving you quite the fright, "If this is about a book I think you're mistaken," you speak quietly, afraid to be caught, "I don't think I've ever left a book with you so it must belong to someone else".
Haechan lets out a huff, "No, it's not about a book. I just," he pauses for a moment apology on the tip of his tongue, much harder to get out even after all this time he was preparing to see you. "I just wanted to see you. To see how you were doing" he states instead, and while though true, he curses himself for chickening out on apologizing for how awful he was to you.
He watches as your head tilts to the side, "Me?" you ask, obviously surprised he would come check on you. He nods and you shrug, "I'm fine. A little tired, but I'm okay". You tell time sparing him the details of your struggles you thought he gave up when he told you off that one day.
You can feel his eyes wandering over your face and it does nothing but make you feel self conscious so you turn your head away from him. "I want to show you something," he speaks drawing your attention once again. When you don't move to answer him he knows your hesistency comes from good reasoning.
"It's been really cold out right? I thought you might want a new place to," Haechan pauses wanting to make sure he chooses his next word carefully, "Relax".
You swallow hard and shift your gaze downwards.
It was true, with the snow that had been present since the colder months have come, you would no longer seek solstice outside and away from the castle. You've spent the past weeks wandering around the castle or staying up until you no longer could keep your eyes open instead. You felt trapped in the castle knowing you could transform at any second if your emotions and nerves got too much. It felt even worse now for you since you couldn't be outside; if a deer was caught outside no one would question it, however inside, they would surely know what was up.
Feeling like you completely relapsed since Haechan started helping you, you decided you would see what he had to show you. Perhaps it would offer you a peace of mind and a good nights sleep.
---
"Just in here," the Slytherin boy speaks, opening a door in an abandoned hallway after lots of wandering around the castle in places you've never even seen before. Honestly you don't even know if you could find your way back to the Hufflepuff common room if you tried.
You enter the dark room, eyes struggling to adjust as only the moonlight enters from a window on the opposite wall. Haechan closes the door softly behind you, using the help of his wand to light a couple of candles that hung from the walls.
All though it wasn't much, the lighting provided you a view of the whole room. It was completely empty save from a large mirror in the corner of the room.
"What is this place?" You ask, feet slowly moving as you take in your surroundings. "Have your ever heard of the Mirror of Erised?" He asks, walking slowly towards the mirror in the room. He glances at you and you shake your head.
He beckons you over with his head to join him where he stood in front of the mirror. You move closer to him and he gently places his hands on top of your shoulders to move you so that you're standing in front of him and directly in front the of the mirror.
"What do you see?"
Your eyes roam over the reflection of you both, slightly confused as you take in the image of you and the Slytherin boy watching over your shoulder. That is until your eyes meet your own in the glass and you take in a sharp inhale.
Haechan watches you, not in the mirror but from behind you, head leaning slightly to catch the surprise on your face and wideness of your eyes. "It's me," you explain quietly, "But I'm," you pause hand reaching up to move some of the hair from around your face, obviously caught up in your desired reflection, "But I'm a wizard".
The boy's eyebrows furrow as he moved to stand in front of you, blocking access to the mirror, "What do you mean?" he asks, "Do you know what this mirror does?"
You shake your head having heard of the mirror before. "It shows your deepest desires. How can you desire to be something you already are?"
Your mouth quirks a bit, almost a smile grazing your lips as you look at him questioningly, "But I'm not a real wizard, Haechan. You even said that yourself".
Haechan's stomach drops at the realization that you're recalling what he said the last time he spoke to you. It was low and it was wrong- the lies slipping through his lips confirming your worst fears. He should've known the words he said that day would not slip your mind so easily.
He frowns as you continue to look at him, you don't look hurt though, merely content because you already believed the lies he had priorly, and that made him feel even worse.
"No, that's not-" he pauses hand coming up to rub his eyes, head reeling as he's not sure to form the words scrambling in his head. He says your name softly, "Listen, that day I said horrible and awful things to you that are unforgivable. I was confused and lost as I thought I had just lost my friends and I took it out on you because you just happened to be there at the time.
"I was angry and scared, and though it's no excuse for how I treated you, it fueled the words the I called you that day. It was only lies that I said, you are one hundred percent a true wizard and you're one of the strongest ones that I know".
Your eyes fluttered as you felt the tears welling up as you made yourself turn to look at the night sky out the window. You had never been mad at Haechan for what he had said to you.
You had merely thought he had tired of your company and has finally come to conclusion that many others here at the school, including yourself, had already known.
"How can you say that?" you whisper to him, not understanding in the slightest. "What do you mean? You've been struggling alone trying to master one of the hardest known concepts of magic ever. It takes years to completely get ahold of and control but here you are nearly there as a student. You've come to a completely new world after finding out a secret about yourself and were thrown blindly into learning concepts you've never even knew existed!
"Though it's not as bad as the past, I know there are still evil people here who treat you different because of where you were born. Yet, despite that all, you're here and you're fighting through all your nerves and insecurities that we talked about all those nights, and you're so strong".
Haechan's words ring in your ears as they cause even more tears to stream down your face. Everything he just named has been what you blamed for making you such a weak wizard, but here he was claiming it was exactly those things that actually made you strong.
Though it wasn't easy for you to see right now, you figured there may be some truth to his words and you would try your best to believe them and work towards a mindset that recognized those as your strengths.
The Slytherin boy had never been touchy in all the times you had met with him before, but as he moved forward to embrace your crying figure, you let yourself hug him back, melting into his warm figure and enjoying, for once, the comfort and touch of another while at Hogwarts.
Haechan tightens his hold on you and moves to rub his hand soothingly over your back, "I'm here to help you".
☁️ previous -- next ☁️
Copyright © 2022 by nczennie. All rights reserved.
#mine#hw fic#nct scenarios#nct imagine#nct imagines#nct fluff#nct fanfic#nct#nct angst#nct au#haechan fanfic#haechan imagine#haechan angst#haechan scenarios#haechan au#haechan#kpop fanfic rec#kpop au
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Hey! 👋🏻 Can you answer ❤️ ✨ 👓 🥳 🌻 📗 📚 💛 🔮 💌 🎨 from the “Fanfic Writer Ask Game”?
Thank you so much! 🥺
Goodness that's a lot. *cracks knuckles* OK, let's do this!
❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?
✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?
Answer here
👓 What helps you focus when you write?
I use the Freedom app that blocks YouTube and other sites that distract me - and sometimes I use a brain entrainment app to help stimulate my brain. It seems to help a bit. Also listening to music can help. Atm my focus is pretty shot but I have found these things have helped.
🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?
It was a pretty natural progression, as a kid I loved imagining myself in the things I loved, usually as a cool or interesting character, and then I found fanfiction thanks to my hyperfixation on LOTR and I developed from there. I just really love exploring the worlds of the things I enjoy, imaging more adventures in the worlds, or changes to the canon story.
🌻 How often do you read your own fics?
Mmm, depends, I may reread a couple of times in a short space of time, and then I won't for ages. I don't like reading much older stuff, but I recently reread all of my Loki mega series because I wanted to remember the plot threads in the hope I may one day finish it. I will often go back to stuff in my most active fandom for fun too.
📗 Do you want to write something outside of fanfiction? If so, what about?
Oh absolutely, I've always wanted to be a published author. I've dozens of different stories, from a big world building fantasy series with one story focused on that world's first ever sorcerer, to a couple of thrillers set in the real world, to a kind of fairy tale inspired story that looks at what comes after happy ever after.
📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?
For MDZS:
Cerusee - Solid JC stuff
NotActuallyASpider -Mmm, all the angsty ZhanChengXian I could want and one of the first authors in this fandom I read.
ElDiablito_SF - ZhanCheng Author that writes them so sappy I wanna puke, it's great!
Oh_Fudgecakes - Just excellent writing both plot and smut.
For Loki:
Lise - Stoki author queen, insanely prolific writer, does Yi City works too.
💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?
You can't anticipate how people will read your work, both good and bad, and you will always write your best if you find your particular spin on the subject, not what someone else wants you to write.
🔮 Any advice for writers working through burnout or writer’s block?
Given how much I struggle with both, I guess I can only say be kind to yourself, especially with burnout. With a block, try to listen to yourself -- you likely know there's a problem further back in the story that needs fixing if you're stuck in the middle of writing.
If you're struggling to start, write the shit version and start wherever you want, because it's much easier to work on something that already exists.
If some tool helps you, like the Freedom App helps me, use it as much as you want!
💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?
Does fatherhood count as a trope? I seem to love making my male characters dads.
🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?
Oh so many options! Any cute moment between JC and LWJ in Ink, JC with his son (and WWX and JL) in For What or it's sequels, JC skimming on water in his fancy robes from JL's birthday, WWX and JL holding JC's hands during his C-section. The shenanigans in Break Between Classes where ZCX are making good use of the desk and JC trying to keep the bucket up. If you wanna go darker and smuttier, LWJ looming over JC in bed as in Little Bit of Hope.
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Name: Aiden Hext
Age: 58 (Looks 23)
Species: Vampire
Occupation: Guitarist
Sexuality: Unknown
Relationship to muses: Best friend to Conner and Guitarist for Minnie's band also sharing the same sire as Minnie.
"You know our sire was such a dick, if they didn't want to make more vampires,why even turn us?!"
Aiden may look like he is the youngest member of the band but he’s quite the opposite. Aiden had been out with his friends to celebrate his birthday at a local bar and was on his way home when he was grabbed and bitten with nobody around to hear him screaming for help. He woke up the next day in a strange place, his sire looking at him and explaining that he had to leave with them. He was heartbroken, leaving his friends and band mates behind to head to LA where the next month was torture to him.
One day he found his sire gone,leaving him abandonded with only the basic knowledge of being a vampire. Angry, Aiden wandered around until he came across a music shop where he met the owner,Conner. He was suprised to find out he was a vampire and Conner agreed to show him the ropes in return for Aiden working at the shop which he agreed to.
It was years down the line, Aiden still working at the shop when he came across the ad for a band needing a guitarist. He jumped at the chance and met up with their singer, Minnie at her club before she asked him to come to the rehearsal space to properly audition. He was surprised at how fast Minnie asked him to be in the band, shaking her hand, he noticed they had a similar marking on their arms, something only one person or one vampire could do, their sire.
Now Aiden still hangs around with Conner and has adjusted to being in a band once again, even if Lise makes corny jokes while they practice.
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🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡
Me: well me new sonic cherater ( like me blueberry bunny is okeys but gif me a hedgehog code rezan "you knows a play character a series" like yeah? But chraing sowing new like not only use dys a me eskuze like hey enifing someone love bunny to )
But I get do das fine thx But enifing a not use dys because never drowing das fine for me relly not ploblem
🍊🍍🍊🍍🍊🍍🍊🍍🍊🍍🍊🍍🍊🍍🍊🍍🍊🍍
Me: okey so enifing start a me new cheraters a make self ( like enifing can draw not bed but okey to like "thx and look nice")
A das ships yeah..i knows finks sega like okey ship like lot sonic a dyfrent universe? No no not dys a dys a canon cheraters like sally/niki(I finks)/ruge/blaze knows a games a you make
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So be me first contact stim all i sum comunity which others plase is ok like not perfect but ok
Sam a nextgen a Amy x sonic or Sonic × Amy (like comunity be cofuze like Amy up hem or sonic a say wona ship like Amnic or sonimy no relly i get dys a be more canon name ships like sund better a be a normal say ship he has normal beach sandals (they are ordinary sandals but yes, they were squares on sadalach because someone asked what was squared on sadalach) a generally kimono is daisies but if there was too much sheep and stars would be enough just like that because dreamcore is canon the hammer or the young hammer has a violet color than her fluffy skin (I don't know because I don't feel the thorns, only that they are soft so that's how it's supposed to work?) most is pastel violet / green eyes (from parents) / thicket with flowers on the ends / normal skin on the face) so personality more be kidcore and friendly but after more a friendly and canda silent child he doesn't know his father at all, only his mother ( generally, as if sonic is traumatized ... I don't know why it sounds as if it is traumatized as it was Sally, so that Amy's bad, it's all logical that she behaves like that at the beginning and then calms down) i dont knows why but woice act one dumb is so loud a enifing filing dys... sorry sega but me filing dys like bot dys but lising self dumb voice act thx!
🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡
Me: canda more make a silver x Amy but yeah...canda more be frends not realityship (sorry silver but frendzone make self a did enifing do) but name cool like silmy or amver like someone call ship a name silmy sega say ehem is a snail name cherater so enifing canda never did dys animal one rezan how be canon and how be code a code personality takes
Like be pastel pink like cake stawberry but you wona but me opinon i finks more be frendzone because never heppynt and canon a game series more be save but after wona attaking sonic because code "diface her but sonic cofuze how is dys man like emm dude hello is see only me old childhood frends a not dyface you a did sowing but silver is silver kidcore wona dyface and attaking same time o boi"
And noo? shadow x Amy is never get realityship be canon a tv and games more wona be alone a not take jonger woman sylesly because so childlis like Amy logic wona hug a hem wona be alone and I not sure skriming a her but more get one a to run because dont like her a doing hem or enifing maria only can do like she can a Amy code logic get flashback and rage but dys ( I knows sund but relly sowing chraing call down bro like bro enifing like radom gril fallow you a 6 times enifing you wona buy sowing alone a Stell fallow you? I finks dont like or me enifing ask a sowing ploblem o lost sowing like bug/dress as buy radom rezan or kid) no relly shadow opesion a maria is over lord like wery be so hart but dys so dont start like dont
🍊🍍🍊🍍🍊🍍🍊🍍🍊🍍🍊🍍🍊🍍🍊🍍🍊🍍
Offical note: 02.05.2023.r
hello May 3 wellcome May 3 to polish good country
🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡🦎🍡
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[Sophie]
"There it is."
[Sophie and Catherine walk up to a shiny gray building with steel corners. The building has an iron shield in the shape of a heart as its logo.]
[Sophie]
"Huh. They finished the exterior design. Remember when this was just a white building?"
[Catherine]
"Yes, I remember."
[Catherine doesn't say anything else.]
[Sophie]
"Well, let's see what 'lise wants from us."
[The two enter the building.
The first floor is an open space. There is a block in the middle of the back surrounded by two staircases leading to the second floor and an Espathra standing in front of it. The block has a big round door frame, a sign saying "Guildmaster's Office", and a fence on top of the block, as if it can be stood on.
Beyond the staircases on the first floor are tables with cushioned chairs, and bookshelves on the walls.]
[Sophie]
"Oh, the office is on the first floor now. Sweet."
[Sophie and Catherine walk up to the entrance, only to be stopped by the Espathra.]
[Espathra]
"There you two are."
[Beatrice looks at you and everyone else.]
[Sophie]
"I gave them the heads up. They're not going in with us."
[Espathra]
"Very well. You may proceed."
[Sophie and Catherine walk around the Espathra and enter the Guildmaster's Office.
The office has two potted plants at the entrance. At the end of the room are rows of metal shelves. In front of the shelves is a desk with a few chairs, and sitting at the desk is an Iceslash wearing gray lens-less glasses with no upper rim.]
[Sophie]
"Sup, 'lise. Whatcha got for us?"
[The Iceslash is looking at a blue orb with a wooden ring surrounding it, resembling a Poké ball, and is mounted on a dark blue, strange looking device. When she hears her name, she looks up.]
[Elise]
"Ah. Catherine and Sophie. How are you two doing today?"
[Sophie]
"I've been great, as always."
[Catherine looks at Elise with a smile of comfort.]
[Catherine]
"I'm fine, too."
[Elise]
"That's good to hear. I have something for you. Come closer and I'll show you what it is."
[Sophie]
"Name a move Cath and I each know."
[Elise]
"Iron Head, and Flamethrower."
[Sophie and Catherine walk up to the desk and look at the orb.]
[Elise]
"I was talking to the Guildmaster of the Expedition Society."
[Sophie]
"Alexander?"
[Elise]
"Yes. He gave me two of these, one for me…"
[Elise looks at Catherine.]
[Elise]
"And this one for you."
[Catherine]
"For… me?"
[Elise]
"Yes. Do you know what a Connection Orb is?"
[Catherine, curious]
"No…? What is it?"
[Sophie]
"Think I heard about it once. Supposed to show connections between Pokémon, I think."
[Elise]
"It's more than that. Yes, it does show your connections with other Pokémon, but it also shows their connections with other Pokémon."
[Elise pushes the orb towards Catherine.]
[Elise]
"Look into it, and tell me what you see."
[Catherine looks into the blue area of the orb. Inside, she can see the faces of everyone she knows as her friends, including Elise and Sophie. Sophie and Elise's portraits are connected to Catherine's by a strong, blue, animated line.]
[Catherine]
"I see you and Sophie."
[Elise]
"Do you see anyone else?"
[Catherine looks around. She can see everyone that she has talked to, including the Pokémon that have asked her questions so far. Most of these Pokémon are represented by a thin, white, line, while some specific ones have light yellow lines.]
[Catherine]
"Is this… everyone I met?"
[Elise]
"Yes. Everyone you have ever met is recorded in this orb. Do you see those lines connecting the Pokémon?"
[Sophie]
"Yeah. What's that mean?"
[Elise]
"It's the strength of the connection between you and another Pokémon."
[Upon closer inspection, Catherine notices that the lines connecting her to Sophie and Elise are moving faster than any of the other lines.]
[Sophie]
"So, the fast blue ones are the stronger ones, right?"
[Elise]
"Yes."
[Sophie]
"Now what about those ones that aren't connected. Why are they there?"
[Elise]
"Those are Pokémon that have requested help from the Expedition Society. Tap on them to see what they want."
[Catherine reaches her hand out and touches one of the faces with her claws. The orb zooms in on the face of a Snom, and text appears below the portrait.]
[Text]
"Everyone says I'm too weak and I want to prove them wrong. I need your help, though. The Proving Caverns have crazy strong Pokémon, and I can't fight any of them by myself, but I also want to prove myself…"
[Catherine stares at the message.]
[Sophie]
"Huh. Kind of like our missions… But, wait, shouldn't the Expedition Society be doing stuff like this?"
[Elise]
"They are, but Alexander and I talked about it, and we came to agree that this will help Catherine overcome her anxiety."
[Elise looks at Catherine.]
[Elise]
"Catherine? Are you listening?"
[Catherine looks up.]
[Elise]
"I want you to go out around the world and make strong connections with as many Pokémon as you can."
[Catherine]
"A… Around the world?"
[Elise]
"Yes. Around the world."
[Sophie wraps an arm around Catherine's shoulder.]
[Sophie]
"We've been around the world. We can do it again."
[Catherine]
"But… that was once."
[Sophie]
"Yeah? So now we get to do it again."
[Elise]
"Yes. Won't that be fun?"
[Catherine]
"But who's going to do the high rank missions if we're not here?"
[Elise]
"Don't worry about them. The guild is more than capable to handle those."
[Sophie]
"Yeah. Think of it like a vacation, but you're still working."
[Elise]
"Oh, yes. You like working, right?"
[Catherine]
"Well… Yes."
[Elise]
"And you'd like a vacation, right?"
[Catherine]
"I've… well… not if there's someone that needs saving."
[Elise]
"Then think of it this way: you'll still be helping other Pokémon, but you're not limited to Rainstorm or special missions from the other guilds."
[Catherine]
"I don't know…"
[Sophie]
"Hey, don't forget."
[Sophie wraps one arm around Catherine's shoulder and uses her other hand to gentle bump Catherine's arm with her fist.]
[Sophie]
"I gotcha back."
[Catherine takes a few seconds to think about this.]
[Catherine]
"Okay. I'll do it."
[Elise puts her hands together and smiles.]
[Elise]
"Great. Now go out there, make some new friends, and have a lot of fun. Okay?"
[Catherine gently grabs the device, slowly picks it up, and nods.]
[Catherine]
"Okay."
[Elise]
"Don't forget to write to me if something happens."
[Sophie]
"We gotcha. Come on, Cath. We gotta lotta work ahead of us."
[Catherine nods again. They all wave at each other before the duo exit.]
[Elise and someone else are available for asks.
The Characters and Ask Hints pages have been updated.
Connections have now been unlocked. Find them in each character's profile.]
#Team-Pokéfriends - Main Story#pokeask#pokemon ask blog#Team-Pokéfriends - Sophie (Slowking)#Team-Pokéfriends - Catherine (Dragonite)#Team-Pokéfriends - Elise (Iceslash)
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Hey Lise, I know this is asking you to harken back to your MCU days but did you ever come across a meta post that was like, "we shouldn't compare Loki and Bucky's trauma; Loki's trauma is much more like Steve's pre-serum trauma and look at how ✨awesome✨ Steve is and how he dealt with that same trauma? Loki has no excuses!" Because I did and it still makes me mad to think about to this day.
If I'm remembering the post you're thinking of properly - and I definitely may not be, I could be thinking of a different post entirely (the staple of "compare the antagonist's trauma to a protagonist's trauma, comment on how the protagonist handled it sooooo much better and how that indicates that the antagonist deserved what he/she/they got, because the way somebody handles trauma is determinative of their goodness or evilness as a person" is a recurring tradition across time and fandoms, I'm sure there are multiple posts), that's not actually what I got from the one in question? perhaps it was just my lens, but (again, if I'm thinking of the same post), I recall it being relatively morally neutral, or at least more about looking at the ways in which "actually while the easy comparison is loki and bucky due to the position they occupy in the narrative, loki and steve have more in common in some ways and that's interesting" and I read it as, personally, a bit of a stoki manifesto.
like, "actually these characters people don't tend to associate/look at together have some very interesting parallels! isn't that neat?" more than anything coming with a moral judgment.
but getting this ask made me go back into the depths of my blog (truly, the depths) to track down the post I'm at least thinking of, and remarkably enough actually managed to find it (given that the post in question is from 2013), and...reading it from the perspective of Fandom Discourse in 2023 I can definitely see what it is you're saying, and I think if I saw it in Fandom Edition 2023 that's probably how I would read it, too, and get annoyed about it. but looking at it from the perspective of where things were at that time, before the great villain/victim discourse of Winter Soldier kicked in, I actually feel a relative minimum of judgment from the post? Like, it does describe the different choices steve and loki make in response to their experiences in positive/negative terms, but it doesn't then progress to (at least in my reading) "and that's why loki is evil and NO EXCUSES" (Fandom 2023 Edition), but stays at just...letting it be about divergent character journeys coming from similar-but-different places? idk.
like, at the very least this one acknowledges that the "bad" character was genuinely hurt and having an understandable emotional reaction. which is not necessarily something one sees these days.
idk. maybe I'm being too generous. but then, I am more inclined to be generous to a post made in 2013 concerning this, when the pattern of discourse in fandom was a little different, than I would be reading a similar post now. perhaps that's unfair.
but I did link this specific post in several "why you should ship stoki" masterposts at the time, so if your read on this post is accurate then I feel very okay about taking it elsewhere.
#conversating#anonymous#this was interesting! in particular to think about how my reaction to fandom things changes#over time and as the discourse evolves#and sometimes i try to remember that maybe this person does not know the implications of their words#and how they connect to longstanding fandom wank#but sometimes. it is hard.#surprise mcu post on my blog? it happens once in a while
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The wild artist hunt (part 2 “jetii bal kaysh jetii’kade” or “jedi and her lightsabers”) Draft
“Master, what is this training about?” Kata put her robe on the banch and looked over the training room. ”Are we going to spar again?”
“No, young one, you will train with elite squad since today.”
“Train? With clones?” She was a bit stanned. The only reason to train with clones is to prepair to fight along them on a battlefield. “Does it mean I’m going to work with that squad... out there?”
“The Councile decided to put you on special ops work. Even if I’m against the war, I see your point and can agree with it. It is your way to protect lifes. Mine is negotiating.” Shaak Ti waved her hand. “You need to follow you heart and the Forse. Are you sure you want to be there?”
“Yes, master. All I want is to stop the war. To save people. But if negotiations can’t, than the victory will. We have tried, Master Kenobi has tried. But if they want war, they will get it.”
“Revenge?”
“No. Only justice. Only those who started and supported this war will be punnished. No way I would attack those, who has nothing in common with it.”
“You are wise, little one. And you must remember: the Forse will guide you through your heart. Listen to it.”
Kata bowed and stretched her arms. Well, she will have to find the way to work with that squad. Not like their commanding officer, but like a friend.
***
“Start with one from Niman, then move to Makashi and Ataru.” Hunter heard the talk in training room. ”Combine. Adapt your moves to mine.”
General Ti’s voice was steady, but he could hear the movement.
“You are still fighting yourself, padawan. Steady your thoughts. Let’s stop now.”
“They are here.”
“Come in, Clone Forse 99.” General opened the door with slight movement of hand. Hunter looked over his brothers and entered.
“The squad is in your command, general.”
“At ease.” togruta put her lightsaber oh her belt and waved a hand to her padavan. “Kata, your task is to adapt to their fighting stile. This room is equiped with training droigs so you can train your skills with sabers without me. You can destroy them. It would be a way for caminoans to reuse cadet’s training projects on repairing and hacking droids.”
“So I can slice them.”
“As you wish. Stabing also works. And you, boys, try to help her in this task. There are several models of tests for you to try. Even a citadel. I will come in an hour.”
She left them alone giving the girl time to procces all information. Hunter looked around to get the idea of the room. It was enormous. Height of two or three levels. Different walls, towers and ditches. All they can imagine. The best training facility they can wish to prepare for the last exam before the real work.
“So, what are your names?” commander turned her sabers off but kept them in hands. Not like she wanted to stop her training session.
“I’m CT-9901, sargent of the squard. Others are CT-9902, CT-9903 and CT-9904...” Hunter waved his hand to his brothers.
“Not your designations. I hate you call yourselves by numbers.”
“Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Crosshair.”
“I see...” She looked at each of them. “Well, master wanted us to train. I really need to get used to work in team. Can we start working in pairs, so I could catch the pace?”
“As you wish, commander.” Tech looked up from his datapad. “May I ask, why we?”
“Master wanted me get used to your tactics befor we would have to fight along in the field.”
“Does it mean we are assined to work with you and your batalion?”
“Not batalion. Tech, Right? Special ops and other staff like this. I’m too young to lead soldiers. So, working with small squad is the best way.”
They exchanged gazes. Crosshair whispered “Kaysh lise brokar beskar’ad? Duraani jetii’ikae.”
“Hm... Gar serimi.” Wrecker huffed. “Kih ad’ika.”
“Are you ready to start?” her voice was calm. Not like she understood their words. Hunter put his helmet on and went to her position.
“Let’s give it a try, commander.”
“At ease. You all can call me by name when we are alone, or with master Ti.”
***
Well, keep her temper inside was hard. Didn’t they dare call her like that again. Kih ad’ika?! Can’t beat a droid?! Oh, if only she could smack those two in the face... As a human she could choose the culture she wanted study as her native. And yes, she had chosen madalorian way of life. Even everybody told her it was weird for jedi be also a mandalorian. So speaking their language was like a part of her.
She was pleased that Hunter didn’t say something like his verds. As their alor he could also stop them. But they are just boys. No way she would be taken aback by their words.
Her footsteps were lite and fast. She must show them her kot. Droids must be terminated. That’s why no Chii-Cho forms, no Djem So. Ataru and Vaapad. Fast, unpredictable movements. Hunter would be the easiest to get along.
“Ready?” Tech took his place at control panel. “As I remember the scenarios Mist and Watch are the best to start with. What is good for you?”
“Turn on Watch for the first. Commander?” Hunter looked her over.
“Run and hide. As usual.” Kata ignied both lightsabers. “Want to start?”
It was easy to get his strategy. As clanckers were moving in groups of 3 or 5 they both chose fast attacks eleminating them as fast as possible. Kata sliced the last one in this groupe and ran on the tops of the half-walls to reach another. Hunter was doing the same on the other side. The problem was in turels. But using some Shien forms Kata was able to stop one. Three others were destroyed by Hunter’s shots.
“Well, That was fast.” He put his DC-17 and vibroblade to their places. “Could not say that I was ready for some of the spins and flips.”
“If I’m not strong, I have to move fast.”
Kata used Forse to take her flask. She got his rithm. Hunter was fast and dangerous. Like a stream. Like the hunting predator. Her togrutian blood made her more close to this tipe of life. Run, track, hunt. He was someone undestandable.
***
Tech watched his brother running simulation with jetii. She was good. Droids could not stop her flips and spins. Well, Crosshair was wrong. She was compitent in slaying clankers. And she was quite angry at the begining. Though it seemed she calmed down after simulation.
“Who is next?” Oh, his brothers were going to get very angry jetii’ika. And what made her so agressive? Their words in mando’a. Conclusion? She knows this language. What a coinsidence.
“Ok, let’s see what you can, jetii’ika.” Wrecker stood up to join her on a field. “Hey, Tech, give us Mist! That’s fun!”
“Incomming in 3, 2, 1...” He turned the scenario on. Many droids, heavy fire. He didn’t expected that comander would start deflecting bolts as well as destroying clankers in her attack range. Tech readjusted his goggles. Different tactics give them opportunities to adapt to situation. It would be beneficial to prepare several strategies before field work...
“Hey, Tech, don’t slip in thoughts.” Hunter leaned on the wall nearby. “Kaysh iviin’yc ti kaysh jetii’kade... Mesh’la verd.”
“Kaysh suvari mando’a.” That’s all he could say.
“Haat?”
“Elek.”
“Kriff. Crosshair got himself a trouble.”
“Wait for it. I think she wants to play. Let’s not show we got her secret.”
“Yep, let’s do it.”
***
Well, the training was good. Kata turned her sabers off and went to the bench to rest for a moment. She decided to keep it like she doesn’t know mando’a. It would be funny to watch. She was too tired to get on her feet when master Ti came back. 2 hours of training wore her out. All she wanted is to sleep.
“You can go and get your rest, padawan.” her master was smiling.
“Just let me stay here... I’ll be okay in several hours...” Not what she wanted to say. Okay, no logical thinking now. It’s impossible.
“Need help, general?”
“Well, yes. Can you carry her to her room?”
“Yep, general.” That obviously was Wrecker. She tightened her grip on weapon and hissed as angry tooka.
“Go on your feet or let him help you. You can’t do the first, so let the second be.”
Not like she had any chance. The last thing she heard were Hunter’s words. “Careful, Wrecker. Ad’ika nuhoy’la.”
“I’m not a child...” but not sure if anybody heard her.
#StarWarsAU#star wars#tbb#tbb hunter#tbb crosshair#tbb wrecker#tbb tech#oc jedi Kata#shaak ti#the wild artist hunt
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Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to the weekend! Looking forward to turning my alarm off and sleeping until whenever!
We have reached an interesting point in our year. A group of worthless idiots are having a discussion. They are trying to decide which worthless idiot should become the prime idiot. Are we part of this discussion? Are we hell! In this matter, you and I have no say. These worthless idiots do not view our opinions as being important. We are not part of this process. We are powerless. Impotent. Limp. How does that make you feel? I am angry beyond words. Nothing changes. At this rate, nothing ever will.
It was lovely yesterday to meet a young lady named Lise Watson, a Canadian music lover, radio DJ and academic. She is of the view that not enough has been written about the history and evolution of radio. And I would agree. She has searched for academic books about radio but they are far and few between. So, we sat and talked for two hours, and she asked about the development of black music radio in the UK. I told her my story and she thanked me for my time. From Robbie Vincent and Greg Edwards to Invicta, LWR and JFM, from pirate Kiss to legal Kiss, from Jazz FM and BBC World Service to GLR, from Colourful to Mi-Soul. It’s been eventful.
For me, the most amazing statistic I read yesterday was this: none of the top 10 biggest songs on radio in the US in the first half of 2022 were released this year. What does this mean? This means that it is now very common for the big hits to be slow-burners. In other words, if you are releasing a single in Week One, some people will hear it for the first time in Week One, but not really get into it until Week Four, after repeated listens. By the same token, some people may not discover your song until Week Four, and won’t really get into it until Week Eight, after repeated listens. Catch my drift? The long and short of it is: if you release a single and you REALLY (REALLY) think it’s going to be a hit, don’t give up on it. Keep pushing! People move at different speeds and popularity moves at different speeds.
Tomorrow, The Trouble is taking the kids on a good, old-fashioned coach trip. Kids need these ‘are we there yet?’ trips. The excitement, the anticipation, the fun, the food, the running and jumping, the laughter and the tears, the sea air and the sea spray, and the exhaustion and konked-out sleep on the way home. Ever been on one of those? Every childhood should have a few. At this point in our chaotic history, UK holidays and days-away are the smart option. Sod international flights! I’m taking the kids on a tour of the UK’s theme parks!
I post this status every single week day, Monday through Friday. If you want to read it but you don’t see it, just go to my profile. I’m always here!
Thank you so much to everyone that listened to Mi-Drive yesterday. Your feedback and love are appreciated. Hope you can join me tomorrow at 1.00 p.m. for ‘The A-Z Of Mi-Soul Music’? We have reached The Letter H Part Five. The Letter H finishes at Part Eight in Margate on August 6th.
Have a fabulous and funky Friday! I love you all. You’re probably thinking, “You don’t even know me!” but, if people can hate for no reason, why can’t I love?
#mixcloud#mi soul#dj#music#lockdown#new blog#coronavirus#books#weekend#democracy#brexit#cronyism#election
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Think back to the office you used to work from. Who unloaded the dishwasher, stocked the snacks, circulated the get well cards, made the coffee, bought the birthday cakes?
Did she get paid for it? And did the man who never did any of those things get paid 20% less than she did? No, because that would be insane, right? Because a mother works for free, right?
There’s another term for the “extras” Merrill mentions. Researchers call them “non-promotable tasks.”
“Across field and laboratory studies, we found that women volunteer for these ‘non-promotable’ tasks more than men,” Linda Babcock, Maria P. Recalde, Lise Vesterlund, and Laurie Weingart wrote in Harvard Business Review wrote a couple years back, “that women are more frequently asked to take such tasks on; and that when asked, they are more likely to say yes.” (Lots of other research bears this out.)
When women agree to these tasks, it takes a toll on their career prospects. (If they say no, the researchers point out, it also hurts them — that’s why the solution has to be for “management to find ways to distribute tasks more equitably.”) From the paper:
Relative to men, women are more likely to volunteer, more likely to be asked to volunteer, and more likely to accept direct requests to volunteer. These results suggest that the allocation of tasks with low promotability may differ even when there are no gender differences in ability and preferences. The resulting differences in task allocations can create barriers to the advancement of women in organizations and in society as a whole.
And though managers claim to value women’s helpfulness, it doesn’t actually, um, help them all that much when it comes to performance reviews. Kate Weisshaar, an assistant professor at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill and faculty fellow at the Carolina Population Center, summed up some of her recent research for me:
In a study I conducted with Shelley Correll, Alison Wynn, and JoAnne Delfino Wehner, we examined gendered language in performance evaluations and their association with ratings at a Fortune 500 company. We found that women were more likely than men to have “helpful” or community-oriented behaviors mentioned in their performance evaluations. Yet, being perceived as highly helpful was not associated with receiving the highest performance rating (for men or women). We suggest that women are “viewed” as having more communal or community-oriented qualities, but these qualities are not valued highly for top performance outcomes.
read more
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F, V, W for the fanfic ask?
F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.
I don't have 'favourite' dialogue scenes, so I've picked a random one that's unposted
this is from the 20k tesseroki fic i never posted bc it was too wholesomely self-indulgent. now it's being reworked into a dark!tess fic out of spite.
“Ah.”
Tess hears Loki exhale heavily and then there’s silence; trepidation accompanies every heart-like beat as he waits for an answer, for he does not think that can be all.
“...I am not sure that I do as well,” Loki eventually confesses. “I do love you, and likely far more than I should a friend, but I... I don’t know. I don’t really want anything more, nor would I exactly recommend expecting that to change.”
“What if I don’t want anything more?” he asks, hopeful.
Loki scoffs harshly. “That negates the point.”
“What if I’d just like to hold hands more often, or the right to show off you’re mine, or an excuse upon which to blame stealing space in your bed?”
“I can hardly stand to be in the same room as myself.” Loki is calm but there is tension in the air, his voice quavers ever so slightly, his magic coils tight around his core as if braced for an expected blow. “I assure you anything more than what we have would be a lost bargain.”
Tess considers letting the odd vehemence stay, but decides it would be better not to. It was not as if he would force Loki into anything, or as if what he feels for him is transactional besides, and he’d be happy to remain friends—he loves their friendship—but from what he understands, mortals and Aesir both have convoluted concepts of what more means.
It is an honourary title at best and an unfulfilled promise at worst.
“We wouldn’t have to change anything,” Tess insists firmly. He disregards bringing up that they do already in all technicality share a bed. Loki has an aversion to speaking of it. Tess does particularly use it for sleep more often with Loki being right there, however.
“I can assure you with large amounts of certainty that I will not reciprocate love that equals yours,” Loki warns, stonily.
“Loki,” Tess laughs softly, squeezing the hand in his, “Love isn’t an amount, and if it were, it would not differentiate by type.”
“I know that,” he snaps. “It’s just embarrassing to explain that I don’t fall in love.”
“I will love that which you want to give and that which you don’t.”
“What if it’s not about wanting, or what if I have nothing I want to give.”
“Then I’ll savour that too,” Tess replies heartily. He looks at Loki hoping he knows that he understands— and he does: that people love differently and he may be overwhelmed by this progression.
“This won’t end well,” Loki mutters.
“Only one way to find out,” Tess says, happy to have gotten Loki to agree.
V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?
Currently I want the presumably post-Ragnarok recovery fic of something along the lines of noncon/dubcon grandthorki - All the such fics I’ve seen end after the secxy stuff, and in some cases emotional turmoil too, but I want them to figure out how to be bros again after both the years gap before Ragnarok and the events on Sakaar. Just... where do they go from there. I want others having no idea why Thor and Loki are acting strange and how they get used to being around each other again. All the recovery through their issues in the sweet sweet setting of the Statesman where Bruce Heimdall and Valkyrie are around managing their own things but also going 👀 at them because they don't know. All while Thor and Loki try co-ruling without breaking down every afternoon and are forced to try and support each other when neither is in a decent mindset to do so.
An example of such fics are keep me forever, tell me you want me and love you, but I'm going down by Lise but since I'm not very into writing explicit stuff it'd be a sequel :P
Obviously I’m more comfortable with writing crack though so the ones I'll actually end up writing continuations/prequels for in the foreseeable future are all comedy :D
W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?
Either are good! I think specific ones make it easier to follow the prompt without going a completely unexpected direction, but I prefer general ones because you can take them in completely unexpected directions :)
#thank you for asking the letters! :D#i am now going to look the other way#not out of embarrassment or anything#just becaus#e#i may sustain too much damage and that would not be so good
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