#but for some reason the elevators in my dreams are incredibly fucked up
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Had a dream recently where I was trying to get home from boston through the back roads (roads that obviously avoid the highway cause i hate driving on the highway irl) and driving through cities both kinda looked like driving home from work and walking through a mall/trader joes/omega mart, las vegas you know the one.
Anyway after checking a map, which was actually somewhat legible though was far too short of a distance to be plausible, me and my traveling companions passed through this coastal town that featured a salt water cranberry bog maze as it's main tourist attraction. Since we missed out on the local traveling carnival, we said fuck it, and decided to try it out.
The idea here was to go through the maze on your little paddle boat- imagine an innertube from a roaring rapids theme park ride but swan boat style -through the deep water with not only the bog spiders in mind, but also the cranberry dolphins that not only looked and acted like mini orca whales, but frequented the maze with the sole intent to terrorize patrons. Mostly because these paddle boats had open bottoms like flinstones cars and peoples feet looked like delicious, delectable swedish fish to these guys, but that's beside the point. (This was also, very much, a large part of the point.)
These dolphins immediately were the main concern over the bog spiders, as you can imagine. As soon as we found out about the dolphins, we paddled towards the exit.
The dolphins then capsized our vessel and we were forced to wade to the docks for safety.
My favorite part about this was not the burgandy psuedo orcas, but the little nature walk/dangerous jungle style signs warning us about them and the bog spiders, despite the spiders not even making an appearance, though the signs were kind of small and too far away from where the boats tended to travel to be great warnings... Also the cranberry bog looked more like an overgrown yet nicely organized saltwater marsh but taller and more jungle like.
#the visuals had me on the edge of my seat though#like the main voyage was immediately set aside for the side quest that was Cranberry Bog#also on the way to the city that had the cranberry bog there was a funhouse mirror style hall of elevators at this mall we stopped at#we were on our way down from the food court and had to use an elevator as you do#but for some reason the elevators in my dreams are incredibly fucked up#like sometimes they stop halfway or get pulled up when you want to go down#or drop through the ground instead of go a floor down like you wanted it to#anyway this hall of elevators was just#you know when you get to where the elevators are and there are like 6 elevators#there had to be at least eight on either side of this hallway and in each elevator the car was at varying degrees of stuck in the shaft#one of them was blocked off entirely because there was no car#a few of them the people inside them were stuck either half way up or halfway down and they were on their phones complaining#that they'd been stuck there for hours#this one lady said yeah I've been stuck here since 2002 i don't think you should use any of the elevators.#we ended up taking the stairs#which were also like a minecraft parkour#but im not about to get into that lol#also my dreams feature a lot of milkshake bars and im so totally into that oh my god#and driving to the grocery store#oh yeah there was also this one scene in my dream where i was walking down the street from this burger joint and i passed this guy#he was standing outside this pay to park car park selling free puppies for a dollar#and this girl walks past and she says oh i dont have any cash#just cards#and he says yeah thats fine it'll be 5 dollars.#he scams her out of 220 dollars leaving her with only 2 cents and doesnt even give her the dog#anyway haopy 2024 you guys cant wait to tell you more dreams#hey should i make a tumblr thats just a dream journal about my dreams? that would be dope#i know onetimeidreamt exists but thats not all HER dreams. im talkimg about a tumblr of just MY dreams#thats probably already been done but fuck it#sorry if the tags got a little long the dream itself had too many moving parts and i didnt want to make it too long
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Shenanigans Part 14/2
Chapter 14 Part 2 / A date?!
Warning! Unresolved angst - wait until next week if it’s too much for you 💚
Summary: Y/N and Bakugou goes on a date. Shit goes terribly wrong, incredibly quickly and it’s not Bakugou’s fault this time.
General warnings: Swear words, Katsuki calls reader s bitch (affectionately… kinda.), light angst leading to heavy angst (in the next chapter).
First Part Master List
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Katsuki thinks he did a really amazing job at faking nonchalance.
But to be honest…
He’s internally freaking the shit out right now.
Being with the menace is too much for his poor heart. He genuinely doesn’t think his heart rate was lower that 120 in the last two days and Katsuki’s known to have a lower heart rate thanks to his unique quirk. Katsuki might be the most emotionally constipated person on the face of Earth, but even he knows his heart isn’t beating out of his chest out of discomfort.
Throwing the menace on the bed started out as a simple tease, but Katsuki was really close to act on his words right as the menace’s perfume hit his nose. Needless to say, he took a really long, excruciatingly cold shower after that.
Then there was the night he woke up from a nightmare; he still remembers the softness of Y/N’s body as he pulled her close to calm himself down. It was a terrible feeling, his insides turned into mush, his heart beat out of rhythm and he’s sure he’s allergic to the menace or something but for some reason he couldn’t stop snuggling closer and closer during the night, the veil of the darkness letting all his worries fade away. It doesn’t count when it’s dark. If he can’t see it it didn’t happen. Yeah.
Katsuki really misses his cooking sessions where his mind can drift off completely while he concentrates on the task at hand; these days, he uses his cooking time to think about his feelings (which he doesn’t have… fuck.), think about the Menace and daydream about making Y/N cough and cry with his spicy food while he laughs menacingly, caressing her cheek to clean up the stray tears on her face. It’s so disgustingly domestic he wants to throw up and to be honest, knowing how badass the menace is she probably would eat his food with a straight face, asking for some chilli sauce just to make the blonde even more furious for failing his “mission”.
“Hey hubby” Y/N’s palms cover his eyes from behind while she giggles mischievously right next to his ear on the third day of their mission. “Come with me.”
“The fuck are you doing?!” The blonde is about to slap her hands away but she keeps pushing him towards the door. He can feel his hair change into the longer, brown one he uses as a disguise while he’s pushed into the elevator.
“You’ll see.” The Menace snickers and after a few minutes he ends up in an abandoned small kitchen on the side of the main one with a smiley Y/N on his side. His heart leaps out of his chest by the sight; not by the kitchen, but by Y/N and her domestic, happy smile. It’s different than all the mischievous ones he’d received until now; it’s deep and caring, one saved for the people she loves and adores. Probably. He has no idea. What the fuck is he talking about right now?! Why is he so flustered?! It’s just a fucking smile goddamnit!!!
“Make something for me, will ya?” She winks, sitting down on the barstool on the other side of the small room. Their disguise slowly fades away as the door closes, leaving the two alone in the room.
“How the fuck…”
“I told the manager I really want to make my husband happy by letting him use the training kitchen, because it’s his dream to become a chef one day!” The menace grins with sparkling eyes, clearly proud of her shenanigans. “It’s also close to the restaurant and the kitchen area so I can eavesdrop and use my x-ray vision to snoop around while having fun. Don’t think too much of it, it’s not just for your grumpy ass!” She says, but by the adoring look on her face, it’s all a lie.
“You cunning little shit. Thank you.” He smiles, incapable of hiding the thankful shine in his eyes. “I’ll make such a great curry you’ll fall in love with me.” He teases with a wink, making the menace blush.
“It’s too late for that.” She mumbles, looking anywhere but the hero. The blonde rolls his eyes, a matching blush decorating his face.
“You are such a tease…” he mumbles back and makes his way to the bowl of ingredients.
What Katsuki doesn’t know yet is that Y/N wasn’t teasing him at all; if he would’ve looked at her in that moment, he would’ve seen the longing in her eyes, hot and passionate as she awkwardly hid her face behind her palms and bit down her lips to shut herself up.
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“This is amazing.” You smile at Katsuki, eating another spoon of the amazing curry; it’s hot and spicy just like the blonde himself, it burns your tongue in the best way possible.
“Wow, not a lot of people can handle my spices.” Katsuki says with a surprised expression.
“Not a lot of people can handle living with you either, yet here I am, still sane after 3 days.” You wink at him while finishing your serving, ready for a second round.
Just as Katsuki speaks up about you being a tease again, your ears pick up an argument in the main kitchen. You put your finger up to shush the blonde next to you and activate your super hearing, just in case it’s important.
“No one ordered that, Masa, what are you doing?”
“You’re wrong.” A stuttering voice comes through. “You are wrong, shut up!” His voice cracks by the end of the sentence, so you activate your x-ray quirk to see what’s up; the guy leaves through the back door with a massive tray of food in his hands.
“Red button. Now.” You whisper through telepathy and the blonde jumps from the sudden voice in his head. “Go to the front, I’ll take the back. He’s probably not alone.”
Katsuki presses the small button hiding in his pocket, alerting Deku and Todoroki, who’s been also residing in another hotel nearby in case of an emergency. Katsuki nods, looking at you with so many emotions swirling in his eyes you kind of want to kiss him.
“Don’t die on me, Menace.” He grumbles and pulls your head close; he leaves a tiny kiss on the top of your head before leaving.
You really want to scream into a pillow but there is no time for that now; you make your way after the random guy using your stealth quirk to not get noticed. The guy gives the food to another person so you quickly activate the analyzer quirk, but this guy isn’t the one you are looking for; his quirk is harmless, he’s probably just here to take the food to the main suspect. You quickly put his face into the tracking database of your quirk; You’ll be able to see where he goes from now on for at least 48 hours. It’s a good start.
You move away to the other side of the building; there is nothing else for you to do right now and being too close to the two guys will just make you look suspicious. You are just about to go back to the kitchen when your phone rings. You let your stealth quirk fade away; you’ll be fine now, there is no reason to tire yourself out.
“Sup, Kiri?” You take the call without hesitation; he probably just wants to know what happened since you pushed the red button a few minutes ago.
“You need to leave. Right now.” The redhead stutters, his voice shaky and wet.
“Kiri, what’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry for sending you over, it all started as a prank on Katsuki but this case is extremely dangerous Y/N, especially for you, I’m so sorry, please just take the first taxi you see, we will grab your stuff later, when it’s safe.”
This doesn’t make sense. Dangerous, especially for you? What does he mean by that?! You might be weaker than usual but you are definitely strong enough to handle this right now. You haven’t used your power properly for ages so you have all your stamina available.
“Long time no see, sweetheart.” A deep voice grumbles into your ears, making your breath hitch in an uncomfortable way. You know this voice. It’s the voice that broke all your team mates, the voice that almost made you loose your life on the battlefield.
This is it. This is fucking it. This is how you fucking die.
If this is the main suspect and he got stronger than he was before, you are absolutely, utterly fucked and the guy clearly knows it, he looks at you with nothing but disgust, his head held high.
“It’s not your fault. Remember that, will ya?” You ramble into the phone before ending the call; Kirishima doesn’t need to hear this. No one does.
“Anguish.” You hiss, stepping away from him. His silver hair is dirty and there is dried blood all over his clothing. “You leveled up, I see. I didn’t know you do physical fights, I thought you are more into that brainy stuff.” You fake nonchalance but your heart is about to beat out of your chest. You activate a shield around you, making it impossible for him to use his quirk on you; you can’t risk getting affected mentally.
“Oh, well someone beat my accomplice who did all the dirty work for me into a pulp so I kind of had to learn how to fight.” Anguish reminds you with a frown.
“Sorry ‘bout that.” You smirk. “So what do you want?” You ask, confused by the fact he didn’t try to kill you yet. You quickly activate your tracing quirk on him just in case you get out of this alive, and to be honest, it really looks like you will; if he would’ve wanted you dead you would be dead by now.
“Hmm, what do I want, you ask?” Anguish comes closer, taking a deep sniff of your hair. “I know you shouldn’t play with your food, but I kinda want to take my time.” He grins into your hair, but the words die on his mouth as an explosion hits him from the side.
“Get your filthy hands away from her.” Bakugou jumps at Anguish, pushing you away.
“Katsuki, stop!” You scream at him, using your telepathy quirk again. You put a shield on him as well but you might be too late. “I put a tracker on him, we can get to his base! Just let him go, let him think he can get away. He might be powerful but he’s really fucking stupid.” The blonde scoffs at that but pretends to make a mistake; Anguish disappears right away, leaving nothing but dust in his footsteps.
“Fuck!” Katsuki screams, throwing himself to the wall, aggressively pulling on his hair. He looks disheveled and his body is shaking but otherwise, he looks okay.
“Let’s go home, Kirishima is freaking out.” You try to soothe him but he’s not having any of it.
“You scared the shit out of me you dumb bitch!” He yells in your face with teary eyes. “Kirishima called me FUCKING CRYING, Y/N! I thought I’ll never fucking see you again! I don’t care if he hates himself, he fucking sent you over here just to fuck with me and it almost got you killed!”
“Bakugou, we had no idea this guy is the same one from my country and I also insisted to come.” You try to say as calmingly as you can but Bakugou jumps into your words.
“Please, tell me what an asshole I am and how much you resent me! Fucking say it, I know you want to!”
Something is wrong. Something is very very wrong. These aren’t Bakugou’s words and they doesn’t make any sense.
“Did he get you? Be honest with me.” You ask with your voice full of worry. You have a terrible feeling. Terrible, terrible feeling.
“No he didn’t, calm the fuck down. I’m just freaked out.” He mutters and pushes himself away from the wall. “You are staying at mine tonight. We don’t know if he’s after you or not.” The blonde speaks up but it sounds more like “I don’t want to be alone.” You nod in acknowledgement, not willing to argue; you also want to keep an eye on him because you know him well enough to know something is up. You let yourself be pulled towards a black car waiting for you two to take you to safety.
The terrible feeling in your heart makes it extremely hard for you to concentrate on anything so let yourself be taken by your thoughts; the car ride is silent, only the whirring sound of the engine disrupting the calm before the storm.
…Next Chapter!
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Potato ramble:
- I hate angst so much. So so much. That’s the ramble. That’s it’s.
- Also, can someone give Katsuki a hug? Please?
~•💥•~
Taglist: @ibkg @chuugarettes @lilmaimai
@nonomesupposedto @sozainturpal @luleck @notplutos @gold24fish @hanatsuki-hime
Don’t forget: The second season will have a brand new taglist, if you still want to be tagged, send me a comment or a message!
Season 2 taglist: @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @hanatsuki-hime
#mha x reader#bnha x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugou x self insert#bakugo x you#shenanigansbypurplepotato#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki#pro hero dynamight
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The Queen of The Damned Review
This series has again kind of stumped me. I can't really say 100% whether I enjoyed or disliked this novel. It's a mixture of both experiences I guess?
First and foremost, the best and worst thing about this novel was Lestat's presence. The best aspect of this was that Lestat was written just as perfect as ever. His cockiness, whimsy and dramatic flair did not falter for even a second! (Calling himself the James Bond of vampires was wild and hilarious, especially because it's TRUE) The worst aspect was that there was so very little of it. Most of the novel switched between other people's perspectives and, well, I simply did not care for that. Don't get me wrong, I liked a ton of these characters, but I am simply not interested in their lives.
However, I will first delve into the character perspectives that I enjoyed. ARMAND AND DANIEL! DANIEL AND ARMAND! My eternal loves. The Devil's Minion chapter made this entire novel worth it for me. What a fucking trip! It was so disgustingly sweet to see how open Armand always was in his love for Daniel, even if he is a psycho little gremlin. Comparing this single chapter to the entire of IWTV novel would be a trip and a half, as the representations of the romantic relationships in them are so incredibly disparate. From Armand calling Daniel his "beloved" multiple times, to Armand giving Daniel an amulet with a vial of his blood on it to protect him, to Daniel actually wearing it, to the explicit declarations of desire, love and lust, I was enamoured with this portion of the novel. It was really interesting to see how their relationship began as it was entirely twisted and entirely ROMANTIC. Armand chasing Daniel all over the place, scaring him half to death and then showering him with material care and eventually the declaration to end all declarations: "I love you. If I hadn't grown to love you, I would have killed you before now, of course" (92), followed up by "You are mine, beautiful boy" (93), GOD SEDATE ME. Armand you saucy bastard. I don't even want to delve into Armand having Daniel teach him about technology or shaving Daniel's face for him, I will burst out into fucking tears. God will have to wrench Armandaniel out of my cold dead hands.
A little interlude: The explanation of Armand's 'Night Island' on page 100 was really interesting to me. Armand has created this material haven of his own, with glass elevators which 'reach the heavens'...a little similar to Louis' apartment in the Burj Khalifa (in the show), no? Anyways, just some food for thought.
Moving on, I really was not a fan of the red-head twin dreams everyone was having. The storyline was interesting but having all these different characters have those dreams simply was boring to me, and the fact that the relevance of it wasn't revealed until the very end was borderline annoying. I particularly disliked Jesse and her experience with the Talamasca and her family. While I find Maharet and Mael to be exceedingly interesting vampires, I could not bring myself to give a shit about Jesse nor her mortality and it went on for so! damn! long! It felt unnecessary to me honestly.
Now, I didn't particularly like Khayman, but I did find him diverting in many instances. Like, why was he so obsessed with 'goodness' and Lestat? I mean, I get it on some level, because who isn't into Lestat, but the fixation seems interesting. Has there never been a vampire who was concerned with their morality before? I'd be interested to learn more about Khayman.
I think it time to move onto the character of interest in the novel, the Queen of the Damned herself, Akasha. I was simply, not a fucking fan. I know that might be a bit of an unpopular opinion but I simply could not understand her at all. Why the fuck was Lestat the only vampire who could wake her? Why was she so obsessed with Lestat when she didn't even know him? Why did she randomly decide to commit genocide? I mean, I really did understand some of her reasoning regarding her choice to eliminate males specifically, but at the end of the day I could not stomach her indiscriminately massacring all males (which were almost all in impoverished, third world countries??). I feel like maybe there should've been more build up to her character, I probably would've liked her a lot more. I especially despised her character during Maharet's flashbacks. (I hate royalty for a reason and Akasha fit into that reason a little too well).
Moving onto the ending of the novel, DAMN! Anne Rice strikes again. She seems to be an expert in starving the audience of any Louis and Lestat content for hundreds of pages, till the point that you forget they were even a couple, and then catching you off guard with the most bone achingly, disgustingly endearing descriptions of the two and interactions between them. What the hell do you mean Louis asked Lestat, "You're not going to leave us, are you?" which his voice was sharpened by distress? What the hell do you mean Lestat asked Louis, "Do you love me?" What the hell do you mean Louis said "Yes"? What the HELL do you mean Lestat took his Louis for his first ever flight and it was a beautiful experience for them both. Anne Rice FREE ME FROM THE SHACKLES OF LOUIS AND LESTAT. PLEASE.
P. S. I also really enjoyed the random references to Louis' Interview With The Vampire book, which he published in the series. I love that they Rice continuously goes back to the fact that the novel was entirely a product of Louis' bias and, therefore, it is almost a work of a fiction, with a 'hero' (Louis) and a 'villain' (Lestat). I feel as though a lot (!!!) of show specific fans fail to acknowledge that Louis' bias plays into the entire representation of the first season (which is based on the first novel).
Overall, I give The Queen of the Damned by Anne Rice a 7.5/10.
#The Queen of The Damned#interview with the vampire#the vampire lestat#book review#louis de pointe du lac#lestat de lioncourt#lestat x louis#akasha#armand#daniel malloy#armandaniel#loustat#armand x daniel#the vampire chronicles#amc interview with the vampire#amc iwtv
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Probably since I was a teenager, I’ve attributed a variety of my health issues to overwork, exhaustion, the demoralizing struggle of living below the poverty line, etc. etc. Insomnia, poor sleep, headaches every morning, waking up in a panic, teeth clenching, constant fatigue, general sense of malaise – living in moldy shitholes, working like 50 hours a week, and usually, for most of my working life, also attending some amount of school (part- or full-time) – it would stand to reason that The Problem Is Capitalism, ya know? WELL, turns out these are also symptoms of obstructive sleep apnea, for which I recently got diagnosed! Despite having complained to doctors about headaches for decades (even seeing a neurologist at one point who told me I was fine it’s not an aneurysm hav u consider moar exercise??), my current pcp only ordered a sleep study once she noticed my liver enzymes (irony of ironies!!!) were elevated uhhh probably due to taking NSAIDs daily for like the past 12+ years. On the study nights I only got ~4 hours of actual sleep (even tho I was “sleeping” for 7 hours) and only 7% REM sleep (the norm for adults is 20-25%) (I have long lamented the fact that I rarely seem to dream at night – IT SUCKS, I NEED 2 PROCESS SUBCONSCIOUSLY waaaahhh) Sad!! In desperation / tasting the possibility of sweet relief I decided to borrow a few thousand more dollars (you know when you’re already drowning in debt and depriving yourself of all nice things forever but then some extra surprise bullshit happens and you’re like fuck it, what’s another $3k? YOLO! Yeah.) and got an oral appliance from the sleep dentist, which helps keep my airway open at night. This hasn’t been as miraculous of a cure-all as I’d hoped (probably bc I’m noncompliant, aka some nights I just get blazed and pass the fuck out on the couch bc i am still Tired after work), but it is still kind of amazing to wake up in the morning not in pain, not hating everything, not wanting to die. Just feeling...neutral? Incredible. In conclusion, I still believe that most of the problems are mostly capitalism, but don’t rule out the possibility that maybe a contributing factor to the Struggle of daily survival is that your dumbass body doesn’t know how to breathe at night.
I also got this x-ray of my SKULL which is TOTALLY AWESOME AND SWEET.
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from a technical standpoint, it makes me absolutely crazy how talented joe trohman is? of course as a fan of fall out boy, he is a vital member of the group and i love him dearly as my best friend joe fall out boy. but from a musicians standpoint, one of a barely mediocre guitarist (me), his skill is incredible.
considering how long he’s been honing in on his craft it isn’t any surprise, but the fact that he’s still doing it and improving is incredible to me. he’s been in bands for basically his whole life and he truly became the guitarist archetype. i think that his abilities are not only impressive but also a goal of mine, personally, to achieve.
it truly comes out in live shows. you can hear it on the albums, yeah, but during live shows, joe’s guitar is mic’ed up and loud. it’s present, not just falling into the background of pete’s lyrics and patrick’s vocals like i personally feel they do on the tracks.
his quick fingerings and solos elevate the entirety of the song, of fall out boy, to new levels that would be at the very least difficult and very worst impossible to reach without his love and dedication to the craft, as well as to the band, and his own personal improvement as a man and artist.
it is so inspiring to me to see him, a man almost in his forties, still with the awe and passion of a 16 year old. i’m 23 and i have trouble with maintaining my passions often. but joe does so seamlessly; we know about his past and his issues with addiction and mental illness, but that didn’t stop him. it didn’t hold him back.
he said in his book that his problems became bigger than himself in some ways, but he always had music. and when they started interfering with the music, he took a break. and he sobered up. and that’s admirable for many, many reasons. specifically, i cannot imagine the pressures of being in a world famous rock band, under constant scrutiny of media and fans and haters all alike, judging you and your every decision, move, opinion, every single thing about you that makes you different.
and yeah, he dreamed of it. we all dream of it when we see our first rock show. we all want to have bras thrown at us. we all want the stage lights on us.
but more than that- there comes a point of separation, one that differentiates the artist from the dreamer: a passion for the music, despite all of the horrible things. pushing through the horrors is what improves you as an artist; nothing is as fueling as spite. or love. combine the two and it’s over.
joe has both. proving himself, making sure everyone sees him as joe fucking trohman: guitarist. of course fall out boy put him on the map, just as it did for all of them. but joe’s efforts and flat out skill should not be ignored, nor should his dedication and love for the band and her music and music as a being. not as an object. music is living. joe proves that every night on stage.
so listen to him. pay attention to his parts. pay attention to the intricate melodies that joe plays in partnership with patrick’s own playing and vocals. listen to the storytelling of pete’s words through joe’s playing.
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Goliath, changeling, genasi
goliath: who is your favorite campaign 1 character
Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the third. Look at this. he can fit so much ptsd and autism (and/or ADHD) in him. Perfectly blorbo-shaped. His design is chef's kiss. He's so very complicated (but this goes for every CR character tbh I probably shouldn't keep bringing this up KJRTNKHRNTHN). My brain is frying trying to figure out an elevator pitch for him. He's just so fascinating to poke at under a microscope, while also having an incredibly poetic character arc and being deeply flawed and deeply sympathetic at the same time. How he compares and contrasts to the twins is so fun too, and his relationship with Cassandra, and ties to some of the campaign's biggest villains, and his SOFT EPILOGUE! THAT WAS NEVER INTENDED OR EXPECTED! GOD! Also one half of the best romance in the history of Ever which gives him bonus points. I am a huge sucker for 'if you turn evil, it's still cool' type romance, the reckless devotion to who you love even at the cost of the world. is it healthy? fuck no please run if your irl relationships are like this. but they're fake so here I can stan a royal who would do anything for his wife.
changeling: who is your favorite campaign 2 character
OH BEAU, BEAOU, BO, EYES SO BLU. HAIR SO SHORN ON THE SIDES -
Okay but I ADORE Beau. For similar reasons as to why I like Percy. She's an asshole and traumatized and grows so beautifully throughout the campaign. I love her friendship and eventual crush on Jester, and how she lets it go and literally gets swept off her feet by the woman of her dreams. And beyond romantic relationships too - I love the Brjeaus, and Empire Siblings so dearly, and of course her best friendship with Jester earlier in the campaign. I love how she theorycrafts, and pushes back against stupid ideas (except in regards to Jester), how beneath the rough exterior she's a huge fucking nerd. How she bluescreens when Yasha flirts back. How she completely fucking shatters after meeting her dad again and regresses so hard. She's also ridiculously hot. holy shit. what I'd give to be her or kiss someone that looks like her.
genasi: who is your favorite campaign 3 character (so far)
Answered!
Critical Role ask game!
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This Christmas Party Was So Fun That Now I’m a Communist, by Brennan Lee Mulligan
Highlights:
[I] thought to myself, “This is the most fun I’ve ever seen anyone have. ... This is… so great. This is… completely fucked.”
This party cannot be allowed to happen again. It was too much fun! No human being can justify having that much fun. There is an indirect but tangible connection between my family’s inability to purchase health insurance, and the quality of the hors d’oeuvres at this party. The world that makes my childhood friends go on large, unnecessary detours to get a shot at their dreams is the same world that heaps largely unappreciated splendors on these party-goers. It’s not an intuitive conclusion to draw, but when you think about it, the reason this chocolate truffle tastes so good is that my brother and I went to a state school. The reason this champagne is on the house is that the house is largely on Africa, South America and rural India.
This party is so much goddamned fun and it has to be stopped.
I wondered if I had been too harsh. Perhaps there was some kind of justice to all of this that I, as the malnourished, hayseed-child of the working poor, could not fully comprehend.
In that moment, I knew that I would never again experience a party this fun. Because the next time I was at a party this fun, I’d be burning it to the ground, holding high the banner of the revolution.
---
If you had guessed there would be a fortuneteller at this party, you would have been dead wrong. Because there were two fortunetellers at this party.
This party was so insane, extravagant and incredible that the hosts hired not one, but two separate soothsayers. The services of two women capable of piercing space and time with their minds were required for this shindig. Next to one of the three fully-stocked open bars, there was a woman wearing a bird on her head who was reading palms. And downstairs, in a hallway filled with ancient Buddhist art recovered during the Chinese invasion of Tibet, there was a Romani woman giving Tarot card readings. I mean, take your pick, really. Do you prefer the occult prognostications of cartomancy, or the intimate and personal revelations of the mysteries of your own goddamned hand? Because this party had both.
This party was so far off the fucking chain that you could have one of two magic women tell you what was going to happen to you in your future. And if you didn’t like what she said, you could get a second opinion, and never be more than thirty feet away from a fondue pot.
There was also a magician in a tuxedo walking around doing sleight of hand tricks. So to reiterate: Three different wizards were working at this party.
This party was the most fun anyone has ever had. And something needs to be done about it.
I arrived at the party as they were still setting up. The penthouse, located a few blocks from the eastern edge of Central Park, was in a word "palatial." It felt like I had stepped out of the gilded, art deco elevator into the distant palace of some Caliph at the height of the Ottoman Empire, were it not, I should add, for the many Christmas decorations being put up by an army of party planners. Pine garlands the length of city buses, with the circumference of an elephant’s leg, wrapped around marble banisters on staircases that ascended to impossible balconies overlooking Park Avenue. Shelves lined with ancient and powerful scotches, first edition books beyond reading, paintings and sculptures by artists so French that, were I to whisper their names, I would first need to buy a Rosetta Stone app. And all of this was being slathered in artisanal glass ornaments, gilded candles, sprigs of holly and every other thing that turns the darkest part of the year into the hap-happiest season of all. Guys, this party made the trailer for The Great Gatsby look like the strip mall parking lot where two divorced parents meet to exchange their children.
In the scraps and shreds of memory that come to me from that wild night of celebration, I remember certain landmarks. As guests exited an elevator that opened directly into the foyer of the apartment, they were greeted by butlers holding glasses of bellinis, champagne and sparkling water. They walked to a floor of waitered tables and a small dance floor, while being serenaded by a rotating cast of singers and pianists. These areas were overlooked by balconies with performers and entertainers of various stripes and shades, and from these balconies led hallways that arrived at various catered dining rooms and seating areas, all cozy, lovely and intimate, all just the right size to see that, yes, other people were having fun, but not too many other people were having too much fun too close by. And throughout it all, guests were bombarded with trays of lobster, caviar and truffle oil brioche canapés.
This party was like if the Dalai Lama and Elrond Half-Elven owned a castle together, and had decided to throw a birthday party for Santa Claus. More money than I have yet made in my life was spent on this party. It was immediately the most fun I’ve ever had, and within minutes, I was deeply unsettled.
As the immaculately dressed and bejeweled guests wended their way to banquet tables of delicious food and various dance floors, they were lit from not a single actual light bulb. I don’t know when I realized it, but aside from candlelight and the glow of the city through the windows, there was not a single visible source of light in the entire party. “Why do the rich find light bulbs so distasteful?” I thought. Every light had been tucked, hidden or sequestered from view, ensconced in little cubbies or stowed underneath cabinets, so that a warm glow filled everything, and you couldn’t tell how or from where. It became almost maddening as soon as I recognized it. Where is all this light coming from? Is this why I’m poor? Too much direct light?
While I was trying to piece this together, the music had once again changed, and I peered from the balcony where I was standing, to see the hired singer and pianist walk from the small raised stage with its rented Steinway through the doors into a literal servants’ quarters, like in Downton-motherfucking-Abbey. AND THERE WAS A PARTY IN THERE! A separate party for people working at the first party! The performers, jugglers, soothsayers and probably sex-workers that had been hired by the hosts had a separate catering group attending solely to their needs. This party was so dope, it was spawning sub-parties to bolster the spirits of workers for what I’m now calling “The Motherparty.”
I ducked into the servants’ party to discover that one of the singers had a day-job at the New York Metropolitan Opera. This Christmas party was so fucking great, that one of the 16 people they hired to sing in one of the rooms is a professional Opera singer at the Met.
I began to notice how many people were working at this party. There were the many performers and entertainers, and a fleet of photographers, separate from the gentlemen running the rented photo booth, which swarmed all night with beautiful young women immortalizing their splendor. One such woman was photographed while instagramming herself in front of the photo booth, which is maybe how wormholes are created. There were business staff, house staff, building staff, the host’s personal and executive assistants, custodians, and caterers, all of whom disappeared into grey hallways, designed to be ugly but also kind of invisible, a place where the help disappeared to. When you’re rich, you can afford to have sections of your home into which you never go.
As I watched the quick, nervous movements of the help, I began to look at who was actually attending the party. I ate my free lobster and furrowed my brow. These people probably didn’t even call their free lobster “free lobster.” They probably just called it “lobster.”
I watched the beautiful children of the rich mingle and converse. Young, gay men so fabulous that I couldn’t even tell you the most basic elemental details of what they were wearing. Possibly a fabric? Maybe not. It could have been a ceramic. I just don’t have the facts. Some young Ivy League dudes, pupating senators and ambassadors. The young women were gorgeously dressed, adorned with jewels, and so beautiful that they seemed photo-shopped in person. It would be easy to write off these airbrushed debutants as vapid, but they weren’t. They all had sharp, predatory eyes and laughed quickly and with fierce intelligence. They were ubermensches, as much the daughters of their bloodthirsty, corporate fathers as their supermodel mothers. These stunning women would spend the rest of their ball-gowned lives handing out their fathers’ likely ill-gotten fortunes to worthy charities, and going to parties just like this one.
From a distance, it was hard to tell the mothers and the daughters apart. Rich women don’t age, they just desiccate. Their jewelry, hair, gowns, even their posture and attitude all stay the same as their elegant, somewhat more humid daughters. A rich young woman and a rich old woman, standing next to each other, kind of look like a snake having perfectly shed its skin.
The old men were by far the most diverse bunch. Old billionaires wear whatever the fuck they want. One man wore a maroon, velvet, three-piece suit and a paisley cravat, and he must have been sweating in it, but I couldn’t tell because he had doused himself in a cologne that I’m going to call “A Million, Billion Different Kinds Of Fruit, by Calvin Klein.” There were two shaven-headed men of Caucasian descent, wearing black hakama robes and some kind of pendants. They had white socks and sandals, and from the way people were bowing to them, I’m guessing they were some kind of religious officials, but I can’t be quite sure. Whatever faith they practiced, it wasn’t Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Sikhism, Baha’i, Taoism, Shinto, Confucianism, Voodoo, Wicca or the Dreamtime Faith of the Aboriginal Shamans. If I had to guess, I would say they were either members of the Illuminati, or we are living in the Matrix and they are priests from the remaining human city in the real, outer world.
I don’t know what religion they were from. Do we get why that’s scary? Aside from the fact that a vast chunk of my education centered on world religions and mythology, religions really want you to know about them. That’s their whole business model. They tell you why things are the way they are and then you give them money. So the fact that there’s a religion that I’m too poor to know about is deeply troubling.
These rich old billionaires were the kindest, sweetest old gents. In conversations I overheard more than once, a man worth more than my entire extended family (which is Irish and therefore vast and mighty) talked about another man at the party as “just being the sweetest soul,” or referred to a cupcake at a certain café as “sinfully seductive.” And I realized, these men may have been cutthroat sharks before, or they may have inherited their fortunes, but none of that matters now. They won. They won life. They are lions that, having killed enough gladiators, are now left gloriously alive to become old and toothless. The host of the party had an entire wall covered in plaques and trophies. I read most of them, and still couldn’t tell you what he did for a living. Because whatever he had done, he certainly didn’t need to do it anymore. His accomplishments referenced his humanitarianism, his civic heroism and his contributions to culture and civilization. So whether or not this man had worked at Bain Capital gutting companies in the American Heartland didn’t matter, because he had rescued a bunch of Tibetan art and now he was kissing other billionaires on both cheeks and saying, “Tom, I’m in love with you!” because who gives a fuck, I’m rich!
I watched these crazy old holiday wizards and their jeweled scarab wives, their Oxford sons and Cambridge daughters, and thought to myself, “This is the most fun I’ve ever seen anyone have. Louis the XVI would've shit a brick if he'd ever thrown a party this good. This is… so great. This is… completely fucked.”
I began to notice that people were looking at me funny. For a moment I became scared that they realized I was poor. Perhaps I had used the wrong fork, or a moth had flown in lazy spirals out of my wallet, or my toes had popped out of the holes in my shoes. But then I realized it was my expression that was drawing looks. I looked flabbergasted and astounded. And they didn’t.
That’s when I realized it. These motherfuckers weren’t going to the best party of their lives. They weren’t even necessarily going to the best party of their week. Who knows? Maybe one of these plutocrats was sneering at the lack of a third fortuneteller. “No augur divining mysteries from the movement of birds? No oracle breathing poison and screaming prophesies? You call this a Christmas Party!”
Well fuck that!
This party cannot be allowed to happen again. It was too much fun! No human being can justify having that much fun. There is an indirect but tangible connection between my family’s inability to purchase health insurance, and the quality of the hors d’oeuvres at this party. The world that makes my childhood friends go on large, unnecessary detours to get a shot at their dreams is the same world that heaps largely unappreciated splendors on these party-goers. It’s not an intuitive conclusion to draw, but when you think about it, the reason this chocolate truffle tastes so good is that my brother and I went to a state school. The reason this champagne is on the house is that the house is largely on Africa, South America and rural India.
This party is so much goddamned fun and it has to be stopped.
The last singer finished a tear-jerking rendition of Ave Maria, and the DJ came out. A man who looked like a young, handsome Santa Claus wheeled out his holly-studded turntable and then killed it. Every song he played was fucking perfect. Cecilia. Signed, Sealed, Delivered. Rescue Me. This goddamned DJ could do no wrong. And the patricians began to dance.
And oh how they danced. I used to think that only we poor, starving bohemians could truly dance with the hedonism and reckless abandon of our pagan ancestors. I was WRONG, guys. Starving artists don’t dance with reckless abandon. We dance like we’re trying to forget that the rent is past due. We dance to sweat off that last box of Annie’s Mac & Cheese. We dance to trick the endorphins into healing our tired, unkempt bodies.
The rich, however, dance as if possessed by Pan himself. The young and old alike gyrated, wiggled and bounced like they had not a care in the world. Sorry, let me rephrase that. The young and old alike gyrated, wiggled and bounced BECAUSE they had not a care in the world. And it was magical. Every face beamed with glorious jubilation. I saw five separate people fall in love that night, and I know it’s going to work out, because of just how good that party was. It was the most magical night I have ever witnessed, and so help me God, I will toil unyieldingly to ensure it never happens again.
For a brief moment I surveyed the upper balcony. The host and his wife smiled gaily, singing along and dancing. They looked so serene. So happy. And I saw the host turn, and start handing out tip money to the staff. $50 bills flew from his fingers into the waiting hands of the army of party workers. And they thanked him for his kindness. And he was kind. He was a kind man, this white-suited oligarch. In that moment, I wondered if I had been too harsh. Perhaps there was some kind of justice to all of this that I, as the malnourished, hayseed-child of the working poor, could not fully comprehend.
The caterers left the hall, and the DJ stopped.
That’s when I noticed that while the dance party had been happening, a Pinkberry and a Wafels & Dinges had both opened inside the penthouse.
Let me say that again.
A Pinkberry and a Wafels & Dinges both had their grand openings during and inside this party. Two, miniature, satellite restaurants with mobile service stations, serving free food, staffed by uniformed employees, with their full assortment of products, had sprouted up within the span of ten minutes. For every fortuneteller in this party, there was a restaurant in this party. And the choir sang. And the people ate. And the champagne flowed. And the two fortunetellers ordered extra nutella on their wafels & dinges. And the velvet suit fruit man hugged a young gay boy wearing a scarf with the whole Bhagavad Gita written on it and whispered, “We are never, ever going to die.”
In that moment, I knew that I would never again experience a party this fun. Because the next time I was at a party this fun, I’d be burning it to the ground, holding high the banner of the revolution.
Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Fight the Power.
— Brennan Lee Mulligan
#thought-provoking when I first read it a while back#thinking about it again recently#wealth inequality
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Ahh literally everything you're saying is just like parts of the bigger reason s3 sucks so bad. They start off the season with Will like "This year everyone's dreams will come true!" and then like Santana gets outed, Mercedes and Tina are constantly struggling to have their voices heard, Quinn is forced to confront her Beth trauma then gets in a car wreck, Kurt gets passed over for literally every big thing he wanted this season, also literally laughed out of an audition for being Too Gay, Blaine is butting heads with Sam and Finn cause they're both acting dumb lol, also Klaine relationship troubles. Swear to god I think Mike is the only one with a conflict that feels like it gets satisfyingly resolved this whole season rip
And then at the end of the season everyone is like "wow what a great year thank you mr schuester for doing everything for us <3" when he literally never cared about anyone but Finn aslfkjsklfsl and then the whole dick sucking ego stroking parade of everyone to Finn, and Kurt to all the guys and it's just like ??? hello? what? where? when? did i miss some episodes??? What is going on
I literally feel like Kathy Bates in Misery when I talk about season 3.
and all the kids cheered - but I didn't cheer, I stood right up and started shouting, "This isn't what happened last week - have you all got amnesia?! THEY JUST CHEATED US - THIS WASN'T FAIR!"
Omg you so hit the nail on the head with that quote, wow. I have to fess up and say that I liked season 3 when I first watched and looked back on the seasons because I trauma-blocked IKAG and many other awful parts and was blinded by the graduation glamour and the soundtrack. Upon rewatch, it's incredibly infuriating and embodies a lot of what was wrong with this show. And it's made worse by everyone always saying s3 was the good old days and then the show declined in quality, which is just not true.
All the things you listed, yes. And I'm gonna repeat some of them here but just cause it's worth stressing just how bad some of this is. Will, teacher of the year, didn't do shit for most students this year and actively made some of their lives worse. He yelled at Quinn and threw Santana to the wolves, scolded both Tina and Mercedes when they asked for an ounce of the respect they deserved. His treatment of Mercedes!! Oh. My god. He should go to jail for booty camp. All the while we had to endure the ups and downs of his sex life and while he, like the whole show, was so far up Finn's ass it was hard to see anything else. Quinn was put through a revolving trauma door and not one adult really cared. All three main women of colour were demonized for wanting a taste of the spotlight and the one canon lesbian given the most offensive "coming out" (i.e. outing) known to tv. Brittany was mute for most of the season and when they do give her something it's the fucking sex tape. Sam had such big flop moments and Blaine was only pulled out for songs and Klaine conflict. Kurt's dreams were shattered despite him doing his best and nailing the audition. Oh and yeah let's have him thank the boys for,,,, whatever reason? Insulting. No one cared about the newbies because the show didn't either. Yeah, Mike's storyline was more or less done well but it was so brief and the only standalone story arc he ever got. Finchel had to be prom king and queen for some godforsaken reason. I mean let's not get into how season 3 Finn is somehow even worse than he usually is because jfc it just never stops with him. I guess Puck's storyline was the most decent? But they also had him fuck the adoptive mother of his bio child also his teacher also his ex's mom so, like. Most of Rachel's stuff was also fine but the Finchel things were intolerable and elevating her by putting others down is not it.
And it's not just the shafted characters and bad storylines and the overall bad execution of even the ones that had potential. It's this tonal inconsistency, this insistence that the sun is shining out of Finn's ass, that Finchel are meant to be and are more important than anyone else on this show, the trainwreck of season 3A especially, the issue episodes. The fact that the show swears it cares about all these kids when it's so quick to discard them and do their stories a disservice. It's not a triumphant last lap of the OGs but a tragedy for most and a wank fest for a select few.
#this is so incoherent because s3 is too#but you get what i mean yes i agree let's stop pretending s3 was good#it's a mess and it tries to gaslight us into thinking it was this great season for all#some characters were barely characters others would have been better off without screentime#and i will never ever ever get over the crimes of s3A#and ikag specifically of course because if i could punch an episode of tv#i'd do it over and over and over again#so anyway you could say i also think this isn't fair#angelhummel#glee asks
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24 - Amy Winehouse - Back to Black (2006)
Well, the only song i know going in is Rehab. Never was that big an Amy Winehouse fan...not for any real reason, i just never really was super into what I'd heard on the radio at the time, but in my defense, it was 2006.
I was a dramatically different person back then.
•Rehab-
Yeah, girl... You really should have gone to rehab. It always sucks when someone writes a really catchy song that ironically illuminates their own death, and it sucks even worse when that song is a massive hit that ultimately springboards you directly to said ironic death.
•You Know I'm No Good-
Okay, I've heard this one somewhere, but no idea where. I really dig the loungey/speakeasy vibe, but there's a point where i just have to say damn girl, keep it in your pants. You're the architect of your own pain, here.
•Me & Mr. Jones-
Can't really tell if she loves him or hates him. Probably both.
•Just Friends-
Love that guitar/smooth sax combo and oh shit it went reggae on me. Really subtly mournful lyrics, imo.
•Back to Black-
Sounds like an extension of Just Friends, or yet another similar nebulous quasi-relationship. Noticing a running theme throughout of 'wanting things she can't have', for one reason or another. Or simply wanting things, damn the consequences.
And man, she was a great vocalist.
•Love Is A Losing Game-
Those subtle string stains in the background really elevate this one, imo. (Then again I'm a big fan of Florence, so i might be biased towards strings.)
What a sad song to use as a midpoint.
•Tears Dry On Their Own-
I really like the Ain't No Mountain High Enough remix going on. Very upbeat, especially right after the last song, but still sad within the lyrics.
This is the exact moment you switch from loneliness to solitude. Sure I'm by myself but damnit, right now, I'm fine with that.
•Wake Up Alone-
When the almost manic euphoria from Tears Dry has faded a bit, it's two months later, and you are still doing what you can to be strong.
Damn it, it's hard and you knew it was gonna be hard but you've gotta get through it regardless of how your dreams fuck with you.
•Some Unholy War-
Anthem for those Ride or Die folks. Except it feels a LOT more like "Ride *and* Die" in this particular case.
•He Can Only Hold Her-
Okay i reread the lyrics like 5 times and oi honestly can't tell if she's in another relationship or if she's in a coma.
Could be I'm just not getting this one. Love the instrumentation, though.
•Addicted-
Nothing worse than a guy coming around and smoking all your hard earned weed without even offering to throw in. 100% behind Amy on this one, bring a bag with you or fuck off out of here.
It's a damn shame that she died so young, but she seemed like a woman out of time. She seems born to be playing a smoky club room filled with nervous drinkers 70+ years ago.
That said, a banger opener, a banger closer, and the saddest damn song on the album right smack in the middle...
Favorite Track: Rehab or Addicted, honestly. Both are incredible.
Least Favorite Track: He Can Only Hold Her, only because I'm really not sure what it's even about, and the lyrics on every other song on the album felt so much stronger than this one.
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lojg and detailed dream but i gotta get up for work the gist like
1. have to get ready but I'm discussing with one of my friends i haven't talked to in a while for a long time about smth I don't remember . it was stressing me out a bit. dark in my room at my mom's house. I keep fucking with this origami heart that has a horizontal slit instead of vertical made from a 5x7 index card
2. in the car with my mom on the way to? highschool maybe. we might've stopped in a big store in a shopping center i've been to in a different dream, but it doesn't actually exist.
3. Park somewhere near highschool and then get taken away from my car into this huge group of people. we're all kept together in this giant parking garage & the vibe is like an incredibly unorganized field trip. we don't want to be here and we are chafing against the administrators. they kept telling us to QUIET DOWN, PLEASE, & then playing an incredibly loud & obnoxious tone that was louder than the general murmur of conversation. this alone made me wanna jump that guy. they had cinemasins as a speaker for some reason. I wanted to go home, but then it became walls or something. we were stuck inside. cinemasins at least didn't show up!
4 we are stuck in the horror movies house - things keep happening in a scary fashion, but the house itself is just my mom's house. as usual. I wanted to get out of there though. there was a dude in a rubber michael myers halloween suit thing, but the clothes was neon orange and the skin was green. he wasn't totally an enemy? i mean he did stab me but also he helped me out later. i think he just wanted blood on his knife.
there was this girl who would be described as having a dinner plate face due to how round and flat it was and she also had huge eyes. her name started with "ma" like mandelyn or something like that?? anyway her & her friends were like. decent. everybody else trapped in there was kind of weird or obnoxious in some way or antoher, like this dude Jack that was a grade or two above me in my highschool GD class. they made him a TA on the international trip to greece & i heard he was a huge cunt. anyway he kept turning up & being annoying, so i think I had to embrace the evils or whatever & shatter this hollow toothy glass sculpture into his face. he was mostly unharmed, he just had glass in his eyes and mouth i helped pick out afterwards. there was glass in my.mouth too but I was more careful.
after that, my sister showed up and we were able to make our escape in a weirdly proportioned white truck thing - the seats in the back were facing each other instead of front, & the ceiling was super super low. she ended up driving. we went back downtown to the parking garage where my car was originally, but the interior of it had been turned into a fighting ring for some gang. we took our stuff out of the white truck thing and a dude from the gang went to steal the car but we remotely detonated it. couldn't find my car though - it had been moved below the fighting ring, whcih i almost completely confidently led us into, so we got in an elevator to get down there walking purposefully but people at the bottom were ready to stop us.. fortunately we had this old ex gang member on our side. he kind of had a columbo vibe.
I gotta get up
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always forever. i
you wake up in the middle of the night and witness a ritual between jinx and other followers.
reader: neutral.
dedicated to: @whoneedscoffeeanyway. thank you for your support and your ideas bestie, and i hope you like this! :> i'll probably be passed out asleep once you finish reading it so ily now and sleep well or else
you found yourself awake in the middle of the night, eyes simply opening as you peacefully arose from your sleep. no loud noise had awoken you, nor a sudden temperature shift, nor a jolt or sudden movement.
or maybe it was a sudden shift in temperature. you lacked the warmth of jinx by your side. you looked over, confirming that you were alone in bed. that in and of itself was cause for confusion.
on the bedside table, the glow-in-the-dark-painted clock read somewhere slightly past 2:00. somewhere down the hall you could hear gentle, swaying music and soft voices, both of which confused you. steadily you realized that the music was one of your favorite songs. one that you had, at one point, listened to for an… unhealthy amount. it was no wonder you instantly recognized it.
what's going on?
tired, but eager for any sense of answers, you slipped out of bed. you moved slow enough to not get headrush when standing up. it was the last thing you wanted.
peeking in from under the door was the warm, flickering glow of fire light, which you certainly found odd. but you left the room anyway. the door handle wasn’t hot, so it wasn’t an actual fire or anything dangerous. probably.
looking around the corner, surprise plastered over your expression. you had absolutely no clue what your sleep-muddled mind expected to see, but this probably wasn’t it. jinx and a few of her friends- or so you assumed- were kneeled in front of an intricate shrine which included many pictures of… you. your favorite candles and incenses were lit, your favorite flowers draped over the shrine in beautiful garlands, your best photos in pretty frames. even a few of your other favorite items decorated the small platform.
you stared in complete and utter awe for a second. how were you supposed to react to this? there’s definitely a possibility this is a dream, right? something this wild-
well, you were dating jinx. this was actually kind of tame.
“today is a day dedicated to the most perfect of souls, the savior we should all aspire to be, the incredible person we all have the pleasure of knowing. all-merciful and all-kind, my beautiful [y/n].” the semi-silence was thus broken. jinx spoke with such adoration in her voice it almost shuddered. you could practically hear her smile.
it wasn't like you never could've seen this coming.
jinx definitely treated you like some heavenly being, elevating you above absolutely everything, almost to her own deficit. coddling you and fauning you excessively, making sure you were always happy and nothing less, putting aside her own needs and wants to be sure yours were taken care of, and never leaving your side.
and you always liked it. hell, you loved it like you loved her. it was the first time you’d ever experienced love like this. feeling this cherished was new and beautiful to you. so maybe that’s why you weren’t as horrified as other people would be. or you were just as fucked up as jinx herself.
“uh, jinx?”
hearing your soft, tired voice, jinx immediately sat up and turned to look at you. the bright smile she gave nearly outmatched the candles burning right beside her.
“speak of an angel and they shall come!” she cooed. “did we wake ya, toots? 'm sorry,” she giggled softly, rising to properly greet you, holding your hands and intertwining her fingers with yours.
“n-no, i just woke up for some reason and stumbled across, uhm… this. what- what’s going on?” perhaps jinx was expecting suspicion and disgust in your voice, or in your eyes, or in your expression, because she looked surprised herself. you sounded almost nonchalant about everything. and considering you just saw her and a good few other people worshipping a shrine of you, there was a whole lot of everything to be not-nonchalant about.
“oh, all this? i’m- well, we’re worshipping you, toots! nothin’ much, y’know? as far as i know, you’re the most perfect, admirable person out there. the next messiah! might as well make sure people worship ya like one.” she sounded so wholesome, you couldn’t help but smile just a little. she cupped your cheek with one hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
not sure what else to say, you managed a saccharine “thank you.”
“aww, you’re so cute, sweetheart! just look at ya!” jinx couldn’t help herself, giving you another happy kiss to your forehead. the affection, as always, made you smile.
glancing over her shoulder, her eyes turned almost animalistic as she looked at your other ‘devoted followers.’ “don’t you have any respect?” she hissed through her teeth. “your savior is right in front of you and you don’t even acknowledge 'em? i taught you better than this!”
the juxtaposition between her honey-sweet tone to you and the demanding hiss she saved for them could’ve given you whiplash.
the five other worshippers looked up at you. suddenly having all their attentive and adoring eyes on you, you blushed, looking down. they looked at you like you were the second coming. suddenly being thrust into this, it was no surprise it was overwhelming.
“the best of days and nights to the savior in front us,” one of them got up and bowed to you, her eyes so wide and happy to see her. you froze up, not sure how to respond, especially when the others stood and did the same. it was simultaneously scripted and purely genuine and you didn’t know how to feel.
you mentally kicked yourself at how long you spent silent, blinking away the stun from your eyes.
“th- the best of days and nights to all of you as well.” you spoke awkwardly, words slurred just slightly by your tiredness. gently, you bowed, and when you stood back up you saw pure inspiration in their eyes.
you felt a… concoction of emotion upon seeing that.
“good! good, good. oh, super good! for the most part. go back to praying, lilies! you have limited time, y’know!” now jinx’s voice was caught between sweet and demanding, coming off as a mother pissed at her child in public who couldn’t yell at them yet.
they all looked at you, and when you nodded, they did as told. you mouthed ‘holy shit’ to yourself, observing them before jinx stepped in front of them again, blocking them from your vision. she gazed at you so lovingly, cupping your cheeks. her touch was enough to make you fall even more in love.
“they love ya so much, sweets! a’course, not as much as i do. they never could.” she shrugged, giggling, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. “so how does it feel to be worshipped by people? well, other than me?” she cooed. she really knew how to make you blush in the subtlest of ways. you found it surprisingly easy to pay attention only to jinx even while the chorus of murmurs played, reciting prayers to you. your tired mind had no chance at being able to comprehend that.
“i-i don’t know. it’s… nice, i think. it’s nice when you’re this devoted to me. that much hasn’t changed at least.” jinx could practically see the bashfulness lining your voice.
“you really are adorable, oh my goodness..!” she bit her lip, needing to look away for a moment. the cuteness was overwhelming. “oh, jeez, the time..! oh oh, we need to get you back to bed, snookums, you need to sleep! i’m sure you’ll be able to think about it better in the mornin’. how about i make you some breakfast in bed, precious?” the tenderness which enlivened her voice made you feel warm and fuzzy. your smile softened.
“that sounds heavenly, darling. thank you.”
jinx chuckled quietly. “not as heavenly as you are~!” she half-sang right back, peppering your lips with kisses.
even though she always responded with that, it made your heart flutter all the same. you giggled through her kisses, returning them when you could. your tired mind had been overwhelmed with information. it was no surprise you were becoming physically tired to match.
“you’re so pretty when you’re sleepy, precious,” jinx mumbled. “okay. c’mon, cutie-patooty, time to go back to bed,” she hummed, walking with you back to your room. only now did you notice that your favorite song had been playing on loop, so quietly you hadn’t heard it till now. and somehow, just as before, it brought you comfort. and right now that comfort made you more tired.
you leaned against her a little more, and she gladly hugged you to give you more support.
once back in your shared bedroom, jinx helped you lay down, every touch careful and delicate as if you were a porcelain doll. you were certainly as perfect as one. without taking her eyes off of your precious face, she tucked you in.
she had to cover her mouth to keep from ‘aww’ing aloud as you snuggled in and smiled at the warmth of the pile of blankets. how could one person be so utterly perfect? and how could that utterly perfect person be in love with her of all people? jinx was the luckiest person in the world to be able to date absolute divinity. and for them to love her back! what a world, what an incredible world- of course she had to worship you!
“good night, my most precious and perfect and pretty [y/n]. sleep well, okay? i’ll be there to greet ya in the mornin’!” her voice was quiet, albeit excited. if you were fully awake, you would’ve seen an idea spark in her eyes, and her voice brighten alongside.
unsurprisingly, you fell asleep quite quickly, drifting off while jinx gently stroked your hair and hummed along to the music. she waited until you were fully asleep before even thinking about leaving you for the first time, peeking out of the room and toward the altar.
“psst! lilies! get over here!” she whisper-shouted, glancing back at you periodically to make sure you were still peacefully snoozing.
quickly, they shuffled over.
“shouldn’t we still be praying?” zee asked.
“why pray to an altar when you can pray to the real thing?” jinx giggled, biting her lip. “c’mon. be quiet- do not wake them up. understand?”
“of course.”
“good! i’ll go get those candles and garlands.”
#arcane jinx#arcane netflix#arcane#arcane x gn reader#arcane x you#arcane x female reader#arcane x y/n#arcane x reader#arcane x gender neutral reader#arcane x male reader#arcane x masc reader#jinx x y/n#jinx x reader#jinx x you#jinx x gn reader#jinx league of legends#jinx x female reader#jinx x fem reader#jinx x gender neutral reader#jinx x male reader#jinx x reader fluff#lots of praise in this one man precious
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We met in online class - Part 7
Image adapted from here.
Pairing: Renjun x Reader
Genre: College AU, romance, angst, fluff
Warnings: Strong language, descriptions of a shiner, a character gets Covid-19
Word Count: 7.3k
Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | You are on Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Last Part
A/N: I’m sorry for all the angst, you guys.
You only stop walking when you’re out of the apartment building. Eyebrows scrunched, face scowled like you were trying to hold onto the anger. But the more you had walked, the more you had realized that you couldn’t hold onto something that wasn’t there in the first place. It would be like holding onto smoke: futile and baseless. You weren’t angry. You stop moving to just breathe for a moment. And as the cool night air hits your face, you get a little more clarity in your thoughts. No, you weren’t angry. Not really.
Suddenly, you find yourself smiling to the sky and scoffing. Oh, how stupid. How stupid and how typical. This was classic you. Only this time, you couldn’t believe you had fallen for the broody artsy boy type. The kind of boy that blew hot and cold. The kind of boy that would keep you on edge and never like you as much as you liked him. God, you were such a cliché. Fuck, how embarrassing. So no, you weren’t angry. You were embarrassed. You had spent the last few weeks simping over a boy that never really liked you. God, you were so stupid.
‘The only reason I’ve kept you around for so long is because I wanted to get to your brother.’ His voice echoes in your head.
Your friends had told you that you were doing way too much for a boy you weren’t even official with yet. You had literally spent the past couple of weeks running to him to dote on him. Bringing him food and checking up on him even though you were drowned in work, and making sure he was okay. And all this time, he had been using you. Oh, God. You were like the embarrassing second female lead in every drama ever. The kind that would bring cartons of milk to her crush in the hopes that he would like her back. Only you had actually believed that he liked you back. Oh, how embarrassing.
‘Y/N, you are not my girlfriend. So stop acting like it.’
Oh, how freaking embarrassing. You had been acting like the girlfriend. But you had been the second female lead all along.
You groan and make yourself keep walking. You didn’t want to be near his building anymore. Not where he could step out any moment and humiliate you some more for reading the signs all wrong. You keep walking as your phone keeps ringing. You don’t pick up. You wanted to put as much space between yourself and the building as possible. You walk and you walk till you reach the bus stop. And then you finally sit and take your phone out.
There are around 8 missed calls from Haechan as well as a string of texts. You sigh and hail a cab from an app before you get the spirit to read his messages.
‘Y/N, please pick up.’
‘Where are you???’
‘I can’t find you. Where are you???’
‘Pick uppppp’
‘Can you at least tell me where you are?’
‘I’m calling Yeri.’
That’s Haechan’s last message and you let out another groan. Why did he have to call Yeri? She was going to be worried for no reason. She was already under so much stress with her thesis. You didn’t want her to sit in the apartment and have all sorts of thoughts going through her head about what happened to you. So you text him back.
‘I’m just going home. Don’t worry.’ you write back. Not even ten seconds pass by before he replies.
‘How? You don’t even have your car! And you’ve been drinking.’
‘I called a cab. Don’t worry.’
‘Y/N, please tell me where you are? Let me take you home.’
‘The cab’s already here, Haechan. It’s fine. I’ll text you when I get home.’ you say as you get into the car.
‘No way. Share your location.’
‘The cab’s already moving.’
‘Okay, but share your live location so I know you’ve safely gotten home.’
You sigh and give into his wish. ‘Happy?’
‘I’ve shared it with Yeri as well.’
You groan again, making the cab driver give you a quizzical look through the mirror. ‘Haechan, please don’t bother Yeri.’
‘Text me as soon as you get home. I’m coming over first thing in the morning.’
‘Okay.’ you reply and sigh again, resting your head against the window because it felt like the sort of thing to do in this situation. But it only makes your temple awkwardly rattle against the glass as the car moves. How did people do this in dramas? Look so elegant as they pensively looked out the window? Because right now, you neither felt elegant, nor pensive. You just felt stupid. You feel your phone buzz again and see another text from Haechan.
‘You’re my best friend and I love you to the moon and back. Nothing changes that, okay?’ the message reads and suddenly, you feel tears brimming in your eyes. That’s the first time he had called you that. What a stupid boy he was, Lee Donghyuck. Why did he have to attack you like that with all the feels? Silly boy. Well, at least there was something that came out of this mess.
How had you been so stupid? Renjun had practically told you of his motives on the very first date. He had told you that his lifelong wish was to get into Midnight fucking Arthouse. And instead of staying away, you had run to your brother the very same day to fulfil that wish. The thought chases away the tears that Haechan’s text had brought. You were so stupid. Even your brother had warned you.
“Y/N, I don’t trust his eyes.” Doyoung had told you that afternoon at the party. And you had laughed at him.
“What does that even mean?” you had rolled your own eyes at him, because really, you were watching Renjun into the distance as he talked to another artist. God, he looked so handsome, you had thought as you ogled.
“He just seems like he’s hiding something. He just seems like a guy who would have something to hide.” your brother had warned you and you had just laughed and joked it away.
“I mean, sorry to break it to you like this, big brother, but he’s a serial killer by night. The art student stuff is just for show because when people aren’t looking, his ass goes full Joe Goldberg in You.” you had teased your brother who had exhaled long and put his arm around you.
“Fine, fine. Don’t trust your big brother. Do what you want. I just don’t like him for you.” Doyoung had cut it out for your sake and you had cuddled into him happily because you were so giddy that day. Nothing could’ve spoiled your mood then because the boy you liked had just kissed you. He had held your hand and held your face and kissed you and kissed you and kissed you.
“Of course you don’t like him for me. You won’t like anyone for me because you’re my big brother.” you had baby-talked at Doyoung and cuddled him till he had ruffled your hair and pushed you away.
God, you were so stupid. Did everyone know but you? Could everyone see how he’d been using you? Had your crush on him really been so bad that it blinded you? Oh, how embarrassing. How fucking embarrassing. Well, at least the two of you weren’t official yet. That was a plus. Otherwise, there would’ve been a break up involved. Then again, that would mean that Renjun liked you enough to make you his girlfriend. Or that he would have gone so far as to exploit you like that. Would he have done it? You don’t even want to think about it.
You were fine, really. This was okay. It’s good that he cleared that you weren’t his girlfriend. This whole situation would’ve been sillier if the two of you were official. You chuckle as you enter the elevator of your building. You were fine. Everything that had happened was just a silly misunderstanding. You had just read the signals all wrong. You knock your knuckles on your head. Silly you. It was just a silly crush. You had just chased a boy you had a crush on and it hadn’t worked out. There was nothing wrong with that. These sorts of things happened all the time. You were fine.
But Renjun hadn’t been just a boy.
He had been the boy of your dreams. He had been the boy that had smiled at you over his coffee cup on your first date and you had felt that he looked into your soul. He had been the boy who would wait outside your lecture hall with the most hopeful look in his eyes and you would melt because he wore that look for you. He had been the boy who had laid his head on your shoulder and opened his heart to you and you had thought that you would do everything it takes to give him the world. He had been the boy that had held your hand and made you feel so incredibly safe that day at your parent’s house that you had found yourself falling. He had been the boy who had taken you in his arms and kissed you so sweet that you had felt like flying. He had been the boy who would lay out in the sun next to you and you’d think that everything was alright.
Renjun hadn’t been just some boy you had chased. You couldn’t lie to yourself like that anymore, even though you were trying. He had been the boy you had given your heart to.
You don’t realize that your feet had carried you all the way home till you look up to the door opening on it’s own. And Yeri is standing there like she was expecting you.
“Haechan called me.” she says and you have no idea what she sees on your face because she says “Baby…” in the softest voice before she grabs her Lysol concoction and starts spraying you carefully.
You stand there in the doorway, watching her as she sprays at your feet and takes your shoes off for you with so much love. You don’t know what it was about seeing her face. But anytime you did, all your walls came tumbling down. You could never hide from her.
She looks up at you and whatever she sees makes her speed up her sanitizing ritual. And you realize your shoulders are shaking. You feel the wetness on the tops of your cheeks. You feel the scrunching between your brows. You hear your breath coming out in sniffles. It probably looks like the strangest scene in the world. You, standing there unmoving, looking at her as you crumble in the doorway. And her looking back at you worried, and hurriedly soaking you in Lysol.
Yeri takes your hands in hers and sanitizes them, then takes your purse from you while you do nothing but just stand there, looking at her. She takes your jacket off and then your mask and then finally kisses your cheek and pulls you into her arms. She holds you and kisses your forehead and strokes your hair.
“You will always have me, okay?” she tells you and this time, you’re fully aware that you’re sobbing. Because she puts an arm around you and walks you to your room. She lets you cry as she takes your makeup off for you and brushes your hair. And you watch her attending to you with so much love in her eyes, that for a moment, you’re not sure what’s making you cry. Your broken heart, or her pure, unadulterated love for you.
For as long as you could remember, this girl had been there for you through all your highs and lows. She hadn’t just been a friend. She had been more like a sister. Come to think of it, she had been more a parent to you than your actual parents. You could never hide from her. So when she puts you to bed, you cuddle into her and cry when you tell her,
“I really liked him, Yeri.” Because what was the use of lying to yourself or anyone else? You liked him. You had unabashedly, completely and without any sort of a restraint given him your whole entire heart. And he had broken it. This was something that had happened. So why would you deny it? You had been hurt so you were going to cry to your heart’s content. That’s what people do when they have been hurt.
“I know, baby girl.” she strokes your hair and holds you and kisses the top of your head and your eyes go to your nightstand. You see things that would look like trash to other people. But to you they were the most important treasures.
A paper napkin folded up into an origami crane. Renjun had made it on your very first date.
A can of coke, flattened and leaned against your nightlight. Renjun had drunk from it the first time he came over to your apartment.
A scrap of paper taken from a notebook in a photo frame. Renjun had doodled on it one day as you two had waited for class to begin.
A daisy, pressed and preserved in a little glass disc. Renjun had randomly plucked it from the grass and given it to you as you two had lazed about. It was the first flower he had given you.
God, you were such a sentimental hoe. This boy had broken your heart and you had kept his trash in your room, right on your nightstand so his would be the last thought on your mind as you went to sleep. Realizing that just makes you cry more.
“It’s okay, baby. Your heart’s been broken so you’re going to cry. It’s okay to cry.” Yeri coos at you, echoing your own thoughts. But somehow hearing it from her makes it more soothing. She was right. You had liked a boy and he had broken your heart. It had happened. You were going to cry.
So you laid in Yeri’s arms and let her comfort you. Even Galbi the asshole had joined your pity party as he sat on top of your head and purred, as if he realized you needed comforting and all the purring was going to heal whatever hurt you were feeling. You laid and you cried and you cried till you were all cried out and sleep was taking you.
“That is a shiner.” you say, eyes wide.
“Mhmm. It’s my mark of honor.” Haechan smiles his smug, annoying smile as he leans back in his chair.
The library was emptier than usual, because really, exams were over for most students. So people that lived in and around campus were basically using it as a common room.
“I mean, it’s a shiner as big as I’ve ever seen.” you say, leaning over and lightly tracing the hues of red, purple and black under your friend’s eye. And he just sits there, chin jutting out, smiling broad, proudly allowing it to be touched like a trophy.
“It’s the outcome of me being the biggest little shit, so it goes with the vibe.” Haechan says and you make a face at him.
“Honestly, I’m surprised it took someone so long. Lowkey impressed that you’ve avoided these so far, despite being that professional little shit.” you lightly press the pad of your index on a particularly discolored area and watch as he moves away.
“Guess I’d just been looking for the right reason to get one.” he says, still wearing the smug look on his face. But he must have noticed a change in your expression because he gives you a look of disapproval.
“Hey, stop that.” he snaps at you.
“Stop what?” you retort defensively.
“Stop it with those sad puppy eyes. I don’t like it.” he almost scolds.
“I’m only sad because it’s making you look uglier than usual.” you reply pouting.
“Please. It’s making me look sexier than usual.”
“If ugly was the new sexy, then sure.”
“Yo, he’s not ugly, he’s just not in his moment right now.” he pouts and nothing on Haechan’s face says that he’s joking which somehow makes it funnier.
“What’s that even supposed to mean?” you wanna smack him on the head.
“It means that you need to give it till tomorrow to finally see it in it’s full bloom.” he says with the most satisfied look on his face but it deflates you. Shit. This wasn’t even the worst of it. He was probably going to look worse in the next couple of days.
Haechan sighs because you figure he finally sees that this conversation isn’t exactly making you feel any better. So he addresses the elephant in the room.
“He’s an asshole.” he says simply.
“Haechan…” you stop him because honestly, you didn’t really want to talk about it anymore, especially not with him. You didn’t want to be that person that makes mutual friends pick a side. Besides, Renjun had been right. They were technically his friends. But they were also your friends. This was a hot mess already and you didn’t want to add to it.
“I’m only saying it because it’s true. But, also, Y/N…” he’s taken your nickname and his voice has suddenly gone small and so apologetic that you look up, just to check if he’s the one talking. Your stupid friend had a way of never reading the room and keeping up his joking antics no matter the circumstance. So hearing his voice do that got your attention to say the least.
“I, uh…” he goes on and he looks like he’s uncomfortable, like he’s trying to find the words to break some bad news. “He’s an asshole and all, but… I’m kind of the one that put that idea in his head in the first place.” he fesses up and finally meets your eyes.
You jump a bit as you see a strong arm reach over your shoulder and set down a coffee cup on the table with a resounding thud. Jeno has appeared as if on cue and he now has those arms crossed over his chest as he pins Haechan down with a death stare.
Haechan looks up at his audience of two and decides to address the boy that stands there looking like he would most likely complete his shiner set. “I just told him Y/N was Kim Doyoung’s sister! You know he had been dying to get into Midnight Arthouse! And Y/N was the one that asked him out! Didn’t you, Y/N?” he looks at you with eyes that plead for help “I only told him he should accept her date, I promise. But yes, it was my stupid idea and fuck, I wish I could take it back. I’m an idiot and I deserve whatever you want to do to me, Y/N.” he holds his hands up as if in surrender as he watches Jeno’s cold expression and your unreadable one.
You reach your hand over towards him and watch as he closes his eyes and braces to perhaps be punched in the face again. But you don’t punch him. You ruffle his hair.
“Don’t do it again, okay?” you scrunch your nose at him and give him a smile to put him out of his misery.
Heachan lets out a long, dramatic exhale that finally matches his true personality. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” he says, actually crossing his heart over his chest and he looks up at Jeno to seek his forgiveness as well.
Jeno’s expression has softened and he’s smiling, almost as if he had expected this confession and its outcome. He was always more perceptive than he let on. Although his arms are still intimidatingly crossed over his chest as he says
“Follow me to the rooftop, Lee Donghyuck.”
“Yes, yes, I know I deserve it, because I know she’s your childhood friend. But she’s my best friend now and if she’s forgiven me, then--”
“--you’re a piece of shit.” Jeno declares and takes a seat next to you, laying out the rest of the breakfast he got. You snigger and hug onto his arm, as if to thank him for... everything. You and Jeno had never been one to talk things out, but an advantage of being friends for so long was that you didn’t have you. He would understand what you mean, even though all you’d done was held and leaned into his arm.
Haechan looks at the two of you fondly and waits a couple of beats. His voice is soft and empathetic when he says, “He probably didn’t mean those things he said, you know? He was drunk.”
“We were all drunk.” you agree, tracing your finger over your coffee cup.
“He’s an asshole, but… he likes you, you know?” Haechan says and suddenly, you can’t look anybody in the eye anymore. You don’t want to say anything either, because you’re afraid your voice would give you away.
So you purse your lips and take a deep breath before you say “Yeah, well… it doesn’t really matter now, does it?”
“I’m going to kick his stupid ass.” Haechan mutters but it only makes Jeno chuckle.
“You mean when you’re not too busy getting your ass kicked by him?” he pokes fun while he feeds you a bit of his croissant. And despite everything, you find yourself laughing out loud.
“Hey! I could totally take him down if I wanted to. I was just holding back.” Haechan puffs his chest and Jeno smiles wider, shaking his head.
“Ugh, you know what. We’re on semester break. We’ve literally been waiting for this time. Let’s just chill before I have to leave.” you declare.
Haechan snaps and points his finger at you. “That is the right attitude, Y/N L/N.”
After that, he goes on and on, talking nonstop about everything you could do while you didn’t have classes, doing the most to make it up to you. You listen to him fondly as you happily enjoy breakfast with your friends.
Down the rows, Renjun had walked into the hall, hoping the library could be his sanctuary for the day. How very wrong he was. Because now, he just watched into the distance as you reach out to ruffle Donghyuck’s hair and Jeno smiles down at the two of you. Unbelievable. Renjun turns on his heel right away and leaves. Because this was unbelievable.
How come Lee Donghyuck came out of this situation unscathed? It was his stupid idea to begin with. Renjun had been happy living his life normally till Donghyuck encouraged him to date you. So how come neither you nor Jeno were mad at him? Renjun was the only one that came out of this as the bad guy. And everyone else just continued on to be one big happy fucking family.
Last night, Jisung had left to stay over at Chenle’s, and Renjun assumed it was so he didn’t have to be in the same room as him. He hadn’t seen Jeno, and it was probably because he had woken early morning to have breakfast with you. The only one of his friends that Renjun saw this morning was Jaemin. But the only thing he had said before he walked out the door was that he was spending the day with his girlfriend and won’t be home either.
It seemed like everyone around him was doing their best to avoid him. He felt like a dementor. Like he was putting out lights wherever he went. Like he was draining hope, peace and happiness out of everyone that came in contact with him. That’s perhaps why his friends wanted to stay away from him.
There was maybe some advantage to that. Renjun wanted to be alone. You had pretty much stolen all his friends. It was clear that they had taken your side in all of this. No one had wanted to know what Renjun was going through. But they were all too concerned about the poor little rich girl. It’s why they were with you this morning and not him. Poor little rich girl that got her heart broken by Renjun the asshole. Of course, no one would want to know the other side of the story, Renjun thinks bitterly.
What was the other side of the story, anyway? That you had been too kind to him? That you had been thoughtful and understanding? That you made so much effort to be a part of his life, and he had made none? That you had put a word in with your brother right after you had first met Renjun, before your relationship had even begun?
You had done everything in your power to make Renjun look like the bad guy. And he realizes that this was precisely the reason he never wanted to look at you ever again. Renjun feels nothing but bitterness in his heart. He had spent all those weeks exploiting your feelings for him. Making you believe that he was interested in you so he could get close enough that you would introduce him to your brother. But all of it had been for naught. Because you didn’t need a relationship or a reason to be kind to people. You had just heard Renjun’s dream and fulfilled it that very same day you had met him. You had granted him his biggest wish whilst wanting nothing in return, expecting nothing back. You had put him in your debt. And he hated you for it.
Renjun needed a break. Because his life seemed to be throwing him more curveballs than he could possibly manage. He wanted to reverse it all. Go back to the time when he hadn’t met you. He should’ve turned you down during that ill-fated online class. Then none of this would’ve happened.
But almost as if the heavens wanted to give him a cruel reminder that all of it, in fact, had happened and he, in fact, had exploited you, he gets a phone call. Whilst he can barely make out the number through his cracked screen, he recognizes the voice right away.
“Huang Renjun!”
“Kim Doyoung.” Renjun replies automatically, because his mind is still processing the irony of it all.
“I have a proposition for you.” Doyoung goes straight to the point and Renjun realizes that he’s not talking to him as your brother right now. He’s talking to him as the owner of Midnight fucking Arthouse.
“Uh, okay?” Renjun says and almost instantly regrets it. He should’ve said something more professional, but he has to admit he has been caught off guard.
“Can you come meet me at the studio in an hour?” he states more than he asks. And Renjun gets the feeling that this man hasn’t been told ‘no’ enough. At least not in this context.
“I… I can.” Dammit. Why wasn’t Renjun able to put more than two words together today?
“Great. Let’s have a lunch meeting at my studio.” Doyoung once again states. Renjun would usually be annoyed when someone was this imposing with him. But for some reason, Kim Doyoung’s boss voice is working on him.
“Okay, see you in an hour.” Renjun says and he’s glad he’s spoken a full sentence this time.
“Great. Oh, and Renjun?”
“Yes?”
“Bring your portfolio along.”
Renjun doesn’t know how long he sits there. The steak that was served to him in a pretentiously off-centered plate remains mostly untouched. Because Renjun couldn’t keep more than two bites down. Not when Kim fucking Doyoung was standing up and flipping through his portfolio without a sound.
This portfolio was Renjun’s lifelong work. Who knows how long he had spent on each piece. Some day, when he had the time, he was going to calculate the number of man hours he spent on building the whole damn thing. And then calculate how many days, weeks or months it amounted to in total. Because the way Kim Doyoung was flipping through it without much care minimized his life’s worth to mere seconds. He had spent hours and hours on each work and Kim Doyoung didn’t even spare more than half an eyeful on each piece.
And not a single word.
Doyoung seemed to be a different person at work than he had been at the party at his parent’s home. Here, he was the Kim Doyoung, and for a moment, Renjun could finally see how he might have risen all the way up to the top. Because every single minute of his life was accounted for. From the moment Renjun had walked in, all he could see was how his assistant kept pushing him from one task to the other. He hadn’t even spent too long on pleasantries before he took Renjun to his office for lunch. And if he thought that lunch for Doyoung would be a time of peace, he was wrong. Because he ate quickly and Renjun couldn’t possibly meet his speed. He supposed that’s how successful people ate. Because every minute they ate was every minute they were not making money. Renjun was only halfway through his lunch when Doyoung had gotten up and started going through his portfolio.
And Renjun hadn’t been able to take a single bite since. His stomach was in knots. He felt small, sitting here in this grand old office in one of the biggest arthouses of the country. Weirdly, Renjun finds himself internally smiling at the fact that Doyoung had called this place a studio. Because, no way. The place that Renjun interned at was a studio. This was a fucking art museum and nothing less.
A finalizing shut of the portfolio is what breaks Renjun out of his thoughts.
“Okay, Huang Renjun, I’m going to cut to the chase.” Doyoung says and Renjun sits up straighter, his eyes and ears attentive and open. “I need new artists for the 2021 Midnight Arthouse Annuale. Every artist that I’ve ever introduced in spring has gone on to become a best seller by winter.”
Of course he knew that. Renjun could name every single artist that had gotten that exposure. But hearing it straight from the man that gave it to them was making goosebumps run down his spine.
“I’ve got two spots to debut artists that no one has ever heard of. And someone put in a very convincing word for you.” he says and Renjun feels his stomach do a flip before it drowns in guilt, because he knows that the both of them know who that someone is. “But I’m going to be honest with you. Nothing I see in here is worthy of the Annuale.” he says plainly. Renjun looks up. His heart drops.
“Um… nothing?” Renjun asks stupidly. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel like the big man that had punched someone in the face from an inflated ego the night before. He feels like the little fish in a sea of big fishes. He feels like someone is finally showing him the mirror and telling him exactly what he’s worth in the context of big names and big opportunities. And it’s a humbling and sobering experience. Because Renjun feels his hangover dissipating.
“This is basically an art student’s portfolio. What you’ve shown me is essentially a series of assignments you’ve made for your professors. Nothing is inspired. Nothing has vision. Nothing in here jumps out at me and tells me who Huang Renjun is.” Doyoung is speaking to him straight up. No niceties. No filters. He’s speaking to him like the owner of a huge motherfucking company and nothing less.
And maybe someone had to speak to Renjun this way and deflate his ego, so he could finally open his eyes to the real world. Because Renjun doesn’t feel angry or broody or venomous over these words. He feels like he has been sobered. He finds himself agreeing with everything that has been said. Like he’s opened his eyes for the first time and finally seen what he’s actually like without his ego or conceit filtering his vision. He was absolutely right. Kim Doyoung had been the one to tell him this before. But sitting here in his huge fucking office, in a building where he was surrounded by art that was in every way better than his… it puts everything in context, and Renjun finally realizes that he had been right all along.
“So, here’s my proposition.” Doyoung begins. “Make me something worthy of the Annuale. And I’ll help you make your debut.”
Renjun’s eyes widen. His mind races. He didn’t have much time. And the stakes were too high. How could he possibly make the best work of his life, the work that would help him launch his dream in a span of two weeks? It wasn’t enough time.
Then again, this was the opportunity of a lifetime. This was make or break. So Renjun doesn’t even think much before he replies “I’ll do it. I’ll show you.”
Doyoung smiles. “I had a feeling you’d say that. In that case, I have another meeting to go to. But my assistant will help you sort out the details. I’m sure you’ll understand.” he says, already getting up and putting his jacket on.
Renjun stands with him. He doesn’t believe it. Suddenly, this opportunity feels too big for his breaches. But it’s there for the grabbing. And he could only ever miss the shot he never shoots.
Yet somehow, Renjun also feels like he’s about to make a deal with the devil. Is this how the unassuming hero feels in movies when he’s made an agreement with the mob boss? Renjun reckons it comes close. He’s not sure whether to shake hands or to bow in these situations. So he stands there awkwardly and does neither as Doyoung walks to his door.
“My assistant will be in contact with you. I look forward to seeing your masterpiece.” he smiles a loaded smile and in that moment, Renjun decides that your brother was nothing like you.
“Oh, and Renjun. The theme is ‘The Past Year’ but don’t tell anybody that.” he smiles and Renjun nods as Doyoung takes his leave. He’s not sure why he’s been given that extra bit of information. He’s not sure if that pointer has come from Kim Doyoung of Midnight Arthouse or Y/N L/N’s older brother. It is a bit of a mindfuck, but Renjun tries not to dwell on it too much. He had to leave his intellectual capacities free for his bigger purpose.
Renjun looks up to see Doyoung’s assistant smiling professionally at him. “Would you like a tour, Mr. Huang?” she says and Renjun once again gets the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory feels he always got around your family’s grandeur. But this was more than riches. This was art from people Renjun had admired and closely followed. Maybe this would give him some inspiration and put him in the right headspace.
“Yes, please.” Renjun says a bit too eagerly before he is led outside.
It is once again, a humbling experience. Renjun had already seen most of the work displayed here in one form or the other. But watching it with the naked eye and up close was a different experience altogether. The art here was in a different league and now Renjun starts to understand what Kim Doyoung had meant. None of Renjun’s existing works came close to what he was seeing displayed right here. He had thought Midnight Arthouse was some sort of a viral launcher. The kind of company that only looked for social media sensations rather than trailblazers and actual talent. But Renjun realizes that he had been massively underestimating them. Kim Doyoung knew what he was doing. Renjun did not.
All this time, Renjun had walked the earth with a chip on his shoulder. He had been envious of everyone who ever did better than him. He had resented every artist that had risen to fame for reasons Renjun could not understand. He had judged every person ever who was well connected enough to rise to the top.
And now, standing here in the majesty of Midnight Arthouse’s proud displays, all Renjun feels is small. Like he’s been served a slice of humble pie. For the first time in a long time, Renjun feels inspired, but not from a place of envy or jealousy or bitterness or vengeance. He feels inspired to make the most out of the opportunity that his life had given him. Because who was he to judge anyone that used connections when he was standing here doing the same? The mere fact that he, a junior in college had gotten a meeting with Kim Doyoung over lunch in his office while his assistant was personally showing him around… that was proof that Renjun had become one of those well-connected people.
Renjun’s initial feeling had been right. This was a deal with the devil. Because Renjun had paid a pretty big price for it. His stomach feels queasy. Was it only last night that he was going around throwing punches and being a general asshole? He doesn’t want to think about it. Because then he’d be forced to remember the faces of all his friends, and he didn’t want to revisit that memory through the lens of a deflated ego and a dissolving hangover. So Renjun is almost thankful when Doyoung’s assistant speaks to him.
“Are you ready for some paperwork? Just some general entry applications and agreements.” she says, still smiling that strictly professional smile.
Renjun takes a deep breath in. He feels unprepared, yet ready. He was going to take this opportunity. Or everything he had done this past year would have been for naught.
“Let’s do it.” Renjun says, nodding.
“Great. Follow me.” she says and Renjun starts walking. Each step forward feels like a heavy, purposeful and loaded step towards his future. Here it was, a few strides away from his grabbing. Forget the past year. His whole life had been amounting to this moment.
Every stroke of his brush had led him here. Every drop of his sweat. Every sleepless night. Every decision he had made. Every heart he had broken. Every friend he had lost.
Renjun was walking towards his goal a man with nothing left to lose. And he had heard that they made the most dangerous men. His future was two strides away now. Two more strides and he’d be one step closer to achieving his life goal.
But when he’s about to make the final stride, Renjun receives a phone call that shatters his entire world as he knows it.
And in that moment, he turns on his heel and runs faster than he ever had in his entire life. The future that was so close that he could almost taste it, now becomes smaller and smaller as it fades into the background behind him. Because Renjun had run in the opposite direction and left it in his dust.
Renjun pushes through the doors and doesn’t even absorb the pain he should be feeling in his shoulder from the force of the contact.
“Where is she!” he yells. He doesn’t feel like a person. Because how much could one person take, anyway? How many times could he be beaten down by the universe before he would fall to his knees and beg to be spared?
He looks around and finally spots the man he calls his father standing near a watercooler, talking to someone he doesn’t recognize. So he has no care about rushing up and getting in his face. Because what more was there left to lose?
“Where is she?” he yells at his face. His father nods a farewell at the unassuming man before he turns to his son.
“In the isolation ward, Renjun. Where else would she be?” his father says and his voice is so calm that Renjun wants to grab at his collar. But he takes in a deep shaky breath to calm himself. It doesn’t happen. So he finds himself yelling again.
“How did this even happen! She hasn’t even been outside her house this entire time!” Renjun is trying so hard to hold back the tears of rage. But they’re threatening to explode any minute now.
“What does it matter how she got the virus? It’s a global pandemic. She has it now, like thousands of people around the world. The doctors are doing all they can.” his father says and if Renjun had been in his right mind, he would’ve realized that this was the first time he had spoken to him in over a year. But all he could think of right now was so what if others had it? So what if every fucking person in the world had it? How dare his father say that?
“How are they doing all they can when she’s on fucking life support?!” Renjun growls through his teeth and he’s inhaling sharp breaths to keep himself from breaking.
“Your mother is with her, Renjun. The best you can do now is pray.” he replies and Renjun wants to hit him. He wants to punch that holier than thou look off his face. His grandmother was probably on her last breath and his father had the audacity to ask him to pray.
“I have to go see her. I have to take care of her.” Renjun turns and looks around, breathing heavily before he begins to move. But his father grabs at his arm.
“You can’t see her, Renjun. Are you even listening to me? Your grandmother is in the isolation ward. There’s only one family member allowed and your mother is it.” he has raised his voice at him.
“She doesn’t know! She doesn’t fucking care about her! I’m the only one who knows! I have to be there with her!” Renjun shouts at him and he’s only acutely aware that he’s sobbing because his words are loud but inchoate.
“Renjun. Son. There’s nothing we can do.” his father shakes his head at him and watches with his mouth open as his son sobs and barges to the door like a madman. Because Renjun will find a way to get to her. No one cared about her like he did. No one loved her like he did. It had always been him and his grandmother against the world. He needed to be there for her. But the hospital staff is grabbing at him and pushing him out while his father watches from a distance like a helpless man.
Renjun is barely aware that he’s doubling over because his tears are blinding him or that he’s been led outside because the cool air is hitting him. He gets up to charge back in but his resolve is so much weaker now and he feels another hold around him, keeping him back.
"Renjun I'm so sorry. Your mother called me. I don't think she knows about us." Yoo Jimin whispers softly as he falls to his knees. She crouches next to him and puts her arms around him.
And in this strange, awful moment, Renjun finds himself realizing that the arms that are holding him aren't the arms that he wanted. The arms that are soothing him and holding him while he cries into the ground are not the arms he craved.
He wanted the arms that had held him that one night while Renjun had laid his head on their shoulder and bared his heart for the very first time. He wants the arms that had enveloped him and had, for at least a moment, made everything alright. He wanted the arms of the person whose heart he had cruelly broken.
Copyright © 2021 NeoCultureTravesty. All rights reserved.
#renjun fic#renjun angst#renjun fluff#ficscafe#kpopscape#neowritingsnet#dreamwritersnet#huang renjun#renjun#nct#nct dream#nct fic#nct dream fic#nct angst#nct fluff#nct college au#renjun x reader#we met in online class
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Get Some - Tierna Davidson x Reader
Prompt: So I’ve got an idea for Tierna x Reader where they’ve just started dating after quarantined together in Chicago but haven’t told the team yet because they don’t want to mess up the dynamics right before the Olympics. Nobody really suspects anything bc they are both pretty tame at camps, and bc reader has severe baby face the team is always teasing her about being an innocent little fetus forgetting she is actually like 24. So when R shows up to Orlando camp in a bulky hoodie they think nothing of it assuming it’s from Chicago weather until they notice she refuses to take it off and keeps adjusting the hood to keep part of her neck covered. They let her be thinking maybe she’s just cold until she shows up ready for practice with her winter mock neck on under her practice jersey the next day. After they force her to take it off bc it’s 80° out they discover the hickeys she was trying to hide, along with the scratches on her back and freak out bc someone is “defileing the fetus” and grill her trying to figure out who it is while Tierna is just smirking to herself by her locker.
TL/DR: Tierna x Reader trying and failing to hide r’s “love marks” featuring Proud!Tierna and BabyFace!Reader
Note - this awesome human, pretty much wrote this me.
“Cold munchkin?” Alex teased the forward as she sat next to her in the team meeting. Her hood up, sweater strings tied.
“Not all of us live in constant heat and humidity Morgan. I bet you’re jealous of my lack of tan too,” Y/N winked back, tugging the sweater tighter around her neck.
Tierna grinned behind them, struggling to stifle her laughter.
“Of course she’s jealous! Who wouldn’t want to look like this?” Rose slid in on the other side of Y/N.
“Yea Alex, pale is the new tan,” Sonnett squeezed Alex’s traps from behind as she sat down next to Tierna.
Alex rolled her eyes at unexpected turn.
Vlatko called attention to the rest of the room, starting the meeting for the start of camp.
Tierna kicked the back of Y/N chair while she continued to try and hide her grin from everyone around her. Lindsey giving her a strange look.
At the end of the meeting, everyone made their way to the banquet room for supper, still all separated until everyone’s test results came in.
“Hey kiddo, you need someone to cut up your food at supper?” Kelley teased, nudging the forward as she made her way to her own seat.
“Ha ha,” Y/N fake laughed, rolling her eyes, “because I’m not old enough to have my knife.”
“You got it,” Kelley winked, shooting her air guns across the table.
After that conversation flowed easily, the players all talking to each other from a distance, making the room busy and loud; everyone eager to catch up.
After supper, Y/N and Tierna attempted to stall, hoping to steal a brief moment together before they all had to spend the night alone in their rooms.
“We should just tell them we had been quarantined in Chicago together, then we could be together,” Tierna tugged on Y/N’s sleeve, swinging both their arms back and forth.
“You need T to walk you to your room, so you don’t get lost?” Ali teased as she walked by.
“Where the hell does everyone keep coming from,” Tierna grumbled quietly, while Y/N rolled her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that day.
“I’m not a child!” Y/N stomped her foot.
“Great argument kiddo,” Pinoe held a thumbs up as she walked past to the elevator.
“I can find my own room!” Y/N called after her, starting to walk away, only to feel another firm pull on her sleeve. She glanced down to see Tierna still holding on, looking up to see the smirk on her girlfriends face.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to tuck our kid into bed.” Tierna started to pull Y/N towards the stairs by her sleeve.
Once out of site of the rest of the team, Tierna pinned Y/N against the wall, untieing the strings to her hood. Nosing it out of her way, Tierna started kiss along her jaw line, placing a firm bite to her ear.
“I am addicted to you,” Tierna pulled the collar out of the way, moving her lips to Y/N’s collar bone, scrapping her teeth on it, then soothing it with a gentle kiss.
“Fuck T,” Y/N tilted her head back, giving Tierna more room to kiss. Her hand gripping the back of Tierna’s neck, other sliding under her shirt, scrapping her nails across her ribs.
Tierna sucked harshly Y/N throat, pulling back to see the result, a deep red mark already beginning to turn purple. “You’re going to need to ask the staff for a neck warmer tomorrow,” she whispered into Y/N’s throat, scrapping her teeth across the bruise.
Y/N pulled her hand out from Tierna’s shirt, placing her palms on her chest, debating if she should push her away. She loved what was happening, but knew they needed to stop before things got carried away, or Tierna left any more marks.
“Fuck T,” Y/N groaned out, beginning to push the defender away, “we aren’t in quarantine anymore, people can actually see us now, more importantly, our team can see now.”
“Hmm that would be unfortunate if someone saw these,” Tierna smirked as she leaned back in, attempting to place more kisses along Y/N’s neck. Only for Y/N to push more firmly against her chest.
“You’re killing me babe,” Y/N bit her lip, trying to hold back her smile. Tierna looking completely unashamed, bit the air in front of Y/N, beginning to slide her hands up the front of Y/N’s shirt, digging her thumbs into her hips. Y/N moaned at the pressure, hips pressing out for more contact.
With a brief kiss to Y/N’s lips, Tierna pulled away completely, taking three large steps back and holding her hand out.
“Come on, I promised to make sure you make it to bed safe,” she winked, wiggling her fingers to encourage Y/N to grab.
“I hate you,” Y/N said gruffly, stepping forward to take Tierna’s hand.
“No you don’t,” she sung back, swinging their arms back and forth as they began walking up the stairs.
“I do a little bit,” she mumbled, looking away from the brunette, knowing her faux seriousness would crack as soon as she saw the large smile her girlfriend had on.
“Nope!” Tierna accentuated the ‘p’ at the end, swinging their arms higher, finally earning a giggle from her girlfriend. Her ability to go from pinning Y/N to the wall and leaving hickeys across her neck to innocent and childlike was incredible.
Y/N finally gave in completely and burst out laughing as they climbed the stairs, pushing her shoulders into the taller soccer player. The two gently wrestling the rest of the way up the stairs, separating as they made it to their floor.
Tierna walked Y/N to her door, making a show of it, “I’m just down the hall if you have any bad dreams,” she ruffled her hair and began to walk away. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”
Several loud laughs could be heard from the doors that still remained open.
The next morning players prepared for practice on the side lines, tugging on cleats and debating on long sleeves or short sleeves, Y/N tugged her neck warmer on, tugging it all the way up to her ears.
“Yo, Chicago, shouldn’t you be used to the cold?” Kristie teased as they made their on the turf to warm up.
“Rude! I’m delicate!”
“Yea Kris be nice to the little kid,” Alex came from behind, rubbing her hands up and down Y/N’s biceps. “you cold? Do you need a sweater? Gloves?”
Y/N pulled out of Alex’s hands, rolling her eyes, “I’m fine, just a little chilly this morning.”
Everyone left it for the rest of the morning training.
Y/N was not as lucky that afternoon. Everyone offering warmer items of clothing when they saw her wearing the neck warmer again in the afternoon.
“Are you sick?” Christen reached up, attempting to feel Y/N’s forehead. Y/N was quick to duck out of the way, swatting Christens hand.
“Seriously guys, I’m fine, just not adjusting well to the climate change or something,” Y/N tried to avoid glaring at Tierna, knowing the defender would a smirk on her face throughout it all.
“Are you sure Y/N/N? Should we get the trainers?” know Tierna decided to join in the conversation. Y/N looked sharply at her girlfriend, clenching her jaw, she was the reason for the interrogation.
“I’m fine,” Y/N snarked to the group, “It’s a neck warmer, just drop it.”
“It is way to humid put here right now for you to be chilled,” Ali came over, rubbing her hand on Y/N’s shoulder, sensing the forwards discomfort at being put on the spot. But also concerned for the younger woman, no one should be chilled in the mid-afternoon Florida heat.
The entire practice everyone kept an eye on the younger soccer player. As the intensity of the practice increased, Y/N continued to tug at the neck warmer she was wearing. The hair at the base of her skull soaked with sweat, the collar of shirt drenched the entire away around, face flushed as she heated up.
At the end of practice, Y/N attempted to pull her hoodie over head after she had pulled the neck warm off. Unfortunately, she was not quick enough her movements, the hem getting caught on her sweaty, tangled bun.
“What in the actual fuck happened to your neck?” Pinoe explained, stopping Y/N from pulling the sweater on, gaining the attention of the rest of the team.
Kelley quickly bounded over, pulling the collar of her practice shirt out of the way. The rest of the team now all looking on.
“What happened to your neck?” Alex came over as well, thumb and forefinger holding Y/N’s chin, moving her head around, inspecting the now very prominent hickeys spread across the neck, collar bone, and upper chest.
A loud cat call whistle was heard from behind and “Oh damn” thrown from someone else, follow up with “get some!”
“No! Don’t get anything!” Christen shot the group of young players a hard look, eyes sharp when she looked back to Y/N, “who did this to you?”
“What? This?” Y/N motioned to her neck, “I, uhh, got a tour of the aquarium. They let me hold one of the octopuses.” She finished with a firm nod, satisfied with her answer, smiling to herself.
Tierna remained on the bench a few feet away, coughing to cover her sudden laugh at the terrible story.
“Bullshit!” Alex challenged, still holding Y/N chin firmly. Y/N attempted to pull away, Alex adjusted her grip, palming her jaw.
“Who did this to you?” Christen asked again.
“You’re like 12! No one should be doing this to you!”
“I’m 24,” Y/N rolled her eyes, attempting to pull away, only to be pulled back in.
“You are far too young to young to have hickeys!”
“I’ve had sex before.”
“No! you are not old enough to have sex!”
By now, Tierna was leaning back on the bench, watching as all the older players harassed her girlfriend, all unaware she was the cause of the marks on the young forward. She spread her arms on the back of the bench, leg casually crossed over the other, smug smile.
“Welp,” she popped the ‘p’, “I’ve kissed people, given hickeys, been hickied,” she motioned to her neck again, “and even had sex. Really good, mind blowing sex.” With a wink, Alex finally let her step out of her grip.
“Eww! No!”
“Y/N! Enough, tell us who did this to you? We obviously need to talk to them if they are doing things like this to you.”
“Guys, quit being so dramatic,” Y/N rolled her eyes, attempting to take another step away from the over protective players.
“No no no, come back here,” Tobin stepped forward now. “That ones fresh!” she copied Alex’s motion earlier, gripping her jaw and tilting it up to the expose the fresh hickey on the side.
This caused them all to step closer and inspect the hickey for themselves. Tierna uncrossed her legs, sitting up a little straighter, smile slipping slightly.
“That means its someone at camp!” Kristie called from behind all the veterans.
Y/N eyes went wide, smile fully dropping from Tierna’s face. The overprotective players all looking around, scanning each player, trying to determine who it could be.
“Is it a player? Staff? Coach?” Alex looked firmly at the younger forward.
“Gonna go save your girl?” Alyssa slid onto the bench next to Tierna on the bench, smirking at her.
“What?” Tierna whispered, shocked, eyes darting quickly to the keeper.
“Well,” Alyssa started slowly, “most of those are old, so they happened in Chicago, and you, me, and Y/N/N were the only ones there together. And there’s a fresh one since we got here. And since I didn’t do it, that only leaves you.” She firmly poked Tierna in the chest.
Tierna opened and closed her mouth. “Umm, uhh, fuck.”
“I won’t tell, but you might want to go save her over there. You know none of them are going to drop it until they figure it out,” Alyssa shrugged, “besides it’s your fault really. You are the one that put those one there.”
Tierna continued to open and close her mouth, then watched as the veterans continued to ask Y/N who It was and beginning to call out several of the younger players who were all enjoying the small interrogation.
“Fuck,” Tierna sighed out, she slapped her thighs and pushed herself to stand. “Kell, Stanford should take your degree away.”
Kelley whipped around to glare at Tierna as she walked toward the group, “what are you talking about?”
“You’re really not very observant,” Tierna smirked at her, “I’m going to let you guys think on this a little more, Y/N/N and I are going to head back to the hotel for supper.”
Y/N smirked and skipped toward the defender.
Everyone watched them walk away, mouth open, eyebrows creased.
“Wait,” Lindsey perked up, smile growing as she figured it out, “weren’t they both in Chicago together?”
That brought all eyes over to the midfielder.
“Yes!” Kelley pointed at her, “they did! Baby T defiled baby Y/N!”
“Shit, I thought we would get further away,” Tierna tugged Y/N’s hand encouraging them to run towards an available van.
“We aren’t done with this!” Alex yelled after them.
#uswnt x reader#uswnt imagines#uswnt imagine#tierna davidson x reader#tierna davidson imagine#tierna davidson imagines
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A Character Analysis on Seong Gi-Hun (Squid Game)
made at 2 AM running on 1 hour of sleep so I hope it makes sense
A lot of people were baffled by the ending of Squid Game, where Gi-hun actively chose to not get on the plane for his daughter and try to stop the salesman trying to recruit a player for the game.
I think it's actually quite fitting for his character.
Now, I'm not saying that he's not a bad dad for doing this, I'm just saying that all his actions make sense, especially if you analyse it.
Still, I'm going to use the bad father narrative and the common comments that come with it to form a clear picture for his main character trait:
Firstly, the fact that people say his daughter is his main motivation to play the games. Now, at first, you could definitely argue that this is true. He's first approached by a salesman (Gong Yoo, which, holy shit, he's so fucking hot, by the way) right after his daughter's disastrous birthday celebration. He plays, and makes his way home. At home, he finds out from his mother that his daughter will be moving to the US and he can only get her back if he can provide for her. Seeing it as harmless and a way to make quick money, he calls the number.
However, when the first game ends, he votes not to continue, and is sent back home. Here, we find out that his mother is severely diabetic. This leads to an argument where he vows to get the money for her treatment one way or another. Subsequently, he tries to beg both his friends and even his ex-wife for a loan, and almost gets the money from her ex-wife's current husband, who told him to stay away from his family. He's seen walking home in the rain and sees the business card right after that.
I think this episode cements the fact that his main motivation, is not, in fact, his daughter—she's only a small part of it; his main motivation is his desperate need for money for his mother's treatment, and that little jab of the stepfather to him just adds insult to injury, and therefore, just a bonus perk of winning the game. In fact, this is further proven in episode 8, when Saebyeok asks Gi-hun what he'll do with the money if he gets out, and he sees he'll use it for his mother's treatment, and then set-up a proper store for her, because it's actually her dream. Only then, so he says, would he try to be a good father to his daughter. His daughter was not on the top of his priority list for the prize money.
Next, the argument that he knew from the very start that he's playing for blood money, so why doesn't he just use it to provide for his kid?
I don't think that argument's very fair. I genuinely think that he did not, in fact, know what he signed up for, and that's because the game mods had phrased their rules in a very particular way.
The game mods had told them that if they survive all six games, they get to win the money. That is very open to different interpretations but what I think Gi-hun thought is that there isn't one winner—anyone who survives 'til the end will get a portion of that money. So my theory on his thought process is that he only signed up to risk ONLY his personal health and safety, not thinking he'd have to kill anybody else. In fact, in that one scene in Episode 4, when a few players don't get enough food and have a scuffle leading to the death of one player, he is the first one who demanded something be done about it, saying that they're not there to kill each other like animals, before it's revealed that foul play is, in fact, condoned and even rewarded by the game mods.
But now Gi-hun's stuck there and he has to see it through. But he doesn't have to be happy about it.
I think one of the scenes that further cements this is in the Tug of War game—in the moment, he doesn't want to die, but then they show alternating perspectives of his team and the opposing team, and there's a myriad of expressions on his face; one of them, possibly fear and guilt as he sees the faces of the people on the other team struggling to pull back. Then, in the elevator, we have a shot of him staring at the rope burns in his hands with a clearly conflicted and horrified look on his face—which I interpreted as the moment it had sunk in that he'd have to kill people to survive.
Next is the reasoning on why he left the prize money untouched, but gave 2/3 of it Sangwoo's mother and Saebyeok's brother, but not his daughter.
Now, we've established that he probably sees this money as blood money; Gi-hun probably feels incredibly guilty or blames himself for killing his friends and other people, or at least having some kind of hand in them. He's already promised to take care of Saebyeok's brother and Sangwoo's mother, so I'm not particularly surprised. The thing is, I think he gives the money to Saebyeok's brother and Sangwoo's mother and doesn't feel bad about where it came from is because he knows that's the reason why they played the games in the first place. It was their blood that was spilled, so it would have only been fitting for them to get money.
But why not his daughter? Again, this goes back to the guilt argument. Gi-hun thinks this is blood money; and knowing how he'd gotten it, knowing what he had to do to get it (and not being able to fulfill the main motivation on why he joined, treating his mother, who died before he could come back), it would weigh on someone. It would also make sense that he wouldn't want to give his daughter that money and try to explain it, not wanting to relive or come up with a lie for what he had to go through. In his eyes, that money is tainted, and he doesn't want his daughter anywhere near what he experienced in that arena.
Lastly, why he didn't get on the plane. See, this ties in to what I think is his main character trait; he sees a salesman trying to find players for the game, indicating that it is, in fact, still on-going, despite Oh Il-Nam's death, and interrupts them.
The reasoning behind this is that he knows his daughter is already well-provided for: even in the first few episodes, we see that she has a nice house and clothes, attentive parents and is clearly doing okay with her stepfather getting a steady job in the US. In his mind, she'll be just fine.
But he was in these people's shoes before—desperately trying to make ends meet, finding away to survive, only to be taken advantage of and made to sign their own death warrant for entertainment purposes. These people have no idea what's to come for them.
In Gi-hun's head, it's his daughter's life, who is already set and comfortable with her new family, versus the lives of possibly hundreds of people who had no idea what they're getting into, many of whom may not be as lucky as he is.
That would eat at his conscience, or so I think it would. Knowing that the games are still continuing and doing nothing to stop it with the little knowledge he has of them... That screws with your head, especially with his morals intact. So he doesn't get on the plane, and chooses to try and stop the games.
And that is the running vein of his entire character:
We have his mother, who only has him to help her, as his main motivation, and we see him help those who need help as the team builds—particularly Oh Il-Nam, or player 001, whom he perceived as someone who needs to be helped at his old age (but he isn't, honestly, fuck that plot twist), there's Saebyeok's brother and Sangwoo's mother who also lost their only providers in those games, and finally, to cement the on-going theme, there're the hundreds of people, just trying to make ends meet, being swindled into playing these death games for the entertainment of rich assholes.
Seong Gi-hun doesn't take care of everyone except his daughter.
He takes care of everyone who he thinks needs it.
And I think that's a wonderful core trait for a person to have.
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This is for @cupcake-rogue’s like a virgin collab!
Denki x F! Reader
Warnings: None, tooth rotting fluff, and a suggestive ending.
Summary: Sometimes the right person runs into you. Literally. Other times it’s a hero who’s not watching where he’s going.
WC: 1.9k
Denki Kaminari doesn’t do being nervous.
He’s a hero, a pro, top ten. He worked his ass off during UA, his internships, did everything right, shed his jokester ways, and in the first hero rankings he was in? He placed higher thank even Bakugo. He’s impressive, he thinks, tall and blonde, having grown into himself after those first few awkward years. The point is he’s not nervous around women anymore, doesn’t stutter over his words or make inappropriate comments. He’s cool, mature, a catch for any woman.
Until, that is, he quite literally runs into you.
“I’m fucking late,” Denki announces to nobody- it’s not like anybody stayed over the night before. It’s a true testament to who he is now that his morning routine can be essentially cut in half and almost nothing goes wrong during it. His hero costume is not only easy to get on, but something that works well with his usual wardrobe, so that he can be out the door in under twenty minutes for times like these.
“Shit, shit, shit,” He mutters to himself, finally getting all the buttons into place right when the elevator opens up to the ground floor. It’s impressive, actually, that he manages to run into you. With a quirk like his, he’s learned to be constantly aware of his surroundings so nobody gets shocked accidentally. Today, however, he’s not thinking straight and runs directly into you, knocking you (and your paperwork) to the ground.
He stops dead in his tracks, wanting more than anything to start apologizing, helping you pick things up. You know, things any normal person or hero would do but he finds himself stuck in place. You’re… hot, for lack of a better word. He’ll think of some later. He can’t put his finger on it, but there’s something about you that has him immediately bewitched- mind, body, and soul, just like that. You’re standing now, a scowl on your face and- hey you’re snapping your fingers for some reason, maybe he should listen in.
“Hello? Is anybody any there?” Your voice is understandably irritated, looking him up and down quickly before huffing. “Whatever. Watch where you’re going next time, jerk.” You spin away from him, taking his hopes and dreams right with you. But you walk into his apartment building, and through the glass doors that stand between you he sees you walk to the manager- so you’re either gonna live there or work there. Either way he has a second chance.
His phone buzzes incessantly in his pocket, and a quick glance tells him it’s Mineta, demanding to know where he is- is he okay? Was there a villain attack? Denki shoots off a quick text saying he’s just overslept before hurrying on his way.
It’s not until later, when he’s finally in his office, that Denki realizes how he was feeling.
For the first time, in a very long time, Denki Kaminari was nervous. All because of you.
“Stupid hero, not watching where he was stupidly going,” You mutter under your breathe before plastering on a smile when your new apartment manager steps into view. God, this place is so nice. You can’t wait to move in. You have to dropped off the signed leasing forms and then give the place one last look around before the moving trucks start coming in.
The meeting goes smoothly, which helps ease whatever leftover tension you have from the morning. The keys are in your hands, the boxes are piling up, and your neighbor is out for the day it looks like so you can play music as loudly as you dare. Your day goes just about as well as a moving day can. You get the important things set up first- bed, tv, coffee maker. The creature comforts for when you’re inevitably exhausted tomorrow. You hear movement in the other apartment, frowning at the shared wall with how clearly you can. Hm, that might be annoying. Still, you don’t plan on turning down the music unless asked.
Almost like clockwork you hear a knock on your door. You pause to lower the volume to a more acceptable level before opening the door, ready to introduce yourself and apologize, make a good first impression and all that only to see-
“You!” You raise an accusatory finger- at the hero who knocked you over and did nothing this morning. “You can’t be my neighbor!”
“I-” He starts, having the good sense to at least look a little sheepish now. “I’m sorry?” His hand comes up to scratch at the back of his head, making him look even more nervous but you can see his eyes looking over your shoulder to peer into your apartment.
“Yeah, you should have said that this morning,” It holds less venom than you want, especially when you get distract by the muscles his actions put on display. Huh. Your new neighbor is incredibly built. You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “Again, whatever. I turned the music down. Goodnight.” You go to close the door but his voice stops you.
“Hold on, I wasn’t going to ask you to turn it down,” He starts, finally looking away from your apartment, “I liked it. And maybe you can play it for me now? I could help you put stuff away? Make up for this morning?”
You should say no. You’re already getting tired, you have stuff beyond packing to do tomorrow, and it’s stupid to let a complete stranger into your house. Even if he’s a pro hero. And even if he’s cute. You should tell him to get lost. Instead, you open your mouth to hear yourself say,
“Sure, come on in.”
Denki can’t believe his luck when you open your door a little wider to let him in.
He was so sure you were going to say no- hell, even you looked a little confused when yes came out of your mouth, but he wasn’t going to question it too much. Your place already looked a lot cozier than his, with decorations half in the boxes, even. You have photos up on the walls already, pictures of people who look like you too and people who look like your friends. His own apartment is pretty sparse, just a place he can sleep and eat in.
“Could you help me in the kitchen?” Your voice carries through the space, having left him behind. “I have some stuff that need to go onto the top shelf.” He follows blindly, biting down so hard on his lower lip it almost bleed when he sees you. You’re not doing anything scandalous, just putting dishes away but the way your arms are raised over your head have given him a glimpse at your skin where your shirt has ridden up. He can feel the blood rush south in his body, embarrassingly.
“Stop ogling and start helping,” You snap over your shoulder, frowning at him. That snaps him out of his daze, not wanting to leave too soon despite having another early morning shift. He grabs the box you point at, and starts to place the mugs on the top shelf. They look like gifts, he thinks, all of them printed with far too many places for one person to have visited.
“Your friends get you these?” He asks, trying to sound casually interested, not too desperate, “Or a boyfriend?” You snort at him.
“Friends, mostly, and some family,” You wait a long moment before continuing, “No boyfriends, though.” Denki internally heaves a sigh of relief.
“I don’t get out much, with my job. But I like to pretend I do,” You say, eyeing the mugs wistfully. “How about you? You travel a lot?”
“That requires taking time off,” Denki says, frowning a little as he tries to remember his last actually relaxing day off. “But you know what they say- if you love your job, you’ll never work a day in your life!”
“Oh, bullshit,” You snort out, abandoning the box you’ve been unpacking all together. “I love my job, a lot, but I have worked some days.” The tension is broken after that, with Denki asking you to elaborate and you trying to play coy until the rants just burst out of you. It’s not until your stomach gives a loud grumble that you realize neither of you have been unpacking but just talking for the past hour and a half.
It’s just late enough that a normal dinner is out of the question, but maybe you could order something in?
“I know a good ramen place that delivers here,” Denki volunteers, grinning sheepishly.
“Are you sure your quirk isn’t mind reading?” You tease him, just to watch him laugh. He’s pretty hot when he laughs, you think, then immediately try to squash the thought. Dinner first, crushing on a hero later.
Dinner is ordered.
Denki’s right, the ramen is good and it comes quick. The two of you slurp your soup in silence, the awkwardness returning from before. Denki seems almost unable to look at you now, for some reason. He focuses in so hard on his bowl you’re surprised it doesn’t go up in smoke. You want to ask him about it but you can’t figure out how to phrase the question.
For his part, Denki is having an internal meltdown. When you lean forward to take a sip of the broth your shirt pulls forward just enough that he can see the swell of your breasts. It shouldn’t affect him this much, he’s been around enough, but there’s something about the white of your bra that makes his head spin, makes him feel like a virgin all over again.
“Are you okay?” You ask him the same moment he blurts out-
“I can see your bra, I’m sorry, don’t kick me out,” All in one breath. You’re silent for a moment, and then another, and another, and Denki regrets every choice he’s made in his life until now that brought him here. You keep not saying anything and a million and one scenarios run through his head, each one worse than the next. Oh my god, what if you tell people? He’ll be known as the pervert hero, he won’t be able to work in Japan anymore, he’ll have to someplace like America or-
“Would you like to see more of it?” Your voice is soft, shy as your hands twist in the bottom of your shirt, looking at him with wide eyes. He’s sure he’s misheard you because there’s no way you’re offering what he thinks you are.
“More?” He manages to croak out. You don’t reply, but your shirt keeps going upwards. Your shirt continues upwards until it’s off of you and Denki’s brain has finally, truly short circuited.
You’re not sure what’s possessing you to be so bold- maybe the conversation, maybe the way the food has made you comfortably warm and a little drowsy, maybe you just wanna see what he’ll do next. It’s cute, endearing even, how his eyes can’t figure out where to look. He can’t decide if he wants to throw himself at you or away from you.
“More,” You agree, moving closer to him on the couch, taking the bowl from his hands to set on the table in front of you. Denki stops breathing as you move even closer to him, your face swimming in front of his eyes. “Tell me if I should stop?”
“Never,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours, tasting like a promise, sending a shiver down your spine. It’s so easy to fall into him, like you’ve known him forever, like this is as easy as breathing.
It’s sunrise, somehow. Denki is still there, blissfully unaware as you watch him sleep. Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t watch where he was going the previous morning.
Now, though, you wouldn’t mind running into him again.
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THE 4 STAGES OF HATE TO LOVE- BUCKY BARNES
Y/N and Bucky despise each other. But what will sleep, showers and mission do to resolve that?
Masterlist
It was roughly 1am at the Avengers compound, Steve and Sam had been on a mission all day. Steve and I were close. Brother, sister type bond, and he had messaged me whilst flying home on the Quinjet. He mentioned something about meeting an old pal...I of course agreed to greet them as they arrived.
Hearing the elevator ding, I stood up, cracking my neck, and made my way over. First out stepped Steve, pulling me into an embrace; next Sam, patting my shoulder and finally
"Y/N meet Bucky, Bucky meet Y/N" Steve smiled.
"Nice to meet you" I replied, sticking my hand out to shake his. He started at me and then my hand, dumbfounded. I slowly pulled my hand away and turned to Steve.
"Well I'll let you guys get some sleep...see you in the morning" I waved off, embarrassed.
...And that was how I met Bucky Barnes.
From then on, me and Bucky never got on, whether it was fighting over milk, or fighting over who caused the mission to go south. We could never get on. In fact, the rest of the Avengers tried to keep us as separated as they could, knowing we would kill each other if we could. What didn't help however was the fact that our rooms were opposite each other.
I don't know why he hated me, it seemed he just had this fury towards me. Like my existence ruined his life.
===============================================================================
Saturday nights are usually the teams chill nights. No one has any missions or jobs. So, the group often put a film on together and relax, not thinking of anything but being together. Tonight was Steve choice of film, so as always, we all made our way to the living room. However, my night got ruined when the only seat available was, of course, next to Bucky. Sighing, I decided to just sit, not wanting to ruin the night for the others. I saw him roll his eyes but again, I didn't make a fuss over it, knowing he hates me anyway.
Half way through the film (which was boring, not going to lie) I felt a wave of tiredness wash over me. Keeping my eyes open felt like a chore so slowly but surely I fell asleep. Without knowing, my head was now resting on Bucky's shoulder. The whole team now looking at him smirking, and for some unbeknownst reason...he wrapped his arm around me.
The next morning, I woke up in my bed, confused as to how but I guessed either Steve or Tony has carried me back. Heading towards my bathroom, I tried to turn my shower on but to my luck it was broken.
"Jarvis, where's Tony?" I asked.
"He's in the lab Miss" he replied.
I made my way to the lab and tried to convince Tony to fix my shower.
"Y/N, honey I cant right now, use Barnes, he's never in his room" he sighs.
"but-but Tony i-"
"sorry kid...later" he walks off.
Grumbling to myself, I push Bucky's door open and unsurprisingly, it was empty. His room surprised me though, it was dark and cold yet felt like it could be so comforting if it had love given to it. Turning on his shower, the hot water hitting my back, I finally relaxed and tried to not think about anything else.
Minutes go past and I heard the door click. Fuck. I heard a sigh and then the bathroom door open.
"I know it's you Y/N, Tony told me" He said monotone.
"I-um- I wont be long I-" and that' when I felt a gush of wind and the shower curtain open. Bucky stood there, everything on display.
I squeaked and turned around facing the shower trying to cover myself.
"What? I need a shower and you're in MY shower" He replied nonchalantly.
My heart was beating so fast. I felt his rough hands on my shoulder, massaging them.
"No wonder you're moody all the time, the tension in your shoulders...Christ" He said.
Leaning into his touch, he continued to massage both my neck and shoulders. The shower together continued, both of us washed each others hair for the first time since we met, we both smiled.
================================================================================It had been a week since the shower incident and me and Bucky hadn't exchanged much words. We exchanged glances and hasn't fought but speaking was still a no-go. That was until the mission.
We'd been paired up together on a mission, and the mission wasn't go right. I ended up on the floor with a bullet through my leg. Bucky had taken out the guy that did it and ran towards me.
"shhh, you're okay. Show me where it hurts" He had concern in both his face and voice. Pointing to my leg, he nodded and picked me up bridal style, taking me back to the Quinjet.
Once back at the compound. He took me to Banner to heal me up.
That was when I realised he didn't hate me as much as I thought.
That night, back in my bed, I couldn't stop the demons. The nightmare of the mission kept replaying in my dream. Waking up in a cold sweat, I needed a cuddle. I didn't want to wake anyone else up as they all were exhausted. The only people who left the mission early was me and Bucky.
I raised my fist and knocked on his door. A sleepy Barnes appeared rubbing his eyes.
"Y/N? What's wrong?" He asked in his rough voice.
"I keep having nightmares and normally I go to Steve and we cuddle but i don't wanna go to him because he's exhausted but so is everyone else and I know you don't like me but i was wondering if I coul-" I ramble and instantly I'm flung over his shoulder.
He plops me back down onto the bed and pulls the sheet over us, he right arm going under my head, his metal arm going over my waist drawing me into his chest spooning me.
"This ok?" he whispers in my ear.
"Perfect...thank you" I respond.
"for the record, I don't hate you. In fact, I never did. I don't know why I've been such a dick to you. But I'm so sorry. Truly" he kisses my forehead.
"I never hated you too, I just always thought you did. i actually like you. You're caring to those you love, you're smart and you're incredibly handsome" I giggled.
"OH really?" He smirks, poking my side making me squirm and laugh more,
Eventually we both fall asleep in each others arms, no nightmares, just peace.
And this was the beginning of an incredible relationship with James Buchanan Barnes.
#fanfiction#marvel#sebastian stan#bucky x female reader#bucky x reader#james buchanan bucky barnes#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky fanfic#bucky fluff#bucky x y/n#bucky imagine#bucky barnes#bucky fic#buckysam#bucky x you#fatws bucky#tony x bucky#falcon and winter solider series#the falcon and the winter solider spoilers#falcon and winter solider teaser#winter solider x you#winter solider imagine#winter solider x reader#winter solider fanfiction#steve x reader#steve rodgers x reader#steve rogers#steve rodgers imagine
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