#tey are friends. lovers even | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

abigailzimmer · 5 months

Text

Favorite Reads of 2023

As a reader, I think of myself as slow to turn toward fiction, but this year started off with stunning story after stunning story, thanks to writers like Emily St. John Mandel, Rivka Galchen, Amal El-Mohtar, and Max Gladstone. Miriam Toews' Fight Night made me weep on a train from Edinburgh to Glasgow; Josephine Tey's mysteries made me chuckle from Glasgow to Edinburgh. I wandered slowly but steadily with Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell throughout the year and I read Timothy Moore's short stories in one sitting and then started them over the next week. Grateful for these writers who move me in so many ways, and of course I have some poetry and nonfiction favorites!

1. Timothy Moore's exciting debut short story collection, I Will Teach You Retribution, is perfection. Its humor and absurdism and poignancy remind me a bit of George Saunders (CivilWarLand in Bad Decline), a bit of Aoka Matsuda (Where the Wild Ladies Are), and excitingly and obviously of Tim. If you aren't moved by the plight of a people-eating giant's quest for justice against himself, or a side character/ex-lover's desire to have her own transformative character arc, or a girl's use of social media to be popular, even though dead—or at least by the empathetic way Tim writes these characters and the wonderful crafting of his sentences—your heart may have stopped. An unexpected love-at-first-paragraph. Ten out of ten best use of exclamation points.

2. In Scared Violent Like Horses, John McCarthy writes about childhood in rural Illinois, absent parents, fistfights with friends, and flyover states, but mostly he writes of people in a way that sees their empathy and value. I read this while feeling a little lost and heartsick, and these poems wrapped around me and reminded me of what I love best. This is not to say that I saw my journey reflected back at me, but that lyric can offer the comfort of a song, that poetry lets you sit in a space of experience not answers, and that you can endure so much hardship and still emerge with tenderness. John’s writing is thoughtful and vivid, graceful and grace-giving. “But I’m not sure why we would expect dreams to make sense, when our waking lives so often fail to observe narrative convention,” he writes. And later: “No place is sad if you stay long enough.”

3. How to Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone is an abundantly written book, composed of letters between Red and Blue, two agents on opposite sides of a time war, one side more organic and one more tech-driven. It’s surprising and inventive in its world building and sweet on the act of letter writing. A love story that gushes to the beloved, overflowing without feeling cheesy. I read this on a beach in Mexico, against the bluest backdrop with the reddest sunrises.

“I want to tell you something about myself. Something true, or nothing at all.”

4. Emily St. John Mandel’s Sea of Tranquility was satisfying and unexpected, even up to the last line. As in her other books, she weaves together stories of multiple characters, gently nudging them more and more into each other’s orbits as the book draws to a close. This book feels higher stakes or maybe has more imaginary elements than The Glass Hotel, which I thought was nice but forgettable—I prefer the bigger “what ifs” in my fiction. But her writing always feels like a gliding, with these lovely details that linger. Here, there's an untouched forest in Canada and a shabby moon colony with a river reflecting the darkness of space. A writer of post-apocalyptic fiction, now a mother and turned off her own ideas. (It’s interesting to hear from an author who wrote a wildly successful novel about a global pandemic, then lived through one, and wrote a second pandemic-related novel in which much happens very differently.) The question of simulation a backdrop, the difference between knowing something in the abstract and the experience of it, how we come to the knowledge we have and the gestures we know we must make. All of it so well done and a pleasure to read.

5. The overarching frame of On Dreams by Maureen Thorson is the author's diagnosis of a rare eye disease that causes blind spots and some of Aristotle's absurd theories, such as how a mirror turns red when a menstruating woman looks into it. From there, in essays composed of short, aphoristic lines, Thorson explores what is reality and truth, how we know what we know, the illusion we have of control, and why we turn to writing and narrative. It's funny and smart, weaving in notes from her broad reading, and poignant in the leaps and turns it takes from line to line.

6. Border Vista by Anni Liu is composed of these lovely memory poems—atmospheric. She writes about emigrating to the US while young and being separated from her dad and grandparents with uncertain status, about relationships and home and dreaming in her nonnative language. The poems read almost memoir-like, back to back. The settings simple: a walk in the woods or market, hearing a piece of news or sitting in a movie theater, with some startling insight dropped upon the reader, the reader unaware even that she was building toward something. The lines below have echoed in my head the whole year, naming a longing so ingrained I didn't even know it was there:

“Crossing a deer-shaped patch of earth, I come back to the edge of an ancient sadness of being just one thing”

7. I really enjoyed diving into the oeuvre of Josephine Tey this year, and in particular I don’t think I’ve read anything quite like her Daughter of Time, a unique take on both the histories and mysteries genres. Her Inspector Grant, laid up in a hospital and bored, takes on an academic investigation of the slander against Richard III, infamous for killing his two nephews—the Princes in the Tower—to remove any rivals to the throne. Despite the fact that Grant is initially driven into this mystery because Richard’s face just "looks" more like a judge’s than a criminal’s (classic Tey ridiculousness), Tey makes a compelling case for his innocence. Grant and his “looker-upper” (researcher) friend take a policeman’s approach to the unresolved mystery, looking at the whereabouts and motivations of the people involved instead of what they say, and keeping an eye out for any breaks in the patterns that suggest foul play. For a book whose main action is two men talking about historical accounts, it’s surprisingly gripping and convincing (although my own knowledge of British history is spottier than a spotted dick pudding!).

"Give me research. After all, the truth of anything at all doesn't lie in someone's account of it. It lies in all the small facts of the time. An advertisement in a paper. The sale of a house. The price of a ring."

8. When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities by Chen Chen is a book that “wants to believe it’s always possible / to love bigger & madder” and a poet whose “job is to trick adults / into knowing they have / hearts.” There's so much unbounded joy in these poems, even when writing of the sadness of having sadness or of the painful rejection by his mom for being gay or by fellow Americans for being Chinese. He writes rooted in a strong sense of self, which means his poems overflow with brightness, humor, and triumph.

Some possibilities:

“I want to be the Anti-Sisyphus, in love / with repetition, in love, in love. Foolish repetition, / wise repetition. I want more hours. I want insomnia, I want / to replace the clock tick with tambourines.”

“I am … an elegy that has felt light, the early morning light falling / on your lovely someone’s / lovable bare feet as he walks across the wood floor to sit by the window”

“Let’s put our briefcases on our heads, in the sudden rain, // & continue meeting as if we’ve just been given our names.”

9. Serendipitously, I read Rivka Galchen’s Everyone Knows Your Mother Is a Witch just after reading Maria Popova’s marvelous storytelling about Johannes Kepler’s defense of his mother’s witch trial in Figuring. It’s a fascinating story in that Kepler felt responsible for fueling the accusations against her due to an allegorical sci-fi story he wrote about moon people holding onto outdated beliefs despite evidence otherwise, and—small detail—the narrator got to the moon thanks to his magical mother. Kepler eventually cleared his mother’s name of charges and spent years annotating his own manuscript so that no one could misunderstand his intentions again.

Rivka’s book is a fictional telling more focused on the accused, Katherine Kepler, and reminded me of the narrative style of Miriam Toews' Woman Talking with a literate third party roped in to make a record and with the reader being told about the events conversationally vs. reading them. Around the same time, I watched the movie The Wonder (which has some tough tw content but was excellently done) which also resonates in theme, about the stories we believe and shape our lives around, and how the efficacy of religion and science is all wrapped up in story.

This was an excellent story based on fascinating history, and Rivka’s writing is both dryly funny (“A hummingbird once rested near my shoulder. It was a very ill omen. For one who isn't a flower.”) and thoughtful (“I had to say what was in my heart, which is knowledge.”).

10. I really enjoyed This Party's Dead, in which British journalist Erica Buist, to cope with her grief at the loss of her father-in-law-to-be, travels to seven death festivals around the world to learn how people in other cultures grieve.

“Whenever anyone suggests the dead are in attendance, gifts and sugar always seems to follow.”

The journey's question broadens from "how do we grapple with the reality of mortality" to the more meaningful exploration of "in what ways do we continue to have a relationship with 'our dead'"? Because we do have one, even if our culture doesn't know what to do with that relationship or provide us with outlets for remembering in community. (There's a lovely line in which someone refers to their ancestors as "my" dead.)

Some of the festivals she visits involve meals in graveyards, others take place when it's time to bury a body--sometimes months or even years after a death, and others involve exhuming bodies so that living family members can rewrap them or visit quite literally with their bones before reburying. As part of a western tradition that sees very little of and so fears dead bodies, Erica asks celebrants how they feel about the corpse of their loved one. She often assumes incorrectly a reason why something is done (perfume over the body not to hide the smell of decay for us but to show the loved one they are still cared for) and observes: “Time and again, I see fear [as a cause for a ritual] where there is only love.”

It's a moving book, written with humor and openness, and I'm very drawn to the rituals of communally remembering our dead. I wish we had something like this beyond a funeral to help us transition from having a living loved one to a dead loved one: a reason to come together often with food and sharing and to invite our dead back home, even if for a little while.

As one festival celebrant tells her, “We think about dead people all the time. We pray for all the ancestors, even the ones we don’t remember; we have a huge celebration for them every six months. They’re not lost.”

(Book buddies: Mexico's beaches and Scotland's train views.)

#endofyearlists #favorite books #2023 reads

1 note · View note

riley1cannon · 8 months

Text

DOROTHY L SAYERS AND THE THIRTY-FOOT DRAIN: SEARCHING FOR PETER WIMSEY

James R. Benn goes on a quest to discover the original inspiration for Sayers' iconic war-weary character.

SEPTEMBER 6, 2023 BY JAMES R. BENN

VIA SOHO

Dorothy L Sayers was my gateway author to the world of crime fiction. I’d read the Sherlock Holmes stories earlier on, but that superlatively singular creation of Arthur Conan Doyle did not lead me any further. Holmes was unique, existing in his own universe, and there he remained. Not so with Sayers and Lord Peter Wimsey. The Wimsey family motto is “As my Whimsy takes me,” and Sayers’ whimsy took me right through her books and then onto Agatha Christie, Margery Allingham, Josephine Tey, and other authors writing in that great tradition.

My Billy Boyle World War II mystery novels are often set in Great Britian, but it is not the Great Britian of the Golden Age of crime fiction. That Golden Age held sway in the interwar years, 1920 – 1939. But even then, characters like Lord Peter and Harriet Vane represented the values and way of life already shattered by the experience of the Great War. Wimsey has his roots firmly in the nineteenth century. He is graceful upon the page, but it is a grace disguising the transcendental impact of the horror in the trenches and the dreadful thinning of the population of men in so many towns and villages across the country. This is exemplified by Lord Peter’s shellshock, on full display in the first book in the series, Whose Body? where we find him firmly in the grip of vivid nightmares. His world has changed, and all the fine manners and proper deportment he can summon will never bring back the bright, golden days before 1914. In one of her short stories, Sayers has Wimsey declare his own epitaph: “Here lies an anachronism in the vague expectation of eternity.”

Even given this divide between the universe of Lord Peter Wimsey as created by Sayers and the mid-1940s of Billy Boyle and the Second World War, I’d never given up on the notion of finding some sort of intersection between these two worlds. If not a direct connection, then one at least fueled by elements common to both. A homage that, perhaps, only I would recognize.

As I developed the plot for the eighteenth novel in my series, I decided it was time for a change of pace. This entry would be removed from the battlefield and the more exotic locales of the recent books. Since Billy Boyle and friends had never enjoyed any time off, I was overdue to grant them leave. This takes place in the quiet (fictional) village of Slewford in Norfolk, at Seaton Manor, the home of Sir Richard Seaton, father to Billy’s lover, the English spy Diana Seaton.

I had to revisit the first book in the series, Billy Boyle, to see where I had originally placed Seaton Manor. For no special reason, I had selected the county of Norfolk, on the east coast of England. Seaton Manor sits near the Wash, a bay and estuary marking a large indentation on the coastline. Tidal forces and shifting sands make the Wash treacherous for those who are unprepared for how fast and swift the tide can come in.

As I studied the countryside around the Wash, it seemed oddly familiar. Then it hit me. This is the Fens, or Fenland, the setting for one of Dorothy L Sayers’ finest works—The Nine Tailors. Her fictional village of Fenchurch Saint Paul is located in Cambridgeshire, just over the border from Norfolk and close to the edge of the Wash. The Fens, a huge expanse of reeds and shallow, freshwater lakes, borders the Wash. Beginning in the seventeenth century, landowners began to drain the Fens in order to turn it into fertile farmland. By Lord Peter’s time, long drainage ditches drew water away from the fields and into the Wash. At the beginning of The Nine Tailors, such a ditch—known as the Thirty-Foot Drain—is exactly where we find Lord Peter Wimsey and his sturdy manservant Bunter.

“That’s torn it!” said Lord Peter Wimsey.

The car lay, helpless and ridiculous, her nose deep in the ditch, her back wheels cocked absurdly up on the bank, as though she were doing her best to bolt to earth, and were scraping herself a burrow beneath the drifted snow . . . right and left, before and behind, the fen lay shrouded. It was past four o’clock and New Year’s Eve; the snow that had fallen all day gave back a glimmering greyness to a sky like lead.

Now I had an intersection. My story of interrupted leave at Seaton Manor also hinged upon treacherous waters. My (first) murder victim was also found in a totally unexpected location, as was the dead gent in The Nine Tailors. Also, I was but a short distance not only from the setting of The Nine Tailors but the home turf of Dorothy L Sayers herself.

Sayers grew up in Bluntisham, Cambridgeshire, right on the edge of the Fens. From 1917 to 1928, her father was the rector at Christchurch, a tiny Fenland village with a notable Victorian church. Here, she would have become familiar with bell ringing, which forms such an important part of the plot for The Nine Tailors. She also would have understood the danger to people living in the Fens from the power of water and tides. The area is kept dry by a series of sluices and floodgates which, on the occasion of heavy rains and high tide, can overflow and wreak havoc.

I already had my own story to tell about treacherous waters and shifting tides. I’d long been fascinated by the Maid of Harlech, which is how locals in Wales refer to an American P-38 Lightning fighter plane that crash-landed just off the coast in 1942. It was only in 2007 that shifting sands and changing tides revealed it, half-buried in the mud. But the sea routinely reclaims it, only to have it appear months later.

With Seaton Manor already established on the east coast, using the Maid of Harlech was out. But I did construct a plot about a German bomber that crash-landed in Norfolk and skidded off a cliff into the Wash, only to have the intense tides reveal it two years later, during Billy’s leave, along with its mysterious cargo. Just as the Thirty-Foot Drain played a key role in The Nine Tailors, so do the tides in Proud Sorrows. I could not resist inserting mention of that drain in reference to a local man brought in to hoist the wreckage out of the water. He comes to the task fresh from dredging the Thirty-Foot Drain.

So, I had my intersection with Dorothy L Sayers. Thin, but enough for me. The Fens, the Wash, high waters, and a dead body in the same general vicinity as the corpse in The Nine Tailors. Subtle, but satisfying. What more could I ask for?

As it happens, one Ian Carmichael. My research turned up the fact that the actor who would portray Lord Peter Wimsey on the BBC from 1972 to 1975 had been an officer in the Royal Armoured Corps during WWII. Carmichael served with the 22nd Dragoons, landing on Juno Beach on D-Day and serving in battles across France, Holland, and Germany.

The 22nd Dragoons was no ordinary unit. They were equipped with specialized Sherman Crab flail tanks. These tanks were modified with heavy chains ending in fist-size steel balls, or flails, attached to a horizontal rotating rotor mounted on two arms in front of the vehicle. They would clear a path through a minefield by slowly driving and flogging the ground ahead of them, exploding the mines. To be effective, the tanks had to drive at no more than one and a half miles per hour, often in the face of enemy fire. That was how Captain Ian Carmichael spent his war.

With that intriguing bit of history tucked up my sleeve, I bring Carmichael onstage. Since the village of Slewford played host to an exclusive POW compound for high-ranking German officers, Captain Carmichael is brought in from the Continent to interrogate a prisoner about German defenses the Dragoons is facing in Holland. He encounters Billy and assists with his investigation, providing yet another Lord Peter intersection.

It would be thirty more years before Carmichael would play Lord Peter, on both radio and television programs. But in 1944, he was close to the age Wimsey is at the time of the novels. I had to work at not letting him slip into the aristocratic patter of Lord Peter, reminding myself that Carmichael was an aspiring actor from northern England, the son of an optician, not the Duke of Denver.

For those fans of Dorothy L Sayers who prefer Edward Petherbridge as their Wimsey (he starred in several BBC productions during the 1980s), I can only report that he was a mere eight years old in 1944, far too young to have any role in investigating the murders in Slewford.

***

James R. Benn

James R. Benn is the author of the Billy Boyle mystery series, set during the Second World War. He has been nominated for the Dilys, Sue Feder Historical Mystery, and Barry awards, long-listed for the 2015 Dublin IMPAC Literary Award, and was awarded the 2018 Al Blanchard Short Story Award. His forthcoming book, Road of Bones, is the 16th in the Billy Boyle series.

Dorothy L. Sayers and the Thirty-Foot Drain: Searching for Lord Peter Wimsey

#james r. benn #billy boyle #lord peter wimsey #dorothy l. sayers #world war ii mystery novel #i haven't read the billy boyle books yet but do have the first two #and plan to remedy that soon #it will be awhile before i get to this one #but i like the sound of it

1 note · View note

problematicsubmarine · 4 years

Text

.............

I just saw a Shi*eldSh*ck fic tagged as enemies.to lovers and the premise was that Steve stole Darcys spaghetti.....I....none of you people k ow what enemies to lovers is do you

#like MY fic #is barely enemies to lovers #because Lokis already been captured and is working with the Avengers #even if its not entirely willingly #but he at least teied to blow up jer and her friends at aome point #even if it wasnt personal except for Thor

7 notes · View notes

s-hera · 2 years

Text

He's So Pretty! (1)

Child Sanzu Haruchiyo X Child Reader! (7/8 yrs old?)

~ tags. contains spoiler from ch. 241(?), Mention of blood, Fluff, Angst if you squint, Childhood to lovers!

~ wc. 0.6k

~ A/n. From my Alt Account, I already said that i'm going back on this account and write again for my 115 followers.

One | Two

“Ha-haru? Are you fine?” you asked the boy that's crying in front of you.

“No, Onii-chan gets mad at me again…it’s always my fault, i should stop talking to senju”

“Ehhh? Why? You’re the best big brother!”

“I always get scolded because my brother thinks i’m teaching her boyish things”

“Mhhhh…well you don’t teach her boyish things, right?”

“Of Course not! She’s the only girl, she need to act like a lady”

‘But being boyish sometimes is definitely fine and she hang out with you and your friends…and, and your brother is friends with your friends older brother too”

“Yeah, he always hangs out with shinichiro-kun”

“Senju’s older siblings are both boys too, you should expect her to act boyish, your brother should!”

“He won’t listen to me anyways, i not gonna hangout with senju anymore”

“Then senju would feel lonely, don’t you think?”

“...”

You and haru were childhood friends, both of you attends the same pre-school. His house is just a few steps away from you too, that’s why you two often meet, you haven’t met his friend but you already met his siblings, he always talks about how his past few days went like you two were really the closest friends!

One day you saw haruchiyo…with a bandage on his face, the bandage doesn’t look new at all, the blood almost covers it all, crying right on your face while your mom gives him a warm entrance.

“Haru-chan, what happened?” your mom asked him, but she was treated with a silence.

“Are you fine?Do you want something to eat? Or, or replace the bandage?” you asked panickedly since he was treats your mother with a silent treatment and the haruchiyo you know, the akaashi haruchiyo you know is talkative and loud.

“ ‘m fine mrs. l/n…this, this is nothing”

“No, haru you’re lying!”

“y/n, don’t shout at him, do you want some fruits or something? y/n’s father is going home sooner maybe you want some ice cream or something sweet?”

“Ice cream would be fine, mrs. l/n”

“You’re so polite haru-chan! And stop calling me mrs too, call me aunt or auntie…you were very closed with my dearest y/n, treat me as you mom too, ok?and let’s re-do your bandage, if that is fine with you of course!”

“Please, aunt” he said to your mom while looking like an abandoned puppy…

“Stay here for dinner too, i would be cooking something delicious!”

And the time flies as if nothing happened, but he was there on that house couch, on your house couch looking beautiful, like he always been. With his new bandaged face…but his wounds, when your mom looked at it she was shocked too.

“Do you mind telling us what happened?”

“This is no-nothing, aunt! No worries”

“Are you sure it’s nothing?im worried for you”

Lies, you know it was a lie…you didn’t want to push him or anything, thats why you didn’t bother asking.

And after that, after all of that…time really flies, just like three weeks ago haru was in your couch and now you would be leaving him.

“Im sorry, really sorry…my father got promoted, we need to leave and go somewhere faraway. But- but! Don’t be sad, tey won’t sell our house in here! I promise, im gonna comeback here! And buy ice cream with you everyday”

“I understand, no need to explain that much…” but deep inside him, he was afraid, afraid of being lonely, afraid that he doens’t have a people to call home anymore, he’s afraid you won’t comeback or even remember him, he’s afraid of you and your family leaving.he can’t do anything about it, better just to shut up and be silent.

“Forgot to tell you that, haru your face and scar is pretty! Just like your blue diamond eyes!” things you said before going in the car and leave japan.

332 notes · View notes

peachy-writings · 2 years

Text

For Now | Kwon Soonyoung

Prompt via @svtwritenight: Hit shuffle on a playlist/album you haven’t listened to in a while. Use the first line of the song as your first line

↳ Love - Syd ft. Dean “You give me something I need in my life.” & Even If It Hurts - Tei Shi ft. Blood Orange “What did you expect from me?”

Member: BFF!Kwon Soonyoung

Content: Angst; Some fluff; Humor; Friends to Lovers; GN Reader; 5.4k words

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol; Soonyoung litters; Brief mentions of vomiting; Illusions to being drunk/tipsy

Masterlist

“You give me something I need in my life.”

“Sure. Say one more sappy thing and I’ll leave your sorry-ass here,” you groan out, eyeing the clearly drunk man beside you that just so happens to be your best friend.

With the way things are looking, though, he may as well have transformed into your worst nightmare. Soonyoung has always been the hopeless romantic type. With a heavy emphasis on the hopeless part. Hell, the instance in which you first met told you that much.

It was a muggy, mid-summer day and you’d been on your way from your parked car to the distant beachfront. You halted when you saw a man of around your age sitting on a bench with a bouquet of vibrant, red roses lying in his lap. His head was dipped downward so that the tip of his nose was pointed toward the sidewalk.

Continually, he hummed a love song that had been popular on the radio at the time, mumbling a word or two every handful of seconds. You didn’t know why, as you tended to avoid strangers if you could, but you stopped to stand in front of him. His head shot up when he saw your shoes appear on the ground he was woefully staring at.

Hope was written across his features, but it soon died at the sight of your unfamiliar face. His quick shift in emotion almost made you laugh, but you had enough decency not to kick the man while he was down. From his posture, with the addition of the bountiful roses with no clear recipient, you deduced that he had been stood up.

“Hello. Not to sound rude, but who are you?”

“Just a curious onlooker,” you answered, not really knowing where you were going with this impromptu interaction. “I saw you and thought you should know that those roses are gonna wilt if you don’t put them in some water soon.”

His dejected expression turned into a flat out deadpan at your words. So, you weren’t very smooth, or as empathetic as you’d initially thought upon approaching him…

“Well, then,” he sighed out as he clutched the bunch of stems in a tight fist, tipping them in your direction, “either you can have them, or I can toss them into the ocean. Plenty of water there.”

An eyebrow rose and you reached out to take the flowers he held out. But then he pulled them away and smirked at you in a strangely aloof manner. You nearly scoffed.

“On second thought, I think I deserve these more. How do you feel now?” His eyes gazed at you with a certain tenacity that shocked you.

And then you laughed. His snarky little grin sunk off his face, just as he sunk back into the bench. He groaned and chucked the bouquet onto the empty space next to him, hands coming up to rub over his face.

“I guess I feel a little like you do right now,” you answered genuinely, folding your arms and watching as he looked up at you with a slow blink.

“Well, you’d be correct in that assumption.”

“Can I sit?”

He gestured limply to where the roses were lying on the scratchy wooden bench. You sat and placed them in your lap, too invested in this unknown man and his relationship problems to care about meeting up with your friend and their partner on the beach anymore. This was far more interesting than third-wheeling two of the most PDA-forward individuals you’d ever had the misfortune of keeping company. And he seemed upset. You were genuinely curious about him and wanted to try to brighten his day.

“So, what’s the story? A no-show date, proposal gone wrong?” You asked as you let your fingers rub a velvety petal that had detached from one of the flowers.

“First one,” he responded, elbows planted on his thighs with his chin in his hands. His head turned so that he could look at you when he spoke.

You acknowledged his words with a deep hum. “I’m guessing… third date?”

“First.”

“Damn.”

“Right?”

“These were expensive, huh?” You rotated the bunch of roses and spotted a sticker near the base that told you he had dropped nearly 40 dollars on the bouquet. “Were they that fine? 40-dollar-roses fine?”

He chuckled. “Not really. I just like making a good impression. And roses are romantic. They’re pretty, and apparently fun to desecrate for nosey weirdos like yourself,” he quipped as he watched you rip up the petal you’d been fidgeting with during your conversation.

“Hey, it fell off after you threw it on the bench. That’s fair game in my opinion. Also, question: Why the hell would you spend so much money on flowers for a first date? Personally, I’d rather have someone buy food or something else that would be more useful than some flowers that’ll rot in less than a week.”

A dry look was exchanged between the two of you before he smiled and sat up. “Alright, then. Wanna go eat something?”

“Are you asking me on a date, person-that-I-don’t-even-know-the-name-of?” You crooned humorously.

“Soonyoung. And, no. I’m all dated-out for the next month, at least. But, if you wanna be friends, I’m down. It’s not every day that someone attempts to comfort you about your no-show date and then ends up making fun of you.”

“Well, I’m Y/N, and my tactics worked—somewhat, so I’d call that a success,” you responded with a grin. “And I’d be happy to grab a bite with you. But seriously, those roses are gonna die, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung promptly snatched the bouquet from its place in your lap, walked over to the railing on the edge of the low cliff, and chucked it into the ocean as if shooting a basketball.

This is the moment you knew you were going to be good friends. Or that you’d at least have to stick around long enough to get it through his head that what he had done that day was considered a crime against the environment.

So, here you are now, sitting next to the same, tragically fanciful man you'd met that day on your way to the beach. And once again, you are left with the task of providing him support after yet another failed date. Only, this time, things are a bit different than they’d been previously.

You’ve always told Soonyoung that if he were to call you up, drunk off his ass and asking for a ride, you would hang up. Which is why he created a loophole by taking you with him to the bar. You don’t like the idea of him drinking while alone or sad, so you maintain the duty of babysitting him and regulating his alcohol intake as best you can.

“No, I’m serious. Ever since we met, you’ve been there for me. Always. Even if you-“ Soonyoung’s words are interrupted by a hiccup “-act like you don’t care… I know that you’ll always be there for me.”

Soonyoung is sat right beside you, his body turned to face you as he speaks. There’s a definite slur to his speech and a hazy look in his eyes that prompted you to subtly alert the bartender to cut him off a little while ago. He is a puddle of goo at this point, becoming extremely sentimental and directing his beam of never-ending affection at you for the night.

You’re used to it, knowing that he’s just that kind of person; someone who is perceived as flirty, even when he isn’t trying to be so. Someone that is as charming as he is absolutely hilarious. Someone that could fool you into thinking he has feelings for you when he’s just in one of his emotional moods.

Not that you don’t enjoy pretending as if you are the apple of his eye in those moments.

Not that you’d ever give him an inkling as to the growing feelings you harbor for him.

“Yeah, well that’s my job as a decent human being. You’re my friend and I’m supposed to look out for you. But you do make it very hard for me to do that when you shower with the mushiest lines I’ve ever heard in my life,” you respond, punctuating your statement with a dramatic gagging sound.

Soonyoung giggles, and his beaming smile is displayed to the world for a short while. Until he remembers why he’s here, at the bar, after having dragged you out of your home to comfort him for the nth time this month alone.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” He asks, bottom lip jutting out a bit to display his sudden shift in mood.

“Of what?”

“Of dealing with me?”

Your eyebrows draw together in disbelief. “No,” you state, firmer than you intend. “I don’t ‘deal’ with you, Soonyoung. I care about you. You may rely on me a lot to cheer you up after whatever goes on in your dating life, but that doesn’t mean I don’t rely on you, too.”

“But I never do things for you. You never ask me for help with anything. I’m useless in this relationship.” He raises his hands and then slaps his thighs to punctuate his statement.

You shake your head at him, mentally counting the amount of drinks he’s had before deciding that he’s drunk enough to probably—hopefully—not remember what you say next.

“You’d never be useless to me. Even if the only time we spent together was just you crying in my lap over some person that broke your heart, I’d be there. Because I’d get to hold you and be near you. And I’d be the one you were going home to… That’s selfish, isn’t it?”

His lips part to respond, but then you stand up and he shuts his mouth, blinking at you in an admittedly adorable manner.

“C’mon. Let’s go.”

“We’re going home?”

“Yup. Get up.” You usher him along with a roll of your wrist.

When he finally slides off of his barstool, he grabs onto your arm and gives you a look that nearly melts your heart. “Can we go to your home?”

“Yes, Soonyoung.”

He appears to have already forgotten about your roundabout way of confessing to him, excitedly babbling in your ear about something you don’t register because you’re too busy thinking about the way he so easily leans into you. You wonder if you’ll ever get the guts to sincerely tell him how you really feel.

You suppose that having him by your side, as you’d told him before, is enough.

You tell yourself that it is enough.

“What did you expect from me?” Soonyoung asks, a little smirk curling the edges of his lips as he holds an ice-cream cone in both hands.

Your eyes roll in his direction, but you can’t help but to admire how easy it is to please him. One cone from a drive-thru fast food restaurant and you’ve just become his favorite person in the world—as if you weren’t already.

“Hey, I’m not gonna judge you for your lifestyle,” you respond, holding your hands up in defense.

The two of you are sitting in the parking lot of the aforementioned food joint, the fluorescent lights from the sign out front casts a warm glow onto Soonyoung’s face. You are turned in your seat to look at him, to observe the way he practically inhales his treat, nearly dropping it a few times.

“Stop making it sound like I do bad things,” Soonyoung complains in between small nibbles at the beige colored cone. “Can’t a man enjoy a fifty cent ice-cream in the middle of winter without getting slandered?”

You sniff in amusement but don’t respond, busying yourself with queueing up some songs for the ride home. Upon feeling eyes on you, you look up at Soonyoung and quirk a brow. A semi-defeated sigh leaves you when you realize what that looks means.

The drive home is fairly uneventful. Soonyoung immediately takes control of the aux—as he usually does—and belts along to every song that is played, absolutely singing his heart out. The windows are cracked open about an inch, even though it is exceptionally chilly out, and the cool wind that kisses your skin is soothing in a cathartic kind of way. The contrast of the freezing, winter air and the processed heat erupting from the vents causes you to sink into your seat. Two opposites clash and create something lukewarm and comforting.

Your gaze shifts to Soonyoung when you can afford it, at stop signs and red lights, and you smile every time. He is full of passion, and unabashedly so, as he holds an invisible microphone in one hand, the other animatedly flailing to the cadence of his voice. And then the light turns green, or you notice that you’ve been stopped for too long, and you step on the gas, embarrassed. Disconcerted by the way he so easily gains your full attention by simply being himself.

The turning point in the night is when you arrive home, park the car, get out, and Soonyoung immediately throws up in a nearby bush. You thought you’d done a good enough job at monitoring his drinking, but the sight of him with his hands on his knees, spitting into that poor bush, tells you otherwise.

“You okay?” You ask as you rub circles onto his back. He hums and slowly stands straight, once again latching onto you by the arm so that you can lead him into your home. “You know, I’m a little worried about you,” you say as you help him out of his coat. “You usually drink more than that, right?”

Soonyoung shrugs, continuing to remain silent. You sense that something is up with him, but you let your worries die in your throat when he waddles off to the bathroom. As he freshens up, you start on the routine you’ve established for whenever Soonyoung spends the night: grab the extra blankets and pillows, peel your covers to one side and set up Soonyoung’s side. Always him on the left and you on the right. The domestic quality to it all makes your heart ache in your chest.

He enters the room not too long after, gracing you with a soft smile when he sees you waiting there on your designated side of the bed for him. You smile back, gesturing to your dresser wordlessly. There are always clothes in there that he leaves after hanging out or sleeping over. It just became a habit for you to wash them and place them in your dresser until you decided to give up on reminding him to remember his clothes completely. That’s how the Soonyoung drawer was born; another thing that’s painfully domestic when you think about it for too long.

Soonyoung crawls into the spot next to you, laying on his belly and burying his face in a pillow. A long pause comes and passes.

“It was the fifty cent ice-cream, wasn’t it?”

His giggle is muffled until he turns his head to look up at you where you sit, back against the headboard. For the second time tonight, you roll your eyes at him, but your overall countenance remains lighthearted.

“If I say ‘yes’, you’re just gonna make fun of me.”

“Of course I will,” you reply with a faux warmth that has him pouting up at you.

A small yawn leaves his lips and you watch as his eyes slowly fall shut, his features relaxing as you assume he falls asleep. You allow yourself to openly take him in, even going so far as to reach over and brush the hair off his forehead once you deem it safe to do so. Your eyes wander to the clock on your nightstand and your brows shoot up when you realize that it’s nearly 2 in the morning. Tonight’s excursion lasted longer than you’d planned for, but that’s a thing that comes with Soonyoung: forgetting about time itself in his presence.

With one final look at his peaceful face, you heft yourself off of the bed and go to turn off the light.

“Where are you going?”

You stop in your tracks, glancing over your shoulder to see Soonyoung turned on his side, looking at you. An unexpected flutter starts up in your stomach and you have to look away from him before your thoughts bury you further in the rut you’ve dug yourself into. Soonyoung’s question is answered by the flick of the light switch. Silence follows, aside from the rustling of the covers as you crawl back into bed. Your heart races in your chest as you wonder if he’s been awake this whole time. He’s sobered up enough to question the affectionate way you touched his forehead earlier.

“Goodnight,” you breathe, even though you are on your back, staring wide eyed at the ceiling. Or trying to, at least, as it’s too dark to see much of anything now.

“What’s wrong?” He simpers, and you want to bury yourself in your blankets and scream at the softness of his voice.

“It’s late; you should go to sleep, Soonyoung.”

You feel the bed shift, hear the blankets rustle as he moves. And then he’s in your ear. “You’ve been acting weird today. What is it?”

He moves again, and then his knuckles brush against your arm. Your face burns and you let out a sigh in an attempt to steady your shaky breathing. He is right beside you. You can hear his quiet breaths, can feel them tickle your ear.

“Were you lying about what you said at the bar?” He asks when you don’t answer his previous question.

“What do you mean?” Your entire body tenses up when he mentions the bar. The thinly veiled confession you'd made earlier replays in your mind and presses a firm hand down on your chest, holding you in place.

“You said you rely on me, too. But now you won’t tell me what’s going on. C’mon, Y/N. Talk to me. It’s okay,” he says, speaking slowly as his fingers curl around your arm and his nose presses against your shoulder.

“Soonyoung… I-I’ll tell you tomorrow, okay?”

“Fine, fine,” he finally digresses, “but you better tell me.”

You hum, but you are praying he won’t ask about it after you wake up. Have you really been acting strangely? Can he sense your emotions? Why is he still so close to you?

A brief pause.

“Goodnight,” you say again, eyes still wide open.

Soonyoung nudges your temple with his forehead and lets out a soft sigh that warms the side of your face for a brief moment. You are still paralyzed with nerves, mind swimming with the possibility that when you inevitably do confess to him, he won’t return your feelings. It doesn’t seem that life-shattering to the logical side of your mind; you’re not the first person to fall in love with their best friend, and Soonyoung is one of the most understanding people in the world. Nothing about the way he interacts with you would change, and that should be comforting.

But to the emotional side of your mind, that fact only gives you a sliver of relief. The problem here is you. You aren’t sure if you’d be able to continue receiving his caring touches and mushy words without reading too much into them, as you have been doing for quite some time. The thought of you having to distance yourself from Soonyoung because of the sappy, hopeless romantic part of yourself that you never let see the light of day pains you. It fills you with convoluted feelings that drown you from the inside in their attempt to free themselves from your sealed lips.

What makes your agony infinitely worse is that the person fueling all of these intense and complex emotions is currently beside you. Ever so slowly scooting himself closer to you. You realize this when you are pulled out of your own mind by the feeling of Soonyoung gingerly placing his arm over your stomach.

Why is he still awake?

“I can't sleep,” he whispers, as if reading your mind.

The weight of Soonyoung’s arm on your torso is so comfortingly upsetting to you. You don’t want him to move away, but your conscience is telling you to push his arm off. To not take his platonic affection and contort it into something else.

“Why not?” You ask, if only to distract yourself from the heap of internal conflict that runs rampant through your mind.

“I can tell you’re upset about something right now, and I wanna make sure you’re okay. You know I can’t rest if you’re not happy.”

His tone is knowing, perceptive in a manner that you can’t argue with. Being secretly in love with your best friend is a hard thing to pull off when said best friend can read you like a book. Even when you are positive that you aren’t showing any sign of distress, he always knows when you’re overthinking or just generally upset.

“Really?” You keep your tone casual, remaining aloof in the face of his spot-on analysis. “What makes you think I’m upset?”

“... I don’t know. I can just feel it,” he replies with genuinity woven into the fabric of his voice.

“You can feel it,” you echo with the hope that your teasing timbre will lead to a more lighthearted conversation.

“Stop.”

Soonyoung’s voice is clear in your ear as that single syllable punches you in the gut, rendering you speechless. He is being completely serious, and you’ve just gone and insulted him by trying to joke about the way he’s explaining himself. You want to sink into yourself until your atoms collapse into a black hole that wipes you out of existence. You’re being an asshole.

“Sorry.”

“Why do you do that?” You hum questionably, urging him to continue. “Whenever I talk about my feelings or say something from my heart, you almost always brush it off. Or-or you act like I’m being silly. Why do you act like you don’t have emotions at all when it comes to me?”

Soonyoung’s voice never raises once when he says this, but his syllables are sharp, punctuated by the agitation he feels in the moment. You don’t understand. The relationship you guys have has always worked in this manner. You’ve always been frank and sarcastic. Since the day you met him, he’s known that this is how you act, how you function, how you cope when faced with emotional situations.

You can acknowledge the fact that it was wrong of you to joke about his sincere feelings, but when it comes to things like this, he’s never this vehement. You’ll receive a glare or an ‘I’m being serious’ under circumstances where Soonyoung wants you to listen without the usual commentary, but never this. Never him calling you out for the personality and habits that make up, well, you. Never him accusing you of being void of emotion when you've had long talks in the past about the way you respond to that kind of thing.

It’s in your nature to pull away from soft feelings, and in his to nudge that softness back at you; this relationship is symbiotic, evening one other out naturally without one having to push for the other to be a certain way. So why is he dissecting you and telling you that you lack a heart within your chest?

“It’s a defense mechanism. You know that.”

Soonyoung’s arm retracts from where it lays over your stomach. Your chest aches at the loss of contact, but even more so, it burns with dejection. You suppose you hurt him so he hurt you, and it feels twice as bad.

“From what?” You hear him move and assume that he is sitting up now. “Y/N, I know you’re practically the opposite of me, but it makes me wonder sometimes—When I’m looking at you and you look so cold, I wonder if you feel the way that I do. Because you do all these things behind the scenes, like putting my clothes in a drawer just for me and keeping my favorite snacks on hand. And you listen to me talk about my train wreck of a love life and give me somewhere where I can go to stop the loneliness from killing me but—When I try to give back, it’s like you don’t care.”

“Soon-“

“You smile and accept my gifts and hugs, but you retract right after. You almost look… disgusted. So, is it me? Am I just a basket case that you can’t get rid of because you’re already in too deep? Are you lying when you say things like you rely on me, too, or you like that you're the one I come home to? Do you think I’m stupid? That I don’t remember what you said and then brushed off like it was nothing? Jumped to shove me into the car so I could go to bed and forget about it all the next day? Tell me what’s going on, because it feels like you’re playing with my heart.”

It’s silent for a long while as you process everything he’s just said. You shift to sit up on your bottom, feeling strange about remaining on your back, and you wish that you could see him right now. His voice became choked at the end of his deploration and you can only assume that he is near—if not in—tears at the moment.

“I-I don't really know how to respond, Soonyoung. You said a lot of things, and I understood them, but what’s the reason for all of this? I feel like this is about something bigger, because you never…” You come up empty handed when you delve for the right words to describe your fast paced thoughts.

“No. It’s fine. I shouldn't have said anything.”

Soonyoung’s watery voice and the sniffle you hear after he speaks confirms that he is now crying. You aren’t sure what to do. Your mind is still stuck on some of the things he said.

‘I wonder if you feel the way that I do.’

‘It feels like you’re playing with my heart.’

These are some of the things you think about when Soonyoung is in front of you. So, is it that he feels the same way for you, or does he just care about you that much platonically? Either is reasonable in your mind, based on the affectionate way he talks about his other friends. You try to be unbiased, but you want it to be the former option so badly you can’t bear it.

“Soonyoung, it’s not fine. Those are your feelings, and it seems like you’ve been keeping them inside for a while… If you want me to work on myself, I will. I don’t like being the reason you’re crying.” He sniffles again but remains silent otherwise. “Please say something.”

You reach out into the darkness and find his elbow with your hand. Clumsily, you snuffle toward him on your knees until they bump against his leg. He lets out a small sigh and his arm slightly moves, but not out of your grasp. You let your hand run up his arm, finding his hand, and his damp face underneath.

“Soonyoung?”

His hand grasps yours and slowly pulls it behind his shoulder so that you lean in closer to him. Immediately, your free arm finds his waist and you push him toward you, so that you are holding him to your chest. His moist cheek presses against your collar bones and his hair tickles your upturned chin, your bodies awkwardly stretched to meet one another in your sitting positions.

“I do care,” you mumble. “I just don’t know how to express how much I care without going over the line.”

He finally speaks, his cheek leaving your chest. “If there’s a line, I’ve been walking it for a while.”

“Please stop speaking in metaphors; it’s confusing.”

Soonyoung lets out a frustrated groan and suddenly his hands find your cheeks. He squishes your face between his palms and you find yourself becoming annoyed with his knack for being unresponsive when you need clarification, but your grievances don’t get the chance to come out. There is a warmth that blocks your lips from moving, and then it is gone. The only reason you understand what has just happened is the unfamiliar brush of Soonyoung’s nose against the side of yours when he pulls away. Your hands clutch his shirt where they rest on his back, and you let out a noise of utter confusion.

“This is scary,” you hear Soonyoung say, the vibration of his voice felt through the small pocket of air between your lips. “But I couldn’t say it, so I had to show you.”

“You… Do you like me?”

Your brain is going at approximately one mile an hour, the shock of it all nearly slowing your thoughts to a halt.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I—oh, god, I’m gonna say it—I love you. In the most not-as-best-friends-way. Or, maybe as best friends. But, like, best friends that want to get married—in the future, of course. Not right now. I’m not proposing or anything-“

“Soonyoung.”

He falls silent, his nervous babbling halting at the sound of his own name. You aren’t sure if you can say those three words to him yet, if you can find any words at all to express the overwhelming amount in which you agree with him. So you close the gap between your faces once again, bringing a hand to the back of his neck and pressing your lips to his for a longer, more drawn out kiss. When you pull away, he wraps his arms around your body and gently lowers the two of you down onto the bed. You keep your grasp on him, afraid of letting go and losing him in the darkness once again, and he chuckles blithely.

“We’re idiots,” he says, but with the most jovial lilt to his voice.

“I think you’re correct,” you reply as your fingers trail down his arm and find his hand with yours. Your palm flattens against his and your fingers intertwine.

“I think you’re the only person that would kiss me back after I threw up an hour before.”

You blink. “Did you brush your teeth?”

“Of course. I’m not a monster.”

“Hey, Soonyoung?” He hums, chest rumbling under your head. “I would’ve kissed you even if you didn’t brush your teeth.”

He laughs. A yawn leaves you as fatigue sets in; both physical and emotional. “Is that your way of saying ‘I love you, too’?”

“I guess so. For now.”

“Gross.”

You fall asleep like that, wrapped up in one another’s arms on top of the messy covers. There are many things that need to be discussed in the morning, and a lot of work that needs to go into your newly founded relationship. It’s scary, falling in love with your best friend, but there is nothing you wouldn’t do to make him happy. And you are positive he feels the same way.

#ficscafe #soonyoung #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #seventeen #svt #fluff #angst #fanfiction #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #hoshi oneshots #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen oneshots #peach.pen

136 notes · View notes

ask-teiru · 7 years

Photo

Tei: Its called looking cute teiru you wouldnt understand Teiru: O:<

#I was doodling tei bc ive never drawn her before and then teiru just shows up with this disrespect #i wonder if i'll ever see an active tei what even is his relationship to her??#siblings??? friends?? rivals??? lovers??? who knows not me #eye strain #sukone teiru #sukone tei

25 notes · View notes

kopikokun · 3 years

Text

Not My Taste༄ l.dh

↳ Your youth was, to make a long story short, bedazzling. But that sparkle faded long ago, and all that it left is hundreds, thousands, of people asking: What’s next? Thing is, you don’t know either. Washed-up, overshadowed, and still unacclimated to your newfound repetitive life of solitude, your odyssey lacks direction. That is, until a friend of yours materialises bearing a solution: reality TV. Paired with a sunny co-star and a multi-talented cast, maybe this’ll be when the pivotal revelation arc you've been craving starts to take shape.

pairing: lee donghyuck x celebrity!reader (fem)

featuring: ten, jaehyun, johnny, winwin, mark, yangyang, taeyong, wendy (rv)

genre: fluff, angst, fake dating!au, celebrity!au, reality show!au, baking competition!au, enemies to lovers, co-workers to lovers, suggestive

warning(s): intense argument, negative media attention, public pressure, feelings of inadequacy, living in someone else's shadow, self-deprecation (yn's just going through it lmao), expletives

word count: 4480 words

author's note: this is far from perfect but i had loads of fun with it and it was a great change of pace. despite its imperfections/shortcomings, i hope you get something out of it! feedback/constructive criticism (either positive or "negative", so long as it's constructive) is always appreciated ♡ let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for future installations!

☆༓･*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: 1692 (cottonwood firing squad) ✧ cigarette daydreams (cage the elephant) ✧ freakin' out on the interstate (briston maroney) ✧ fluorescent adolescent (arctic monkeys) ✧ hazey (glass animals) ✧ holiest (glass animals, tei shi)

EPISODE LIST # 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

← BACK TO NAVI.

# EPISODE 1: Five Star Shit Show

Growing up, when your father returned late from table reads, your mother would cocoon you in your feather duvet, kiss both temples, and whisper the same tale to you, word-for-word each time. Souls draw lots to determine their life's odyssey, she'd murmur. They huddle around an iridescent goblet—its mouth a gaping black hole—and draw strips woven from rainbow; seven colours on every tape, yet none the same shade. Her eyelids drooped as she spoke, lashes brushing her cheekbones, tinted golden from your bedside lamp. She always mumbled gratitude for her lot—for her husband's success, for her healthy daughter, for the roles you already had flooding in—as she fell asleep before you, soothed by her own stories.

Though you listened, you never believed, because while the notion is fantastical, it's depressing too. If everything was predestined before you could even seize your first breath, effort would be futile. Your achievements wouldn't be earned, they'd be assigned. So, perhaps out of spite, you believe everything—every single damn thing—that's happened in your life is a consequence of your actions, not because fate strummed her strings or some ridiculous goblet spewed prophetic rainbows.

But now, standing in this lurid kitchen setting with a camera crew and nineteen strangers, your mother’s philosophy sounds tempting, because there's no way in hell your choices landed you here. A reality show.

“Hey,” someone whispers, elbow jabbing your side. It’s Ten, the assistant floor manager, your friend, and the reason you're here to begin with. “How is he? You two get along well?"

The ‘he’ is Lee Donghyuck, another ingredient in the reasons for your presence. He's in hair and makeup, eyes lidded as the stylist pats his face with powder. "He's fine. Nice smile, contagious laugh." You pause. "And he's cute."

"'Course you'd say that." Ten rolls his eyes.

"Can't help that I have eyes. And I'm sure everyone here's thinking the same thing."

"So, are you glad you agreed to join this season's cast?" Ten's lips quiver with a smile.

"I only came because you threatened me."

Reality TV is for spectating, not participating. It’s something consumed when there’s nothing else to watch and you just want the day to end. When you watch Masterchef—or Masterchef Junior when you’re disinclined to Chef Ramsay’s degradation—you never think Wow, I wanna be in this. But here you are—not in Masterchef but in World’s Worst Bakers, where the worst of the worst unite for the most disastrous bake-off imaginable.

"I did not threaten you," he pouts.

"You said you'd vomit in my shoes the next time you get drunk, and you do that like every other day. Pretty sure you were drunk when you threatened me too."

"I was stress drinking! You're just jealous I didn't invite you." Bingo. He's absolutely right. "But, seriously, thanks for being down for this. I thought I was totally doomed when Donghyuck's partner said he couldn't make it."

Your cheeks warm. "It's whatever, Ten. It's not like I've got anything going on for me right now." And you're not exaggerating. Since moving out, the vapidity of your day-to-day constitutes daily deja vu. If not for your phone, you doubt you’d even know today’s date. You look back to Donghyuck. According to Ten, he's just one of the contestants who manually applied. “He really isn't one of the celebrities the casting director snagged for the show?” Ratings had tanked last year, a far cry from the first season's monumental success. The crew hoped the inclusion of a few illustrious names would restore the show's declining popularity.

"Nope, just some kid," he says, though Donghyuck's only a few years younger than him. "But he's a natural, isn't he?"

You nod. Just moments after Donghyuck capered in, people swarmed him like ants to sugar. His presence overshadows even the actual celebrities on set.

There’s a single beep—sharp and blaring—before Ten turns to scurry away. “Showtime,” he grins, tossing you a cheeky wink.

Shit, you’re really about to do this. Everyone at home's going to see what an atrocious baker you are. There's three ways this could unfold:

People will coo at your ineptitude, deem you quirky and hilarious. You'll be loved, not in the way your father is—a respectable figure in the field—but as the cooky, skittish friend whose failures are inexplicably funny.

People will boo at your ineptitude; deem you incompetent and spoiled. She can't bake because she was coddled growing up, they'll say. All she knows how to do is drink and sleep around.

Nothing happens. The show's a flop, and so are you. The media writes a few lazy articles about you at parties from weeks ago, or an ex starts shit. They’ll call you a wild card again. You'll be nothing but washed-up, a has-been, only recognisable as a vignette of your father's glory.

The final option is the best. Zero media coverage means people'll forget you. They'll stop badgering you about your next upcoming project when there is none and their expectant stares will shift elsewhere. You'll be a nobody, just like everyone else.

You don't want your parents uncovering what you've been up to since moving out either; that a reality TV baking competition is the most productive you've been since then. Your mother had only relented to your request of moving out after insistent persuasion. Your father hadn't been very keen either, but eventually he'd laughed and said, She'll be fine. The next time we see her, she'll be an A-list actress, in all the latest movies, plastered on all the billboards we drive past. We'd probably get sick of seeing her face everywhere. You'd laughed too, but guilt thrashed violently within you, tearing at your conscience. How would your parents react if you told them you wanted nothing to do with the limelight anymore? That you didn't even know what you wanted to do anymore?

You shudder the fret away. Worrying before a competition never did anyone any good. Ten weeks will zip past, and once again, life will adopt its monotonous course, as it should.

“Hey!” Donghyuck’s voice punctures your internal monologue. It’s ecstatic, like he’s known you forever, when you've only spoken once or twice before. “Ready, partner?”

No. “Not really.”

“That’s fine,” Donghyuck grins. “More fun when you’re unprepared.”

What does that even mean? “Uh... sure.”

“It’ll be fun! Don’t sweat it.” One of the crew members waves wildly, gesturing you to your station. Don’t sweat it? Just wait till I lift my arms.

Donghyuck’s affable, his elation virulent. Sure, you aren't friends, but maybe you could be. He looks like he'd be a great drinking buddy too.

Your life is your own, and you—not some shiny goblet—have decided that you're going to have fun.

Spoiler for episode one of World’s Worst Bakers: it was not fun.

It commenced flawlessly, at first. The sprightly young host, Liu Yangyang, had revealed the judges, each with their own introductory quip. As they sauntered in, you had tried to ascertain their respective cooking-show-judge archetype: the nice one, the funny-in-a-dad-kind-of-way one, and finally, the you-fucking-donut one. You’d hoped that since the competition’s meant to display the worst baking monstrosities comprehensible, the latter was exempted from the panel range.

Your efforts proved fruitless however, the saying ‘you can’t judge a book by its cover’ prevailing in the end. The panel consists of retired bakery owner Johann Wiles, prodigy baker Lee Taeyong, and home-baker extraordinaire Son ‘Wendy’ Seungwan. None of them fit into any one cliche, actually, they all possessed each quality, just in different measurements. Wow, who would've guessed people are multifaceted with many layers to their personality?, you chide yourself. Have you learnt nothing from Shrek? Now, in the final fifteen minutes, you wished you had mentally prepared yourself instead of judging people by physical appearance. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be encrusted in wet flour, sweating your ass off because your buttercream frosting won't retain its shape.

You and Donghyuck stand shoulder-to-shoulder before not a whimsical goblet, but an array of cupcakes; his arms akimbo and yours crossed.

“Why do they look like that? Why are they all melty?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs, mussing his hair, wedging clumps of flour between the strands. “They look like...”

“Wet shit,” you mumble. He nods.

You tilt your head back, shoulders creaking with an ache. The other contestants seem to be doing fine. Why wouldn’t they? This first round is supposedly the easiest, meant to wean you in to the next nine weeks of baking. The judges had even distributed a recipe to minimise catastrophe. So, what on Earth had gone wrong?

“You two doing okay?”

Chef Lee’s voice is mellifluous, like spun sugar. He exudes an air of genuine concern, eyebrows bunched. One of the cameras pivots to you and it takes all of your remaining energy to not flinch.

You shake your head, while Donghyuck says, “Our frosting’s liquified, Chef.”

“Just Taeyong. Chef makes me sound pretentious,” he says, waving dismissively. Man, so you don’t even get to bark ‘Yes, Chef!’? What’s the point?

Taeyong bends forward, laser-focused on your pathetic cupcake. It was palpable from the get-go, but up close, you really marvel in how attractive he is—and how young too. How old did Yangyang say again? 25? 26? In fact, there’s an appalling concentration of attractive people here, from the unfairly gorgeous judge panel to the celebrity contestants, even Ten, a crew member, is pretty good-looking. You glance at Donghyuck, eyes roving his figure. And him. He's just... some guy. Why is he so stupidly attractive? Maybe it wouldn't hurt to try to be a little more than drinking partners.

“How long has the cream cheese been out of the fridge?” Taeyong’s flinty gaze latches onto you. God, you look abysmal right now, and you're being recorded in the same frame as two beautiful men, one of which is staring at you in a room full of equally attractive people. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, hoping to efface any smears.

“Not long. Maybe ten minutes?”

Taeyong raises a brow. “You’re sure?"

“Uh... yes?” In your peripheral, Donghyuck frowns. Did you say something wrong?

Taeyong cocks his head to one side, lips pursed, before reaching down to cup the bottom of one cupcake. “Ah,” he smiles, “did you let the cupcakes cool before frosting?”

Your heart plummets, fizzes in your stomach acid. Cooling was mentioned in the recipe, but you’d skipped it in favour of time-efficiency. You’d even told Donghyuck you’d let it cool when prompted, thinking it’d been a beneficial decision. Evidently not. “...No?”

“You need to let them cool completely on the rack before frosting, or else, well, this happens. Scrape off the buttercream. It should take about ten minutes to cool.” He sets the cupcake down, beginning to walk away. “Good luck.”

You bury your face in your hands. Ten minutes? That only leaves three, at most four, left for piping and plating. You’ll need more than luck. Then, just give up. There's nothing to lose, right? That's a dumb question, of course there is. What will people think if you can't even make it past the first round?

The cameraman lingers, and you’ve half the mind to swat it away to save face when you inevitably yank your hair out. You know you're still being filmed for the drama, reality TV thrives off of it after all. The editors will add in a tense instrumental, rich with dissonance and key changes, cut to a confessional they'll have you record tomorrow, and really milk the suspense. Maybe you should yank your hair out; higher ratings, possibly higher coin. You shake with a silent laugh. It probably looks like you're crying. That would definitely get a few clicks. What a drama queen, would be the consensus.

“Hey, hey, hey,” whispers Donghyuck, lips centimetres from your ear. He's muffling the lapel mic with one hand, the other on your shoulder. He must be frazzled, but like the excellent partner he is, he remains poised. It assures you. Maybe he’s leaning in to murmur encouragement. “Don’t you dare panic. I’m not going to lose this competition because you fucked up."

The fuck? You swivel to gawk at him, faintly aware that his lips are now centimetres from yours. “Excuse me?" you whisper, smothering your own body mic. “You’re being a dick.”

“I will be when there’s money on the line,” he hisses. Where’d that sweet guy go? The one everyone was fawning over forty-five minutes ago? The kind stranger with the lucent smile and boyish laugh? “Now, get scraping," he spits.

Then, as quickly as it erupted, his anger dissipates, eyes creasing and smile shy. He removes his palm from your shoulder and cradles your chin, thumb—which is more calloused than expected—swiping the corner of your lip, so delicate your skin prickles. You stare as he dips the digit into his mouth.

“You had some frosting on your face,” he says, uncovering his lapel mic so his pretext doesn’t go unheard. He turns to start scraping.

Your index and middle finger hover over where Donghyuck’s thumb had been. Unfortunately, there’s no time to dwell, so you stiffly resume your duties.

But you’re distracted. Your eyes keep wandering to Donghyuck, and though you pry them away, they always crawl back, more tenacious than before.

When the timer buzzes and you’re standing before the judges, your eyes are on him. When you’re presenting your cupcakes and answering questions about them, your eyes are on him. When you’re thrust to the bottom two and narrowly evade elimination, your eyes are on him. When you’ve wrapped up for the day and are reminded about recording confessionals tomorrow, your eyes are on him.

It’s only when the losing pair are sent home—a father son duo—that Donghyuck hauls you away and finally, his eyes are on you.

“What the hell is your deal?” he whispers. “You’ve been staring at me for the past half-an-hour.”

You blanch. He’s done it again; that abrupt personality flip. Just moments before he’d laughed and joked and flushed pink at praise, but now he’s snarling in your face like you’ve cussed him out. And honestly, you’re considering it.

You clench your jaw, relishing in the screech of teeth abrading teeth. Heat pulses in every crevice of your body, gripping the gummy flesh of your innards, seeping into your blood, fuelling your every thought.

Ten had been wrong. Donghyuck must have some sort of background in acting, because wow, can the bitch put on a performance. Unbeknownst to everyone here, his entire persona’s been a facade. He isn’t a kind, endearing stranger, no, he’s a conniving, sly, little prick. No, you’re not mad. You’re pleased, pleased that he’s shown his full colours, pleased that you’ve dodged a bullet. You’d been intending to exchange numbers. Imagine that! It would’ve been devastating if he’d only shed his charming glaze after you’d grown attached. You would’ve gone out for drinks, confided in him after a few, and he would’ve laid every dirty secret bare for the public to scarf down, telling the media: I never really liked her anyway.

Cuss him out. No, what would he think of you? But then again, you’re strangers. It’s not like he’s afforded you an ounce of chivalry, why should you? He doesn’t deserve even a morsel of pity or remorse from you.

“My deal? What the fuck is yours? Fine, I screwed up back there, but you didn’t have to be such a bitch about it. What happened to having fun?”

Donghyuck looks at you like you’re a moron. “Of course you think having fun means fucking about. I didn’t mean for you to disregard the steps to the recipe. It explicitly said ‘let rest until completely cooled’. You said you’d let it cool. You lied! You could’ve ruined our chances! I was being nice when I said that, but look where that got me.”

“You? Being nice? You’re the furthest thing from it.” You groan. “You’re just making a fuss out of nothing. We didn’t get eliminated and we’ll be moving on to the next round. What’s the big deal?”

“The ‘big deal’ is, that isn’t the only thing you fucked up. How about the butter that you forgot to put in?”

“I did not forget that. You did. The butter was not my fault. I told you to add it in during mixing after I left it out to thaw. Don’t try to pin your faults on me.”

Donghyuck flushes, and you swell with righteous pride. “Alright, fine, but that’s only because I was too busy picking up after your messes.”

“Picking up after my messes?” you scoff. “I’m not a child, Donghyuck. I was making no messes.”

“Holy shit,” he laughs, bitter and indignant. “You didn’t even realise that I saved your—our asses, did you? ‘No messes’? What about the frosting?”

God, does he ever quit? “What about the frosting? You upset I didn’t milk a cow and make the butter myself?”

“You forgot to put it in the fridge.“

You weave your arms across your chest. Yes, you’d prematurely made the buttercream, but it was an accident. And besides a minute or two squandered, it hadn’t reaped any severe repercussions. “No, I didn’t. I took it out from the fridge. It wouldn’t have been there if I had forgotten, now would it? I definitely remember putting it in.”

“Of course, that’s how you remember it.” He rolls his eyes. “I put it in the fridge, not you. If I hadn’t been aware of my surroundings or neglected common sense, our buttercream would’ve been unsalvageable. Your mistake would’ve single handedly gotten us eliminated. So, yeah, no big deal.”

“Okay, fine, I get it, Donghyuck. I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear? You’re being so dramatic. It’s not like getting upset’s gonna change what’s already happened. Why’re you still so pissed?”

“I’m pissed, because when I win, I’m going to have to split the money with someone who did nothing but drag me down the whole way. A freeloader, riding on the coattails of my effort. I’d tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but it seems like everyone was right about you.”

You bristle. Freeloader. How many times have you heard that before? And what had he heard about you? Everyone? Who else in this room, on this set, in the cast, has something against you? A bottomless chasm of pent-up resentment behind smiling masks? Do they whisper about you behind your back? Does Taeyong? Wendy? Ten?

“The fuck does that mean? Don’t act like you know me when we only met two hours ago! Nothing? I did nothing? Are you so far up your own ass that you didn’t see how I was helping you out the entire time? So what I made a mistake? Surprise, surprise, I’m a shitty baker, Donghyuck! You are too! That’s why we’re on the show!” Your fists are curled, nails piercing the flesh of your palms. “You’re so full of yourself for thinking you pulled all the weight. You prance around smiling and laughing, bluffing about who you really are, pretending like you’ve not got a bad bone in your body, when really, you’re full of shit.”

Hurt shadows his face, but the flames of his ire are quick to extinguish it. He’s not tall, but in this isolated moment, he towers over you. “If being full of shit is what wins me this competition, then so be it. You might have come here because you’ve got nothing else to do, and hey, if you win, there’s a bit of easy cash and publicity, but there is no ‘if’ for me.” His cadence is feral, convulsing, voice cracking as if he’s trying to emphasise every word. His breaths are manic. Each syllable strangles him, pressing tighter and tighter and tighter. He’s frantic, pupils dilated, almost... terrified. “I didn’t come here—didn’t take money out to audition, didn’t spend weeks in anxiety waiting for a response, didn’t take days off my job—just to lose. So, start taking this seriously, or don’t. Get. In. My. Way.”

He’s so close; it’s suffocating. The air between you is congested with all the words uttered, so many that there’s no room left for oxygen. They taint your trachea black, shrivelling your lungs. Your exhales are stifling. The room seems to shrink. The ceiling begs to cave in. It’s claustrophobic. You want to claw at your throat, but instead, you tip forward, glaring, your voice low and vicious, “I hate you.”

Donghyuck smiles, crooked, sadistic. He stoops lower, so close you can taste his rage; tangy and sickly saccharine. “Then hate me,” he whispers. Your gaze flickers to his lips, the way he enunciates each word with escalating menace. His eyes skim your face, before he rights himself, tongue prodding his cheek. You shudder with an exhale. Asswipe. He beams, and it’s only now you notice that it’s stretched too far to be sincere. “See you tomorrow.”

Nothing happened during confessionals the next day. You had expected overt hostility, but Donghyuck was insouciant. He smiled, conversed effervescently, and met your gaze despite your blatant aversion, as debonair as before. You would’ve been piqued by his nonchalance, but yesterday’s outburst had wisened you. Lurking beneath that sunny pretence was, unmistakably, irritation; you only had to learn where to look, and yesterday’s ordeal had been a spectacular lesson in the matter.

Though he approached you with a skip in his step, and a lilt in his laugh, it tormented him more and more every time. The cracks in his charade were laughably transparent when he’d talk to you. From the too broad smile, the too high giggle, the twitch of the jaw, the dart of tongue over upper teeth, he hates being around you—despises it. Well, that makes two of us. Partner.

Now, four days since you last saw him, you smile just reminiscing about his distaste. Obviously, he’s not as unbothered by you as he tries to exhibit. Good. He can pretend as much as he’d like, but you know from experience that bottled-up aggravation is going to simmer to a boil, and just one teensy turn of the gas knob is going to make him go boom. And luckily for him—

No, this isn’t a matter of luck, this is the result of your doing, because you—not anyone or anything else—have decided you’re going to turn up the heat.

Your phone rings, buzzing on the dresser. It must be your mother, harassing you to contemplate moving back in again. Or maybe your parents found out about the show. It had just aired yesterday. Shit. You roll over in your bed, face mashed into the mattress as you blindly reach for your phone.

You clear your throat, and answer with your chirpiest voice, “Yes?”

“Why do you sound like that? Are you sick?”

“Oh, it’s you.”

“At least try to sound enthusiastic,” Ten mutters.

“Yay.”

He grumbles. “I called to ask if you’d seen the episode yet.”

“No.”

“Typical,” he groans. “Do you really not give a shit about it?”

“Should I? Why? Do I look bad?”

“When do you not?” he asks. Silence. He cackles at his own ingenuity. You can hear the grin in his voice when he says, “Anyway, check your texts. I sent you a link. Really, I had no idea you were into guys like that.”

Guys like what? But Ten’s already hung up. Curiosity nips at you, so for once, you immediately enter the Messages app after Ten’s told you to. Hopefully, whatever the hell he’s done now won’t afflict you.

He’s attached a single link; an article. An article with your face on it. Your heart lurches, palms beading perspiration at the sight of yourself. The choice of colour and font of the article is garish, something only a tacky gossip column could get away with. What are you doing in a gossip column? You’ve abstained from anything remotely scandalous for weeks since moving out, refusing to supply any ammunition your mother could use to justify you staying home. So what had soured?

‘BITTERSWEET ROMANCE?

'Just last Friday, the world of reality TV was shaken to its core when the first episode of season three of World’s Worst Bakers aired. The show pits the worst of the worst against one another in an ultimate bake-off to find out who will succeed as the best among them (is that really something to be proud of?). The show itself boasts an impressive cast from rising actor Jung Jaehyun, gorgeous part-time model Johnny Suh, award-winning traditional dancer Dong Sicheng, singer/heartthrob Mark, prodigy baker Lee Taeyong—’

Yeah, yeah, whatever. But why is your face on an article titled ‘Bittersweet Romance’? You scour the page, eyes bulging when you discover what’s been written about you.

‘...the former child star and daughter of esteemed actor seems busy on the show; busy with love that is. Introducing Lee Donghyuck, indiscriminate and humble, perhaps lacking in notoriety, but certainly not in looks. The two seem to have struck a passionate romance, seen in the clip below sharing a tender moment together as Donghyuck soothes his lover’s anxieties about the competition, even slipping in a swoon-worthy gesture. Allegedly, the two were so enamoured by each other, they were nearly eliminated! Ah, young love. Sources say they witnessed the young couple’s hurried departure for privacy the moment filming ended, and we don’t think we need to spell out what probably happened next. Though reports state the couple seem end-game, is that really a possibility considering our darling lover girl’s history? It’s public knowledge that she’s quite a wild card; who knows how she’ll break this poor boy’s heart, if it ever comes to that. Her ex-partners—’

You refuse to read further. Nausea clings to your stomach. A mixture of mortification and abhorrence batters your skull. Passionate romance? Tender moment? Enamoured? Love? And what are they implying with ‘departure for privacy’? That you and Donghyuck had a quickie while the entire crew was milling about? If only they’d heard the berating the two of you had dished out, then the article would probably be singing a drastically different tune. Temper Tantrum: Former child star lambasts her baking partner! They’d regale and call you bitch instead of censoring themselves with ‘wild card’. Wild card. Even in an article claiming you’d found potential true love, they’d wormed it in. Would they be calling you wild card even in seniority? You snort. Imagine that: an eighty-year-old you plastered across gossip columns. Maybe they’d find another washed-up star instead. They probably would. They always did.

Your phone chimes again, screen alight with a new text from Ten.

Looks like we’ve got ourselves a pair of stars.

You scoff, tossing your phone back on the dresser. Yeah, a pair of five star shit shows.

191 notes · View notes

fluffyydumplings · 3 years

Text

Your Fluffy Little Dumpling

Gone - Part 2

Summary: Who knew you’d end up meeting your childhood best friend once again. Who knew you’d end up meeting him while racking your brains up in another chaotic year of high school. Yet after all this time, he remains the same boy you’ve remembered. Cheeks fluffy as clouds, affection for dumplings still strong as ever, and sleepy as the days go on. Sure.. He’s a little grumpier now, but that does not change the fact that he's the cutest little thing to ever waddle into your life.

Word Count: 7.9k

Genre: poly!au / sculptor!yoongi x traveller!reader / angst / fluff/ poetry / romance / unrequited love / childhood bestfriends to lovers / reunion / idiots in love

Warning: Heartbreak/ mutual pinning / toxic ex-friend (mentioned twice) / being invisible / profanity / doubt

A/N: One month and Four days. Why did it take so long? First of all: Assignments. Second of all: Online classes. Third of all: Lack of Motivation. Last of all: Life.. :].. I reread this and it was beautiful. I genuinely like it, even though I read it over a good five times already.

Thank you to @dazedbypark who called my story adorable. I know you haven’t read the whole thing yet, but you’re working on your own amazing fic. The fact that you volunteered to read my work and did so to a minimal state brings joy to me. :)… - a smiley face for you.

Thank you @heejojo who gave amazing feedback. Your comment brought a smile to my face. I’m glad you like the dynamic I have created for my characters. :)… - a smiley face for you.

Series Masterlist

Moodboard

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

‘Du yu like tis,’ your tiny hands offer a piece of milk chocolate to the equally small boy sitting on the swing.

‘Choco-lit?’ he examines the package.

‘Oh.. Is tat wat it’s called?’

‘Yeah..’ he nods.

‘Do yu like choco-lit?’ your face contorts at the unfamiliar word grazing the tip of your tongue.

‘I like dump-ings better,’ he confidently declares, ‘No.. I love dump-ings..’

‘What are tose?’

‘You don’t know wat tey are?’ he opens his mouth in shock, as though he was horrified of you.

‘No,’ you shake your head.

‘My mummy makes them evy-month.. You should come over and t-uvay them sometyme...’ he pauses, realising that your name is still a mystery.

‘Y/N.. Y/Niee,’ you grin wildly, his mouth following in return.

‘Yu?’

‘Yoongi,’ the boy tells you his name.

‘Yoonie.’

‘No.. Yoongi,’ he corrects.

‘Yoonie,’ the dictionary in your head only knows one word, ‘Yoonie.’

‘Pine.. Yu can call me tat,’ he pouts.

‘Kitty.. Yoonie luks like a kitty,’ pink creeps up his fluffy cheeks.

‘Yu are funny.. Y/Niee,’ your name coming from him feels different. It isn’t compressed with resentment like when your mother calls you. It sounds sweet coming from him. Like choco-lit.

So sweet it makes you sniffle. Tears running down your cheeks like water running down a cliff.

‘Oh?.. Why are yu cwaying?’ concern reaches his eyes, ‘Was it because I culled yu funny?’

‘Nu one ever calls mi Y/Niee.. I like that.’

‘Y/Niee wunt to come over my house for dump-ings?’ he offers, ‘We cun hulp mi mummy make them.’

‘Where is your house?’ you wipe your sobs away.

‘Over tyher,’ he points, ‘I just moo-ved here.’

‘Did yu ask your mummy if I could come?’

‘I’ll just tvell her that yu are mi best friend.’

‘Best fviend?’ your eyebrows furrowed at that.

‘Yeah.. I like you a lot, Y/Niee,’ he nods, his eyes sparkling like crystals.

‘I never had a best fviend before,’ you mutter to yourself.

‘Then.. I’ll be your first, and last,’ he shows his pinky, ‘Best fviends forever.’

Your fingers meet as a promise to always be by each other’s side. You turn from six years old to eleven. That's when he moved out of the neighbourhood. The same night you balled your eyes out like crazy because your fluffy little dumpling boy was now as good as gone.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Seven years after ↴ (High School)

‘Y/N..Y/N..’ the teacher tries to catch your attention as you continue to doze off.

‘Yes?’ your eyes barely manage to open.

‘There‘s saliva dripping down your chin,’ she informs you, the laughter of the other students that follow a nuisance to your ears.

‘Quiet down everyone! As I have said earlier, we have a new student joining us.’

‘Ooh,’ the boys fill with excitement.

‘Do you think it will be a boy?’ the girls in the back chatter among themselves.

‘Do you think he’ll be cute?’ one of them questions.

All of that is interrupted by, ‘Quiet down everyone!’

‘Please come in,’ that is when the door opens, revealing a tall, fit, yet adorable-faced figure dressed in the school uniform.

You want this moment to last forever - even if it is a dream. Because if it was, you don’t want to wake up. You'd rather stay stuck in this made-up universe for as long as he exists. For in all of those years of staying up until two just to study for another stupid test, today may be the best day to ever come.

‘Do introduce yourself,’ she gives away one of her: ‘you better behave or I will be a bitch’ smile.

Was this him? Because damn... Even the finest of aged wines and liquor couldn't compare. His smile brings shame to all of mankind.

‘Nice to meet you all. I’m Min Yoongi,’ his voice was thick as paste, and his words were as clear as the sky outside.

‘Woohoo!’ those who gawk their eyes at him go unnoticed by you, for if what they were doing was considered gawking. What you were doing was absorbing. Absorbing all you could take before it would be taken away from you.

Yoongi was as stunning as a butterfly in daylight and as alluring as a firefly against the prussian blue sky. Eyes lightly shaded, lips carefully moulded, and cheeks carved exquisitely to utter perfection.

‘You can sit there. Next to Y/N,’ your heartbeat can be heard loud and clear - for the excitement, fear and anticipation was intense like those last moments where paint is drying on a canvas. Where no one knows what could go wrong. So intense you could have sworn the person sitting in front of you knew of how your heart drops and rises every few seconds.

You walk around with an impassive expression scribbled all over your face. Like an abstract painting that would appear indecipherable and confusing at first glance, and familiar to those who spend hours staring and trying to figure the meaning behind it all. The two creases above your brows when you're focused on work, the way your cheeks puff out when you smile, the adorable noises you make whenever you sneeze, and that frown that visits you when the teacher sets another ridiculous assignment. You were such an interesting character, yet no one wanted to know you or tried to know you. Except one, Min Yoongi.

The creaking of the chair and the sound of him sitting down startles you. But you refuse to show that. You refuse to wear your heart on your sleeve like half of the population does. You remain calm and untouched on the outside and an explosion of feelings on the inside. You were a tree with remarkable chiffon-white bark overflowing with despicable critters. And half of you very well knows that somehow he’d still be able to see right through you. As though you were made of transparent glass, and your thoughts floated above your head like a rubber duck placed in a bathtub. Yet you still tried.

‘Hi,’ that’s when the wooden walls build across you cracks into pieces, for as of right now you couldn't help but grin foolishly. A child in a candy store, the man before you a colourful lollipop made entirely of sugar. The only thing preventing you from him was your mother who doesn't let you indulge in the sweet crystalline substance. But.. a lick wouldn’t hurt. Would it?

‘Remember me?’ his fingers linger over his head, a habit he developed when he was nine.

‘Yoongi..’ just like the day he said your name for the first time, your pretty voice almost brings him to tears. But, crying in a classroom full of strangers and on your first minute in a new school wasn’t what he wanted.

‘Let’s catch up later,’ you direct your pencil at the board, encouraging him to focus.

‘I have to graduate.’

Lies.. Lies.. You never listen. You simply needed time to take in the fact that your childhood best friend was sitting next to you. That he was real, and that if you touched him he wouldn’t disappear.

So, as he focuses his eyes on the teacher, you decide to poke his shoulder to test out the theory. People can call you dumb all they want, but meeting someone you’ve lost seven years ago is not an everyday occurrence.

‘I won’t disappear even if you keep doing that.’

Damn it!! That fucking gummy smile!! Cuteness metre overload!!

‘Oh,’ you slap your hand across your forehead upon realising how foolish you sound and seem.

‘So.. You like sleeping in class?’ he smirks, ruffling your hair as though so much time hasn’t passed by already.

‘What do you mean?’ you protest, refusing to fall victim to his accusation. Which was very much a fact if you’d say so yourself.

‘Y/niee.. The door allows you to see everything in here. It's made of glass,’ your cheeks redden at this. Not because you’ve been caught, but because, ‘Y/niee..’!!!

‘Haven’t heard that name in a while,’ you confide the truth to him.

‘Why? Don’t your friends call you that?‘

Ouch!

‘I don’t have friends,’

The pitiful girl who no one knows. You sure play that role well.

‘Oh.. Sorry,’ he scolds himself in his head, knowing that he has entered bulldog territory. It's only been ten minutes, yet he’s already fucked up. (Not that he was counting the time spent with you or anything.)

He just assumed you would have many friends. I mean.. From what he remembers - you were one lovely little girl. Unless you have turned into a mean witch of some sort that is. He doubts that though, not by how your teeth show as you chuckle in silence and how you are a nervous mess in front of him. And even if you were a mean which, he couldn't care less. All he knew was that you were the six-year-old girl he brought home to make dumplings with.

You might have changed over these years. But regardless of what, you’re his best friend. His Y/niee...

‘It’s okay. It's perfectly fine of you to assume I have friends. Everyone else has one or two.’

‘Speaking of friends... I’m sure you’ve got many. You’re cool,’ the compliment plops two pink dots on his cheeks, the pigment spreading across his face.

‘I had two in my life,’ he shows you his fingers.

‘That’s a lot,’ you tell him.

‘And then there's you.’

And then there's you.

Why did that sentence make you gulp slightly? Maybe it was because of the countless questions wandering around in your mind. What were you to him? Just a decent childhood memory to forget? A cherished childhood memory engraved in his heart? Something he had only come to remember today?

‘My best friend,’ that made you smile, contrasting to that of your usual poker-faced and empty canvas-like expression. The artist hovering from above you with his brush stretching your lips as wide as he could, as though he was a puppeteer and you were a marionette doll with no mind or heart of your own. But the act wasn’t as horrendous as it seems to be. For you don’t regret smiling.

‘Looks like the promise..’

‘Y/N, and Yoongi!’ your teacher has never irked you this badly. But.. as they say, you never know what happens.

‘Yoongi,’ you poke him lightly.

‘Smile,’ you whisper, his ears catching on and obeying your orders.

‘No talking in my class. If I catch you one more time detention it is for you, Y/N.’

‘Yoongi.. I expected you to behave. But.. I guess Y/N got to you,’ you don’t miss the scowl she sends your way.

‘Y/N’s at it again,’ those were the last words she uttered before returning to her lesson.

*Ring*

Looks like the bell was on your side this time.

‘Class is dismissed,’ her pointing stick is shoved into her tote bag, her heels disappearing at the door.

‘Huhh.. Finally,’ students sigh in relief.

‘Y/Niee.. Wait for me,’ he holds your hand in his, your body relaxing immediately at the contact.

‘I’m sorry for getting you in trouble. I’d understand if you’d want to avoid me,’ that breaks his heart.

Why on earth are you saying that?

‘No.. Why would I do that?’

‘That’s what happened years ago. After I was deemed as the “trouble maker”, my friends all avoided me.’

These “friends” of yours. If he were to ever come across them, he’d have to have a little chat with them. Or in his language. Tie them up in rope, and make them confess to their sins.

‘I’d never let our friendship fall for such silly things like that. You’re worth much more than that,’ he pats you on the head.

‘Whoever these “friends” of yours are.. They don't deserve you. A friend will stick with you through thick and thin. The fact that they let go of your hand for a mere rumour speaks for everything!’

‘Why do you sound so angry, Yoonie?’ you tease.

‘Because you don’t deserve this,’ he replies honestly.

‘Now.. Let's get onto something more light. Our first day together shouldn’t be spent on such gloomy and meaningless topics.’

You nod in return, pleased in knowing that after all of this time there is someone willing not only to stay by your side but to stand up for you.

‘What’s your favourite colour?‘ he feigns unfamiliarity, even though the colour he believed to be your favourite is frolicking across the tip of his tongue. His eyes crinkling in utter joy at the recollection of you and your many purple bracelets.

‘Black,’ time changes people, he forgot that.

But change is what we all need in order to grow. He’ll frown for a few days, realising how he doesn't know you well like he once did. Nevertheless, he’ll get to know you. The present version of yourself.

‘What’s your favourite movie?’ the questions don't stop rolling in.

‘Oh.. Come on! You know how easily distracted I get,’ you grimace at his faked oblivion. It might have been years since you have met, but regardless of what, you still know him to a certain degree. No matter how many times he’d dip himself in pretend curiosity, you’d still be able to distinguish whether he was playing with you or genuine in his actions. Right now he was digging through a mine filled with gems, and putting on an act of not being aware of what lies underneath. A part of him very much knows the answers to these questions and is just testing whether he is right or not.

‘Do you have a crush on someone?’ his babbling that doesn't come to an end is a disguise used to hide the real motive behind it all. The crush he had ever since you both turned eight, and the one that never managed to fade away.

He has to know this. To know whether he’s a possible candidate to snatch a place in your heart, or if that spot has already been taken.

‘Yes,’ those words splatter at his once sparkling hope, replacing it with despair.

‘Who?’ he struggles to hide the frown knocking at him, yet a teasing smirk manages to caress his face.

‘... Kim.. Kim Taehyung,’ lies spill from your lips. The last time you spoke to Taehyung was three years ago - when he forgot to bring his pencil. The last time you got a glimpse of him was two weeks ago - when you accidentally bumped into him.

Either than that, Kim Taehyung is invisible to you as you are invisible to him.

‘The school’s heartthrob?’ looks like he’s got another reason (aside from the boxy-smiled boy’s continuous persistence of wanting to be friends) to hate the fellow.

‘Mmhmm,’ you nod, wishing ever so desperately that he doesn't catch on to your lie. He probably already found you pitiful enough. Why add more to the hundred reasons to feel bad for you? Making up a little crush wouldn’t hurt anyone. Or will it?

‘He’s my neighbour. I can talk to him for you. If you’d like me to that is,’ as much as he wanted you for himself, and as much as he wanted to fight for you. How was he supposed to do so? Especially when your heart already has been set somewhere.

For you to be happy and well. That's what he wanted most. And even if that happiness had to come in the form of a tall, and brown-eyed teenager dressed in denim. So.. It was.

Min Yoongi is a good judge of character, and he knew that Kim Taehyung was nothing but a good-looking lad dragged into the spotlight simply because his nose was prominent, his eyes were alluring, and his deep voice was regarded as attractive.

In the name of love, Min Yoongi was one big idiot who doesn't know how gifts work or how particular signs meant. He’s only been in love once in this nearly two decades of his. And that's to you. Therefore, How does a man who is clueless as a chipmunk get the girl? He screws up and learns from it.

‘You don’t have to,’ it’s either he fell for it, or he’s pretending not to know. You don't want neither. You just want him to push you against the wall and claim your lips as his.

‘We only have barely a year left before the bear gets away.’

‘I’m not that desperate. You sound more desperate than I am.’

‘No, I’m not. Why would I be?’

Only for Yoongi, you were.

Only for you, he was.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

‘Kim Taehyung!’ his words pump up with resentment like a balloon filled up with the wrong type of gas.

‘It’s for Y/N.. It’s for Y/N.. It’s for Y/N,’ he chanted it in his head.

‘Taehyung-ah!’ more friendly, he thought.

‘Hyung!! You have finally decided to glance my way,’ he doesn't bother to hide his smile, his eyes beaming in utter glee.

‘We can be friends.’

Overjoyed and a level up of what over the moon felt like. Kim Taehyung was happy. Very happy.

‘Reallly?’

‘Yes,’ he’s already feeling guilty.

‘Taehyung, let me be honest with you. I came here because of Y/N,’ that’s when his face drops, shades of grey and white splattered across his expression.

‘Oh..’ he’s an open book.

‘She likes you. Will you do me a favour, and go out with her?’ half of Yoongi wanted him to say yes, and the other half didn't.

‘So, you’re not here because you want to be friends?’

‘No,’ he was already asking for too much, the least he can do was tell the truth. ‘You can think ab-’

‘I’ll do it,’ this was a great opportunity - too great for him to pass by, ‘When’s the date?’

‘Tomorrow, 4 pm. Cafe Bonsai.’

‘I’ll be there,’ that’s it, Taehyung’s big plan. To get to know Y/N, make her tell him about Yoongi, and use that information to get his crush to fall head over heels for him.

That's how you ended up seated here, a bowl laying there with the remanence of spaghetti that was once dressed in bold red sauce as you face no other than Kim Taehyung.

‘I got you a date with you-know-who,’ Yoongi informed you, holding hands with the woman he introduced you to mere seconds ago. That ignited a fire in you. ‘Make Yoongi Jealous.. Steal Yoongi’s heart,’ your head went on, a faux grin sent his way.

‘So.. Will you tell me about yourself?’ he wakes you up from your daydream with a genuine question sculpted from his child-like curiosity and fondness towards people.

‘My dream job is to travel around the world. I’ve been saving up ever since I could get a part-time job,’ a perplexing smile pinches your lips. Was this too much to tell a person you've barely talked to twice?

‘That’s cool. Mine is to be a saxophonist,’ he pauses, ‘Just kidding. That was a silly childhood dream of mine. My dream job is to paint. I especially have an admiration towards impressionism.’

‘That’s cool,’ you were beginning to see him in a whole new light. The filter he puts on to play the role of the school’s heartthrob forgotten and put aside.

Both you and he are more alike than you’d like to admit. Those who hide behind a facade tend to forget who they are beyond it. But both you and him weren’t like that. You can fool the whole world, but you can’t fool yourself. For, when they all turn their heads away you’re simply dear old Y/N who eats cookies from a tin and he’s Taehyung who mixes paint in a can.

‘It is?’

‘Of course, it is,’ you nod in agreement.

‘Everyone else doesn't seem to agree. To them, art is the ticket to starvation and poverty,’ his fist tightens at the image of his parents throwing away his art. The blood, sweat, tears, and emotions that come along with them all tossed aside and replaced with resentment, anxiety, and pain. The textbooks clustered in numbers and signs a replacement that will supposedly lead to: ‘the key to his success.’

‘Ignore what they say. You know what is best for you and what you want and need better than anyone else does. If you want to paint, paint,’ your heart may beat for Yoongi, but your words aren’t limited to him.

‘Thank you, Y/N.. I’d love to talk more. But, it’s late now, I think we should part ways,’ he stands up from his chair.

‘Goodbye, Taehyung.’

‘Call me Tae.’

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Five months later ↴

‘Y/Niee... Come over here,’ Seori, Yoongi’s sixth girlfriend of the year, makes you scoot over to join the others.

But, wait a minute! Y/niee!!?? Only Yoongi gets to call you that. How dare-

‘1... 2... 3.. Cheese!’ you settle your arms around Yoongi and Taehyung’s hip, trying your best to not strangle her.

How long was this one going to last? Four days? Two weeks? One month?

Well.. little did you know, this would be the last of her. Turns out, Yoongi didn't like the whole ‘Y/niee’ situation just as much as you did. In his words: ‘How dare you call my best friend that! Just because I call her that, doesn't mean you can. We should end this. I don't like people like you. People who think with their feet.’

You might think. Isn’t that a silly reason to break up with someone? In Yoongi‘s world, it wasn’t like that. He was dating simply because you couldn't be his.

The amount of women he has left broken-hearted has earned him a name - pretty boy. Legend has it, that the pretty boy is easy to fall in love with but hard to make fall in love back. He has innocent features and round cheeks, yet no heart to be found. Once you mess up once, out the drain you go. And when we say mess up, we mean: accidentally bumping into pretty boy’s best friend because your shoelaces were untied. You get the picture.

‘Where are we Yoongi?’ you observe your surroundings, taking in the sculptures that are displayed everywhere.

‘Welcome to my workshop,’ a wave of satisfaction and pride hit him in the form of the curving of his lips.

‘Woah. Did you make these?’ you stare in awe at the array of flower sculptures that lay neatly next to one another.

‘I did,’ he bobs his head slightly, his excitement at its peak upon seeing how amazed you appear to be.

‘Yeon-ki.. Why haven't you shown me this before?’ your voice comes out weirder than it normally would.

‘I thought you wouldn’t be interested,’ he scratches his head, burrowing his face into the charcoal black t-shirt he wore.

‘Min Yoongi.. Oh, Yoongi.. My dream job when I was thirteen was to be a sculptor.’

‘Oh, really? Mine started ever since I was eight. Growing up with a mother who ran a dumpling shop does a thing or so to you,’ he chuckles, memories of two tiny hands sealing the edges of a kimchi and pork dumpling coming back to him.

‘How come you never told me that?’ you pout, thinking of how you used to tell each other everything.

‘I was embarrassed,’ he remembered the day his teacher asked him: ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’

‘A sculptor,’ that’s when the class broke down into laughter, his cheeks pink from humiliation.

Now how was he going to tell you? That he didn't want to tell his crush (who also happens to be his best friend) about his dream job, because he didn't want her to find him weird like the other children did and leave him...

From his perspective as a grown-ass man, children find anything funny.

‘Yoongi.. When I was eight years old I wanted to be a kitty cat,’ you giggle, your third-grade classroom visible from the corner of your eyes.

‘Y/N.. What do you want to be when you grow up?’

‘Uhh.. Uhh.. A kitty cat, Ms Seo,’ even the teacher starts cracking up.

‘Ahh. I remember you telling me that.’

How can you be this adorable? He swears he’s melting right now, his heart all mushy and soft. Oh- But you’re not his...

‘Wanting to be a sculptor isn’t even one bit embarrassing,’ you scowl.

To him it was.

‘He He,’ he’s feeling shy, light giggles coming from his lips.

The ‘Min Yoongi’ shy? Only for you, it seems. No one makes him feel like you do.

‘So.. Why are we here?’

‘We haven’t been hanging out with one another lately. So.. I thought. Why not do something fun for once?’ he points at the clay sealed in transparent airtight bags over on the table.

‘Pottery?’ you conclude.

‘Pottery,’ he verifies your speculation.

‘I will teach you how to make your own piece!’ never has he ever been this enthusiastic over something. This was his craft after all, his escape from boring essays and equations. The love of his life - after you of course. Even dumplings found themselves in third place over time.

‘I want to make matching mugs,’ ideas spring up in your head like brushes swirling in water.

‘You’re that excited?’ his face is going to start hurting from all of this smiling.

‘Mmm.. I am,’ fuck that, you’re worth all of his smiles.

‘Do you want me to show you how first, or do you want me to guide you along?’

‘Guide along,’ you let him tie your apron on, his hands hovering above your curves.

‘Just like that,’ he finishes the last knot, your body paralysed out of nervousness and your heart pounding palpably away. The sound of your heartbeat was like music being played at the lowest volume possible. The vibrations barely clear, but still existing. The melody quiet and only picked up if listened to meticulously.

‘What are you waiting for? Sit down, Y/niee.’

Min fucking Yoongi! I’m about to pounce at you, you clueless yet ridiculously lovable freak that I wish were mine - you cursed in your head, sitting down obediently.

‘Apply pressure onto the clay,’ he instructs, the confusion reflecting on your eyes reminding him of his earlier days.

The days in which he just started learning. First was the paper flowers, then the pottery, and now the sculptures. He was making his way through it one by one, hoping he’d master it all in the near future. Materials like breezeblocks, plaster of paris, soapstone, alabaster, serpentine and wonderstone he had carved away. The amount of materials he has lost possibly forming a mountain. Yet the many pieces he has created out of all of it was worth every lost and aching muscle.

He’d move on to marble soon, and to be honest, he’s eager as fuck. And a reasonable amount of: ‘I’m scared for my life.’ That’s what he likes to think.

Marble is expensive, and tricky to work with. However, as a sculptor, he was willing to try everything out. Who knows, maybe marble might end up being his end game.

‘You have to centre it,’ his hands overlap yours, guiding you through the divine art of pottery.

‘Like this.. There we go,’ your back pressed against him, results in the zapping of a lightning-like sensation in your chest.

‘Now, we have to form a hole,’ the clay smooth against your bare hands, both satisfying to touch and watch as it goes through a magical transformation on the wheel.

‘We are almost done,’ his hands now around your waist.

How can you move at this rate?

‘Relax.. Pottery is supposed to calm you down, not stress you out,’ so you do calm down, your hands moving the way he wants you to. Your heart the polar opposite.

‘Now we remove it, and let it air dry,’ he’s careful to not harm the shape of the mug as he cuts it off, placing it on another table.

‘Time to make the other one,’ he does as you did minutes ago, his hands like waves colliding in the ocean. Every moment his body moves, a marble being quarried somewhere.

‘Woah,’ that makes him smile. You make him smile, his motions not ceasing to exist. His fingers dancing along with clay that continues to spin around, the twirling coming to a halt at last.

‘We’ll come back tomorrow. They need to dry overnight.’

‘So, this is it?’ you frown, realising that your time with Yoongi is no more.

‘No.. I’ve got something else planned,’ and now you were content yet again.

‘What do you have planned?’ curiosity was yet to be reduced like the many slabs of rock Yoongi has in store. He’ll have to carve this one first though. Taking away your curiosity, and leaving you with blocks of utter satisfaction.

‘A-’ that’s when his phone starts ringing violently.

‘Oh.. Shit. I have to go, Y/N.’

‘Why?’ I guess those pieces of excess rock barricading your heart will have to stay for today.

‘My girlfriend is in trouble,’ he genuinely likes this one.

Maybe this would be the key to getting over you?

‘You should call Tae to pick you up,’ his name no longer holding bitterness. Yoongi has grown attached to the man now equipped with cerulean blue hair. He was a bit quirky, yet sweet. A lot quirky actually. But... Nonetheless, sweet.

‘I will! Please call me once you get home.’

And soon he realised how wrong that statement would be. There is no key to getting over you. Even if there is, It sure isn’t humanely possible.

You have his heart in your hands. You have the power to crush it into pieces or to protect it with all of your might. At the moment, you have it dangling from your hands. So close, yet so far... That was Yoongi and Y/N - you and him.

With your departure, bits of his happiness trail after you. His heart plunged out of his chest.

He’ll help her today, but break up the next. It's the least he could do out of decent courtesy.

However.. when he arrived he was pulled away. A pair of lips pressed to his.

‘You came,’ her hands placed blatantly on his neck.

‘Hwa-Young!’ he pulls away.

‘Hwa-Young,’ those same words graze your lips as it did his.

The one that left you behind for a rumour. The friend who promised she would stick with you until the very end, but left before the waters even thickened.

Hwa-Young.. A beautiful flower. She was beautiful alright. But some flowers are just so rotten inside, even their petals start falling apart.

Did Yoongi leave you just to kiss her? Did Yoongi bail on your date for this? Were you to a point so not worthy of his attention, that he’d rather spend it with someone else? Stop! Stop! You can’t just assume what is going on, without knowing what happened!

That's right! You can ask Yoongi tomorrow. He’ll explain to you everything. And all will be fine. He did not leave you to kiss your former friend. He probably doesn't even know who she is. If he does, he’ll probably break up with her. But.. What if Yoongi loves her. You don't want to be in his way. But... Your friendship!!

It’s all too much for your brain to comprehend.. Your head feels like it's about to explode, and you can’t stop the tears from coming. You had no one but yourself if Yoongi we're to leave.

You can’t fend for yourself again!

Lone wolves are always the first to go. Lone wolves are always the most vulnerable to pain, trouble and death. That's how it is. And how it always will be.

Wait! Wait! You have Taehyung.. You aren’t alone after all.

‘Fuck..’ you cuss, the gateway to agony’s twin sister staring right at you. Your existence, a speck of sculpting debris to be thrown out with the rest.

‘I’m finally home,’ not a glance to be given. Not a bother to be seen. And not another word to be spoken.

Yoonie (Best Friend) - Direct Message

You: I saw you

Yoongi:??

You: With her

Yoongi: It’s not what it looks like

You: That's what they all say

You: Good night, Min

Yoongi: Y/N??

Yoongi: Honey?

Yoongi: Y/niee??

‘Y/N! Honey!’ you know very well of what you had to do.

You have to talk. You have to let him explain himself.

‘Yoongi..’ your downhearted expression causes a rift between his sadness and anxiety. A rift that was indecipherable from start to finish.

‘Bench?’ he suggests, not wanting your legs to ache by the time this conversation ends.

‘Mhmm,’ you mumble incoherently.

‘I liked this one more than I did others,’ he admits, covering your legs with his varsity jacket. He’s not letting you shrivel up in the cold. Not now, or ever..

‘You do?’ you lean onto him, taking his warmth in with you.

‘I did,’ he corrects.

‘She tricked me. She called saying that her car was being towed away and that she needed help. When I arrived, there was no car or truck. I was pushed into the corner, and she started kissing me. That's when I knew, she wasn't the one.’

That there was no one like you, he wanted to say.

‘That’s terrible,’ you sigh, your anger soothing away.

Yoongi would never do that to you. You have let your doubt towards this world and its people get to you once again. But... Can anyone blame you? It was them who made you this way.

Inside you smiled, knowing he was sticking by your side no matter what happens. Your bitterness towards Hwa-Young intense.

‘Now.. Your story.’

‘I was walking home and I saw you and her.. Kissing.. Then.. I- left,’ you halt.

‘She’s the friend I told you about in the beginning,’ if he was resentful before, now he was enraged.

‘I’m sorry,’ even if he didn't know before, he felt the need to apologise. And so he did.

‘You didn't know. The fact that you dated her hurts me. But... You didn't know.’

‘Are we still best friends?’ he hopes that title, regardless of this, continues to stand.

‘Yoongi. Our friendship is much more than that.’

He knows that. He was just testing.

‘So.. If I were to kiss you right now, you wouldn’t mind it?’ your heart.. Sjdbhdhdjdhfhf What the blueberry muffins and oranges is this man trying to do!?!!

‘I’m with Taehyung,’ that hits him hard.

‘That was an insensitive question. Wasn't it?’ he timidly covers up his face.

‘Just don’t let Tae hear you,’ you both giggle.

Yet neither one of you mean it.

You’ve never kissed Tae before. You have had a platonic relationship all the way from day one to now.

‘You don’t like me.. do you?’

‘Wu-what do- you mean by that,’ you were always bad at lying.

‘Yoongi? You like him. Don’t you?’

‘How.. did-’

‘I just do.’

He wanted to say: ‘You look at each other as though you are in love.’ But... He didn't.

‘Don’t tell him,’ oh how familiar those words are.

‘Do you like her?’

‘What?!’ he needed a more specific question.

‘Do you like Y/N?’ that freezes him in place. His body is like stone that is unable to move about.

‘Y/N.. What? Yeah, she's my best friend. Of course, I like her,’ he firmly asserts.

‘Not like that. You know what I mean.’

‘Fine.. Fine.. You win. I like Y/N.’

‘Don’t tell her,’ he snorts at the memory of Yoongi pleading ever so desperately.

‘We should go inside.. Shouldn't we?’ his fingers lace with yours, sauntering along as he carefully brings you with him.

‘We graduate in four more months. Isn’t that crazy?’

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Four Months Later ↴

‘Happy Graduation!’ the three of you clatter your glasses filled with fizzing soda together.

‘The day we break up,’ you thought.

‘The day they break up,’ he thought.

Shit! What if Taehyung doesn't want to end this? Shit! Wouldn't Y/N end up hurt by this?

‘Did you-’

‘We broke up,’ if he’s shocked, he sure doesn’t show it.

He always knew this day was going to come sooner or later. What he was going to feel or how he was going to deal with it, on the other hand, is something he didn’t know.

‘Where is Y/N? Is she okay? Oh.. Tae..’ he collapses into his arms.

Shit.. Shit!! His heart! The love of his life crying about you in his arms. About nine months ago, he would have taken this as an opportunity for him to snatch Yoongi up. But… this love story doesn’t include him. He’s a mere side character that blurs away in the background. A character that can either break or make the story. For as much as how trivial he is, his decisions affect the story.

And he was no monster.

‘She’s at home. She dumped me.’

‘She dumped you?’ oh how foolish Yoongi was, Taehyung had thought. He himself was not any different though. A fool in love.. Too blind to see the truth in front of him.

‘She did.’

‘Are you hurt? Do you like her?’ he didn't need to be reminded of his reality.

What was he supposed to say? No.. I don't. I don't like her that way. You.. See. I’m not attracted to women. Y/N is this wonderful woman and I adore her more than anything in this world (maybe a little more than I adore you) but she’s like my little sister. Okay Okay.. She’s older than I am. But, you get what I mean. She’s like a sister to me.

‘No,’ nor does she like me he almost says. In that sense of course.

‘Take care. Get home safely, Tae,’ those words ring in his ear.

Why are you so caring Min Yoongi? Make me hate you! Make me hate you! Because you being kind is worse than you not being mine.

Oh, Y/Niee.. Sweep him off of his feet already. I want to move on.

‘Y/N! Are you in there, honey!’ the knocks that pass through to you is just another reminder of how love will never be yours.

‘Yoongi?’ your voice is tiny as you open the door.

��Food,’ he lifts the lunch box to show you.

‘I dumped him.’

‘I know,’ he releases the food to the open world.

‘I know about your request,’ shit.. is that why.

‘Are you mad at me?’ you bastard, that's not what you are supposed to say.

‘That’s why I agreed on the date,’ you take the chopsticks out.

Why should you lie?

‘Do you love him?’ Min Yoongi, you stupid fuck!

‘No,’ he wasn't relieved.

‘Why the nine months?’

‘Because I wanted to love him,’ because I love you.

‘It didn't work though. You can’t fool this,’ you put your hand against your beating heart.

‘You had a crush on him?’

‘Admiration and love are two different things,’ he sticks the spoon into the soup.

‘Do you feel like eating?’

Do you feel like anything?

‘No,’ he tugs the food back into its packaging.

‘Those mugs we made. Remember them?’ you nod.

‘Do you want yours?’ you nod.

‘They came out nice,’ a subtle smile moulds onto your face.

‘We’ve been distant these four months. Only talking at school, and barely meeting up outside. Even the conversations held at school were scarce.’

Avoiding him was your way of coping.

‘Was it Hwa-Young?’

‘No..’

Hwa-Young didn't bother you, the way his lips embraced hers did. It snapped something inside you. A brutal mess of phrases in your head that wouldn’t stop returning. ‘He’ll never kiss you like that.’ ‘He’ll never be yours.’ ‘He’ll never love you like that.

‘Then what was it?’ a single presence of happiness never glazes his face.

‘Does there have to be a reason for everything?’

‘Y/N.. I’m trying to fix this relationship.’

Yoongi.. I’m trying to protect myself.

‘Get out,’ you’re not keen on starting a fight.

‘Don’t forget to eat what I brought,’ he closes the door, his lingering warmth on the couch floating away just as your loneliness kicks in once again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A Week Later ↴

‘Hello... It’s me..’

‘Y/N,’ his eyebrows quirk up at your voice, ‘How are you?’

‘Yoongi. It's been a week since I have seen him, Tae.’

‘What happened?’ concern he had shown.

‘I shut him out.. I didn't - don't want to get hurt. Not like this.’

‘I saw him yesterday. I asked about you, and he said you were doing great.’

‘Bastard,’ you couldn't help but hiss.

‘He didn't look good, Y/N. We were catching up over lunch yesterday, and the whole time he was grumpy and extra pissy. Kept on looking at his phone as though someone were to message him. Nothing ever came, and he pouted throughout the whole hour.’

‘He barely took two bites of the food he ordered.’

Frowns.. Frowns. Oh, silly little thing. He should be taking care of himself.

‘Maybe he didn't like it.’

‘We were at his mother’s dumpling shop. He ordered dumpling soup. His favourite.’

‘Oh..’

You foolish bastard..

‘You should check on hi-’

‘No.. You should,’ he cuts you off.

‘I’m done playing middleman. How long are you going to drag this on? You like him, and he-’

‘Never mind.. It isn’t my place to tell you this. Have a nice day, Y/N.’

The phone call ends, and you go rushing for your coat.

‘Yoongi.’

‘You’re here,’ he was a little kitty waiting for its owner to come home.

‘Y/N!’ he isn’t a man of affection, but hugging you was necessary.

‘It’s cold,’ he hauls you inside.

‘I missed you,’ you break the silence away.

‘I did too.’

‘Why have you been avoiding me recently?’

‘Do I have to answer that?’

‘Goodness gracious, Y/N... I love you.’

The last time he cried in front of someone was when people allowed it. When he was a six-year-old child who was oblivious to what the cruel world could offer. The last time he cried was when he was showering. His whimpers blended in with the quiet of the night and that of the water trickling down his back and legs.

The water could hide his pain, casting him in a shield of protection. ‘Why can’t you be mine?’ he initially wanted to scream then. But, energy was something he no longer possessed. All that came out was a low sob of distress.

‘I-’

Words Y/N! Words...

‘I’m leaving for Paris tomorrow. Let's have one last movie night at my place.’

First the ‘I love you,’ and now this?

‘Paris?’

‘Sculpting.’

‘Oh..’

You lost him once. And now he was about to slip through your fingers yet again.

Min Yoongi is no piece of stone that you can easily keep in place. He’s sand. He’ll get away one way or the other.

‘Titanic.. Why titanic? I thought you weren't one for romance.’

Ever since you came into his life, he had been a sucker for romance novels and movies. Specifically: unrequited love stories with happy endings. That’s his favourite thing to watch over a weekend. Or rather, tear his eyes out wishing you were his as the male lead somehow gets the girl.

‘I love Romance.’

‘Okay.. Okay, mister.’

‘I love you.’

Get out of my head, Min Yoongi!

Did she not hear what I said?

‘Y/N?’ you fell asleep.

Your brain couldn't handle all of that. Your body couldn't handle of that. Your heart couldn't handle all of that.

‘Morning.’

‘I fell asleep last night. Didn’t I?’

‘You did.’

*Ring*

‘I’ve got to take this,’ you direct at the phone.

‘Your morning tea is waiting for you on this table.’

‘Mhmmm.’

‘Tae?’

‘Paris. He’s going-’

‘I know.’

‘Damit.. You fools! Yoongi likes you.’

‘We’re best friends.’

‘He loves you.’

‘Best Friends can love each other.’

‘Goodness me oh my.. He has a fucking crush on you.’

‘How do-’

‘He told me.’

‘Confess already. Don’t let him get away..’

‘I won’t ask him to stay. Sculpting is his life.’

‘Plus, long-distance relationships don’t work.’

‘Just get it off of your chest.’

I’ll never get to do so myself.

‘I’m at his house.’

‘Movie night?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’m leaving for Spain.’

‘What? You too?’

‘Mmm..’

‘In the end, all I have is myself.. Isn’t it?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry. I’ll survive somehow.’

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Time of Departure ↴

‘Yoongi.. Before you leave, I want to tell you the real reason to why I broke up with Taehyung.’

You stood there, desperately hoping it will all turn out well.

‘Y/N.. Can’t you tell me some other time,’ his luggage is propped up against the wall, his legs leaning against the door.

‘No.. Yoongi.’

‘There is no other time.’

‘Is it important?’ he pouts.

‘It very much is,’ you confidently state.

‘Now.. Go on.’

‘I- I-’

Dammit!

‘I- I like you.’

‘And I love you,’ he knows what’s coming next, yet he didn't want to give up.

Even if there’s only a pinch of hope left.

‘I do too,’ you look into his eyes, the darkness within it glimmering with a dot of unrelenting wishfulness.

‘Not like that, you fool. I love you.. As in- As in: I want to push you against the wall and kiss you stupid.’

‘Yeah.. That I love you,’ you smile, rubbing your fingers over and over again.

‘I’ve been crushing on you ever since we were six. When we were eleven I’d follow you around like a lost puppy. And then you moved away. But the universe wanted us to meet again. We did.’

‘Eight-year-old me wanted to marry you. We can’t do that just yet. But..’

‘Min Yoongi.. The one with the lovely eyes who talks way too much and can’t focus for fuck’s sake. Will you be my boyfriend?’

He nods, his cheeks pink.

‘Words, Min.’

‘Yes.’

‘Now go on.. Go to Paris and become a megastar of a sculptor, or whatever people these days call it.’

Long-distance relationships. You were so against that idea. After all: ‘Out of Sight, Out of Mind.’

However, this was the boy who had haunted your dreams for the seven years he was gone. He’s an exception. Always was and always will be.

‘Y/N..’

You thought he’d leave. You thought he’d walk away. But.. He didn't.

He embraced you into a tight hug.

Oh how badly he had been yearning for this moment to arrive.

‘You know Y/N, I never thought I’d see you again. I’m so glad I did,’ his words vibrate against your neck.

‘There are plenty of colleges in Korea where I can major in sculpting.’

‘But...’

‘Shh.. Let me confess something,’ his fingers touch your lips, hushing you.

‘Paris was just me trying to run away from what I wanted and needed. You.’

‘Y/N-’

‘No,’ you cut him off, ‘I get to say it.’

‘You already did.’

‘Does it look like I care whether I have said it or not?’

‘Nope.’

‘Then.. Will you be my fluffy little dumping?’

‘Yes..’

Smiles.. Smiles.. Oh, how could you stop smiling?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Tears.. Tears.. Oh, how could you stop crying?

‘Yoongi! Yoongi!’ your lungs could drop out any second now.

‘He can’t hear you. We’re ghosts in this realm,’ Jimin looks over to your puffy eyes.

‘Why me? Why did I have to die? Why me?’

‘Namjoon’s next,’ the angel ticks something off with his quill.

‘All of this is just business to you.. Isn’t it?’

‘My memories are nothing but something you have to tick off of that stupid list of yours. Isn’t it?’

‘It’s my job,’ not a dose of sympathy to be shown.

‘You’re a devil. Not an angel.’

‘I’m just Jimin.’

‘Fuck you Jimin.’

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Min Yoongi has invited to you to his sculpting exhibition!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

102 notes · View notes

curewhimsy · 3 years

Text

Vocal Synth Total Drama Island AU Concept (so far)

———Very Short Character Introductions——— (56 campers in all, aged 14-18) Haku Yowane- A sweet, lonely, sensitive girl with a lot of heart. Age 17. Neru Akita- A courageous tomboy who is misunderstood. Age 17. Miku Hatsune- A bubbly, cheerful, outgoing girl with a lot of friends. Age 15. Luka Megurine- An artistic girl who has a bit of anxiety. Good friends with Meiko. Age 18. Teto Kasane- A bubbly, cheerful girl with an unexpected temper and badass side. Age 15. Megumi “Gumi”- A bit shy, but underneath, she is very brave and resourceful. Age 16. Meiko Sakine- The Mom Friend. Confident and likes to help people. Age 18. Momo Momone- The nicest girl, to the point of being a pushover… Age 15. Rin Kagamine- Unhinged gremlin sibling 1. Loves causing mayhem. Age 14. Len Kagamine- Unhinged gremlin sibling 2. Loves causing chaos. Age 14. Eleanor Forte- The mean girl and drama queen. Cause of lots of drama. Age 17. Kaito Shion- The dorky boy who always has a cheesy smile on his face. Age 17. Akaito Shion- The moody playboy. More serious than Kaito, but bad-tempered. Age 18. Koto Fuuga- Nature girl. Knows all about bird calls, animal behavior, and more. Age 16. Taya Soune- An extremely polite guy. Always dresses formally. Always. Age 15. Ruko Yokune- Despite her height and quirky love of coffee, quite level-headed. Age 15. Ritsu Namine- Loud and obnoxious, but has a caring and wise side? Age 15. Merli Aoki- A snobby, pretentious girl. Not Like Other Girls. Age 17. Lapis Aoki- Mischievous and up to trouble. Merli’s sister. Age 15. Gakupo Kamui- He’s… just strange. And eccentric. And awkward. Age 17. Miku “Zatsune”- A wannabe goth. Basically, she’s in training. Thinks she’s edgy. Age 15. Uta “Defoko” Utane- A sarcastic, moody teenage girl. But she does have a sweet side. Age 15. Dell Honne- Haku’s grumpy, angsty half brother she hasn’t seen in years. Age 18. Yuuma- The popular boy. Eleanor likes him. Can be materialistic. Age 18. Dandy “704”- A very arrogant and vain guy. Quite selfish and loves to show off. Age 18. “Lady” Parsec- A commanding bully who demands and orders people around. Age 17. Yuu- A cheerful guy who likes parties and fun. Age 16. Wil- A somewhat quiet, mysterious guy who keeps to himself. Age 16. Kyo- A wild guy who is impulsive and kind of dumb. Age 16. Daina- Basically, she’s a furry. Her fursona is a fox. Age 17. Dex- Basically, he’s a furry. His fursona is a wolf. Age 17. Ruby- A girl who likes memes and is basically just vibing through life. Age 16. Yukari Yuzuki- A modest girl who has a crush on Ruby. Easily impressed. Age 16. Shian- An innocent girl who is also quick-tempered and pouts easily. Age 14. Muxin- A kind, knowledgeable boy. He loves history and astronomy. Age 14. IA- A bit mysterious and seems cold and expressionless. Age 16. Piko Utatane- Shy, quiet, and cold. Gets along with Muxin due to similar interests. Age 15. Genbu- Overly-enthusiastic and brash. A bit of a loudmouth. Age 18. Chiyu- Bold, brash, and brave. Kind-hearted and strong. Age 17. Haiyi- Talks a lot. Usually has something up her sleeve. A prank perhaps? Age 16. Leeds Kasumiga- A timid girl with a mysterious heart illness that inhibits her. Age 14. Mew- A real goth, unlike Zatsune, who is a goth-in-training. Age 18. Tei Sukone- A dastardly, manipulative villain who fools people, then bites. Age 16. Cider- A smug, self-absorbed inventor of elaborate but stupid inventions. Age 17. Bruno- An agreeable, outgoing guy who likes spreading good vibes. Age 18. Clara- Bruno’s girlfriend. A little bit timid, but always kind and optimistic. Age 17. Aku Yamine- Quiet and a bit melancholic. She’s… a different type of goth. Emo? Age 14. Lily- A tough high-school delinquent who stands up for the weak. Age 17. Amy- Cheerful, optimistic, yet quite chill. Doubts herself often however. Age 16. Chris- He might be a big guy, but he is quite shy and very gentle. Age 18. Kaori- She seems confident and bright on the outside, but hides sadness? Age 17. Ken- He’s talkative, smart, kind of a dork, but very focused and brave. Age 17. Iroha Nekomura- Innocent and sweet, but agile, with cat-like reflexes. Age 14. SeeU- Energetic, hyperactive, makes bad puns, silly, makes bad puns… Age 16. Kiyoteru Hiyama is the host of the game show. Big Al is in the role of Chef. ——Episodes——— Prologue 1- Introduction to concept. Characters see the advertisement for the game show and contemplate going on it. The winner gets a million dollars! Prologue 2- Introduction to characters via their audition videos, part 1. Kiyoteru chooses contestants. Prologue 3- Introduction to characters via their audition videos, part 2. Kiyoteru chooses contestants. Episode 1- Everyone arrives at Total Drama Island and meets each other. Some get along, and many clash. Notable big-drama-causers include Tei, Eleanor, Dandy, Parsec, Cider, Merli sometimes, and Zatsune sometimes. Koto, Genbu, Ritsu, Haiyi, Daina, and Dex stick out for being especially wild. But really, everyone’s unique personality contributes to the drama and pot of chemistry in their own way. Another camper who sticks out is Gakupo Kamui, who enthusiastically boasts about his skills in martial arts and how ready he is to win Total Drama Island. He begins to get on the nerves of the other campers. “I can out-run, out-kick, out-sing, out-wit, and even out-PISS anybody else here.” Gakupo says. “Well, can you do us a favor and GET-out?” Meiko says. Episode 2- Campers have to jump off a one thousand-foot cliff into a shark-infested lake. Then they have to pull some crates back to camp, and the team from before with the most people who jumped get carts to help them. Then they have to build a hot tub from material found in the crates. The team with the best hot tub wins the challenge. The campers who were too scared to jump off the cliff have to wear chicken costumes for the rest of the day. Despite his incessant bragging previously, Gakupo is one of the few campers who does not jump off the cliff, because it is revealed he is scared of heights, sharks, AND deep water! He even pisses himself and dramatically faints when he gets close to the edge of the cliff... and then he faints off the cliff! However, his jump isn’t accounted for, because Gakupo was not conscious during his fall. Luka has to be the one to jump in after and rescue him! This causes Gakupo of The Dangerous Dolphins to be the first campter voted off. “Well… I guess he was right about out-pissing everyone here.” Neru laughs. The other campers too scared to jump are Taya, Dandy, Eleanor, Clara, Muxin, Chris, and Kaito. Haku is at first too scared, but her best friend Neru encourages her to be brave. They jump together and yell funny things on the way down. Even though Eleanor is scared, she ends up going over anyway after Chiyu pushes her off the cliff, being sick of Eleanor’s arrogance. However, it isn’t even accounted for, because Eleanor did not jump by her own will. Clara is too frightened and doesn’t make the jump, which is surprising, because she was so enthusiastic before. However, her boyfriend Bruno jumped without her… Taya takes one look down the cliff and starts backing away, crying from fear. He feels ashamed that he’s so scared, but he cannot help it. He gets pats on the back from Clara. Dandy makes an excuse as to why he can’t jump. He says he has an open wound from a fencing accident. In reality, Dandy does not fence. Muxin is too scared, but asserts that he doesn’t have to jump off the cliff if he doesn’t want to, and that the challenge is ridiculous. He then comforts Taya, who is curled up sobbing, and tells him not to feel shame. Taya and Muxin become friends, but sadly are on different teams. Chris is too scared and actually starts crying too. People don’t expect it. Kaito is scared to jump, panics and makes a bit of a scene, and is then picked on and belittled by his brother Akaito for the rest of the day. Kaito then vows he will become braver from here on. Braver, and stronger! Leeds actually does jump from the cliff, but it causes her heart to become weak and she has trouble walking for the rest of the day. Some of the members on her team rudely deem her a nuisance, but others tell her to take it easy and understand her. Afterwards, Clara gets a bit sour at Bruno, who is her boyfriend, for jumping the cliff without noticing she was too scared. Koto jumps the cliff and she actually has fun. But afterwards, she wears a chicken suit anyway, because she loves birds. Episode 3- The challenge is to stay awake the longest in the "Awake-A-Thon" after running twenty-kilometers and eating a huge meal that includes turkey, which is known for making people sleepy. Dell of The Killer Porpoises gets voted off for falling asleep first. He generally has a bad attitude and is apathetic. Haku feels heartbroken because Total Drama Island was the first time she had seen Dell since her parents’ divorce (by complete chance, even,) and he is not the warm person he used to be. Also, the time was so short. But unexpectedly, Dell acts nice to Haku right before he leaves, calling her to his room when he’s packing to go off the island. They have a nice conversation. Before Haku says goodbye, Dell says “Listen, I’m just not cut out for this wacky game. So you better win. I KNOW you can do it.” Haku begins crying and hugs Dell. Just like when they were kids. There will eventually be a list of who falls asleep first to last, but that’s quite convoluted. So I will say Dell falls asleep first, and Ruko second. Campers were not allowed to drink coffee during the challenge, rendering our Long Sleeper without access to her “secret weapon.” Koto stays up the longest, because she is a bird lover and loves birds too much to consume them. She was the only one who didn’t eat any turkey with her meal, and therefore didn’t become as sleepy. Also simply because she is badass and feral. Episode 4- A best-of-five dodgeball game. Five people are randomly chosen on each team. This is repeated three times for a total of three rounds of dodgeball. The Dangerous Dolphins win 2 out of 3 games. Zatsune of The Killer Porpoises gets voted off for being scared of dodgeball. It was a fear ingrained into her from her elementary school days, when the “dodgeball kids would bully her.” Sadly, since Zatsune always acts so cocky, nobody feels much sympathy now. Taya and Muxin want to spend time with each other. Being on different teams, they can’t, and are deemed traitors. But when Tei, on Taya’s team, suggests Taya could get valuable information about the other team via Muxin, Taya refuses to sabotage their friendship. This causes Tei to begin picking on Taya… Episode 5- A three-on-three talent show contest. Dex of The Killer Porpoises gets voted off for no reason. He wasn’t even in the talent show! Dandy wanted to get chosen by his team, the Dangerous Dolphins, to be in the talent show, claiming his “talent” was unmatched. However, he wasn’t chosen because he didn’t exactly have any real actual skills despite his claim! Taya, Luka, and Gumi are eventually chosen by the Dangerous Dolphins for their talents in music. Luka will play piano, Taya will play the violin, and Gumi will play the electric bass as they all sing a song cover. This causes Dandy to criticize their every note and call them amateur. Given Taya and Gumi’s low self-esteem, Dandy’s criticism gets to them before the final talent show. As for the Killer Porpoises, Yuuma, Ritsu, and IA get chosen as the team’s musicians. They form more of an idol dance group, with a pre-recorded background track. (It will also be a cover.) The Dangerous Dolphins actually win. If they were to have lost, Dandy would’ve probably been the one voted off for being a prick. Episode 6- Campers have to go to the forest, stay out there overnight, then race back to the campgrounds in the morning. Yukari of the Killer Porpoises gets voted off. See, it wasn’t really Yukari’s fault, but… she got attacked by a bear and is now too injured to stay for the game, so the voting off was mandatory, even though the Killer Porpoises otherwise won. Everyone becomes more-or-less traumatized at this, and feel very hurt for Yukari. Episode 7- Campers have to face their worst fear, specific to each camper. Yuuma gets voted off. Koto’s worst fear is the perfume department from Spongebob, because that scene scarred her as a little kid. So the host of the game show, Kiyoteru, magically opens a door to the perfume department at a real department store and Koto has to walk through it. Koto only makes it 5 steps in before she runs out, screaming. She does not pass her fear test! Yuuma is scared of the Crab Rave because there are too many crabs. So he is taken to a part of the island overrun by crabs, and Kiyoteru turns on the Crab Rave song and they all start dancing. Yuuma dives into the water screaming. But the crabs chase him. He doesn’t pass his fear test. Taya attempts to outwit Kiyoteru and pretends he is afraid of strawberry shortcake, which is actually his favorite food. But everyone remembers how scared he was in the first challenge at the cliff. So Taya’s specific challenge is to jump off the cliff this time… Episode 8- Row a canoe to Boney Island, portage across the island, start a bonfire, and canoe back to camp. Wil gets voted off. Episode 9- Hunt the other team dressed as deers with paintball guns, or if one is a deer, avoid being hit by them. Piko gets voted off. Episode 10- Create a three-course meal for Kiyoteru to judge. Three chefs are chosen from each team. Miku gets voted off. Episode 11- Participate in a set of three-out-of-five trust exercises. Shian gets voted off. Episode 12- Make it through Big Al’s life-threatening and disgusting boot-camp challenges. IA gets voted off. Episode 13- Participate in three extreme sport challenges. The challenges are "sofa skydiving", riding a moose while avoiding being tossed off it, and water-skiing on mud. Lapis gets voted off. Episode 14- Eat a nine course meal of disgusting food made by Big Al. Drink shot glasses of blended cockroaches. Yuu gets voted off. Episode 15- Episode 16- Episode 17- Episode 18- Episode 19- Episode 20- Episode 21- Episode 22- Episode 23- Episode 24- Episode 25- Episode 26- Episode 27- Episode 28- Episode 29- Episode 30- Episode 31 Episode 32- Episode 33- Episode 34- Episode 35- Episode 36- Episode 37- Episode 38- Episode 39- Episode 40- Episode 41- Episode 42- Episode 43- After this challenge, the teams are disbanded. It’s now every camper for themself. Episode 44- Get through several rounds of torture, lasting at least ten seconds in each one. Eleanor gets voted off because she can’t take torture. Episode 45- Receive a clue to find a key hidden somewhere in the island to open a treasure chest containing a prize. Ritsu found a dud chest and his prize was… getting voted off. Episode 46- Avoid getting sprayed by Big Al’s water gun in a game of hide and seek. Parsec gets voted off. Good riddance! Episode 47- Build a bike from scratch, and then race it. Who rides who’s bike? Anyway, Dandy gets voted off. Probably because he’s 7 foot 4 and huge. He probably broke all the bikes. Episode 48- Watch a horror movie and then avoid being captured by a "deranged killer". Gumi gets voted off because she was scared. Episode 49- Catch the specific animal assigned by Kiyoteru and bring it back to the campground unharmed. Taya had to bring back a raccoon. He came back first. Koto had to bring back a bear. She came back second. What a total beast! And I’m talking about KOTO! Genbu had to bring back an eagle. He came back third. Leeds had to bring back a frog. She came back fourth. Kaito had to being back a squirrel. He came back fifth. Haku had to bring back a moose. She came back sixth. Tei gets sent off because she couldn’t bring back a mere chipmunk. The little chipmunk was trained in king-fu and ended up beating her up! Hooray! Episode 50- Compete in the following while handcuffed to one of the other campers: eat disgusting food with your hands behind your back while the person handcuffed to you feeds you, return a fragment of Haku’s cursed tiki idol to Boney Island, and assemble a totem pole with the wooden heads of the voted out campers in the order that they are eliminated. Taya gets voted off. Episode 51- Campers have to find Kiyoteru and Big Al after being washed away by a storm. Leeds gets voted off because her condition came to its worse. Her weak heart had finally failed on her and she suffered a heart attack. She was doing so good in the game despite her shortcomings, and will serve as an inspiration for many. Leeds will not die. She is in good hands. She will get top medical care. Now, a twist is revealed to the audience. Everyone who was voted off actually went to go to a beautiful island resort. The remaining campers still don’t know about this. When Leeds finally gets consciousness back, she finds she is in paradise. At first, she thinks she is dead. The room then fills up with everyone else voted off, and she begins crying. “They really killed you?” She cries. “No, Leeds!” Yukari says. “You’re alive! You made it… to Paradise Island!” Episode 52- An episode dedicated to the Island of Losers, which is actually a five-star island resort paradise. Yukari has fully recovered from her injuries. Gakupo and all the others who were eliminated early finally get their time to shine! The losers will also be involved in the episodes to come, as they will be the audience. Episode 53- The campers have to find their way back to camp after being left in the wild with limited supplies. Unexpectedly, our total beast, Koto Fuuga, comes back last. Rumors have it, this is because she found a bird sanctuary and got distracted. Episode 54- Survive a series of dares, given by the eliminated campers until someone drops out. Haku is forced to do something horrible by Tei. Tei dares Haku to joke around and portray offensive stereotypes. On national TV. She just can’t do it… She drops out, but not before insulting Tei to her face. But Kaito says Haku made the right choice. She sacrificed her chance to win a million dollars so that Tei didn’t have to force her to make a choice that could hurt people when they see it on TV. Kaito thinks Haku deserves an amazing consolation prize. Genbu respects Haku for this as well. Episode 55- The two remaining campers have to climb a pole and retrieve a flag, walk across a board on top of shark-infested waters while carrying an eagle's egg, and run a race to cross the finish line. Kaito is about to give up… but… There is ice cream at the finish line! Kaito makes a mad dash to the finish line and wins Total Drama Island!! Episode 56- Kaito won! But there is a twist. In order to actually win the million dollars, he has to find the a case containing the $1,000,000 and bring it to the Dock of Shame before anyone else does! This is a race between him and all the other campers! If any of the other campers being it to the Dock of Shame before Kaito, there will be a whole second season of Total Drama Island, and Kaito will have to win all over again before he gets his million dollars… ———Teams——— ———The Dangerous Dolphins——— Taya Chiyu Meiko Kyo Koto Tei Momo Neru Akaito Clara Gakupo Gumi Shian Dandy Luka Merli Daina Haiyi Lily Len Amy Ken SeeU Cider Teto Haku Uta ———The Killer Porpoises——— Yuuma Zatsune Mew Eleanor Ruby Dell Kaito Ruko Ritsu Wil Leeds Genbu Dex Bruno Iroha Miku Piko IA Chris Kaori Yuu Parsec Rin Lapis Yukari Aku Muxin ———Notable relationships——— Familial- Akaito and Kaito are brothers. Lapis and Merli are adoptive sisters. Haku and Dell are half-siblings who don’t live together, and haven’t seen each other in years before Total Drama Island. Rin and Len are twin siblings. Haku and Miku are cousins. Amy and Chris are cousins. Kaori and Ken are twin siblings, yet distant. They didn’t grow up in the same household. Ruko has a close cousin named Rook, who isn’t on TDI. Momo has an older brother, Momotaro, who isn’t on TDI. Uta has a younger sister, Koe, and two older brothers, Hibiki and Kanade, who aren’t on TDI. Teto has an older brother, Ted, who isn’t on TDI. Leeds has an older brother, Loop, who isn’t on TDI. Yukari has a little sister named Akari who isn’t on TDI. IA has a little sister named One who isn’t on TDI. Friendship- Miku, Rin, Len, and Luka have been a group of friends before TDI Haku and Neru were best friends before TDI Dex and Daina were best friends before TDI Momo, Teto, and Uta were best friends before TDI Ruko meets Ritsu and they become best friends Taya and Muxin become unlikely friends, despite being on different teams Romance- Bruno and Clara were dating before TDI Teto and Momo’s friendship eventually becomes romance. Haku meets Luka and they form a budding romance Amy meets Kaori and they form a budding romance Taya meets Uta and they form a budding romance Muxin meets Piko and they form a budding romance Lily meets Gumi and they form a budding romance Crushes- Len has always a crush on Miku. Tei has an obsessive crush on Kaito. Yukari has a crush on Ruby. Leeds has an embarrassing crush on Genbu. Eleanor has a crush on Yuuma. Ken has a crush on Chris. Dandy has a crush on Parsec. Akaito has a crush on Haku. Zatsune has a crush on Mew. She denies it. Gumi has a crush on IA. Dislike- Dandy and Cider always fight… with a weird sort of tension. Akaito and Uta don’t get along Miku Zatsune and Miku Hatsune don’t get along Lily and Merli don’t get along (MORE COMING SOON)

#vocaloid #utau #synth v #synthesizer v #chipspeech #total drama island #my writing #au #brainstorm #vacation #life of pastell #fanfic #fic #fav

20 notes · View notes

farshores · 2 years

Text

Saw Kitty do a post where you answer this quiz the way your ocs would & share the results so I did my Skyrim ocs (+ one new one!)

Jeer-Tei [The Hierophant]

The plan is perfect in every way. Everyone where they need to be, at exactly the right moment, with exactly the right smile. You have moved and manipulated the situation, but did you remember to put yourself in the correct position? You, after all, are still a player in the game - whoever thinks they control the pieces still has to make the next move eventually. Whoever is playing the game is playing against an opponent. Ensure that they have not played better than you.

Otero [Justice]

What would you do to ensure justice? You know full well I don’t speak of lofty ideals and courts and magistrates, dearest. What would you do to those that hurt you? If I dropped them in your lap, what would you do? What kind of pain could you possibly inflict upon them? You are right to do so. You are right to want to do so. Ignore the screaming, dearest, you are the hand of justice now, and they hurt you. Do not look too closely at their faces, dearest. You are within your rights. You spell out your own rights, now. Are you happy about it? Are you certain that this is the right person you hold by the hair? Does your anger hurt less now?

Mei [The Hermit]

It’s a skill, to look inside yourself, one you have mastered. The endless corridors and shifting thoughts are mapped to very carefully. This all takes time, of course. And those twisting hallways are so very difficult to map. It would be so easy to get lost. You know this space so well. Wouldn’t it be a lovely place to stay? So well-known and comforting. Why go back? How nice, how easy, to dissolve, to hide from the rest of the world and all the people in it. Why bother, when you are so good at looking inside yourself. Like enlightenment, the self. Retreating this far inwards is like retreating just as far out, into the vast ether. So comforting. The thing that was you looks at the thing that was the old woman. There is no you anymore. Goodbye.

Pelath [The Lovers]

Your lover’s back does not look quite the same this morning. No one else would notice the difference, if there even is a difference, but you could swear they have more vertebrae than usual. Something in the breathing, as you stare at them in the morning light. The light in the kitchen is just as warm as it always is, the coffee just as hot, but you cannot meet your lover’s eyes. They kiss you on the forehead, go off to work, shake their keys on the way out as they always do. Did they eat anything this morning? Did they speak? Of course they did. You’re probably losing your mind. You would call your friends to ask, if you had any friends left. You don’t, of course, haven’t for months. You only need each other. You only need them. You haven’t spoken to anyone in months. You count the notches on their back. You watch them breathe. You pray they don’t turn around.

Courron [The Moon]

You avoid corners and doorways - do you know why? Have you looked inwards recently? Do you understand what is happening there? Your mind is muddled and dusty, a mirror you haven’t been able to clean properly. Smudging the nervousness just leaves streaks on the glass, which makes your face harder to see, which makes you nervous. What are you nervous of, darling? What keeps you up at night? Why haven’t you confronted it? Do you know what it is? Can you answer my questions? Are they making you nervous? Am I frightening you?

K'avle [The Fool]

There is only so fast a car can go before it flips. You would do well to memorise that speed, though whether that is to reach it or avoid it is none of my concern. Your life cannot be made only of beginnings; you forget that for every new life there is one you had to smother. Adventure beckons, must you rise to meet it? Have you spoken to a loved one from a past life recently? I’m sure someone, somewhere misses you

#jeerteiperdes #otero perdes #mei perdes #pelath elsinire #courron #k'avle #not too sure how well Pel and Mei's really fit but i got the same results 3 times even with the second or 3rd change #to another answer they would've chosen so lol

5 notes · View notes

ryttu3k · 3 years

Text

Doing those ship meme questions only it's the new OT3 (Beckett/Sascha/Ilias) because they're my main source of serotonin these days. Occasional appearances from Anatole and Lucita, too.

Not doing all, but there are A Lot.

1. Who's the one who's reckless and always getting into trouble while the other gotta pull em out

Beckett and Sascha actually do have a lot of braincells between them but none of them are in use for 'can sense danger'. Ilias has gained some minor common sense since his 'hey, I'm going to ask our Antediluvian for power to help face its favourite childe oh whoops I am possessed' thing and is usually the one sighing fondly and saving their asses.

2. Who's the one to send the other "I love my gf/bf" memes

Ilias. 100% Ilias. He would go out in public in a shirt saying 'I <3 Sascha' and calling them ‘my flower’ while Sascha is just pleased they can't blush any more.

3. Who's the one who listens to a music genre the other doesn't like and how does the other react

God their music tastes are all over the place. Sascha is over a thousand years old and has seen and heard A Lot. They consider the Romantic period 'modern music'. Beckett is similar albeit with about 350 years of it. Ilias got hurled from 1233 to 2004 and after a period of ??? went, "Oh, Romanian music!" and it was. Dragostea Din Tei. Like can you imagine one moment it’s 1233 and the next moment you are listening to Dragostea Din Tei. Also thanks to the language drift they only caught about a quarter of the words so it was this whole thing where he almost, almost was understanding it but the rest was just, “...what.” And that’s how Ilias discovered modern music.

Anyway yeah they’ve pretty much decided that their collective music tastes are so disparate no one is allowed to comment on them.

4. Which one spoils the other more and do they ever get competitive to show the other more love

Honestly, they all kind of spoil each other, albeit in different ways. Like Ilias will just randomly pop a handmade flower crown on Sascha’s head. Beckett will occasionally find an extremely rare book on his desk and know Sascha found it for him. Beckett always tells Sascha first when he’s found something cool so they can be the first to investigate it. And they absolutely get competitive, yeah.

5. How many years did it take to get married or was it just not for them

Sascha and Ilias have a mutual blood bond, which is more or less the equivalent of thus. Beckett has a mutual bond with Anatole, but he and Sascha have a level-2 bond.

7. Are their friends/family supportive

Honestly, uh, Sascha and Ilias don’t really have anyone else. Beckett’s companions tend to range from, “They’re terrifying but I trust your judgment :D” (Anatole) to “hahahahahaha if Vykos harms one hair on Beckett’s head I’ll end them” (Lucita) to “WHY” (Aristotle, Okulos, most others tbh).

8. How does one comfort the other when the other is in distress/having a panic attack/crying

Sascha is the one most prone to panic attacks because trauma is a bitch and basically just... Beckett and Ilias both respond by with hugging/gentle restraint (if they’re okay with touch) or by giving them space and doing things like running a hot bath when they’re touch-averse.

9. Which one dissociates

Honestly Sascha spent most of 1234 to 2006 lowkey dissociating, which is fair when there’s literally another essence fused to yours. Post-Dracon, they still get the occasional dissociative episode, but it’s much easier to bring them back to themself.

10. Which one stares at the other's booty like “damn” and how does the other react when catching them

All three tbh. Beckett stares at Sascha, Sascha either gets a bit self-conscious or a bit ;) , depending on mood. Sascha stares at both Beckett and Ilias and gets a bit embarrassed when caught (Beckett will laugh it off, Ilias will basically be ;D). Ilias stares at both and is completely shameless about it because he may no longer be on the Path of Pleasure but he’s absolutely not going to feel ashamed for admiring his gorgeous lovers.

11. When they live together what kinda place do they live in? What does their home look like?

Beckett and Sascha travel too much for one place, honestly, and Ilias accompanies them a lot. They do have a few houses scattered throughout the world, though, including one in the Carpathians (nowhere near Brasov, tyvm). Not really as big as the monastery, it’s mostly like... big library, a few comfortable places to sleep or rest, Ilias likes having a garden these days and grows a lot of flowers.

12. What do their dates look like

Museum heists.

13. How does each act when getting drunk

Ilias gets even more handsy. Actually he can get to be a bit of a pain, but he does listen immediately if one of them tells him to tone it down. Beckett gets very enthusiastic and fired-up and a bit more feral and he’s gonna go find Enoch right now and prove Caine wasn’t real once and for all. Sascha, uh, tends to get a bit emotional and also very talkative, but can literally like. Talk their way into minor breakdowns. Basically less barriers.

14. Which one rolls over in the morning evening to wake up the other one just to kiss them

All three :3

15. Have they saved each other's lives before

Yup!

Ficverse-wise, Sascha did also save Ilias from becoming a bogatyr to the Eldest, although that was also Sascha and Beckett both saving themselves by being emotionally honest. Yeah XD

16. Does one have an interest the other think is weird but wants to listen to it regardless

Ilias’ spirituality conflicts a bit with Beckett’s... atheism, I guess? Like he’s definitely not sure he believes in the spirits that Ilias regularly works with as a Koldun, but he’s willing to keep a relatively open mind. (He’s a bit less open-minded in Sascha’s belief in - and support of - Caine, given that he’s literally based his career around the metaphor theory!)

17. Which one uses cropped hentai as reaction images

Sascha.

They have troll tendencies, okay.

18. Does one of them kinkshame the other

There is absolutely no kinkshaming here. Listen Ilias was a Priest of Jarilo. Sascha was once on the Path of Pleasure too. Beckett seduced Dracula for information then forgot to ask his question. They’re all very open about everything.

There may be teasing about the odd hobby or interest but it’s pretty lighthearted.

19. Is one of them self conscious about their body? If so how does the other comfort them

Beckett occasionally has Moments over his hands and worries about hurting Sascha or something. They basically respond by being like “are you kidding the claws are hot as hell”. On occasion, Beckett will get one of them to Vicissitude them down if he wants to use his hands more, although they’ll regrow and be achey for a night or two afterwards.

20. Say they were cuddling on the bed while listening to record player playing the background. Which song is playing?

Honestly I want to say Third Eye by Florence + the Machine just for fic reasons. When I was writing Mantle I saw it very much as Beckett towards Sascha, but it fits with Ilias towards them as well.

I have no idea how they would have discovered F+tM but anyway.

23. What kinda joyrides do they go on? Relaxing ones or wild ones?

It. I imagine it usually involves police chases. When it doesn’t Beckett will occasionally go wolf so he can stick his head out the car window like :P

Shh don’t tell anyone.

25. Do people ever get annoyed of their pda

God probably. One of the main exceptions is Anatole, who’ll basically go, “Oh! Are we cuddling?” and flop on top of Beckett.

27. Which one’s the red, which one’s the blue

They’re all red. Fear. Ilias is probably closest to blue.

28. Are either of them mentally ill, if so how do they help one another cope

Sascha has both PTSD (from Symeon and Michael, and from the Eldest) and C-PTSD (from being bound to the Dracon for literal centuries). Also depression and anxiety, which are... pretty common with those. See question 8 for some of the coping methods, the rest is just... taking each day as it comes. Like they’ve lived a very long time, but they only got free of the Dracon in 2006, so it’s still a very new thing.

Ilias has some trauma from some of the things he’s had to do to survive since waking up with the Thirst of Ages, and gets into guilt spirals on occasion. He mostly focuses on Path of Nocturnal Redemption methods to work through it; he’s kind of adverse to anyone seeing him vulnerable like that. He knows Sascha has done some awful shit, but they weren’t themself at the time so Ilias feels it doesn’t count, and Beckett is like, Humanity 6? He just doesn’t get it, so Ilias keeps it to himself.

Beckett has an odd, acquired one - his experiences in Jerusalem left him with the ability (if it could be called an ability!) to occasionally hear the Cobweb (the Malkavian Madness Network). While his connection isn’t nearly as strong as an actual Malkavian’s, he does get odd flashes of Insight; less helpfully, it can occasionally get, uh, loud in his head. This tends to ramp up a bit with proximity to Malkavians, so when he’s around Anatole, Anatole will help him filter the voices and thoughts out by teaching him meditation techniques. (Given that Anatole - correctly - feels responsible for Beckett being afflicted thus, he wants to make sure it doesn’t hit his lover too badly.)

29. Does one have a spot on them where they would melt when the other kisses them there

Give Beckett head scritchies and he’ll turn into a puddle :3

34. Are they a reckless couple or safe

*loud, prolonged laughter*

37. Do they get into fights often? If so what do they fight over and how do they make up?

Sascha and Ilias are usually... very chill; if they argue, it’s over the other’s safety, like Ilias wanting to do something reckless and Sascha being very much ‘please do not’. Sascha and Beckett argue a bit more, although thankfully they have now stopped trying to literally kill each other XD When they do, it’s usually ideological, related to Gehenna, Caine, et cetera. Sascha is still very much a part of the Sabbat, and Beckett is, well, basically an atheist.

40. Who would fight in honor for the other if someone would insult them

All three tbh. Here’s a fun bit from the novel:

Still really dig this bit from BJD, too!

No misgendering on Beckett’s watch!

42. How would one react if the other was to die

Uh.

Poorly.

Like most of Sascha’s sanity slippage was due to the Dracon’s essence being fused to their own and just how the Eldest... did that, but a good part of it was absolutely due to Ilias’ death.

43. Who dies first

...canonically, Ilias XD;;

It’s okay he gets better.

#vampire the masquerade #feral nerd #mx meat crimes #tzinnamon roll #caymanshipping #heartflowershipping #ivoryringshipping

3 notes · View notes