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#which might be why it looks a bit jank but OH WELL!

silenthillmutual · 2 years

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Should I play Pathologic Classic, or Pathologic 2?

That depends. How do you feel about visual novels and a little bit of jank? If that's not for you, Pathologic 2 is probably your best bet. Though if I can, I'd like to make a case for playing Classic anyway.

You might have heard a lot of things about Pathologic Classic HD. You might have heard that it's janky. You might have heard that it's ugly. You might have heard that it's nigh-impossible to play. Worst of all, you might have heard that it's not fun, and what's the point in playing a game that isn't fun?

I'm not here to argue about aesthetics or even for the value of negative experiences in gaming. If you'd like to have a philosophical debate about what it means to have fun, by all means, go ahead - plenty of us do enjoy the time we've spent playing Classic. Fun isn't, after all, an objective experience. What I am here to do, however, is tell you that the game is not impossible. Difficult? Sure. Tedious? Sometimes. A lot of walking? You have no idea! But isn't impossible.

(Even without cheating. But we'll talk more about that later.)

Both games are fantastic in their own right, but I don't believe enough people give Classic a chance, and Pathologic 2 is not a substitute for Classic. This is, in part, because Pathologic 2 is not finished. Only one route out of three [at the time of writing this] has been released. Even if it were - the metanarrative of the game is different. The characters and their relationships are different. The town is different. To me, the two aren't even the same game.

Pathologic 2 isn't exactly a sequel, nor is it exactly a remake. It's sort of a re-imagining. The kind of game Silent Hill: Shattered Memories wishes it was. And no one plays Shattered Memories and thinks, "I've basically played Silent Hill." Although as someone who has fixated on Silent Hill for over a decade, I can also confidently say that Pathologic 2 is not the insane bastardization that Shattered Memories is. Not to mention that Classic regularly goes on sale for under $2, so if you can give a two hour long YouTube video your attention, you can give Classic a shot.

I watched the Hbomb video, so I know everything I need to know about Classic, right?

Oh boy.

No, you don't. If you're looking for substitution videos, Pathologic For Those Who Will Never Play It is closer to what you need. Though as much as I love that video, I still urge to you either play the game yourself or watch a Let's Play of it. I know of three: SulMatul, Laila Dyer, and Keith Ballard; the latter two are blind LPs.

Why do I insist you play this game for yourself? Because it's a role-playing game. You wouldn't get the same experience of watching someone else's build in Disco Elysium as you would with your own, and the same is true here. Yes, it's more of a book than a lot of other RPGs you might have played, but part of the charm of the game is playing it the way you want to, and all that entails.

You might be thinking to yourself, "Well, no one can tell I've only seen the Hbomb video!" I regret to inform you that yes, we can absolutely tell.

Play the game.

Okay, fine, I'll play Pathologic Classic. Which route should I start with?

That's up to you, but I will say that people start with the Bachelor's route for a reason. He's an outsider to the Town, so you're more likely to get lore that wouldn't be available to the Haruspex. And the Town is strange, so that's information that you'll want. His route is also a little easier than the Haruspex's route, and the Changeling's won't be available to you yet.

If you do opt to start with the Haruspex's route, more power to you. Just keep in mind that his route isn't the only interpretation of events. In fact, no one route to the game is the only interpretation of events. Characters will be different from playthrough to playthrough, and it doesn't make one route more canon than another.

Any other tips?

Yes, actually! Quite a few:

Look at the controls before you start the game! The GOG release of the game comes with a manual - that'll be on your computer under Program Files -> GOG -> Games -> Pathologic. I couldn't find one on the Steam release, but you can find it here. Going through your options will let you turn off things like motion blur (which may help the game run better and make you feel less ill), but also get familiar with the key bindings. I've talked to a quite a few people who didn't realize the Bachelor had a plaguefinder or a torch.

Prioritize your daily quest. If you fail to complete your daily quest, one of your Bound will do it for you and they will get infected. This constitutes a fail state for you. You may not be able to get every side quest accomplished the first time you play the game, but as long as you make sure to complete the daily quest done you will be fine.

Make sure to check your letters! The game will make a little noise and a symbol will pop up on the bottom left hand side of the screen when you get mail. Doing this is very important - but don't let this be the only way you get information! Explore, talk to people, check on your Bound every day. Not every quest is going to come to you in form of a letter.

Buy food and supplies before you need them. That stuff is expensive, and prices fluctuate every day.

Loot everything you can! Every garbage bin you pass, every infected house you enter, every mugger you kill. Trading is important for getting things like medicine without paying for it, and selling off what you can't use can get you extra money. You will especially need empty bottles for water to trade with the town drunks. (And for trading - you'll have to click on your own inventory, then the other characters, and then hit the 'v' button.) Learn which NPCs will trade for which items, know their value so that you're never empty-handed in case you come across, say, a shmowder...

Save like hell. Constantly. If an upcoming conversation seems important, save right before you go into it. On Steam, F5 is a quicksave (you can have 2). There will be times when you'll screw yourself over on a conversation. Sometimes you learn more this way, but sometimes this means you can't continue a quest. It's a trial-and-error thing.

You are going to get infected. You should, of course, do what you can to avoid infection, but it's highly unlikely you'll make it through any route without getting infected at least once. It happens.

Daniil's plaguefinder will show you where the plague clouds are, and that can be helpful! Unfortunately, the other two don't have access to this device, so it's best to just try and remember where the plague clouds are. They don't change from route to route.

As Artemy and Clara - you cannot buy any herbs from the Odonghe that you do not have in your inventory. As any healer, you cannot buy things if you have no room in your inventory.

Looking to cheat? I won't tell anyone. Hit the ` key for console commands. 'god' will turn on godmode, 'fly on' / 'fly off' will enable flying (not the same as Pathologic 2's flycam!). 'propf 6995 disease 0' will cure you of Sand Plague (for the Haruspex and Changeling; 6986 is the Bachelor's code). Oh, and if you're going to use godmode, you should know that you cannot sleep if your health is at 0. Just apply a bandage and you'll be good to go.

Oh, yeah, and - don't eat the nuts. They do jack for your hunger. They're there for trading.

What difficulty should I play Pathologic 2 on?

Everyone has their own ideas and rules about how to play the game and on what you should or should not do on your first playthrough. A lot of people insist on playing Pathologic 2 on intended difficulty for the first runthrough, and I tend to agree with that. Even with upgraded graphics and improved controls, this game isn't intended to be easy or combat-driven. The difficulty sliders even say that the game is intended to be "almost unbearable."

That being said - your threshold for "almost unbearable" may be different from mine or someone else's. If the game is too easy for you, make it harder. If you're struggling to the point of wanting to quit, make it easier. Yes, someone will be disappointed in you. Not me though. I don't particularly care, and you shouldn't either. You are the one playing the game, not anybody else. If you're looking for someone's permission to make things easier on yourself, I'm here to give it to you. Some people just aren't good at video games, and there's no shame in that.

But keep in mind that this game is meant to be played multiple times. See how far you can get with the intended difficulty. You can always change it on your next playthrough.

General tips for this game?

Save scumming is harder for this game, and also kind of a waste of time. It doesn't undo your deaths, so you may as well just live with the consequences of your actions. As the loading screen notes, this sometimes makes things more interesting.

Your deaths will, by the way, have consequences on your gameplay. So try not to die.

There is no differentiation between Daily Quest and Side Quest. It's up to you to prioritize. Don't worry too much about completing every quest on the day it's given, either. You're not intended to.

Upgrading your inventory is incredibly important! Things will stack, but only to a certain degree. You can no longer carry 100+ bottles of water at a time. You also won't want to trade all your water away for bandages; you'll heal from sleeping. The water you'll need to make tinctures.

As always, you'll want to be frugal with your money. Unlike in Classic, however, you can barter with most NPCs for food, so your options aren't as limited. Do still buy nuts whenever you get the option to; they're worth more in trading than needles, which can also be used to pick small locks.

Since I've seen some confusion about this - prophyalxis is giving the Bound immunity boosters or tinctures. You won't just have your own list to take care of, though they'll be the most important. No, you're responsible for most of the named characters in the game. Get a feel for which medications work best, and then decide who gets the best treatment. You can't save everyone... without cheating.

Speaking of cheating - that works differently in Pathologic 2. To access the console, you'll have to hold down Control + Shift + F4. You can use flycam, but this is really only to take pictures; it does not move the character to whatever location you are flying to. What you'll probably want access to more is curing yourself of the plague, or turning on immortality. Both are located under Inspector -> PlayerUpdater -> Updatable. The two Elements you'll be most concerned about are Element 0 (the town) and Element 3 (the abattoir). For immortality, you'll expand the folder and change the aspect from False to True. For Infection, you'll expand the folder and change the element to 0 (for no infection). The wiki has a list of the commands for getting items.

And, I cannot stress this enough, buy the bull.

Why does the fandom ship the Bachelor and the Haruspex? They hate each other!

In one route of one game that you are statistically unlikely to have started (3.2% of all Steam players), let alone finished (2.3% of all Steam players). Even if the majority of their interactions were negative - which they aren't - that wouldn't stop people from shipping them. Have you seen how popular Hannibal is? That show ended five years ago and people are still making Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter content.

Though some people do like the ship from that antagonistic angle, the main reason probably stems from two places. The first is that they are narrative foils, and people love to ship narrative foils. Different enough to cause friction, similar enough to connect. The second is the first thing Daniil says to Artemy in the Haruspex route, around 5PM on Day 1:

Yes... Far be it from me to call myself a person of mystical inclinations. However, when I look at you, I get the feeling that nature is playing jokes on us. It's as if both the left and right hand have clutched the head to realize for the first time that they are two parts of a single whole.

Which reads like a reference to the myth that soulmates once shared a body and were split apart. This is how Artemy's first interaction with Daniil starts, and is immediately followed by Daniil raising his reputation entirely and allowing Artemy to sleep in his bed. There's more I could say but, honestly? Play the game and figure it out.

Why do so many people read the Bachelor as trans?

Good question! A lot of his fans happen to be trans, and that probably plays a large part in it. Some get gender envy from his design - ridiculous as a lot of people think it is, I know I'd dress like that if I could afford it. His cravat pin, which the wiki calls a snake, looks alarmingly like a uterus. He's short. His Pathologic 2 incarnation has that hideous bowl haircut that a lot of us had at some point in time in our transition. Most importantly, his goal of defeating death is implied to be a matter of bodily autonomy, for people to choose when it's their time to die, and that's very transgender of him.

It also doesn't hurt that his designer, Meethos, is trans.

If you're wondering why the reading isn't as prominent for the other two healers, I don't know. The headcanons are out there, but for some reason, the fanwork isn't. Be the change you wish to see, as they say.

Why does the Bachelor talk in random Latin?

Why are all these questions about Dankovsky? Anyway, it's not random! It's topical. It's also almost always a common saying - you can find most of them on Wikipedia. Why does he do it? To show off, probably. He's pretentious, what else is there to know?

What's with all the fanfic getting that guy pregnant?

Yeah sorry that's my fault.

What's with the interpretation of him as autistic?

Also my fault.

Why are people so insistent that the Haruspex is gay?

Finally, some diversity! I should correct you, though: I think the prevailing reading is that he's bisexual.

There's a lot of reasons to read him as bi, particularly in Pathologic 2. Don't get me wrong, there are instances in Classic that come across as not-straight; the aforementioned hands line? Artemy can reply that he feels the same. But in Pathologic 2, he gets tender moments with his (now) childhood friends Bad Grief and Stakh Rubin, where the former starts to ask him to run away together and he convinces the latter not to leave with the army. He even attempts to convince the Bachelor to stay in town in both the Nocturnal and Diurnal endings. Aglaya is the canon romance option in both games (for as much as the tragic narrative will allow), but people also read romance into Artemy's interactions with Lara. Hence, the bisexuality.

bonus links:

Daniil Dankovsky (dot com!)

Artemy Burakh (dot com!)

Respect the Kin

Steppe Language Dictionary

Spoiler-free Bachelor Route walkthrough

Spoiler-free Haruspex Route walkthrough

Spoiler-free Changeling Route walkthrough

#pathologic #pathologic 2 #the last two questions are a joke btw i just wanted to end with some brevity<3 love and light!#if you can think of anything i missed ppl might want to know lmk!#*levity. not brevity brevity is the other thing.

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popculturebuffet · 1 year

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Theevan Review (Patreon Review for Emma Fici)

It's been a long year. While we're almost at the end and film has never been better, a combination of Disney being homophobic, warner bros burning the house down, and the worry the republicans would hyjack the goverment (they haven't.. for now).. it's been a LOT. I"m fairly exausted coming out of it and I STILL have a month to go. It has not been great. So naturally finding out what Emma intended for my patreon review, the Looney Tunes Special carnival of the animals, gave me almost nothing to work with wasn't great. Thankfully Emma, one of my patreons and closest friends, is a VERY understanding person, so she was fine with switching and since we were well past thanksgiving, that mean ti twas a free for all.. and that meant I got Theevan instead. And boy was this a nice early christmas present. Theevan... is what was as far as I can tell a student project done in blender by Indian Animated Danan Thiakanathan about ten years ago, that he turned from a student film into a full film in 1 and a half years. And that's part of the problem: that's a fairly short time for an indie animation, and it's clear Danan was so eager to get the film out. .he didn't really beta test it enough. As such it is one of the most memetically jank peices of animation out there: characters move their arms weird like their being posed, theevan's mom I guess meena has hair that looks like she hsaved all but a few strands off and never flows right, and theevan himself has expressions that look like an alien is going to burst from him and reveal it's true form any moment. It's not great and while I can't falt Danan's inexperince, I can fault him for getting a bit too eager. Trust me I know what it's like to want to get your project done now and some reviews i've regretted because I sent them out too soon or didn't have the time. It's why when you have al lthe time you need you should treasure it, use it well and use it wisely. That said even if Theevan was beauitfully animated... it's still a fairly simple story of a child who looks about 34 going on a quest to revive his mom after she leaves on "the ship" which I thought was you know going to be a metaphor for death or something but is an actual ship.. only for a dragon to kill it. Except the dragon might be her? Oh and he gets mugged by goblins because why not, meets a giant dragon being that looks like him, the dragon who may be his mom is killed, he get shis wish.. then falls off a cliff and falls into the water opening some kind of egg. My exact reaction

I didn't even mention the paper mache dragon he just flies around on. I get this was a university project.. but even for an experimental film it's pretty nonsensical. It's just kinda danan doing random shit. It's why THIS was hard to review too:

It was a fun bunch of stuff. I haven't gotten to bring it up a ton but I fucking love goblins so if you give me a bunch of goblins mugging a bald 12 year old whose clearly going through a big type situation for no reason, i'm going to love it. And honestly I can't mock the guys passion. I love animation, and love reviewing it and while critisims of "well then make your own thing then" don't hold weight with me, I can respect someone going out and doing it. Theevan may be weird, it may be majestic, but this man went out, made his vision, and put it out with no fear or shame. It's what makes the best so bad it's good stuff to me: when the creator isn't doing it to make it bad on purpose, or isn't a dick, but simply has genuine passion, heart and dedication. Theevan is a mess. I could barely make this much sense of it.. but it made me smile in a year where this medium's been in deep shit and my anxiety and workload has been getting to me. And that.. that's worth something.

#theevan #animation #india #shortpost #reviews

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junkpixelarts · 2 years

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Random Ghoul Ingo ramblings.

Really just a collection of ideas/ trivia for the AU. Also to reconfirm: Ingo turned in a Half-Ghoul via portal shenanigans, but Emmet is completely human and is unaware of this. Akari and Dawn are the same person.

- Do the humans in the Pokemon world have RC Cells?? For the sake of the story and my sanity, yes. Let’s pretend its an undiscovered bit of the body for now.

- Ingo isn’t quite good at masking his human food munching, especially in front of his brother who always makes sure he’s alright due to his ‘sickness’. He’s figured out a way to swallow small bits of food and pretend to chew nothing, but he’s only capable doing this with basic sandwiches and the like, anything with too much flavour will likely just make him sick on the spot. Although Emmet will try and stop him from eating if he keeps being sick.

- Emmet clings to him, a lot. He’s pretty much suffering from a severe case of separation anxiety. It makes sneaking out difficult.

- Emmet probably saw this mysterious Cannibal for himself while looking for Ingo. Traumatised him? A bit. But he became determined to find them no matter what.

- The Pokemon Centre Ingo was at when he first arrived were quite concerned when his arm healed back up in a few hours even when it should have been unsalvageable.

- Oh boy, when he slowly got into his old life again, Ingo became quickly aware of the fact that Gear Station was pretty much occupied by large amount of people every day. He’s usually alright, but when he gets slightly peckish he cannot stop drooling nor control his Kakugan. Which is why he sometimes wears an eye-patch.

- Ingo, probably a side effect of rarely eating back in Hisui, gets hungry a bit quicker than other ghouls do. And his ‘darker self’ likes to entertain the idea of binge eating.

- He also discovers coffee being edible like... A month later? Hoards jars of the stuff it to the point it has its own drawer.

- When was the first time Ingo activated his Kagune? It’s either a) an epic battle against some thugs trying to cart away stolen Pokemon from the city, probably some Team Rocket dudes, and upon being led to believe his brother was badly injured, activated it in desperation and rage. or b) he stubbed his toe too hard on his bed one day and the tail came out on instinct.

- Although he never admits it, Ingo does have a meat preference, younger men, about early 20′s. He’s a bit picky too. Not fond of hearts or brains. He loves the lower loin and crackling (basically cooked the skin during a mental break down and broke down further when he realised, oh fuck, this tastes good.) and he freaking loves ribs and a certain part of the back that he imagines is akin to a bbq steak. honestly, the man might have ended up as a gourmet in another ghoul au. might even try and sneak some meat in to cook at home, but his sanity isn’t quite gone yet and he really doesn’t want Emmet accidentally eating it.

- Ingo’s ‘Cooking Humans for Dummies Book’ is entertained.

- (He’ll especially never admit that his brother smells a lot more appetising than the others.)

- Ingo is absolutely stronger than he used to be, even more so with his Kagune, which lets him able to fight fully evolved Pokemon like Krookadile without assistance.

- He also feels awkward around his brother, who sorta decided to hunt down the Cannibal and invited his brother to join him.

- Ingo gets two masks. The first one was an altered gentlemen mask he stole from Nimbasa’s Theatre. The second? Well, he really needed a new mask, that old one barely covered the more unique features of his face that Emmet could absolutely spot if he gets close enough. Both only show one eye, which is his kakugan eye.

- This also means his depth perception gets a bit jank. How many times has Ingo run into a Stop sign? Yes.

- He also gets a black cloak/robe to wear. Maybe even stole or pulled strings for a voice modifier.

- Muscle memory is a pain. Especially when your Naruto running away from your brother, who in turn is Naruto running after you like some Lupin the Third episode.

- Ever since the first meal, his sanity has sloooowly been crumbling. His mission is cure himself of this ‘curse’ but he starts to fear that its not possible. He hates (enjoys) being a ghoul and decides that if he begins to teeter on sanity’s edge, he’ll vanish from the public for good. As much as he fears on leaving Emmet alone, he despairs at the thought of the last of Emmet’s mind breaking at the revelation that the brother he loved and looked up to was behind such atrocious acts. It’s better that he remembers Ingo for who he used to be, before he unravelled into this and tarnish that memory forever.

- Ingo does notice the empty bottles of alcohol as well as rarer strange white bottles that rattle that he finds in certain spots of the apartment, he remembers the first one he found that Emmet quickly hid as if he would be greatly ashamed if his brother found out. He never talked about it, but always reminded him that if he was ever ready, Ingo would be all ears.

- That last bit is probably why Ingo’s scared of the revelation. If Emmet finds out about him, he’d likely just... Break. But if he leaves with no warning, Emmet would probably descend back into despair. He’s stuck in a hard place.

- Ingo isn’t sure if his Pokemon are aware of his ‘hunts’, but he feels like Chandelure knows.

- Although it isn’t really possible, if Ingo ever somehow develops a Kakuja... Well, he’ll probably be as sane as Centipede Kaneki is. AKA, not very sane at all.

- Will Emmet ever accept Ingo as a ghoul..? Well, guess that depends :)

- A Bad End scenario? Ingo’s sanity just snapping and becoming the complete opposite, unusually cruel and uncaring with the appetite of a binge eater. Probably feeds his brother his food cause he’s a fucked up dude. (I should write a High Humanity Ingo and Zero Humanity Ingo for comparison.)

#pokemon #pokemon legends arceus #pla #ingo #warden ingo #ghoul au #Ingo Ghoul AU #gooey rambling

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superhero--imagines · 4 years

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A/N: Happy Halloween kids! (Because I feel very old lol). So this imagine was requested by the lovely @atbucud who is probably the best beta reader/editor/fan/person I’ve ever known.

This imagine is going to be like the premise, and at the end you’ll have a {Love choice} and get to pick an ending. Endings will be linked and posted next week on Halloween! Hope you like it! Also let me know if this format is annoying/troublesome. I like to think it’s more interactive, but if most of y’all find it a hassle then it’s not worth it.

Oh, and Damian Wayne is 18 in this.

* First off, you’re rollin’ with some pretty rich kids, so you while it’s possible you go to some Jank Halloween party at someone’s house

* You’re probably going to a bougie charity gala that “the Wayne” foundation puts on every year

* “Let’s draw” Stephanie states triumphantly, placing a large glass bowl full of torn pieces of paper in the table in the middle of the living room at Wayne manor.

* Jason only raises an eyebrow, turning his attention back to his phone

* “Draw for what?” You ask, notching everyone’s disinterest

* “Costumes for the gala of course” Stephanie says it’s like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

* Damian sputters

* “Why would anyone do that?”

* “Because it would be funny” she grins, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes

* Tim flashes her a look

* “There’s no way any of us are going along with whatever crazy costumes you’ve put in there”

* Besides it’s already bad enough that they even have to go at all

* Jason would rather watch Dick clip his toenails

* Damian just wants to spend the night with Titus and watch movies with you

* Tim was hoping to go to his favorite local coffee shop’s Halloween party

* Dick would rather go to the block party his friend invited him to

* Cass just wants to stay home and pass out candy

* Barbara’s smart enough to be “out of town”

* And you’re just happy to be here tbh

* Stephanie’s not deterred by their lack of enthusiasm though, a mischievous smile curling onto her face.

* Her hand are suddenly resting on your shoulders, her face pressed against your hair

* “Aw, that’s too bad. I was really excited to see what costume our lovely (y/n) would pull out.”

* She’s feigning despair, but as soon as the words tumble out it’s like all five of their ears perk up.

* “Out of curiosity,” Tim starts, setting down his laptop. “What are some costumes in there?”

* You aren’t facing her but you can picture the mischievous glint in her eyes.

* She’s got them now.

* “Oh you know, the usual: Wonder Woman, cat woman, Zatanna’s costume-“

* You shrug, so far those seem pretty tame. The bat family seems to reflect your opinion, visibly deflating.

* Jason will be honest, you in a Wonder Woman costume does sound pretty sexy

* But it’s not exactly taboo, if he hung around you long enough he’d get to see you in it eventually.

* Dick and Cassie think you would look pretty cute in Zatanna’s costume, something about that magicians outfit hugging your form just seems right.

* But like Jason, they think they’ll see you in something similar eventually. No point in going along with Stephanie’s antics.

* Damian thinks it might be kind of nice if you were Wonder Woman, and he was Superman, that way you could both match

* But the chances of you both drawing those exact options are low. He would rather just take his chances and ask you if you would want to match.

* Tim’s bright red at the thought of you on a car woman outfit, the tight suit leaves little to the imagination

* But he’s oddly possessive and he doesn’t want anyone else to see you like that.

* So basically it looks like a bust so far

* “- and robin, nightwing, red hood, red robin, and batgirl of course.”

* All five of their heads pop back up, Stephanie grins

* Got ‘em

* The thought of you in their costume is bewitching

* “I mean it only makes sense, they’re the costumes we have in house after all”

* You know it makes sense, and it’s practical, but their collective gaze makes you blush and look away.

* But if you’re being honest there’s a certain someone you want to see in a certain costume too.

* “I guess it takes the pressure off of choosing” Jason grumbles

* “It might be funny.” Cass shrugs, but you catch the slight blush on her face

* So you all sit in a circle the bowl at the center.

* Alfred enters with a tray full of drinks and snacks, takes one look at the seven of you, and promptly walks back out.

* He’ll just..... come back later

* “Shortest stick draws last” Stephanie says.

* Which is coincidently you.

* Jason gets to go first

* “I got-Clark Kent?” He frowns, it’s not the worst, but he’s confused. Does this mean he’s supposed to be Superman?

* “Oh, I put that in for fun, easy costume, just need glasses and a white shirt”

* Jason sighs, well it could be worse

* “Batman in a recession?” Dicks eyebrows are threaded together

* Jason holds back a laugh, he could be Dick.

* “What the hell does that mean Steph?”

* Stephanie shrugs

* “Like you know, instead of a bat mobile you have a Prius, and instead of those bat-erangs you have like, knives idk get creative”

* Duck huffs, you better get robin after this

* “Raven” Cass says. Praying no one will notice that her piece of paper says “the penguin”

* To her relief everyone passes right over her, she crsuhes the slip of my paper in her hand, and breathes a sigh of relief

* Tim spends several minutes shuffling his hand around in the bowl

* “Tim just pick one!”

* “I’ll pick one when I’m damn ready, I’m not getting Wonder Woman dammit!”

* The moods pretty tense, so you say-

* “Idk I think you would make a cute Wonder Woman Tim!”

* Cue Tim.exe failing to work, his hand shooting out of the bowl

* “Catwoman, well, I guess cat boy in your case” Stephanie reads off the paper from his hand and Tim only blushes darker

* Damian’s hand shoot into the bowl, pulling out a scrap

* “A tennis player” he reads in a deadpan voice before scowling. “Brown that isn’t even a superhero”

* “You watch Serena Williams win another championship and then tell me what she does isn’t a superpower.”

* Stephanie’s hand dips into the bowl

* “Dolly Parton.” Stephanie shrugs, she pit it in because she thought it would be funny if one of the boys got it, but she actually pretty pleased

* Stephanie’s sure she can make a pretty hot Dolly Parton

* All at once their eyes turn to you.

* There’s still a handful of scraps in the bowl, but you feel a bit of pressure under their gazes.

* You look down at your hand.

* “A cheerleader for your favorite superhero?”

* Stephanie had put that one in as a joke too, imagining Damian with clip on ponytails and Pom poms.

* “Yeah, just like it sounds. You get to pick which superhero you’re rooting for” she grins, this should be pretty interesting

* “So who will you go as?”

* You gulp, to be honest there’s only one person you’re really rooting for

{Love Choice}

Who’s the number one hero in your heart?

Dick

Jason

Tim

Cassie

Damian

Surprise 1!

Surprise 2!

I like marvel better

A/N: on Halloween next week you’ll be able to pick which ending/character you want! I’ll add the links in to each choice for the imagine. This is not a voting situation. They’ll all be written (probably)

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dapandapod · 4 years

Text

Flowers and bad ideas

Prompt by the one and only @dont-tempt-me-frodo when words ran dry and ideas ran away. Thank you for letting me borrow the braincell! Many words were worded and I hope it is readable and did your idea justice!

On Ao3 here!

The skies are clear and blue above them. Lazy white clouds drift over them, the summer heat making any attempt at movement slow and drowsy. Despite this, Geralt has decided they need to be on their way. Despite this, Geralt has donned his leather and his armor. Despite this he keeps a brisk pace on the dirt road, every now and then reminding Roach to keep going with a nudge of his heels.

Walking next to and slightly behind them walks a bard, completely bored out of his mind and in so much misery because of the gods damned heat. It’s the kind of heat that gives the air above the road a floaty quality. Don’t ask Jaskier for better words to describe it right now please, his brain is boiling inside his skull.

In a desperate attempt to distract himself from the slow cooking of his most prized body part (wait, scratch that, second most prized body part!) he looks around. Maybe there are some greens he can use to decorate his brain when it is ready to be served. A wild pepper mayhaps? A handful of berries? A decorative flower might suit? Jaskier fans himself with his hands, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. It makes no difference whatsoever, no respite to be found. His tunic sticks to his back under all the layers of what is deemed proper, summer or no. Jaskier will never understand what keeps Geralt going, and how he is still alive clad in all that leather.

Not that he complains, mind you, that behind wrapped in leather like a gift is a sight to behold no matter the weather conditions, but he would never be able to walk around like that himself.

The road leads them from between the rolling hills and up on a small height. Roach doesn’t stop, the soft sound of her hooves hitting the gravel making a steady rhythm to organize his thoughts around. But finally something distracts Jaskier and his boiling brain.

On the soft slope of the hill they are standing on a wide field stretches out. The high grass is speckled with colours, like tiny stars growing out of the ground. It is beautiful.

Jaskier has to stop and just take it all in. To just take a moment, take a breath and take it in. He might stand there a bit too long, because the rhythm of hooves stops and Geralt turns to look at him. Jaskier snaps himself out of it, and he means to catch up with them, he really does. But his eyes keep straying to the field of flowers and he finds himself drawn to it.

So Jaskier gives in. He knows it’s a bad idea, his nose always starts dripping and his eyes get swollen and itchy. But Jaskier loves bad ideas. That’s how all his masterpieces are written after all. So he puts his lute down carefully on the road, pushes his sweaty hair from his face and throws himself into the field with a squeal.

He runs straight out into it, down the slope with his arms outstretched. The grass reaches up to his knees and tangles with his legs and he goes down, falling into it willingly. “Jaskier!” comes from behind him and he can hear Geralt dismount. Jaskier pays the witcher no mind, propping himself up on his elbows like a kid and bends the nearest flower to his nose. If he is going to spend the rest of the day sniffling he might as well make it worth it. The smell is sweet and he can feel a smile stretch across his lips. “Jaskier!” Geralt calls out again, hurrying up behind him and pulling him up to a sitting position. As predicted, Jaskiers eyes are already itching and his nose is starting to do its thing.

Still smiling, still with Geralt's hands on his shoulders, Jaskier looks at this wonderful man, kneeling with him in a field of growing stars. It’s a very nice feeling.

“Yes, my dear witcher?” He says, not understanding at all why Geralt looks so worried.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Geralt asks, frowning slightly at Jaskiers loopy expression.

“It is very warm, but yes.” Geralt's eyes widen in alarm when Jaskier turns his head and sneezes loudly. “And these flowers are trying to kill me, but other than that I am perfectly fine.”

Jaskier regrets his choice of words immediately as Geralt janks him up and drags him over to Roach.

“I knew it.” Geralt mumbles as he starts digging in his saddle bags. “I knew something was wrong.” “What? No? Nothing is wrong, I should just not have smelled those flowers is all.” This doesn’t help at all and Geralt searches even more frantically in the bags.

“Poisonous. They are poisonous, nobody just falls down from running in the grass. Fuck where are they?!”

“They were poisonous?! Meliteles tits Geralt, why didn’t you stop me?! Am I going to die?!” The heat is suddenly overbearing, his sniffles and sweating worrying, heart racing towards his doom. “I don’t know Jaskier but your eyes are swelling up and you are sweating and that is not normal.” Geralt says through gritted teeth and wait, hang on. It finally clicks for Jaskier.

“Oh Geralt.” He chuckles, a hand on the witchers arm to turn him. “Im fine!” He says again, trying to smile comfortingly. But his eyes itch so much so he reaches up a hand to rub it, and his nose refuses to stay dry. Geralt just gives him an incredulous look. “It’s true, it’s just the allergies.” As if to prove his point, another sneeze forces his way out and his eyes tears up from the force of it. “See? Not dying.” He says, voice strained as he wipes away snot and tears and sweat. Geralt is entirely unconvinced.

“I promise you, I am not dying. Not from this anyway. And you can’t tell me sweating is not normal when it feels like we are walking on the inside of a fire elemental's arse crack. But prettier.” Seriously, how is Geralt stil standing up in this heat with leather and armor? His brain must be boiled into mush too, because Geralt reaches up and places his hand on Jaskiers cheek. His thumb traces the thin skin under Jaskiers itching eyes and there, Jaskiers brain checked out entirely. “Promise?” Geralt says, and it is completely unfair. Jaskier would promise anything if those callused fingers touched his skin.

“Yes. It’s only allergies.” He assures him again, but he is not so sure anymore. He is definitely feeling a little faint. But to prove it, he takes Geralt's other hand and places it over his speeding heart, as if that would clear things up. The boiled brain has checked out and thus the reasoning is somewhat flawed. Geralt's fingers splay over his heart, Jaskiers hand circling around his wrist to keep him in place. The witcher's eyes are trained on his chest, a new rhythm taking the place of roaches hooves. An uneven, desperate and lovesick rhythm, but not a dying one. Not this time. Then their eyes meet again, and Jaskier pulls in a breath through his open mouth (his nose is too busy being allergic).

Then Geralt chuckles and all gods above Jaskier want to kiss him.

“You’re a mess” Geralt smirks and lets his hands fall to his sides. Jaskier has to stand there for a moment, once again taking it all in with all the limitations a boiled and absent brain brings. He is indeed a mess, inside and out. A third sneeze explode from him, snot flying, eyes reluctant to open again.

Geralt strolls back up the hill and picks up Jaskiers lute, putting it on his back after strapping his swords to the saddle. “Up.” Is all Geralt says and motions for Jaskier to climb up Roachs back. Jaskier is sceptical. That never went well before.

“Why?” he asks, eyes squinting and darting between the two. “I'm not dying?”

“So may be, but we will never get to the next town in time for the contract if you are insisting on falling into a field of flowers every few minutes.” And sure, Geralt has a point. He climbs up with some assistance and then takes out his handkerchief to wipe his nose.

“Still not dying.” He complains.

“I remain unconvinced.” Geralt smirks up at him and grabs Roachs reins and leads them onwards. They start making their way onwards, Jaskier only being allowed to sit there. No more bad decisions for Jaskier today, for surely the next thing he would do is fling himself into his witchers arms.

Which, hey, is not a bad idea at all!

#the witcher #bad ideas #dapanda writes #geraskier #prompt #words have been worded #save me from writersblock please #also thank you gandalf #love you #geralt x jaskier #allergies #jaskier is just a little in love #geralt of rivia #julian alfred pankratz #jaskier #geralt #flowers

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tigerkirby215 · 3 years

Text

5e Zac, the Secret Weapon build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Christian Fell. Made for Riot Games.)

No one:

Literally no one:

@tigerkirby215: “HEY FUCKERS WHO WANTS A ZAC BUILD?!”

Full disclosure: I watched Dorans and Dragon’s video for Zac and while it’s really well done (like really well done. I honestly suggest you watch it) I felt like it took a bit of an interesting direction. Ds&D and I have always had different ideas for our builds and I think with the release of Tasha’s there’s actually a lot of interesting new directions to take Zac in.

Also spoiler alert but this build is the most jank-ass fucking shit I have ever made but it strangely works really well? Like I literally sat on this build for two months debating if I should even post it. Also Zac’s a grappler, because of course he is.

GOALS

There's plenty of me to go around - Zac stretches and bounces and changes his shape more-or-less at will.

Why thanks; I do work out - Zac is one of those “hold you down for 10 seconds total in a teamfight” types of junglers.

I'm not as squishy as I look - Of course to be a big bundle of green goo we’ll need to be big. Like, really big.

RACE

END ME I’M MAKING A BUGBEAR! :D

Okay to be fair Bugbear hate is kinda overblown, especially by yours truly. You get +2 to Strength and a +1 to Dexterity as well as Darkvision and several other useful traits: you have a Powerful Build to carry more stuff, for one. You are also Sneaky and get proficiency with Stealth, which is nice because if you launch a Surprise Attack you can do an extra 2d6 damage.

But of course the main trait of a Bugbear is their Long-Limbed bodies. All your melee attacks have a 5 foot longer range, which is obviously important to make Stretching Strikes!

Custom Lineage: If you’re insistent on making a custom “goo creature” race with Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything rules here are my suggestions: make yourself Medium (yeah duh) and give yourself proficiency with the Athletics skill. Increase your Strength by 2 and take the Skilled Expert feat for Expertise in Athletics along with a +1 in Wisdom. You will have an uneven DEX score but I dunno just go for Athlete or something later in this build.

ABILITY SCORES

15; WISDOM - Braum isn’t the only champion who believes the heart is the strongest muscle, as if you’d read Zac’s lore he is actually quite a compassionate soul. Also we need Wisdom for our main ability.

14; CONSTITUTION - Zac is a tanky boy, so up the tankiness!

13; DEXTERITY - When you can stretch and squeeze like silly putty dexterity comes naturally. We need that dexterity to jump over walls, among other things.

12; STRENGTH - A lot of it is elastic strength, but if you’re going to throw Cho’gath into Shyvana you do also need upper body strength.

10; CHARISMA - He’s a nice guy when you get to know him, but Zac’s also a bunch of Zaun sewer goo.

8; INTELLIGENCE - Living in the sewers and then later being raised as a weapon means you don’t know any math, science, or history.

BACKGROUND

Zac did grow up in the streets, but the skills from the Urchin background don’t fit him well so we’ll be modifying it heavily. Take proficiency in Acrobatics to squash and stretch as well as Perception to keep those wards up. You can pick your choice of languages or tools because Zac kinda... doesn’t do much other than fight? I mean he’s literally called “the Secret Weapon” what do you want from me?

But your background feature of City Secrets is very useful for traveling the streets of Zaun, letting you find your way around alleys and jungle gank paths to travel through the city twice as fast as the average person! "Put some spring in your step."

(Artist unknown. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - MONK 1

Been awhile since we’ve visited the good ol’ Monk class eh? Well you can grab Athletics finally, as well as Insight to know if someone’s worth clobbering. You also get proficiency with an artisan’s tool or musical instrument, and I mean... Zac still doesn’t have much lore.

But how about some class features? Monks get Unarmored Defense equal to their Wisdom plus their Dexterity, for 14 AC total. Would medium armor be better? Yes, but you can’t wear armor if you want to use Martial Arts! Martial Arts gives you a variety of benefits: you can punch with DEX or STR, your punches are now a d4 (and will scale as you get levels), and if you punch with your Action you can punch with a Bonus Action after the fact!

LEVEL 2 - MONK 2

Second level Monks get Ki points to use for a variety of features: Flurry of Blows lets you attack twice with your Bonus Action instead of once, Patient Defense lets you dodge as a Bonus Action, and Step of the Wind lets you Dash or Disengage as a Bonus Action. An important thing to mention about Step of the Wind is that it doubles your jump distance, for those big Elastic Slingshot jumps!

You can also put on some boots and get some Unarmored Movement. 10 more feet to be exact!

I guess I’m also obliged to mention Dedicated Weapon from Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything which lets you turn any weapon you’re proficient in into a Monk weapon as long as it’s not Heavy or Special. This will be important later but it’s not exactly in-character for Zac.

LEVEL 3 - MONK 3

Third level Monks get to choose their Monastic Tradition and Way of the Astral Self will give you some long stretchy limbs! As a bonus action you can spend 1 Ki to summon Arms of the Astral Self. When you do so, each creature of your choice that you can see within 10 feet of you must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or take force damage equal to two rolls of your Martial Arts die due to your Unstable Matter.

Your arms will stay up for 10 minutes and give the following benefits:

You can use your Wisdom modifier in place of your Strength modifier when making Strength checks and Strength saving throws.

You can use the spectral arms to make unarmed strikes, which has the following benefits:

The reach of the arms is 5 feet greater than normal, which stacks with your Bugbear arms. 15 foot reach with extra stretchy arms!

The unarmed strikes you make with the arms can use your Wisdom modifier in place of your Strength or Dexterity modifier for the attack and damage rolls, and their damage type is force.

You can also absorb some blows with Deflect Missiles. When you are hit by a ranged weapon attack you can use your reaction to reduce the damage by 1d10 + your DEX mod + your monk level. If you reduce the damage to 0, you can catch the missile. You can then spend 1 ki point to throw it back as part of the same reaction. You make this attack with proficiency, regardless of your weapon proficiencies, and the missile counts as a monk weapon for the attack, which has a normal range of 20 feet and a long range of 60 feet.

Tasha’s Cauldron of Everyone also gave Monks the Ki-Fueled Attack ability which pretty much doesn’t impact you in the slightest.

LEVEL 4 - MONK 4

4th level Monks get an Ability Score Improvement but we’re instead going to grab the Skilled Expert feat. You can increase your Wisdom by 1 and grab proficiency in Survival for optimal jungle clear. But what we’re mainly here for is to make our hands extra sticky with expertise in Athletics! Is the build starting to make sense now?

You can also land safely after an Elastic Slingshot jump thanks to Slow Fall, reducing fall damage by 5 times your Monk level. If you want to keep yourself in the fight then Quickened Healing (also from TCoE, because that book really likes giving new Monk features) will let you take advantage of Cell Division for 2 Ki points, healing you for a number rolled on your Martial Arts die plus your Proficiency bonus. It’s not much but in a pinch it might save you!

LEVEL 5 - MONK 5

5th level Monks get an Extra Attack, so you can punch twice with your action, and then punch some more with your Bonus Action! You can also bring some heavy CC into the party with Stunning Strike; if you hit an enemy in melee you can force a Constitution save or stun them! Yes actual honest-to-god League of Legends stun!

Oh and because Tasha’s Cauldron really wanted to buff the Monk you get Focused Aim, letting you use up to 3 Ki points to increase your roll to hit, at a 2:1 ratio. (1 Ki point = +2 to hit)

(Artwork by SemLimit on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 6 - BARBARIAN 1

Jumping over to Barbarian, land of the true tanks. Barbarians get Unarmored Defense based on Constitution that we won’t be using but I’m obliged to mention anyways. Of course what we’re here for is Rage which will augment you in a number of ways: you’ll resist Bludgeoning, Piercing, and Slashing damage and will do more damage with Strength-based attacks (which you probably won’t be making.) But the most important feature is this line right here:

You have advantage on Strength checks and Strength saving throws.

You know what’s a Strength check? Athletics! So even if you use Wisdom for it you’ll still have Advantage on top of Expertise! And Athletics is used for grappling! At least that’s how I’d rule it, but talk to your DM just to make sure they’ll let this dopey shit into their game.

LEVEL 7 - BARBARIAN 2

Second level Barbarians can let themselves go with Reckless Attack. Your Unstable Matter will give you advantage on your attack at the cost of giving enemies advantage to hit you.

You also get Danger Sense for advantage on Dexterity saves against effects you can see coming. Is a Jinx rocket heading your way? Slingshot out of there!

LEVEL 8 - BARBARIAN 3

Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything gave Barbarians Primal Knowledge for a free skill proficiency from the Barbarian list, so take Intimidation I guess because you are a huge freaky slime guy.

Third level Barbarians get to choose their Primal Path and guess what? It’s Totem Warrior time! As a Spirit Seeker you can cast Speak With Animals and Beast Sense as a Ritual but we all know that’s not what we’re here for. What we’re really here for is the Totem Spirit of the Bear. You can now resist all damage while Raging, with the exception of Psychic damage. Hey there has to be %health damage to deal with tanks after all. (Now if only they’d nerf Grievous Wounds.)

LEVEL 9 - MONK 6

This will be our last Monk level; sad I know. But it’s worth it for the Visage of the Astral Self. You can use a Bonus Action and a Ki point to summon the visage. (And can do it while summoning your arms.) While the spectral visage is present, you gain several benefits:

Astral Sight lets you see through magical (and nonmagical) darkness up to 120 feet.

Wisdom of the Spirit gives you advantage on Wisdom (Insight) and Charisma (Intimidation) checks.

And Word of the Spirit lets you either whisper in team chat to a creature of your choice that you can see within 60 feet of you, or shout in all chat so that everyone within 600 feet can hear you.

Your regular fists are also considered magical thanks to Ki-Empowered Strikes, and you get 5 more feet of Unarmored Movement! "Woohoo!"

(Artwork by Dragonflamebg on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 10 - FIGHTER 1

Teamfight time? Team Fighter time! First level Fighters get a Fighting Style and since you’re punching people your only real option is Superior Technique, giving you a d6 Combat Superiority die to use on a Battle Master Manuever. That Manuever shall be Grappling Strike, letting you grapple as a Bonus Action after punching someone for some Stretching Strikes!

You can also heal with Cell Division assuming the enemy team doesn’t stack Grievous Wounds thanks to Second Wind; it’s a d10 plus your Fighter level. "Keep it together."

LEVEL 11 - FIGHTER 2

Second level Fighters get Action Surge for even more punching! This will be more important in like, two levels.

LEVEL 12 - FIGHTER 3

Third level Fighters get to choose their Martial Archetype and for some crowd control in a teamfight Battle Master is a great choice. You are a Student of War which means more tool proficiencies which make no sense because Zac has no lore woo! But of course what we’re mainly here for is Combat Superiority: you have four d8 Superiority Die (plus a d6 one from your Fighting Style) which you can use on a variety of Maneuvers:

Trip Attack is good if you want to bounce, forcing the target you hit to make a Strength save or fall over!

Distracting Strike is like stunning the target in the sense that it gives your allies an opening, but unlike Trip Attack you don’t have to force a saving throw. (Instead Distracting Strike just works after you hit them!)

And if you think your arms aren’t stretchy enough already? Boom; Lunging Attack for 20 foot reach!

LEVEL 13 - FIGHTER 4

4th level Fighters get an Ability Score Improvement: hey it’s everyone’s favorite feat Grappler! You have advantage on attacks against enemies you grappled, and if you’re grappling someone you can then pin them to hold them in place!

Now pinning someone you’ve grappled does take an action but here’s where Action Surge comes in: turn 1? Grab them. Turn 2? Pin them! Easy!

LEVEL 14 - FIGHTER 5

5th level Fighters get an Extra Attack... which you already have. "I hate it when this happens."

LEVEL 15 - FIGHTER 6

Hey more Ability Score Improvements! Want all the fun of a high Constitution score without the Constitution? Look no further than the Tough feat: it gives you +2 HP per level for some big gains!

(Artwork by GisAlmeida on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 16 - FIGHTER 7

7th level Fighters get to Know Your Enemy: by spending a minute studying someone (IE looking at the scoreboard) you can learn if an enemy is superior, inferior, or equal to you in a number of areas described by the ability.

You also get one more Combat Superiority die and learn two more Maneuvers: Goading Attack will make it harder for enemies to hit your friends (and it works against Tier 4 enemies who likely resist fears), and Disarming Attack will let you stick your hand to your opponent’s weapon to make them drop it!

LEVEL 17 - FIGHTER 8

8th level means more ASIs and I’m starting to think ignoring all your stats was a bad idea. More Wisdom means better punches, better grabs, and better AC.

LEVEL 18 - FIGHTER 9

9th level Fighters get Indomitable, letting them reroll a failed saving throw once per Long Rest. Regardless of what you roll on the new die however you have to use the new result. This can be used on Death saves to try to keep alive a little longer thanks to Cell Division.

LEVEL 19 - FIGHTER 10

10th level Battle Masters get Improved Combat Superiority. Your superiority die are d10s now; even the one from your Fighting Style! You do also learn more Maneuvers but honestly? We got just about everything that we need already. If you’ve hit level 19 playing Zac League of Legends then you deserve to make some choices of your own.

LEVEL 20 - FIGHTER 11

Our final level is the 11th level of Fighter for an Extra Attack that does stack! That means you have 3 attacks total and one extra from Martial Arts!

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Beat up, or beat down? I'm flexible - No matter how you look at it 4 attacks per round is great, especially since you can give yourself Advantage and boost your damage output with Battle Master Maneuvers.

Pick on someone your own size - If everything goes well you should have a solid 200 health by level 20! Definitely nothing to sneeze at, especially with Rage giving you resistance to almost everything and Second Wind letting you heal yourself!

This is gonna get messy - You’ve got a +16 to Athletics checks for Grappling when using your Astral Arms, and can give yourself Advantage or add Superiority die to your Grapple checks. Do I need to explain that that’s really good?

CONS

Don't push your luck, champ - None of your stats are maxed out, and that’s bad. Your hit modifier isn’t great, your Battle Master saving throw is low, but most importantly your AC is really bad. Big health is nice but not being hit is also very helpful. Just saying if you have the chance to go for Point Buy I’d take it.

I never skip breakfast - A small pool of Ki combined with limited Maneuver die means that you’re running on some very potent fumes. Frequent short rests will be needed to make the most out of this build.

These jerks don't know when to quit! - Grappling builds have the ever-constant problem of falling off in the late game when most foes simply can’t be grabbed. This build honestly peaks around level 13 and just falls off from there. This is definitely one of my builds that I think works better in a low level campaign.

But if you want something unique that works well early here’s your build! Big reach to hold everyone in place so your party can beat them up. Playing the CC tank might not be that glorious but it’s a job someone’s gotta do. And remember: "It's not how much you can lift. It's how good you look!"

(Artist unknown. Made for Riot Games.)

#dnd #dnd build #dnd guide #League of Legends #League of Legends Zac #dnd monk #dnd fighter #dnd grappler

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bubbyleh · 3 years

Text

Do I Know You? - Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Holiday Season

It’s difficult, at first.

Of course it’s going to be. Bubby doesn’t quite know how to be a sibling, and to be honest, the person that Kleiner knew almost forty years ago doesn’t exist anymore. Hell, Bubby doesn’t want Isaac to find out just how much they’ve changed. It’s a challenge—a barrier to their relationship that they aren’t quite ready to break down.

But they do end up finding their common ground. Namely, as Coomer puts it, that they’re both giant nerds. Bubby made one offhanded, stupid science pun during one of their weekly dinners, and that was it. They’ve become a duo known for their terrible sense of humor and wisecracking ability.

And then November rolls around, and Kleiner asks a question.

“Bubby?”

It’s a nice Sunday morning, and Bubby had invited Kleiner over for some coffee while Coomer went out grocery shopping. It was more of an excuse not to do any work today, but hey, any brother time is a good time to Bubby.

Bubby sets his mug down to the side, keeping a loose grip on the handle. “Yes?”

“You didn’t really get to grow up, you know, doing the things we did,” Kleiner says. “So I was wondering, what holiday do you celebrate?”

Idly, Bubby taps the ceramic of their drink. “Well, I’ve been to a few Christmas parties,” they scratch at their chin. “But Harold’s Jewish, so we mostly do Hanukkah.”

And with that, Kleiner sighs. “Oh, you’re still Jewish. Good.”

“Huh?” Bubby tilts their head.

Kleiner only seems confused by Bubby’s own confusion. “What?”

“We’re Jewish?”

It takes a second for Kleiner to process, but when he does, he laughs. “Of course we’re Jewish! Have you seen my name?”

“I don’t know!” Bubby’s face grows red, which they instinctively cover. “I didn’t think about it!”

In what is perhaps an act of mercy, Kleiner changes the topic, pushing one of Bubby’s hands away from their face. “Well, we should try to get together, at least one of the nights,” he suggests, a sincerity on his face that Bubby’s not used to seeing. “It would be nice to do the lighting with family again!”

Family. That’s what they are, aren’t they?

A warmth worms its way into Bubby’s chest. It’s happiness, definitely, but there’s also pride mixed in.

“Definitely,” Bubby can’t keep the smirk off their face. “All eight, if we can.”

- ○ -

Kleiner is more than happy to go along with how Bubby and Coomer do Hanukkah, which is definitely easier. The first seven days, they tend to give each other small treats and trinkets, such as a favorite candy or a funny magnet. Then, on the eighth day, they would exchange their bigger gifts with each other as a sort of finale. It’s honestly easier on the wallet, and it was certainly less taxing to figure out one meaningful gift than eight of any variety.

The first few nights are pretty great! Bubby ends up throwing some of his gelt wrappers at Kleiner when he asks to have one, but that’s fair. There was also a bit of an incident on the third night where the menorah accidentally got knocked over, though there was thankfully no fire damage. They miss out on nights six and seven due to a couple of late shifts, but finally, the eighth night comes.

Bubby halts their rifling through the kitchen drawers and sighs. “We might be out of matches,” they finally admit.

“Should I go get Coomer, then?” Kleiner stands from the barstool.

“Well, let’s wait on him.” Bubby brushes past Kleiner and out of the kitchen, dramatically collapsing onto the couch. “We might have to send you back to get some from your place.”

Kleiner frowns, slumping back into his seat. “So,” he tries to play it cool. “You and Harold are engaged, right?”

Bubby chuckles. “Yeah! It’s… nice.” He rubs at his arm, smiling to himself.

“Well, how did it happen?” Kleiner asks.

Suddenly, Bubby starts blushing hard. “What?”

“Come on! Don’t tell me you don’t have an engagement story,” Kleiner grins. “Who asked who, where was it, do you have any plans yet? That stuff.”

“Oh,” Bubby gulps. “Right.” He manages to compose himself, lightly slapping his face a few times and taking a deep breath. “Actually,” he says, “It was a few months before-”

“I found some!” Coomer interrupts, brandishing a box that’s clearly seen better days. “They were all the way in the back back of the bedroom closet!”

Kleiner raises an eyebrow. “Why did you have matches in your bedroom closet?”

Bubby shrugs as he makes his way to Coomer, yanking the matchbox from him. He squints down at the box’s contents, rattling it slightly. “These look good. Wanna light ‘em tonight, Isaac?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Bubby hands the box over to him. “They look kind of janked. Maybe you have lucky hands, or whatever.”

- ○ -

Old matches suck.

Kleiner mumbles under his breath as he tries to strike the match one more time. The wooden stick feels brittle, and since he’s already broken one match on accident, he’s hesitant to put more force in. Still, it’s apparently not enough, if the slight smoldering is anything to go by.

“Do you want me to try?” Coomer offers.

Bubby rolls his eyes. “Harold, you’ve broken every match you’ve ever tried to light.” They turn to Kleiner, watching him start to put the matches away. “Woah, wait.”

“What?” Isaac frowns. “It isn’t working. I was going to-”

“Try again.”

“Bubby-”

“Just try?” Bubby pleads.

Kleiner’s shoulder slump. “Alright.” He pulls a fresh match out, and after a breath, he strikes it against the side of the box.

Bubby blinks. The match lights up.

“Aha! I did it!” Kleiner shouts triumphantly.

“Quickly, the candle!” Coomer points to the center candle. “Before it burns out!”

Coomer gives Bubby a knowing look as they recite the prayers, which Bubby chooses to ignore. He keeps his hands folded behind his back, as if strangling them of the power he let slip.

- ○ -

“Okay, present time!” Bubby announces, slipping a couple of suspiciously squishy wrapped gifts towards the other two seated at the table. “Not to brag, but I think I outdid myself this year.”

“You know, gift-giving is supposed to be about others,” Coomer reminds him, doling out his own gifts at the same time.

They take turns opening each other’s gifts. Kleiner got Coomer a comfy bear hat, while Coomer had gotten Kleiner a knife, supposedly for self-defense. Bubby and Coomer got each other tacky gifts, a tank top for Coomer (‘I FLEXED AND THE SLEEVES FELL OFF’) and a hat for Bubby (‘I’D RATHER BE FISHING RIGHT NOW’).

The siblings, though…

Kleiner inspects the sweater he just unwrapped. It’s white, with a picture of a ball on a slope stitched onto it. Underneath it is written ‘I Have Potential’, which is a classic Physics joke.

“Do you like it?” Bubby asks. “I haven’t knitted in a while, but I wanted to-”

“Wait,” Kleiner pauses. “You made this?”

“Yeah.” Bubby rubs at the back of their neck. “It’s a fun hobby.”

Kleiner glances back at the design on the sweater. It even has a stupid, hilarious science pun.

“I love it,” he states.

Bubby nods. “Good. Now,” he eagerly begins tearing into the paper in front of him. “What did you get me?”

“Oh, well, er-” Kleiner stammers. “If you don’t like it, I could get you something else. I just thought that, since you don’t have a lot to remind you of the family, this would be a good start. But-”

He cuts himself off when Bubby pulls the picture frame from the paper. It was a good frame, Isaac had chosen it himself, but it didn’t at all compare to the photo inside. The picture was something old that Kleiner had dug up during some cleaning Bubby had guilted him into, among other family documents.

A young boy sits across from his baby sibling on the floor, holding a toy up as the baby sticks their tongue out and grabs at their brother.

Bubby gasps. “Is this us?”

Seeing the photo again manages to calm Kleiner, somewhat. “Yes,” he chuckles. “You were a cute little thing.”

Bubby stares down at the portrait in his hands. It feels heavier than its weight, as though forty years were condensed down into a single rectangle. When he looks up at his brother, it’s hard to keep his cool.

“Thank you,” he chokes out. “This is amazing.”

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #dr coomer #dr bubby #bubby #isaac kleiner #my writing #do i know you

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bloody-bee-tea · 5 years

Text

Inktober for Writers 2019 Day 25

Tasty - Faceless

Modern AU, over 1.7k, so there's a read more.

“What the fuck,” Jiang Cheng mutters as soon as he steps out of the elevator.

The whole hallway is, yet again, filled with the most delicious smell. It’s an almost daily occurrence by now, someone certainly enjoys using their kitchen, and Jiang Cheng would love to find out who it is.

Either to punch them in the face for making him almost salviate in their hallway, or to drop to his knees and beg them to cook for him, too. Jiang Cheng is not sure yet.

It’s not that he’s a bad cook, Jin Ling certainly never has complained. He just doesn’t enjoy it much. And he’s certainly not as good as the faceless person responsible for this tasty smell.

Jiang Cheng breathes as shallow as he can, his stomach is already growling enough at him, and he jams his keys into the lock.

When he finds Jin Ling in the kitchen, after he maybe slammed the door harder than necessary, Jin Ling regards him with a raised eyebrow.

“What has you in such a good mood?” he wants to know and Jiang Cheng is sorely tempted to bare his teeth at him.

Instead he takes a deep breath of air, glad that it’s not making him day-dream about a plate of food anymore.

“Who even cooks every day?” he wants to know and clearly confuses Jin Ling with his answer.

“Care to elaborate?”

Jiang Cheng motions towards the door. “That smell,” he hisses out, truly angered now, because his stomach is still grumbling and he has to make dinner first.

And it will never be as good as whatever that other person is making.

“Lan Xichen’s cooking?” Jin Ling inquires further and Jiang Cheng stops dead on his way to the fridge.

“What?”

“What do you have against Lan Xichen’s cooking? It’s the best food ever, no offense, uncle.”

“What do you mean, it’s Lan Xichen who’s cooking?”

“Sizhui’s and Jingyi’s uncle? You know I stay for dinner sometimes, you allowed it!” he says as if he’s afraid that Jiang Cheng will revoke his permission.

Jiang Cheng is honestly still too busy merging the faceless cook and Lan Xichen into one person.

“Lan Xichen is the cook?” he asks in a desperate hope to clear this all up and when Jin Ling nods enthusiastically Jiang Cheng has to sit down at the table.

He knows who Lan Xichen is, of course he does. It’s hard to not know when he’s Wei Wuxian’s brother-in-law. He has even talked to him in passing on family gatherings and such things, but never more than that.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t dare to do more than that.

Lan Xichen is too gentle, too nice and caring and Jiang Cheng would rather keep their relationship at a polite distance than invite any more heartbreak into his life. He knows someone like Lan Xichen would never go for someone like himself. He’s too angry, too overbearing and bad with his more positive emotions for someone like Lan Xichen to take an interest in him.

“Yeah?” Jin Ling finally jolts him out of his thoughts. “Do you have a problem with that?”

It’s not a problem. More like an earth-shattering revelation.

Because of course Lan Xichen is an excellent cook.

Jiang Cheng doubts there’s anything he wouldn’t be good at.

“Why the hell would I have a problem with that?” Jiang Cheng snaps and Jin Ling sends him an affronted look.

“It was just a question. No need to behave so strangely.” He starts to gather his things. “I’m going over to Sizhui tonight, if you’re like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Cheng sighs. “I’m just hungry. That’s all. But you can still go, of course,” he adds, because he would never forbid Jin Ling from seeing his friends.

Not for a very good reason at least. Him being hungry and irritable is definitely not a good enough reason.

“Do you--want me to ask Lan Xichen if he can spare some food for you?” Jin Ling carefully asks and Jiang Cheng glares at him.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he gives back and then shoos his nephew out of their apartment.

~*~*~

When Jiang Cheng comes home the next day he is yet again assaulted by a mouthwatering smell.

He lets out a deep, deep sigh and then makes his way over to his apartment, hoping to get out of the hallway, and the smell, as soon as possible.

But when he enters the apartment, the smell doesn’t lessen.

“Jin Ling!” he shouts and his nephew sticks his head out of the kitchen.

“What?”

“Why does it smell like Lan Xichen cooked here, in our apartment?”

“Because he brought over some food?”

“Why,” Jiang Cheng starts and pinches the bridge of his nose, “would he do that?”

“Because I might have mentioned how much you liked the smell of his food?” Jin Ling answers and at least now he has the decency to look a little sheepish.

“You what?” Jiang Cheng bellows and Jin Ling knows him well enough to dart off.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t lose any time and sprints after him, yelling the whole time.

They end up in a heap on the floor both laughing too hard, and Jiang Cheng lightly slaps Jin Ling over the head.

“Don’t do that again,” he admonishes him and Jin Ling nods.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t believe him but he eventually lets go of him so they can eat.

It’s the best dinner he had in his whole life.

~*~*~

The next day, Jiang Cheng is preparing their dinner when someone knocks on their door.

He shoots Jin Ling a look, who shrugs, so it’s probably not Lan Sizhui or Lan Jingyi.

Jiang Cheng fights the impulse to slam the door shut as soon as he opened it, because it’s Lan Xichen on the other side.

“Hi,” he greets Jiang Cheng with a smile and Jiang Cheng feels like dying.

He’s wearing his apron, for gods sakes.

“Hi,” he still presses out and watches in horror as Lan Xichen’s gaze goes down to the apron before it snaps up again.

“I just wanted to know if you liked the food?” Lan Xichen politely asks and something in Jiang Cheng’s brain must short-circuit.

“The food, yeah, no it was fine, no big deal, Jin Ling ate it all, goodbye,” he rushes out and then slams the door right in Lan Xichen’s face.

Jiang Cheng stares in horror at the now closed door and then smashes his head against it for good measure. It shouldn’t make a difference. Clearly, he already has brain damage.

“You like him!” Jin Ling whisper-shouts gleefully from the kitchen and Jiang Cheng curses his life in general and his meddling nephew specifically.

“Shut up!” he shouts back, which only prompts Jin Ling to make more fun of him.

Maybe he should move to the countryside, become a farmer with land so large he doesn’t even have neighbours.

It would be easier than this.

~*~*~

It’s been a week now, but Jiang Cheng still rushes through the hallway, scared that he’ll run into Lan Xichen again, and whenever someone knocks on the door, he jumps slightly.

Jin Ling has never forgotten his key as often as in the past week, the little pest.

When it knocks again, Jiang Cheng stalks over to the door and janks it open.

“Again?” he demands to know and then all his blood leaves his face, because it’s not Jin Ling on the other side.

It’s Lan Xichen.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he starts and then takes a deep breath to calm himself down. “I thought you were Jin Ling.”

“I gathered as much,” Lan Xichen tells him with a small smile and Jiang Cheng wonders how he can still be so nice after Jiang Cheng threw the door in his face the last time.

“What can I do for you?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and Lan Xichen pointedly looks at the plate in his hand.

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng breathes out. “You brought me food.”

“I thought since last time Jin Ling ate everything I’d make sure that this time you get something as well,” Lan Xichen explains and Jiang Cheng can feel himself blush.

“Thank you,” he stammers out and hates the smile on Lan Xichen’s face just a little bit.

No one should look this adorable.

Lan Xichen offers the plate to Jiang Cheng, who takes it with a startled motion.

He looks down on the dish, it already smells so damn good, and then back up at Lan Xichen.

He already went so far as to make an extra plate for Jiang Cheng and then brought it over himself too.

Maybe it’s time for Jiang Cheng to take a chance.

“Do you want to come in? I bet it tastes better in company,” Jiang Cheng says and his heart speeds up at the blinding smile Lan Xichen gives him.

“I would love to,” he gives back and follows Jiang Cheng into the apartment.

Jiang Cheng gets out to forks for them and motions for Lan Xichen to sit, though he refuses the fork.

“I already ate.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng says with a shrug, because he’s not too sad about that.

If it tastes as good as it smells he’s glad he doesn’t have to share.

“Jiang Cheng, can I ask something?” Lan Xichen inquires and Jiang Cheng humms around his mouthful of food.

He wants to weep, it’s so tasty.

“Do you like me?” Lan Xichen says just as Jiang Cheng is about to swallow and he almost chokes on his dinner.

“What?” he brings out after a few coughs and Lan Xichen seems apologetic.

“I’m sorry to startle you like this, I just heard Jin Ling mention something like that.”

“That little snitch,” Jiang Cheng hisses under his breath.

“I overheard him talking to Sizhui and Jingyi,” Lan Xichen quickly goes on, but he is smiling again. “But you didn’t deny it.”

Jiang Cheng is sure he goes bright red at that.

“I didn’t,” he agrees without meeting Lan Xichen’s eyes.

“Would you like to have dinner with me then?” Lan Xichen asks and now it’s Jiang Cheng who pointedly looks down at the dish in front of him.

“You mean again?”

“If I can convince you to do this with me again, then yes.”

“Consider me convinced, then,” Jiang Cheng gives back with a smile and doesn’t pay attention to the fluttering of his heart.

“I hope you enjoy this dinner then.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Jiang Cheng replies.

This dinner, and hopefully many more.

#bt writes #inktober for writers 2019 #untamedfest #xicheng #the untamed #getting together #meddling nephews #fluff #cooking

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chromecutie · 4 years

Text

Not A Ghost - part 32

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Masterlist on my profile!

Taglist: @emma-frxst @ra-ra-rasputiin @holamor @empressme-bitch @marvel-is-perfection @hazilyimagine @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash @whitewitchdown @master-sass-blast @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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

Sleeping next to Wade wasn’t the same thing as being at home, but they had both woken up less stiff than they would have if they’d slept separately. Even better, Rhonda felt keen, determined, even a little optimistic.

“Stay sharp,” Rhonda warned Wade over their cold sausage and some oatmeal that could be used to cover cracks in drywall. “After last night, I have a feeling one or both of us might get stabbed today.”

“Oh really?” Wade asked as if she had just told him she thought it might rain. “Just a feeling, or do you say that because of the guy behind you twirling a shiv?” Her eyes shot wide and he nodded, “Yeah, he’s looking at you, ready to snap into a Slim Jim. Move left in three...two...yup--”

Rhonda ducked, covering her head and neck with her hands as Wade flung his plastic spork at a scrawny, dark haired man who let out a gargling shriek when it plunged into his neck, just above his collar. A sharpened piece of plastic that used to be a pen fell from his hand and clattered to the floor. Wade complained, “Dammit! I missed his eye!”

The nearest guard rushed over and glared at Rhonda, “What the hell happened over here?” His hand was quick to tighten over the cattle prod on his belt.

“I don’t know,” she scoffed. “I don't know this guy. He just fell. Right, Wade?”

Wade replied around a big mouthful of sausage, “He’zh clumzhy on that toi-let wine.” He threw up his hands in an exaggerated shrug. Rhonda mimicked the shrug and took a bite of oatmeal, trying not to gag on it.

Boots thumped on concrete as a second guard showed up, and scowling at Wade and Rhonda, they both dragged the wailing man away toward the infirmary.

With a furtive glance around the mess hall, Rhonda caught a brief glimpse of Mimi a few tables away giving the slightest nod. Apparently, the man wasn’t part of the Vicious 13, and they wouldn’t have to worry about punishment. Lucky.

When Rhonda sighed and pushed her tray toward Wade, he eagerly took up her spork and finished off her oatmeal. How he could seem to enjoy the food was beyond Rhonda.

The Icebox didn't have a yard to speak of - at least not an outdoor yard. Built into the side of a snow capped mountain, the entire complex was indoor. A sealed box. There was a large central space, lined with the cell blocks that stretched for what felt like miles. In the middle of that was a large, open space where the mess hall and "yard" blurred into each other. Past the tables and benches of the mess hall were the weight racks, a pair of basketball goals, and some other equipment, most of it damaged from years of riots. There were very few fluorescent lights. Instead, most of the lighting came from the skylights several stories above. On a bright day, the lighting might have felt like a shopping mall, but there were no bright days on this mountaintop.

After breakfast, Wade and Rhonda hadn’t been put on any duties, so they were free to make their attempts at recreation in the yard. They had settled on a suspiciously rickety weight bench near some other members of the Vicious 13.

As they got the barbell ready for a few sets of bench press, they watched over each other’s shoulders, wary for another potential attack. The barbell was lopsided - there weren’t enough plates to make it even, so Wade pressed some of his own weight on the lighter side for Rhonda’s sets. She was on her second set when a pair of inmates approached.

“Hey, V-One-Three,” one greeted, “Can you add us to your rotation for a few sets?”

Rhonda sat up and before she could answer, the second inmate let out a startled hiss of, “Oh, shit.” They muttered a hurried excuse and quickly walked away. She watched them another moment, then rolled her eyes and laid on the bench again to finish her set.

“Okay, seriously,” Wade said, “Why does everyone in here wanna kill you or avoid you like a celebrity with a rape scandal?”

She puffed a breath, pushing harder against Wade’s resistance. “You know how when dirty cops go to jail, they get sent somewhere outside their county, or out of state? So they don’t have to be in general pop with the people they arrested?”

Wade started snickering. He coughed a little, but still tried to keep his weight consistent on the bar.

Rhonda took a deep breath before her next rep. “Well when I first got here, I was sure there had been a mistake and I made a big deal about being part of X-Men. Guess who put a bunch of people in here.”

“The Avengers?” When she leveled a stony glare on him, he chuckled a little more before asking, “Okay, so what else?”

She shifted uncomfortably, and racked the bar for a moment to catch her breath between sets. She tugged at her sleeve to make sure most of her Xs were covered. “Eventually, I...snapped.”

Wade rolled his eyes. “What does it look like when lawful good snaps? Quit saying ‘bless you’ when someone sneezes?”

Rhonda looked up at him, rusty barbell between them. “I started doing what everyone in here does. Stabbing kidneys, slashing thighs. But then I escalated. I broke a couple necks, and…” she took a deep breath and shuddered.

Wade smiled, a twinkle gleaming in his eye. Rhonda whispered something too soft for him to hear. “Hm?” he held a hand to his ear.

A voice near Rhonda’s feet said, “She slashed a motherfucker open and pulled out his intestines with her bare hands.”

Rhonda ducked under the bar to sit bolt upright, a shiv glinted in her hand. The blue-haired man she had pointed out to Wade when they first arrived stood before them. His arms were crossed, his deep bronze skin seemed dull compared to the bright blue of his cornrows.

Wade’s jaw dropped. Then he gave Rhonda a slow clap. “Look at you! Giving Arya Stark a run for her money! Miss Murder’n’Mayhem!”

The inmate bared his teeth, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, “She took a bite, too. I seen it.” He turned his gaze to Wade and pointed at Rhonda, “This psycho bitch bit off a guard’s finger too. If she’s using you for a slampiece, you better watch yourself.”

When Wade looked at Rhonda again, she was perfectly still, her features void of any emotion. “You have a lot of fingers for someone doing so much talking,” she warned.

Wade made a big show of grimacing and groaning, “Cannibalism? Really?”

The blue-braided inmate shrugged, “Nah, I know you won’t fuck with me. I ain’t given you any reason. Besides, you slash a V-One-Three? Mimi won’t have that. See how quick she makes you disappear.” His chin jutted upward, absolutely arrogant. It annoyed Rhonda, but he wasn’t wrong.

She lowered her shiv, but didn’t put it away. Cold glare fixed on the newcomer, she asked, “You need something, Janks?”

He waved vaguely toward the bench she sat on, “This bar’s in the V-One-Three section. Any of us can use it. Now move so I can do a set. I’ve got messages from Mimi.”

She hesitated to move. “If Mimi’s got something to say to me, she can tell me herself.”

Janks gave another mirthless smile, “Mimi is a busy lady.”

Sharing a pointed look with Wade, she reluctantly got up and let Janks settle. Wade coughed again, so Rhonda had him lean on the heavier side of the bar, so he could have it easier and she could lean with her own weight on the lighter side to Janks’s satisfaction.

Janks was surprisingly strong. He pumped each rep quickly, raw power in his lean muscles. He puffed a breath with each rep. “Mimi says - hhh - she knows the right snake hole - hhh - to get to the top of - hhh - the mountain.”

“Nice code,” Wade quipped. “A little on the nose for my taste, but--”

“What else did Mimi tell you?” Rhonda asked with a sharp edge in her voice.

“Hhh - Nothin’ she doesn’t trust me with,” Janks evaded. “There’s something - hhh - you’ll have to take care of - hhh - she says you’ll know what to do.”

He paused at the end of his set, and Rhonda let him breathe a second before she pressed, “That’s it? She didn’t give any details?”

Janks scoffed, “How many fuckin’ details you need, Guestbook, huh? I told you everything I’m supposed to.” He curled a finger, signaling he was ready for another set.

Practically hovering over his face, Rhonda gave a quiet snarl, “Whatever it is, if Mimi’s not happy, you better hope it wasn’t because of a communication error.”

Janks worked another two sets before he left them alone. Wade was coughing too much for Rhonda to let him do a set at all, and instead they took a worn deck of playing cards to one of the tables at the edge of the mess hall. As she started shuffling the deck, careful not to tear the corners any worse than they already were, Wade asked, “You really eviscerated somebody and then made a snack of him?”

Rhonda clenched her jaw so hard Wade could hear her teeth grinding. “I did the guard’s finger, yes. But the first guy...I spat some blood at somebody. You know how stories get twisted.”

“Uh-huh,” he was trying not to laugh.

“This isn’t something I’m proud of,” she snapped, her voice still raspier than usual. “The first time I killed someone, I couldn’t hold any food down for days. And later, I...I either got used to it, or I got better at not thinking about it." She paused and dropped her voice to a near whisper and looked away, "I don’t know which is worse.” Her teeth ground again as she pursed her lips and started dealing the deck evenly between herself and Wade.

His expression softened. “We won’t be here long,” he assured her. “The gang’s probably already on their way here. What’s the plan for these collars? I have a feeling you’ve been making decisions without cluing me in...”

“Let’s play War,” Rhonda flipped the top card of her deck - a queen of spades with her faces scratched out. Wade revealed a three of hearts, and Rhonda took both for her pile. “Mimi will get into the control office and let us in. Until then, we keep her happy doing whatever she tells us.”

Wade started to laugh, but it quickly turned into coughs again. “You let the snake lady gang lord be in charge of the most important part of our plan? Why did you agree to that?” He flipped a seven of diamonds, which beat Rhonda’s two of clubs.

“I got her to buy in on getting the fuck out of here.” She surreptitiously glanced around, checking for anyone listening.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” he grumbled as they tied the next round and each laid out three cards for battle. “You don’t strike me as much of a diplomatic type. What did you promise her?”

Rhonda won the next round and leaned close. “Every inmate in here would give anything to get these collars off. I promised Mimi that if she helps us, she can take collars off whoever she wants.”

Wade fidgeted with the corner of his next card. “And if she chooses people who can wreck our shit?”

She shrugged. “When I first got mine off, I couldn’t do anything. It was a couple days before I could even make sparks again. There’s a chance that the collars affect other people like that too, especially the ones who’ve had them a long time. Their abilities will probably be lessened.”

“I smell a whole lot of maybe in that idea…”

“What other options do you see, Wade?” She slapped her next card on the table. “If we had a year, we could build a cover, we could get a guard in our pocket, make some hiding places, but this is the best we can do right now.” She shook her head and muttered, “Besides, it’s not like we have to take them with us.”

“Inmate!” a guard barked from a distance.

Wade raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised you’d have that attitude, but okay. I--”

“IN-MATE.” The guard was closer now, impatient. “Guestbook!”

Rhonda turned, schooling her features to predatory stillness. A few other inmates had gathered behind the guard, watching. This was the guard who had been with Reyes when the DMC had recaptured her. “Calhoun,” she said flatly. “How’s Reyes?”

Calhoun had bruises around one eye, and though Rhonda couldn’t remember, she suspected she'd put those bruises there herself. He was seething, “He’s out of the ICU, and he asked me to...watch over you until he gets back.”

“Here I am,” she said simply.

“Yeees,” Calhoun drawled. “Here you are.”

He moved, and Rhonda dove under the table. Cards fluttered in the air. Before she had a chance to roll to Wade’s side, Calhoun and another inmate snagged each of her ankles and dragged her out into the open. Wade jumped, ready to help, but three inmates grabbed him, pinned his arms back, and started punching his gut.

Rhonda clawed at the cement, breaking fingernails as they dragged her. Adrenaline flooded her veins as she scrambled to defend herself. She whirled and caught the inmate in the face with her elbows, breaking his nose and spraying blood, but Calhoun caught her arm and threw her down onto her face. She was nearly to her feet again when a heavy, steel-toed boot caught her in the belly. The breath rushed out of her and she collapsed onto her side.

Three more inmates pulled at her arms and legs until she was immobilized.

Calhoun jabbed his knee into her lower back, ignoring her pained grunt. “It’s been a while since we’ve had our Guestbook,” Calhoun leaned over so Rhonda could see his cruel smile, “and we’ve had a lot of newcomers who need to sign.”

Rhonda screamed. Wild, pure rage echoed through the yard.

The guard tore her right sleeve clean off her arm, revealing her lacework of badly inked Xs.

Wade roared in angry futility, even as the inmates holding him kept beating him.

Calhoun took something from his pocket, a tattoo gun cobbled together from CD player parts and office supplies. He slowly ran one hand along Rhonda’s arm, looking for a blank space. “I forgot how full your arm is,” he said. “Maybe we should tear off the rest of your clothes.”

Rhonda huffed and heaved, raging but trying to conserve her strength. “Reyes thought he was tough until a giant Russian mutant had his hands on him,” she growled through her clenched jaw. “Reyes is shit, and you’re shit. You’ll die shit.”

Unperturbed, Calhoun hooked his fingers into Rhonda’s collar and thumped her head hard against the concrete floor. Looking at the inmates who had gathered around them, he flashed his teeth in a horrible smile. He offered up the improvised tattoo gun. “Okay, who’s first?”

#not a ghost #colossus x oc #piotr rasputin x oc #piotr rasputin #xmen fanfic #angst #longfic

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imagineyourworld-old · 5 years

Text

Dreams

Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Summary: You and Eggsy were friends with benefits until you ended it for your new boyfriend. And just then Eggsy realizes what he lost

Quietly you opened the door to Eggsy’s apartment. You knew he was waiting for you and you knew he wouldn’t be pleased when you told him the news.

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You had met Eggsy almost a year ago when he joined the Kingsman. You had been working for the organisation for about six months at that point and everything had gone smooth.

Until he burst into your life and decided to spend each and every second flirting with you.

Saying there was no tension was a lie. But you knew there was no way he could seriously be interested in you and you weren’t looking for a relationship anyway.

But after months of flirting it finally happened. Roxy had asked the two of you to join her for a small birthday celebration after work, but after just half an hour in the pub she had chosen she wandered off with some guy and left you and Eggsy all alone.

So you started talking. About the job at first, then about life outside of work, friends, family, relationships.

You admitted that you weren’t looking for a boyfriend, which forced a weird look on your friend’s face.

After a few seconds however he started grinning.

“But you still wanna have some fun, right?”

And so you went home with him that night. And many nights to come.

You both knew it was just to blow off some steam, to experiment and try out things you wouldn’t dare trying with a significant other.

And you agreed that you would end the arrangement if one of you starts dating.

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“(Y/N), finally”, Eggsy called from his bedroom.

You had a bad feeling when you opened the door and as always your gut was right.

Eggsy was lying on the bed, wearing nothing but a underwear. A bottle of champagne, two glasses and a few lit candles were on the nightstand next to him.

He shot you a look that clearly told you to take your clothes off. And to be honest it send a shiver down your spine. How could a nearly naked Eggsy leave you unaffected?

But you stayed strong and sat down on the edge of the bed, not even taking off your coat.

Eggsy immediately noticed something was off. He sat down next to you and put a hand on your arm. A friendly gesture, nothing more.

“What’s wrong?”

You took his other hand and gave it a squeeze. No easy tasks since his hand was laying pretty high up his thigh.

“Nothing, it’s just... You know the guy I told you about? The waiter at this little café I like? The one who asked me out?”

Eggsy nodded. He had a bad feeling about this.

“Well, I agreed to go on a date and it went so well. So we went on another date and then another yesterday and we agreed... to be exclusive. To be in a relationship, so-”

“You’re ending this?! I thought you weren’t even looking for a relationship and now you’re suddenly in love with some bloke?”

A part of Eggsy knew that he had no right to be offended, that their arrangement wasn’t meant to last. But it worked, he enjoyed every second and he was sure you did as well.

“You see, there is a difference between not looking for something and stumbling upon something. And I never said I’m in love with him, but I like him and he likes me and I want to give us a try. It’s not like I’m ending our friendship, we’ll just stop having sex.”

Eggsy nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced.

You squeezed his hand again.

“He’s a good guy, you’ll see. Maybe I could bring him to the pub tomorrow. Would it ease your mind if you met him?”

What else could Eggsy do but agree?

You smiled at him and pressed a kiss on his cheek before saying goodbye.

At the door you were met with an expectant glance from JB. It was like the dog could look into your soul.

“I know it might be a mistake, but I’m better off with a guy I could fall in love with over time than someone who only sees me as a friend to warm his bed”, you told the pug.

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The next evening you found yourself waiting outside the pub closest to the Kingsman tailor for your new boyfriend.

Boyfriend, when you heard the word you had always thought of someone else. Someone who would probably be mad at your for the rest of your life.

“I know I’m late, I couldn’t decide what to wear”, you heard a voice behind you.

Swift like the trained fighter you are you turned around to face your boyfriend.

Matthew Smith. Matt. A regular name for a totally regular guy. Nowhere near as funny or extraordinary as the man of your dreams.

“It’s fine, you look good”, you told him with a quick peck on the lips.

You took a deep breath and simultaneously took Matt’s hand and opened the door. He just wasn’t gentleman enough to open it for you.

As soon as you entered you could hear Eggsy. A knot formed in your stomach but you just took another breath and pulled Matt over the table your coworkers were occupying.

“Everyone, this is Matt, my boyfriend”, you introduced him.

Harry, ever the gentleman, offered the two of you a seat and for once Matt had the manners to pull out your chair before sitting down himself.

“So I hear you’re a waiter?”, Merlin asked.

Matt nodded. He seemed quite uncomfortable and you had to admit that it might be a bit weird to introduce him to your coworkers where others introduced their boyfriends to their parents. But the Kingsmen were the closest thing you had to family and their opinions really mattered to you, if they thought something about Matt was off you couldn’t imagine a future with him.

“Does that job provide enough money for a comfortable life? (Y/N) deserves the best and I can’t see you providing for her, a dog and possibly children.”

You fought hard not to roll your eyes at Eggsy’s ridiculous question.

“He doesn’t have to provide for me or Cheddar. And children are out of the question.”

Eggsy raised an eyebrow and leaned closer from the other side of the table.

“Really? Because I remember you telling me that you’d like to have children one day and at least for a while that would require you to stay home and-”

“That is quite enough Eggsy. I need your help getting a few drinks”, Harry interrupted and pulled the young man with him to the bar.

You shook your head but before you could apologize for your friend’s behaviour Roxy did it for you.

“We’re certain he was dropped on his head as a baby”, she said with a smirk.

Matt laughed a little and put his arm around you. The simple gesture seemed to relax him, as did the sight of the pint Harry placed on the table in front of him.

He thanked him and drowned half of it in one go.

Roxy shot you a glance. You knew what she was thinking about, Eggsy drank in the same way.

Speaking of the devil you felt a pair of soft warm lips on your cheek, but not the side Matt was sitting on.

You janked your arm around and grabbed a hand full of Eggsy’s hair, though due to the amount of slippery product in it you couldn’t hold on for long.

“I was just giving you your favourite drink”, he shrugged as he placed a gin in front of you.

And a second later placed another kiss on your cheek before sitting down again.

You caught Merlin rolling his eyes and Harry grinning at Roxy. They knew something you didn’t.

“I’m sure (Y/N) has told you all about us but we know so little about you”, Eggsy smiled.

Oh, that smile. It seemed innocent if you didn’t know him but to those who were familiar with Eggsy and his behaviour it was code red.

Matt told them a bit about himself. Though everyone was polite enough to listen you noticed their bored expressions. That’s probably why it didn’t take Harry and Merlin long to excuse themselves and head home.

That left you with Roxy, Eggsy and Matt. And an awkward silence.

“Matt, how about we grab another round?”, you suggested after a while of silent staring.

He quickly agreed and you made your way to the bar.

There were quite a lot of people so it would take the bartender a while to notice you and prepare your drinks. Long enough for a conversation.

“Your coworkers are... intense...”, Matt admitted.

You nodded, risking a glance back to your table where Roxy and Eggsy seemed to be in a heated conversation.

“We’re a tight little group, we look out for one another.”

Matt leaned against the bar. He looked from you to the table and back again.

“And what about that Eggsy? You used to date, didn’t you?”

A blush crept up your face. How were you supposed to explain Eggsy to someone who didn’t know him? And how were you supposed to explain your twisted feelings without Matt storming off.

You put a hand on his shoulder and leaned a little closer.

Matt looked from your eyes to your lips to your clevage of which you had, unintentionally, given him a good look.

You looked deep into his eyes and placed your other hand on his hand.

“We’re friends. We used to flirt a bit and when we first met I had a slight crush on him but that’s it. We’r friends now. Just friends.”

How you wished that were true. If only you and Eggsy were friends and you really were in love with Matt and not just using him to get over the one you really loved.

Matt used his free hand to tilt your chin up a bit. He leaned closer until your lips met. He wasn’t a bad kisser, but there were no sparks, no firework, not even a slight tingle. Not like with Eggsy. Simple looking at him made you feel more than anything with Matt ever would. And you knew you had to tell him the truth before leading him on too much.

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“I don’t like him”, Eggsy said for the tenth time.

Roxy sight.

“I know. You don’t like him. You hate him. You want him as far away as possible. But let’s be honest, you wouldn’t like anyone (Y/N) dates.”

Eggsy tore his eyes from you and Matt at the bar and looked at his friend.

“What do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t like any of her boyfriends because you like her.”

Eggsy opened his mouth to protest but with a shake of Roxy’s head he fell quiet.

“Do you really think we didn’t know about your “arrangement”? (Y/N) told me herself and the others figured it out pretty quick. And you’ve been in a bad mood for the last couple of days because she broke it off. Because you miss her and realized that you would have to do more than fucking her to build a relationship.”

Eggsy knew that, he knew you deserved more than being friends with benefits. And ha had a plan. On New Years Eve, just one month away, he could confess his feelings and kiss you at midnight. He even had a confession written down. But he tore the paper to pieces after he’d been told about Matthew.

“What am I supposed to do?”, Eggsy asked.

Roxy pointed over to the bar.

“Get him to lay off and tell her how you feel. It’s not too late, I have a feeling it might never be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Roxy took the last sip of her beer and patted her friend’s shoulder.

“I mean that she likes you too. I can tell from the way she looks at you. Her smile. She could never like Matt like she likes you.”

And finally it dawned on Eggsy. The smiles. The touches. Her worry when he went on a mission. Her need to hold him close at night. Her need for him in general.

“Alright, that’s it. That arsehole is staring right down the front of her blouse, I’m putting a stop to it”

Roxy gave him a thumbs up, which he didn’t see since Eggsy was already halfway to the bar.

“Excuse me, darling”, he said, tapping you on the shoulder.

The familiar voice brought a smile to your face as you turned around.

“What is it?”

Eggsy was at a loss for words when he saw her kiss swollen lips. Those perfect lips he had kissed so many times and wanted to kiss every day for the rest of his life.

“I... Well... I...”

He looked at Matt who shot him death glares.

And before you could turn around and continue your conversation or even leave the pub he leaned closer.

Your glance passed between Eggsy’s eyes and his lips. His lips, which were coming closer and closer.

Suddenly you knew what he wanted to tell you. You knew what he was gonna do. And you knew that your dream had come true.

You leaned closer and firmly pressed your lips to his.

Warm, soft, familiar. And firework. And sparks. And butterflies. Kissing Eggsy was everything kissing Matt wasn’t.

You separated from lack of air and heard angry muttering and the pub door slamming shut before opening your eyes. And without turning around you knew Matt had left and it was just you and Eggsy.

“I missed you. I missed you ever since you walked out of my apartment just a few days ago. I missed hearing you laugh and scream and falling asleep to your soft breath. And JB misses you too.”

You smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Eggsy’s lips.

“Anything else?”

He nodded.

“I love you. I wanna be with you and see you and kiss you and touch you every day for the rest of my life. I love you so much.”

You took his hand. His sweaty hand from nervous confessions and fear of rejection.

“I love you too. Always have, always will.”

Now it was his turn to kiss you again.

“What about not looking for a relationship?”

You giggled.

“I said that because I didn’t need to look, I had already found you but I was scared to admit my feelings.”

Eggsy raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“So you’re saying I’m braver than you?”

You punched his arm in a playful, yet tough way.

“In your dreams!”

#kingsman #kingsman: the secret service #kingsman: the golden circle #eggsy unwin #eggsy x reader #eggsy fic #imagine #eggsy imagine #eggsy unwin x reader #fanfiction

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monochromemedic · 4 years

Text

Some self insert shit but this time in borderlands so even LESS people will understand

Living on Pandora was hell but I some how tried my best to survive it. Using the technology I found and adapted to myself, a pair of high tech glasses that helped me see and gather info on the battle field and learning how to pick up a gun was probably the only things I could use. Shields, Grenades, guns, all of it was so dangerous and at any moment it felt like a bandit would come and shake my world to the core. When I joined the Crimson Raiders, things changed.. slightly. Sure I felt more protected but less useful to anyone. Everyone had more skills then me. Sirens, fight experience, fancy gizmos like holograms. I mean I had a hologram attachment I picked up, sent out a male figure that’d help me with menial tasks but never one for combat even if I did try to get him to help. I named him Max and he’d pop in to help grab something for me or remind me of something, block a hit but nothing as useful as what half of the lower staff of the Crimson Raiders could do. I felt so useless, especially since there were Vault Hunters left and right of me. And by that I meant I’d occasionally hear about them or see a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, never close enough to meet one. Except Claptrap ironically. But I did my part, helping as best as I could with small tasks until I got assigned elsewhere. Promethea. The city of lights, technology, home of the Atlas corporation and Rhys Strongfork himself. I was told that Rhys was an ally ever since he helped Lilith and the Vault Hunters gather the Vault Key, and was stationed to work under him at Atlas HQ. It was a dream come true. Rhys, I’d heard stories about him. The man who was a hyperion nothing, working his way up the chain while Helios was still in the sky... the man who held Handsome Jack in his head and defeated him for a second time and then made a legacy all on his own bringing Atlas back to the manufacturing front. I was a real big fan of Atlas guns. The fact that I wasn’t the best with a gun helped so the fact that every Atlas gun came with a tracker bullet just made my job ten times easier. And now Rhys would be my boss. When I got to the HQ people were wondering about, doing paperwork or caring bits of gun and shrapnel, trying to fix create something new out of pieces. Other people seemed like guards, walking around with purpose as they eyed up any suspicious characters. Like me. “State your business.” The man spoke, adjusting the Atlas rifle in his hands. I grew cold as Max quickly manifested in front of me, holding out a small note in front of the guard. He flashed a smile, his form shaking a bit. He might have been high tech but there was still alot to be worked on with him. Maybe with Atlas’s help, Max could be more then just a helping hologram and more of a defensive digital demon. The guard paused, staring at Max as he slowly dissipated, the small constructor device on my shoulder switching off before he looked at the note that he gave him. “I’m Jenna, from Pandora... the Crimson Raiders. I’ve been sent here to work for Mr. Rhys and help him with whatever he needs.” I spoke up, pointing at the note that stated the same. The guard nodded his head and crumpled the paper up, before pointing forward. “Yes we’ve been expecting you... Mr. Strongfork is waiting further in the lobby for you, he wants to talk to you personally. You can’t miss him.” I stumbled forward nervously, thanking the guard as I passed. He wanted to talk to me? Why, what did I have that made him want to me right out of the blue and not some secretary? It didn’t take long to find him. He was tall, thin, with the red shining arm and glowing implanted eye that couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else. “Ah, you must be our new transfer from the Crimson Raiders. Hi, Rhys Strongfork, Atlas CEO.” He boasted, holding his robotic hand out, a smile plastered on his face. I nervously grabbed his hand and shook it, giving a shy smile before blurting, “Jenna... big fan.. er... love... Atlas, you’re neat.” One sentence in and I already wanted to crawl into a hole. Rhys seemed just as surprised, pulling his hand back and giving a small smile. “Haha, nice to meet a fan of Atlas. Probably why they sent you... You got some nice tech on you yourself, what are those... Advanced R2-7 Reality Glasses? And this...” He pointed a finger at Max’s holo constructor. “This is interesting some sort of holo projector? Looks dinged up though.” I quickly took of the holo projecter, and held it out to Rhys, giving a nervous smile. “Oh well, I found it on Pandora it was some sort of... old Dahl factory and it still worked. I think it’s some sort of helping hologram, I call him Max... kinda like he’s maximizing my efficiency. Maybe he was used for soldiers to be able to fight better on the battle field or maybe for soldiers that just need help with lost limbs or some sort of ... trouble. He’s kinda janky but he’s saved life more then once.” Rhys eyed up the device, asking with a finger to touch it. I gave it to him and his eye began to light up as he scanned the device, studying it with interest as we began to walk. “Yeah... yeah... hmm. We should... talk about why your here. Uh, you know that after Maliwan and Katagawa tried to merge with Atlas corporation we’ve been having some trouble. Even after his death Maliwan soldiers is still a bit salty after the complete bashing me and the vault hunter did to that pompous asshole and his luxury junkship... That and Promethea has still been struggling to rebuild. Laser blasts aren’t as easy to fill as you would think they would be what with all the singed earth and the... the bad memories of lost places.” He paused, blinking as he turned back to me, giving a smile. “That’s where you come in. We need as many hands on people as we can and with your skills we can rebuild Promethea back to it’s glory so we can help the galaxy AND the Crimson Raiders with whatever wacky antics they decide to preform. Knowing them it’ll be opening another vault and letting lose another tentacle monster...” He rolled his eyes before continuing. “Why I wanted to meet with you is because I got a job for you, I know it’s quick but it’ll show me what to expect from you so uh... try not to disappoint. I need you to go check the wreckage of a certain place that got blasted with a laser to kingdom come, and see if you can clear out the Ratch nests that are there. I’d give some of my guards those duties but honestly we’re all a bit on edge and don’t know how much is there. But YOU, with your glasses could easily sort out what can be there. So I need you to be sneaky, to jot down anything you see, and try to be careful.” Rhys held up Max’s projector in his hand before giving it back to me. “And... as for this little magic maker, I already have ideas for him. I think we could use tech like this and if you wouldn’t mind since you said that it’s ‘jank’ I could get some engineers to do some Atlas state of the art repairs on it and make it battle ready. We could have it as a prototype and if we like what we see maybe we can incorperate it into some Atlas tech. I mean... I haven’t seen Dahl do much with holographic technology... just a bunch of soldier boys going around shooting ... normal guns, pew, pew... haha but... if they aren’t gonna use the tech we could take it and build off it and make it bigger and better. “ “Is... that legal, sir?” “Legal? I... well.. if we don’t completely rip it off no. Besides the last time I had beef with a corporation the CEO dressed up as my personal bodyguard and tried to slice my in twain in a sort of... weird jealousy... oddly stalkery thing... so ripping off tech is the least of my concerns.” I gave a little huff as he walked to the elevator to his office, giving a little nod. “So, i’ll have my people contact your people... person... you... about the location and sent a message to tech development about the projector. You can just pop that off there and we’ll get back to you. So good luck, and oh remember Ratch’s hate fire, and also uh-uh... you’ll get an Atlas gun for this mission just stop buy the -” Rhys was cut off by the closing of the elevator to which he sighed and pointed towards the back, trying to gesture for me to go back there as the elevator ascended. I gave a laugh, holding Max close to my chest, heart racing at the opportunity set at my feet. A chance to prove myself, to Rhys no less. A chance to improve, to grow. It was a dream come true.

#borderlands #rhys strongfork #self insert

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housebeleren · 5 years

Text

War of the Spark New Commanders

It’s now that time. Time to figure out if I feel like turning any of these new Legendary Creatures into Commander decks. And since the *ahem* Rules Committee decided not to allow Planeswalkers as generals, I’ll have to be content with just the creatures. (I mean, c’mon. Really?!)

With that, let’s get started. There are some goodies to review.

Let’s start with Dragon Daddy Niv. Honestly, I’m really digging this design. He’s a 5 color general, but actually makes use of those 5 colors unlike certain other generals I can mention. *coughNajeelacough* This design also makes you have to think about deck design in a very interesting way, since you’re incentivized to put as many 2 color cards in the deck as possible. I went right ahead and put him at the helm of my Superfriends deck, because he’s a pretty strict upgrade over Jodah. And I typically draw 2-3 cards off casting him in that deck, so I feel pretty good about that choice. Overall, I really love the design for Niv-Mizzet Reborn, and I can imagine a wide range of decks being built for him.

Okay, now let’s get this out of the way, because this is obviously the Legend that got the most initial attention for EDH, and rightfully so. This is fantastic new design space for Boros, which is a notoriously difficult color combination in the format. And the possibilities are endless. Sure, you can throw all kinds of cantrips at Feather and dig deep into your deck, but there’s also fun stuff you can do with cards like Aurelia’s Fury, that can target multiple targets. And forget about it once you have Zada on the field. Then it just gets insane. I look forward to seeing all the different options people come up with, and I’m also just happy that Feather finally got a card.

Aside from being some absolutely gorgeous art, Roalesk packs a lot of action for 5 mana. For one, he’s huge just on his own. But the fact that he can spread the love on ETB and when he dies is just fantastic. That said, I definitely see Roalesk as a supporting player, and not so much as a lead. He’s a great inclusion in Ezuri, Claw of Progress decks, and I can also see builds of Atraxa being very interested. That deck has access to numerous ways to retrigger both the ETB & death abilities, so this could be a powerful proliferate engine if done right. Every general needs a lieutenant, right?

I like Storrev. I really do. I truly wish there was a format that really wanted this. But, alas, in Commander we have Meren of Clan Nel Toth, and I just don’t think Storrev is going to supplant her anytime soon. Maybe some Meren or Karador decks will find space for her as some added redundancy, but I’m not holding my breath. (Which is good, because a Zombie Elf Wizard is likely to beat me at a breath-holding contest.)

Another absolutely gorgeous piece of artwork, our final Gold Legend is... wolf tribal? Huh, I guess that’s a thing? This is definitely a Standard card, and I don’t really see this making any waves in EDH unless they come out with a ton of sweet wolves in the upcoming sets. I will say, between Tolsimir & Arlinn, this does give me some optimism that there will be wolves in the Fall set. Because wolves tribal in Standard is totally a deck I would play.

Alright, let’s tackle the gods next. Oketra, while an absolute monster of a beating in Limited, and a Standard powerhouse, doesn’t strike me as all that potent as a Commander on her own. Now, will Varina decks potentially be interested in this? Why, yes they will. And potentially any other creature-heavy go-wide decks might be down. But Oketra is definitely built for the 99.

Blue mages everywhere collectively nerdgasmed when Kefnet was previewed. I think there’s no doubt that Kefnet will likely have the largest impact on Commander from cards in this set. There’s already talk of him supplanting Teferi as the mono-Blue general of choice for CEDH, and that’s no easy feat. But honestly, this is exactly what every Blue deck wants to do! I’ve already slot him directly into my Aminatou deck manipulation build, where he goes infinite with her plus any extra turn spell. As the headliner or in the chorus, Kefnet is going to be an EDH staple for years to come. And that’s to say nothing of the impact he’ll have on Standard.

I’m glad not all of the gods are instant hits. Bontu is great, make no mistake. And there will definitely be Big Black decks that want this. But I don’t think she’s going to be an auto-include, and I also don’t think there are many good reasons to run her as the Commander of a deck over some of the better mono-Black options. Bontu is a clear role player in several builds. I, for one, will probably slot her right away into my Gisa & Geralf deck. And I suspect many will do the same.

Doing this slightly out of order, which is difficult because one compulsion is telling me to keep all the God-Eternals together, while another compulsion is telling me to do all 5 gods in color order. It’s rough up in here.

I guess every family needs a disappointing sibling, right? It’s crazy to think that a card like this could be a “disappointment,” but in the world of EDH, this reads like a mediocre Craterhoof impersonation. I’d honestly rather run End-Raze Forerunners more often than this, because the Trample is just so. relevant. I think there’s potential for Standard, and he’s undoubtedly a bomb in Limited, but that’s about the long & the short of it, from what I can see.

Ilharg is fun, and totally reminds me of Etali, Primal Storm, except for the part that they’re not actually that much alike. Okay, they are both 6/6 mono-Red Legendary creatures with an attack trigger, so that’s kinda similar. That said, I think Ilharg really wants to be a supporting cast member in a multicolor deck, with Green in it at the very least. You really want to power out huge creatures with ETBs with this guy. Again, Craterhoof comes to mind. It’s like that card is good or something.

Let’s keep going on this mono-Red train. New Neheb is fun, and a nice callback to the previous version. That said, I do think Neheb, the Eternal is probably a stronger general, as this version has the potential to get brick-walled by good blockers. Basically, the likelihood for this Neheb to fail seems greater than I’d like. Who knows, though. I could be wrong, and Dreadhorde Neheb could be the new hotness.

The string of “not quite as good as their previous versions” continues. Again, I do kinda love this design. But it’s really hard to compete with Double Trouble Krenko from before. Maybe they want to be in the same deck? But even that seems like a bit of a stretch.

Tomik is family and we never turn our backs on family, hon! You ride that gargoyle off into the sunset, you fabulous queen you. Also, I can’t be the only one who thinks it’s a bit on the nose to have the confirmed gay (and suspected top) and-I-quote “tie it into knots”? I mean, I could’ve told you Ral was into some kinky shit just from looking at him (e-stim much?), but apparently they’re just super about this life on Ravnica and I am here for it hennnnnny.

Oh, the card. Yeah, stick to Legacy with this one. If your playgroup is literally all Frog Monsters & DaddyCats, sure. Knock yourself out. Or maybe Tomik will do it for you? Maybe if you beg good.

I always wondered how they would make a Fblthp card, and well... now I know. The little guy’s actually pretty good, doing his best Elvish Visionary impersonation, only better, because if he gets super duper lost, he finds himself an extra card on the way. Sure, yes, he combos with Proteus Staff in a deck with no creatures as a strange build-your-own Divination on a literal stick. But honestly, that’s not enough reason to run him as your Commander. Prove me wrong, bitches. Because, honestly? I’d love to see that.

The unfortunate thing is that, as much as I was happy to see a Massacre Girl card, it’s really unfortunate that there’s no Hekara in this set, given the role she played in the novel. (And the fact that miss not-Hekara here didn’t appear at all.) It just underscores how many missed opportunities there were in the coordination between the novel & the set.

Anyway, not-Hekara is a super cool design, and will often be a pretty clean board wipe on a stick. Honestly... I could see her having a place in some Black decks that want this effect often, since recurring your board wipe over and over is a pretty strong line of play. It’s Staxy, but I’m kinda okay with that. Not a slam dunk, but a definite option for decks that want her.

Aaaaaand lastly, the goodest of boys is... a good boy. That’s about it. He’s fantastic in Limited, and I highly recommend playing him often, and with great enthusiasm. But yeah, there’s not really any EDH potential here, except maybe in the strangest of jank Ezuri decks. And that’s a stretch, for sure. If it doubled the counters, then I could see it more, because that would get out of hand really quickly.

So that’s basically it. All the Legendary Creatures of War of the Spark. Who are you running in your Commander decks?

#MtG #mtg commander #war of the spark

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fairyshuuu · 6 years

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Bleached Lilac

Pairing: Winwin x Reader Genre: Fluff, angst Length: 16.3k Warnings: mental abuse, physical abuse, addiction, attempt of suicide, abusive parents, alcoholism, extreme bullying, suicide mentions, substance use (it’s not all bad, i’m just being thorough) I love everyone in nct the most, I just needed a bad guy. Forgive me.

You sigh, rolling your eyes back into your skull. You hate Literature. Nothing against the subject itself, just… the people in your lecture hall are annoying, and loud. And having to spend 2 hours with them, two days a week, is too much. You tug your hood up more, hiding your bleach blonde hair from sight. You wanted to color it something cool, but got stuck mid-bleaching with fried hair that doesn’t want to pick up any color.

Somehow, you’ve grown to like it. It fits you. You chew your gum mindlessly, trying to distract yourself from the noises in the back, and look back down at your notes. You’re lucky to be keeping up quite well. You really can’t afford not to be though, this is the only shot you have at improvement. It’s one you’re not planning on slipping through your fingers.

The professor beams up the powerpoint, and claps his hands. “Right.” You look around the hall quickly. A lot of people skip Literature. The class that was overspilling with students the first two lessons now barely has a half of their population on most lessons. “Guys! Quiet down now.” Your prof droans, walking to his desk.

“Before we begin today, let me just quickly take the time to address that we have a new student in our class. Dong Sicheng is a Chinese transfer student. I expect you all to behave like adults and help him if he needs help, since his English isn’t the best.” At the mention, everyone in the room turns around, looking for said person.

You can’t hold yourself, and turn back. All the way at the back of the hall, sits a young man with his black hoodie tucked over his head, looking down at his notes with a flush. Murmurs break out. He doesn’t look up from his notes though, hiding more into himself. You turn back to the front. That wouldn’t be you. You have enough on your plate already. Tutoring wouldn’t become another one of your worries.

You tug your hood forward again a bit when it slides back, and brush your hair behind your ear. Good that you’re sitting all alone, and not between the mess of people that congregate in the middle seats, and talk through the entire lesson. Class starts, and the professor starts catching up with last week’s lesson. At the one familiar voice, you just sigh. Too bad that you’re still in class with some people who know you from high school. High school sucked.

Walking out of class goes quickly, since you were sitting pretty much next to the door. You don’t have classes anymore for today, and would like to get home as soon as you can. You carefully squeeze past two girls who walk in front of you, and speed your steps a little more, rushing through the hall. You still have to go to the store for your mom, and-

“Hey!” You freeze for a second at the loud shout, keeping your eyes to the floor, before pulling your bag up more and speeding up the pace. Not for you, please, not for you. Not today, not right now. “Hey.” It sounds again, closer this time, with multiple sets of speeded footsteps. An arm slams down in the wall in front of you, blocking your path. You just pause your steps, and wrap your hands tighter around the straps of your bag.

“Hi there. So nice to run into you again.” The deep voice chuckles, earning more than a few laughs. You take a deep breath, before turning to the young man standing in your way. Johnny Seo. You look at the people gathered around you, like a pack of vultures. Do they really have to hold you up in the middle of the hall? People who pass look over at you with wide eyes, before whispering to each other while they walk out.

You lower your eyes to the floor again after taking a quick glance at the leading faces. Lee Taeyong. Jung Yoonoh. The Neo Oasis kids. Another horde of students pass, going to get lunch at this hour, probably. They all look at you, the person who is surrounded by guys from the most popular frat house, but no one dares to find out why you pissed them off. Johnny is the one to start, though you don’t look up at him at all. “Don’t have anything to say? Cat got your tongue?” He janks your chin up so he can look you in the face. “Or is it still glued to some old guy’s cock?”

“Fucking disgusting.” Taeyong grunts, earning some approval from the guys behind him. They are all NOC guys. Of course.

Yoonoh’s face pulls into one of disgust. “Wait, I guess I missed half of the conversation earlier, when I was talking to that chick in Literature. What the fuck is going on?”

“The slut that sucked off my uncle Terry.” Johnny lifts his one brow. “This is her.” You try to pull your face from his grip but it only results in Johnny grabbing your arm as well. It stings really bad, and you need to clench your teeth to keep tears from welling up. You didn’t ever do anything to these guys, you really didn’t.

“Oh,” Yoonoh responds, pulling his fingers through his honey colored hair, before swallowing, “I think I’m gonna puke.” He turns to you then, looking you up and down two times, before looking away with a frown. “Why would anyone want to touch that drunk fuck?”

Johnny shrugs. “You’re asking something there, bro. But I guess she’s used to it. Her dad and mom are alcoholics too, so it must come natural to her. Doyoung saw her go into his home just last week.”

“How old is that dude?” Taeyong cuts in. “Isn’t he like 56 or something? Everything must have sagged down to his knees at that point. How can she even- uh, fuck mate, I get sick just thinking about it.”

Rumours are dirty things.

You swallow, pulling your hair loose from your ponytail, and pull your old bag on your back. You hate working as a waitress, but it’s the only thing people want you in, and your parents need the money. So you work hard three days a week, to make sure you all don’t starve. The evening is cold, it makes your breath into little clouds.

You quicky pull the door of the restaurant closed behind you, and walk down the road home. You rush down the littered sidewalk quickly, body tired and aching to get into bed, glancing to your right for just a second. An older man sits on the sidewalk, sweating like he has a fever, surrounded by a few empty bottles. He murmurs to himself, in his drunken stupor. Your legs slow automatically.

You look left and right for anyone who might know this man, but you already know that it won’t be the case. Biting your lip, you blink, and walk over. You can’t just leave him in the cold, he’ll freeze. You’ve had to bring your parents home in a near hypothermic state more times than you can count. “Sir?”

“Wha-? I’m not hurting anyone, sir. I swear!” He mumbles, waving his bottle left to right. “I’m just- restin’ for a bit.”

You sigh, and nod. “Okay. I know. Come on, I’ll bring you home. Do you have your wallet with you? Anything that says your address?”

“I don’t have no money no more. You can’t take nothing from me.”

You help the man up, letting him rest into your frame, as you wrap his one arm around your shoulder. He reeks of a multitude of heavy alcohol. “I’m going to take your wallet out, to find your address, okay?” You sigh, and pull him up a little more, holding onto him with one arm, while the other fishes out his wallet. He mumbles some disagreements, but you have his clinic card out in a second. It says his address in clear letters on the front, along with the name of the kick-off clinic he goes to.

“Okay,” you sigh again, before starting to walk, “lets get you home, Mr. Seo.” You’ll be home late today, it’s quite the detour.

You swallow, before looking up at the guy. “Can you please let go of me? I just want to go home. My parents will worry.”

That calls for bursts of laughter. “Sure they will.” Johnny’s lips curl into a nasty grin. “And then they will grab for the nearest bottle, and forget they even have a child.” He lets go of your face. “Tell me. How bad do you have it? Do you need a bottle before bed too? Or do you just drink ‘casually’, like all of them?”

“I don’t drink. Now please,” you murmur, twisting your arm against his grip painfully, wincing at the skin that gets pinched, “let go of me. I never did anything like that. Just leave me alone.” You keep pulling, but really, Johnny is two heads taller than you, there’s nothing you can do. He uses his weight to keep you in place against the wall.

“Oohh, she’s feisty.” Taeyong giggles. He walks over, and grabs a handful of your hair, causing Johnny to chuckle. The pink haired man yanks your head back painfully, as you grab at his hands painfully. “I like that.” His other hand grabs at your shirt, pushing it up to reveal your waist, while you try desperately to get away.

Everything Taeyong does is followed by laughs of the others though. “Get off of me!” You yelp.

“She’s not bad, too. Look at that ass.” Taeyong grunts, holding you still. Again, people laugh.

“Turn her around, dude, we can’t see!” Someone yells, to which Taeyong gladly obliges. He turns you the other way, wrapping his one arm around your hips.

“Just too fucking bad that she’s probably filled with diseases, Tae. I mean, can’t be any different if she fucks a dude that sleeps on the street. But you have some yourself, so you don’t mind that, right?” Yoonoh grins, squeezing his friend’s shoulder.

“Oh, fuck off.” Taeyong huffs, before finally letting go off you, and pushing you to the floor. People giggle at the interaction between the two friends, and all walk away, you already forgotten on the floor by most. Johnny stays looking back for a while though. He walks over, pulls your bag open, and yanks out your books.

“Good riddance picking me, of all people, to piss off. Have fun the rest of your school run, whore.” He tosses your papers against the wall then, watching them spread all over the hall, and walks away, tossing his arm around one of the guys at the end of the pack.

Only when they all disappear down the hall completely, that you turn to lie on your back, and stare up at the ceiling. Your eyes sting, and soon tears are rolling down your cheeks, as you tug your shirt down as far as it can go. With shaky arms, you push yourself up, and wipe the tracks on your face away. Normally, you’d be embarrassed, but everyone has already left to go get food, so you guess there’s no one to be embarrassed to.

As quickly and silently as you can, you bend down to collect all your papers, and stuff them into your bag. Half of the papers crinkle in the process. You don’t care, you want to get out of here. When you look at the floor, you see some drops reflecting on the ground. You swipe them away with your foot, and straighten up, turning the opposite way the guys left.

You eyes flutter for a second. In the middle of the hall, there’s someone looking at you with wide eyes. You recognize him. It’s the new transfer student, that sat all the way in the back of the lecture. His hair is wild and fluffy, tucked into his black hood which is pulled up all the way. It’s a soft shade of faded purple, standing out against his warm skin color perfectly.

His eyes are wide and soft, as he focusses straight on you, from where you’re staring back at him, a slight blush on his face. You don’t know if he saw. You hope not. He blinks a couple of times, before finally closing his mouth. You just take a deep breath, lower your eyes to the floor, and walk past as quickly as your legs let you. Your footsteps echo the hall too loud, drumming through your frame. You hurry past, and take the quickest way home.

You pause when getting at the door. Shouts sound from inside, both male and female. Only when they die down and the hall is left in silence, do you move again. You bite your lip and fumble for the keys in your pocket. The door to your apartment is painted a gross green color, though the paint is chipped off in multiple places. You jam in the keys quickly, and keep your head low. You know what you’re walking into, and the best way not to get hit is to not look.

You push open the door, and quickly shut it again behind you. You floor is littered with papers, empty bottles and candy wrappers, like always. You walk past the table, and over to the back room. When you push it open, you’re met with a strong smell of whiskey. You sigh, and drop your bag by the door, walking over to the bed.

Your mom is lying in the bed, empty glass on the bedside table, and deep streaks of purple under her eyes. Her eyes flutter when you put your hand on her forehead, and brush away some of her hair. “Wh- Ah- little-”

“It’s me, mom.” You mumble, taking her hand as she reaches it out for your cheek. Every time she drinks, she thinks that you are your little sister, which means she thinks that a lot. You’re not little Sophie. Sophie is dead, has been for years. You don’t tell that her right now though. You stand up and walk into the kitchen.

With a small hop, you climb onto the counter, and reach up to get a glass out of the cabinet, hopping down with more care, so that you don’t accidentally smash it. You quickly fill it up with some cold tap water, and look around for a second. You don’t see your dad, but you know that he’s most likely home. He had work in the morning, which means that he went to a bar after, and must be home for a while now.

With soft steps you walk back into the room. Your mom has been addicted for 23 years now, falling back in and out of it so many times you’ve lost track. You dad has been addicted for even longer. Both of them have been drinking too much as long as you can recall, though the last 7 years have been much worse.

You sit back down next to her on the edge of the bed. “Here you go.”

She shakes her head though, reaching her trembling fingers over to the empty bottle of whiskey. “I want this.” She says, frowning at you. The water gets pushed aside, almost spilling everything on the floor.

“You can’t have any more, mom.” You murmur, reaching over to pry the bottle out of her hands, but she doesn’t let go. “Mom. You can’t have anymore, let go!”

“I want this!” She suddenly screams, pushing you off the bed in anger, and sending you to your knees on the beige carpet.

You just close your eyes, and hold the tremble of your lip, standing up again. When you reach for the bottle, she screams like a child throwing a tantrum, before swinging the thing back and forward to keep you away.

You just look at her for a while, tears welling up to rest at the sides of your lashes, and take a shaky breath. You can’t do this today. “Where is dad? Do I need to put him to bed too?”

“I want more, right now!” Your mom seethes in anger, angrily fisting her hand into her hair.

“You can’t have any more! You drank the whole bottle! You drank everything! It’s gone!” You yell. Your voice rings through the apartment for a second. You really, really don’t want to do this today. You sink down the floor next to the bed, and hide your face in your knees. If you would only be strong, so that you could help your parents through this like a good child would. You don’t want to right now, though. You’re disgusting, and selfish.

Loud stomps sound from the bathroom then, and in two seconds you’re wrapping your arms around your neck and face. Your dad pulls open the bedroom door. “What is all the noise in here?! What are you doing!” His voice sounds double too, tongue thick from the alcohol, just like how you predicted.

“Nothing. I’m not doing anything.” You whisper, chest pulling into itself. You don’t want to have to cover up another bruise for the next two weeks.

“What?! Speak up.” He barks, looking over your mother and then at you. His height towers over you even now when you’re an adult. “And this is what I come home to! I work the entire day, and for what! You two are home the entire day, you can’t even make sure the house is clean and the food is ready!”

“I was at school.” You say, making sure you’re not talking into your clothes this time.

He walks around the bed, and glares down at you, hands hanging next to his body limply. “I said speak up! Don’t say anything if you don’t want me to hear it!”

“I was speaking up!” You say, clenching your teeth. You recognize your mistake as soon as his hand connects with the underside of your jaw. His smack is sloppy, knocking you over.

“Don’t talk back to me, young lady! Do you have any idea who you are talking to?! I have to take it from your mother, I’m not taking it from you.” He towers over you, and points an angry finger, clenching his teeth. “Understood?”

You just swallow, and hold your hand against your chin, pulling up your nose when it starts running. Your eyes skim over the grains of the wooden bedframe. “Yes, dad.” You’ll probably have to go find him in the early morning, hanging at the bar. Another detour before school.

You keep your face down when walking into the lecture hall. This class is Linguistics, one you don’t share with most of the NOC guys, but you’d rather not catch anyone’s eyes at all, today. Your bruise didn’t show up too much, so a layer of concealer was able to hide it pretty well. Your grey sweater is to warm, but you don’t dare wear short sleeves, for multiple reasons.

Your hands shake a little when you take a seat more at the top of the chairs, and put your bag down. You haven’t had money to buy new contacts, which is why you sit at the front, but you don’t want to be in the direct view of anyone. As silently as possible, you take out your book and some empty papers, before sitting down.

Further along the row, all the way against the wall, sit a couple, but they are too lost in their own world to even spare you a glance. The other seats next to you are empty. You sigh deeply, and pull the hood down from your face. It’s really hot here. You quickly flick to the correct page in your textbook, and read over it again quickly.

Only when feet appear in your line of vision, you pause. You don’t dare to look at the person. Surely, they wouldn’t start something in the middle of class. The feet pause a little when passing by your row, that’s all that you can see out of the corner of your vision. For a moment you think they’ll just walk past to sit in the very last row, but the person turns around.

He, judging by the black sneakers, you guess it’s a he, walks into your row, and sits down two seats away. When he bends down to get his stuff out, you glance over. The transfer student. Oh, that’s right, you’re probably sitting in his seat. Immediately, your anxiety ebbs away, and you let your head lull back in defeat. Your body hurts from being stressed all day.

You look back at the front, but glance over at the taller boy once again. He has a backpack with pikachu on there, along with a bunch of other pokémon, and a bright red pencil case. Strange contrast between the all black he’s wearing. You look down at your own clothes. You’re also dressed in all back, apart from your sweater, which has a giant oker and blue school logo on the front.

You tutt your lips. You just want the class to pass quickly. Suddenly, a soft voice breaks your little bubble. “I’m- Winwin.” You look over, while the young guy peers at you from under his hair. His voice is deep, a silvery roll of words, even though he has only spoken so little.

You bite your lip, and give him a shy nod, hesitating for a split second. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” You don’t look him in the eyes as you say it, though. It’s just a habit you picked up. You don’t like making eye contact when talking. The little exchange you had quiets down after that, both of you seemingly unsure what to say.

Winwin swallows, and looks to the front, picking at his papers mindlessly. Your mouth goes into a tight line, as you look to the front too. “You- you know… China?” The soft spoken boy suddenly says, turning back over to you. His words sound quite foreign, and very unsure. You can’t help the little smile that crosses your lips at that. It’s cute.

“Yes.”

Winwin nods, and looks around the hall again, before looking back once more. “You go… to China?”

You blink at him softly, before a giggle erupts. You’re not laughing at him, not at all, it’s just that he looks so boy-ish and shy when he speaks, that you can’t help but find it terribly adorable. “I’ve never gone to China, no. But if I had the chance, I would love to go.”

“I’m from China.” He smiles, nodding happily.

“I’m from here. I have lived 10 minutes away my entire life.” You counter, leaning over your desk a little. Not that you’ve never had friends, you had some in high school, but in college you never got brave enough to introduce yourself to anyone. So now you didn’t really have anyone to talk to anymore, let alone call a friend.

“Are you English major?”

“Yeah, I am. What about you? ”

Winwin juts out his bottom lip, and gestures with his hand. “Uhm- in- international…” He doesn’t seem to remember the second word, so just says it in Chinese. “International-”

“Oh, international relations!” You cut in, glad to see Winwin nod.

“International relations.” He repeats, clicking his pen a few times. “My English is … not good.” He seems apologetic saying it, while you raise your eyebrows.

“No, it’s good! I can’t even speak English properly, let alone another language.” At that Winwin blanks for a second, before smiling. You guess he needs some time mentally translating the sentences.

“You new-”

Winwin gets interrupted by the professor that speaks up suddenly. “We have a lot to go over, everyone. Please pay attention from now on, we’re starting.” She calls, pushing her glasses further up her nose.

You give Winwin an apologetic smile, and look at the front. The boy looks a little shocked by the sudden interruption. He looks around truly lost, before bending over his book and starting to flick in it. You look over twice, before leaning over the empty seat, and whispering under your breath.

“Page 36, at the bottom.”

Winwin gives you a big eyed stare, before relaxing a little, and smiling. “Thank you.” You slide back in your seat then, and give him a thumbs up, which he copies.

You and Winwin have a load of classes together, it turns out. You don’t know why he needs a lot of the courses an English major needs, but you guess it’s to get more accustomed to English, and how it sounds in a natural habitat. You can’t even imagine having lectures in another language though. Every lesson you two both have, you and Winwin end up sitting together in the back of the room.

He doesn’t know a lot of English, but tries his very best to keep conversation going, something you appreciate immensely. Though you don’t have a lot of conversations, you think he starts feeling more comfortable very quickly. You help him with lessons, or try your best to, since you don’t know Chinese. The week passes quite quickly, and Thursday afternoon, you and Winwin walk the same way out of the building.

“Mrs. Toblone is not very nice though, I think you’ll have her on Monday. If you need any help, just ask me and I’ll-” Loud, high pitched giggling sounds from the side of the hall. You look over. Sat on the windowsill sit two girls, looking up from their phones to stare in your direction. Winwin’s shoulders immediately tense.

“Hey, Winko!” One of the girls calls. Her long brown hair is pulled up in a ponytail, as she takes out one of her headphones. You don’t recognize either of them. She flutters her long lashes for a second. “How has the dorm life been so far? Do you enjoy your little side of campus?” You frown at the tone she uses to talk to him. It sounds extremely condescending. What the hell is her problem?

Her friend smiles, before talking too. “There’s another ching chong there, right? Have you two been getting along well?” Your mood takes a flip for the worst very quickly, but you don’t dare cut in. Most of the time that doesn’t help against pretentious people like that. “Still not gonna talk?” She giggles.

“Suit yourself.” The other rolls her eyes, and pushes her headphones back in. You just take a deep breath and keep walking, grabbing a hold on Winwin’s hand. He doesn’t say anything when you do, though he flinches a little at the sudden move. You keep a hold on his hand until you are outside the halls, and breathe in deeply. You know what it feels like to be bullied, and it sucks.

Winwin seems like a genuinely good person though, he doesn’t deserve that. You deserve the torment, he doesn’t. Winwin smiles softly when you let go of his hand and cross your arms over your chest. “They don’t like me.” He mumbles.

You instantly frown. “Don’t worry about stupid girls like that. What do they know, anyway? I don’t see them learning a new language from scratch. They’re just stupid, pretentious bimbos.” Winwin looks at you a little blankly, like he doesn’t understand a word of what you just said, but he seems to appreciate the sentiment. You sigh, and give him a little push in his arm, smiling. “I like you. And other people will like you too.”

After that you and Winwin get close really quickly. He doesn’t say much, but there seems to be some sort of mutual understanding between you both. You hang out on Sunday, to run over your notes, as you read them out loud for him, rolling around on his bed. His dorm is very clean, surprisingly. Monday, you sit together before class starts, and watch as he draws little smiley faces as a border on his paper.

Winwin is a genuinely bright person, you notice. He loves taking time while walking to look around and stare at the sky, or thanking people multiple times when buying food. You start really anticipating seeing him again, since it gives you a sense of normality, to hang out with him. One thing you don’t look up to though, is Tuesday. Winwin smiles when walking into Literature, and gives you a little shove when you tug up your hood more.

Normally, you’d play back, but one glance at the group of loud guys in the middle of the room, and your entire mood is spoiled. Winwin notices pretty quickly, and looks up at the rest of the room. You take a deep breath and stick to the wall when ascending the stairs, hoping that some of the other people that walk up too hide you from the view.

Winwin takes hold of your hand when you get to the middle of the stairs, and pulls you back. “Y/N?” He catches your eyes, and then points at the board. “Eyes hurt.”

You told Winwin about your contacts over the weekend, and that sitting in the back made you have to squint the entire lesson, so on Monday you both took a seat more to the middle of the room. Now though, you want to get as far away from the middle of the room as possible. You bite your lip, and shake your head intently, pulling your friend past the middle rows.

“Not in the middle, Win.” You whisper, and keep your face to the ground, in hopes that they didn’t see you. Winwin looks confused, but follows behind you to where you take a seat all the way at the back. When you sit down and slump into your seat, the boy frowns.

“Why?” He runs a hand through his floof of hair, and blinks his big, dark brown eyes at you, pouting a little.

You just blink blankly, and look at your table. In your peripherals, you can see Yoonoh turn back in his seat though, glancing in your direction quickly. “Fuck.” You bite your cheek and lean down to get your stuff out, slamming it down on the table way more aggressive then normal.

Yoonoh whispers something to Johnny, before they both start laughing. It catches Winwin’s attention too. You really didn’t want to deal with them today. Luckily class starts soon, and you are glad to sink back all the way in your seat, to hide from anyone’s view. You can practically see the talk about you spread through the room, eyes and faces turning back and looking back to the front, before giggling or talking is hushed tones to their friend.

The entire lecture hall seems to know about the rumors that the NOC kids started. Rumors backed by zero actual evidence, but they don’t care. They just want a reason to hate you. Johnny already hated you way back in high school, when he discovered, along with a lot of your class, that your parents were drunk most of the time. Why it bothered him on a personal level, you don’t know.

You take notes to the best of your ability, but it’s hard when you keep feeling eyes on the side of your face, both from other students and Winwin. The class crawls past painstakingly slow. When you finally watch the clock tick on the last minute and the professor announces the end of class, you sigh deeply, closing your eyes.

“Y/N?” Winwin stands up from the seat, and starts packing his stuff into his backpack, as he glances over to you. “Go to my house and study?” You rub your hands over your eyes for a second, before looking up at him. His pout is obvious.

You swallow, and see movement from the corner of your eye, before pushing your nails into your arm. “No, not today. You can go on!” You smile at him, and stand up from your chair. You know Johnny and his posse is coming, but you’d rather have Winwin out of the mix. Your smile slips off as you help him stuff his textbook into his bag.

Before you know it though, a group of people appear at your side. Most students are leaving the room, and you can hear a girl laugh as she walks out. “Whore.” You just keep your eyes on the floor, and then look back over at Winwin. He’s not looking at you though.

“Hey, Y/N.” Johnny trails his finger over the edge of the desk, and grins down at you. “We haven’t seen you in a while.” His dark eyes slide over to Winwin then, who looks quite lost. “Who’s this?” He most likely knows who Winwin is, he just feels the need to drag him into the conversation.

You fist your hands into your papers, grabbing them tight to keep your hands from shaking. “I’d just like to go to my next class, if it’s the same for you.” You mumble, and put your stuff into your black backpack. When you look back over though, Johnny has his eyes fixed on Winwin, who doesn’t look away. “Johnny.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, bitch, I asked him a question.” Johnny puts his hands on the desk, leaning forward a bit with a cock of his eyebrow. Winwin stares with a small pout, before looking back at you. When he does, Johnny grins, cocking his head in disbelief. “Taeyong,” he calls, making the pink haired man look up from his bored scrolling on his phone from his spot against another desk, “did I fucking stutter?”

Taeyong looks between you and the taller man next to you twice, before frowning. “The guy must be a mute. You didn’t stutter to me.” He straightens up when you zip up your bag and look at the floor. “Honestly, bro, I’d rather go back to Taeil and the guys, than spend time having to look at these freaks.” He puts a hand on his taller friend’s shoulder. “Besides, nothing we could say could can make her look like more of a fucking loser than she is, just look at the girl. The freak gang doesn’t need our help.”

Johnny laughs at that, and straightens up, his height towering above you. “You’re right.” He stuffs his hands in his pants, and frowns at you. “We’re holding a party at the frat tonight. If you or your dumb lapdog even so much as come anywhere near the house, I’ll make you wish I’d do something as nice as beat your face in.” He gives you a mean smile, before pushing your hood off, and ruffling your hair. “Have a good day~”

His footsteps, along with those of the set of guys waiting for him, ring through the otherwise practically empty lecture hall, as you blink at the floor blankly. Without being able to help it, tears line your waterline, but you blink them away before they can fall. You swallow, and pull your bag up your shoulder, before looking over at Winwin. He’s staring the side of your face, but doesn’t say anything. You’re not sure how much of the conversation made sense to him, but most of it must have been pretty clear by the tone used.

You feel sorry towards him. This is all your fault. If you wouldn’t have been friends with Winwin, he wouldn’t be in this situation. You are so stupid. You grab his backpack from the floor, and hand it to him. “Why didn’t you go, like I asked you to?” You breathe, and take a step to the side, walking past. His hand wraps around your wrist as you do.

“Who is that?” His voice is heavy, deep, and if you didn’t know better, you’d swear he looks angry.

You just give him an empty smile. “Someone who doesn’t like me a whole lot.”

“Why?”

You look away, and pull your arm from his reach. You don’t want to talk about it, not to him. Not to the first person who seems to be able to stand you on most days, you won’t ruin that. “Go home, Win. Can you do me a favor and try to work out the exercise for Calc on your own tonight? You’re good at that. I’ll try to figure out the lab, and explain it to you tomorrow then.”

Winwin’s eyebrows pull together, but his face stays soft. His eyes glide over your face when you look away, before he sighs. “Meet tomorrow?”

“Yup.” You give him another empty smile, one you’re sure doesn’t reach your eyes, before patting his arm. “I’ll come to your dorm tomorrow, after my class. See ya.”

The days fly past way quicker than you imagined they would. School starts becoming your primary focus, Winwin, your second. He doesn’t question you, or your silence, and you’re eternally grateful for that. Along with the days picking up, so does the talking. People laugh when you walk past, whispering things to their friends. You don’t know what they say, but you don’t really feel like hearing it.

Johnny’s words get more mean with every interaction, but luckily those are rare. He doesn’t seem to want to spend his time on you. The damage is done though, people know. Winwin hangs out with you a lot though, which makes NOC despise him almost as much as they do you. And even though you don’t want him to suffer because of you, you’re glad to have him.

On a weekend where your parents are out, you invite him to your house, after a gigantic cleaning. He studies hard, along with making some shy jokes, the more comfortable he becomes in his speaking. Months go by in a flash, time in which you rely too much on the soft spoken boy, but he relies on you too. It’s scary, because you’re around him all the time. Every free moment you have is spent with Winwin, and somewhere along the road you started to think about him as your best friend.

You don’t want to think about what will happen if he leaves. So you don’t. That doesn’t stop your thoughts from drowning you at night. Every time he leaves, the words swarm your mind. You cry at night, until your eyes are so swollen you can’t even feel the tears anymore. Your parents don’t notice, of course they don’t.

Every time you wake up though, that one beam of light still stays. Winwin, with a cup of coffee, waiting at the end of your street. He’s gotten more buff since coming here first, since hitting the gym before class. You don’t know how he does it. The only thing different about you is your roots that have been steadily growing out. You should really get that done again. Through the months, you also hear people talking about the parties. All the parties you never got invited to.

You wonder sometimes if Winwin regrets talking to you that first day, because now he misses out too. You can’t help but think he must, deep down. He never mentions it though, and you guess he likes hanging out with you whenever you get the chance. Whenever you two go to his dorm, you get to stay over, something you love about Winwin more than anything, because you hate being left alone with your thoughts.

You’ve broken into your parents alcohol cupboard a lot in the last few months. It’s something you’re not proud of in the slightest, but it numbs the pain that nights alone bring, and it’s really the only way that you can fall asleep. You feel safe when you’re tucked in next to Winwin, who doesn’t mind sharing a bed. It’s nice this way, you feel like a normal person for some moments throughout the day.

You’re about to walk out of class when suddenly one of the girls you recognize from seeing around class stands up on her desk and turns around with a giggle, some of her friends cheering her on. She smiles widely and flicks her long brown hair off her shoulder, before clearing her throat. “It’s my birthday today!” She beams. You resist the urge to roll your eyes because that’s a little over the top in your opinion, but go along when everyone wishes her happy birthday.

When you look over at Winwin, he’s cheering enthusiastically, shaking his little sweater paws. You chuckle at the young man’s antics, and go to put your stuff in your bag.

“Thank you!” The girl smiles, before making another round on her desk. “So because it is my birthday, I’m having a party at my house tonight! And I expect you all to come!”

Her friend chimes in too, grinning proudly. “Heorin on Blackwood Avenue 6!”

Then they leave, under loud chattering from the others in the room. You look around for a second, and pause. ‘All’ as in, you all? ‘All’ as in, also you and your friend who people talk bad about all the time? That seems unlikely. When you turn to face Winwin though, he has this look on his face, arms crossed over his chest easily.

He stares for a moment, and then nods. “You want to go.” He says it just like that, which makes you frown. Sure, you want to go. But you’re not willing to get embarrassed by trying to get into a party and then have people toss you out after two minutes.

You lift your eyebrows at him, and stuff away your pencil case. “Is that a question or a statement, Win?”

“A fact.” He reaches over at takes your backpack out of your hands so you can’t hide your face in there, and ruffles your hair with a smile. “If you want to go, we’ll go.”

You just smile and try to take your backpack out of his hold. “I don’t think so. They don’t want me there.”

“They do. So that’s decided then. We’re going. So go home and get dressed. Text me when you’re ready.” Winwin uncrosses his arms and leans in to pinch your cheek. He smiles happily when you swat away his hand, but doesn’t give you room for discussion. “Want me to walk you home?”

You sigh but decide to give in. “No, I’ll be fine. You get home safely, please.” You pat him on the butt to usher him out of your way. Maybe it would actually be a fun night. Your parents are out of town too, so you don’t have to worry about them for a while.

“You too. I’ll come by later, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, and give your best friend a quick goodbye hug.

You hadn’t expected to get inside like how you did. A slightly intoxicated Heorin had welcomed you with a friendly smile, and pushed open the door for you, motioning you inside. You aren’t sure if she just doesn’t recognize you because you aren’t wearing one of your signature dark hoodies, but she doesn’t say anything. The long sleeved top and shorts you are sporting right now are a little exposing, but you are glad because the house is so warm.

You had expected this too, but not to the extent that even walking into a room made you sweat. Tons and tons of people are packed into the spacious living and dining room of the house, dancing along to some music with a bass that vibrates through your bones. You reach behind you to hold onto Winwin’s hand tightly, and try to push through some people. With a little luck, no one would recognize you.

You also checked, and to your knowledge, Johnny or the NOC pack have another party to waste their evening at, so they won’t be here to ruin your fun. When you finally get to a space where you can stand without having to be pressed up against multiple others, you turn to Winwin and smile up at him. “Why don’t you go check out the dance floor while I go find the bathroom? I’ll be back in a second, okay?”

The next half hour goes by in a flash, being filled with a mini search for the purple haired man, and a two sets of drinks. Your eyes slide over the crowd again and to your relief, you still see no sign of any of those horrendous bullies, which brings a true smile to your lips.

You quickly poor two solo cups, one for you, one for the lanky man awkwardly dancing with a girl that seems so drunk she might topple over any second. You giggle as you catch his eyes, the look of ‘help me’ he gives you growing with the second, and you walk over rapidly.

“If you take anyone home, she better not be even a 10th as drunk as Mrs. Floppy Noodle over here.” You grin, taking his hand to pull him out of the mess of people. You don’t think Winwin is one to just take a random girl home, though he definitely had the looks to do so.

At your words, his eyes widen about twice the size, and he gives you a shove. “I’m not taking someone home.” He pauses, and looks at the red solo cup you push into his hands. “Except you.”

Maybe you’re being too into the teasing, but that sounded like he’d take you home. You, to his home, his bed, and not for any innocent reasons like in the past. You know that that’s not what he means though, and smile. “You better get me home safe, big guy.” Winwin rolls his eyes, before holding up his drink to you. “Cheers, Winko.” You two tap cups, and throw back whatever you just poured into the cups.

It’s a mixture of vodka and some red drink you don’t know what it is, but tastes like something peach, and it burns in the back of your throat. You cough after downing the whole thing. “Ew, I think that wasn’t a good idea.”

Winwin still has a sour face too. “What is that?”

You grin. “I have no clue. It’s horrible.” You agree, and put the cups away. You smile at your friend, and take his hands. “Okay, now we’re going to dance. I don’t care if you want to or not.” Winwin sputters behind when you drag him away from the kitchen and through the mess of people, holding onto your hand tightly. You get to a spot where people are sitting in the couches a few feet away, but there’s still enough space to move around, and turn to him.

When you just start moving, Winwin stares for a second. You close your eyes, feeling the rush of alcohol spread slowly through your skin. You feel warm, a little hazy. And right now you really don’t care if you look stupid or not, because you feel nice. You feel confident, if that’s a word you’ve ever used to describe yourself.

Your eyes flutter open to see the purple haired man raking his eyes over you, from top to bottom. You tilt your head. “Winwin. You do have to move, you know.” He swallows, and starts swaying to the music. You know Winwin can dance, and really good at that, but this isn’t really the place to break out into a gorgeous and elegant Chinese dance, like you’ve seen him do twice while waiting for him to finish practice.

This is more of a awkwardly-side-step kind of situation, so you can’t blame him for looking uncomfortable. That, and you’re kind of standing two feet apart, which doesn’t give him much space. Instead of watching as he bounces on his feet, you reach for his hands and turn around, gently guiding him to hold onto your waist.

When you look back and smile, he breathes in deeply. His hands glide a bit higher, but he doesn’t look away. You take that as a go ahead, and start dancing again. It’s not even been five minutes but whatever you tossed back is already tingling in your system and making you feel ten times more confident than you are. You enjoy the way his warm hands rest on your sides, even if you know that he means absolutely nothing with that. When you close your eyes again and lean into him a little more, everything seems to blur and slow. Winwin’s fingers that press little ovals into the soft skin that just peeks from under your crop top. The vibrating of the loud music that bounces off the walls. The swaying of your hips, and in turn, Winwin’s along with you.

His hands move more down, to hold onto your upper thigh, chest pressing against your back. You reach up your hand and tangle it in the base of his hair, pulling gently. A soft hum is pressed into your hair when he brushes his lips along your head, pulling back quickly but long enough to make you flutter. Like a hot fever that rushes over you all of a sudden, you feel this incredible weight on your chest.

Gratefulness and love for your best friend, the only person who has ever taken you in fully, accepted and cherished all of your sides, even the ones you know are not worth to be seen in broad daylight. You stop moving, suddenly feeling too aware of what you’re doing, and turn around slowly. Your heart beats loudly in your chest.

Winwin’s eyes stay closed for a second longer, long lashes spread out beautifully and perfectly. His hands hover in mid-air, as if holding onto your ghost, before he opens his lids slowly, eyes finding yours. His dark orbs don’t move for a second, though you have to look away again. You feel his gaze on your face though. You swallow then and scan the room once, before smiling softly as you take one of his hands, and look over at his soft expression. “Do you want another drink?”

Two more drinks in, you start to feel full. Full of alcohol, full of emotions and full of sudden doubt. Some people glare at you when you walk past. Strangers, judging you on sight. You put your cup down on the counter and walk back to where you left Winwin, who had assured that he didn’t want another drink, and look at him where he’s resting against the wall for a second.

He hasn’t noticed you yet, and is looking around with the most adorable blank slate expression. You’re so glad to have him. You breathe deeply, and pinch yourself once. It’s hard to know how you’re feeling, and what that means, when you’re in this state. Maybe the line between friendship and true romantic love has blurred because you’re so close, or maybe you are just standing on the line separating the two, you really aren’t sure anymore.

You’ve been in love only once though, so you can’t even really tell. You hope with all your heart though, that it’s just a deep rooted care for your friend. From what you remember, love is like a thick layer of fog at the break of dawn. It’s thick and there for a little while, shrouding everything, and then, as soon as it came, it burns away with the harshness of reality.

You don’t want to experience that with him. You want it to feel like this forever. You take another deep breath, and walk back over to him, smiling softly. Winwin looks up a little surprised when you suddenly come to stand in front of him. He doesn’t say anything, but opens his arms, to allow you to walk into his embrace. Right when you walk forward though, his breathing hitches. “Oh no.”

You look at his frown, and turn around. Johnny and Taeyong are standing at the far of the room, looking around casually. You hear tons of whispers from the girls around, and probably some boys too. Suddenly, you feel so small you might sink into the floor.

The infamous NOC frat commands attention as they walk around, greeting people and laughing. Johnny frowns though at something a friend of him whispers, and turns around in your direction. Since he towers out above most people, he spots you easily, definitely now that you don’t have a hood to hide your face in. As out of necessity, he walks over, face stone.

“I’ll give you two seconds to get the fuck out of my face.” He sighs, not even looking at you. He smiles at a girl behind you instead, winking at her. When you don’t move right away though, he looks at Winwin, and then at the ground where you’re stood. “What are you waiting for? A permit?”

You bite your lip harshly, and ball your fists. “We were here first. If you don’t want to be near me, then maybe go visit a party elsewhere.” You’re as surprised by your own courage as Johnny is.

The surprise melts into anger quickly though. Lucky for you Heorin comes to grab at your arm right at that moment. “Woah, what’s with the hostility, Johnny? We’re all trying to have a good time, right.”

He sighs, but tuts his lips at her. “If she’s staying, none of us are going to have a good time. I want her to fuck off out of my face. That’s all. No fights needed.”

Heorin opens her mouth to respond but you take that as your clue to leave. Really, your evening was ruined the moment he came through the door anyway, it’s not worth being tormented over even more later on. You grab your best friend’s hand, and walk out of the circle.

“Wha- Where are you going?” Heorin stumbles, “you don’t have to go! Don’t listen to Johnny here.”

You shake your head, looking at the floor instead of the gazes of the curious people around you. “We’ll be on our way. Thank you though.” The birthday girl sighs deeply, but waves it off when she sees you’ve made up your mind. You want out of here.

“Let me at least walk you out then.” You and Winwin keep close while Heorin leads you to the door, to keep the warmth between you two. You smile at the host of the party. The pretty girl sighs, and gives you two an apologetic look. “You’re welcome to come next time, really. I just-” She rubs her hand across her forehead, smoothing out the frown wrinkles. “Those guys are normally really fun to be around. Johnny most of all. I don’t know why he’s so rude and annoyed today.”

You shrug, and give her back her red solo cup. “They don’t like Winwin because he keeps me company. They don’t like me because…” You look at the floor and blink slowly. “Well, I’m sure the entire school knows the rumors by now.”

Heorin suddenly puts a hand on your shoulder, making you glance up in shock. “Not all of us believe everything that comes out of another’s mouth. I never believed the rumors in the first place.” With a small smile, you thank her soundlessly, before waving her back inside.

You give her a shy nod. “Go have fun. Thank you for letting us come out tonight.”

“Any time, sweetheart.” She nods, before waving again and closing the door. Winwin doesn’t say anything, though he suddenly pulls you into a tight hug. You blink blankly at the open stretch of road in your view, feeling his breathing on your collarbone. When he pulls back, he gives a tight lipped smile, before tugging you with to walk towards the sidewalk.

The road home would be pretty long. Your arms and belly get goosebumps almost right away, the difference of the night air stark with the inside walm of heat that comes from all people moving and rubbing up against each other. Strange to say that you enjoyed the night, when you don’t like either. You did though, you wish you and Winwin could come out more.

“I’m cold.” You sigh, pulling your top to cover more of your naked shoulders. The haze you felt inside somehow seems multiplied outside, blurring the houses on both sides. The street lights feel really bright, too. You swallow the thick feeling on your tongue, but it stays stuck in your mouth like glue. You might puke. “I’m really cold.” You say again, pouting at no one in particular.

Your taller friend nods, before looking down at your arms. He wraps his hands around yours, and pulls you into the side of his body, tucked safely under his arm. This way his shirt tickles your face, but you won’t complain. Winwin looks down at you after a second of silence, but you’re looking at the dents in the pavement, doing the best you can not to break your ankles on them.

“We can’t go to parties anymore.” His face is void when he says it, voice serious and jaw set.

Your lips curl up at that. There’s something humorous about being told the exact same thing so many times. “You sound like-” a giggle, “Johnny if you say that.” You look up at him, jutting out your bottom lip. Winwin looks down with his big brown orbs, face morphing into a frown. You just frown back, and blow out your cheeks. “You and your alcoholic friend aren’t welcome in the frat,” you mumble, lowering your voice to imitate said man, “take your mess somewhere else, freaks.”

Winwin shakes his head and looks back to the front, unable to help the small grin creeping up. It stays quiet for a while, as he mentally translates his words, and then he speaks up, deep voice sounding more playful than normal. “I hear some of druggies were ‘drugging’ under the bridge, go join them.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, giggling too much. “He definitely didn’t say that.”

“He said it to me.” He nods, pulling you aside a little to avoid a deep crack in the floor.

“No one says drugging~” you smile with a shake of your head, dragging out the word teasingly. “Who said that? Johnny?”

Winwin looks back at you again, before tutting his lips. “No, the other one.”

You smile at that. “The other one? Who? Taeyong?” At Winwin’s confirmation, you laugh again, letting your head fall back into his chest. You close your eyes for a second, listening to the blasting music from down the street, and sigh. You really hate those guys. Like, so much. They have no reason to torture you two as much as they do. You never did them anything.

“Oy!” A rough voice sounds, one that sounds echo-y because of the alcohol in your veins. You look up, seeing someone across the street. Yuta. Another one of the frat brothers. You have never talked to him personally, only seen him hanging around with Taeyong and Yoonoh in class, or sitting together in the grass. Judging by his reaction though, he knows enough about you.

His dark hair parted two sides of his face, with dark smoked out eyeliner, and a wide grin on his face. He’s wearing a black tank top, and a grey jacket on top, with some dark bleached jeans. Of course he’s wearing a tank top. “Are you two fucking each other now?” His voice is too loud, almost shouting the entire street into a bunch.

Sober you would probably say something back, a denial, something, but right now your tongue is clumsy and you don’t feel like interacting with him. Winwin doesn’t say anything. His gaze just stays to the front. “What?! You couldn’t find any desperate middle aged dads to blow on a friday night?” He grins for a second, the look mean on him, and you look away to the floor instead. “Come on~~ It must be easy with your reputation. Like mother, like daughter, right?”

Your throat feels too heavy, alcohol burning in the back. You really don’t want to be sick right now. Yuta doesn’t give up though, even walking back the way he came a bit, just to follow you two across the street. “Right?! Answer me, dumb bitch.” You look at the floor near his feet.

Your answer comes almost immediately. Lucky that you’re not talking to your dad, a big mouth like this would have gotten you nothing but a smack to your cheek right away. “No.” Your tongue sounds double when the words falls from your lips.

“No?” He smirks, though the empty gesture slips of soon, transforming his face into an angry grin. “No? I think yes. I think you’ll end up just the same as your dumb ass whore of a mother. And that mute next to you will sell drugs on street corners like all the stupid cunts who don’t want to learn.” You look at your feet again, just following Winwin in his steps, and pull your lips into a tight line.

Probably noting that you won’t answer again, Yuta shrugs. “Cool.” He chuckles, looking around the street. Suddenly, he throws his empty vodka bottle. You both can’t move out of the way quick enough, so the hard glass smacks into Winwin’s shoulder, before clattering to the floor. “Fuck you guys!” He beams, voice thick. He holds up his two middle fingers when you look back, before walking towards the party with a giggle, and leaving you and Winwin on the side of the street.

Both of you stay frozen in place for a second, feet away from the next street light. It buzzes loudly. You stare out over the grass for a second, tears lining your waterline. When Winwin huffs, you reach up and brush at your eyes harshly. “I’m sorry.” You say, unable to keep your your lip from shaking. You look at his sharp face for a second, that is pulled together in a belated wince.

With a sniffle, you step from under his arm to push the jacket off his shoulder. Winwin protests in Chinese, but you don’t let him pull back. Carefully, you lift his shirt enough to reveal the nasty bruise that’s already forming. Vodka bottles can really make ugly marks, you know from experience. It’s right on his shoulder blade too. It’ll hurt for a while. You pull his shirt back down with a pull of your nose, and pull over the jacket again. This is your fault.

Your voice shakes the more times passes, unable to help it because of the drinks you downed. “I’m sorry.” Winwin pauses for a second, before shaking off the expression. You try to walk on, but he grabs your hand.

“What does it mean? What was he talking about?” Winwin bends down a bit to get into your vision. You don’t answer. Blinking away the tears, you just grab his hand, and pull him on more. You want to get out of this street, get home. “Y/N. What does it mean?” He repeats, trying to get you to stand still. You burst out crying when he pulls your shoulders, turning you to him.

“Nothing, Winwin!” You look at your feet, nose running. “It means nothing! Everything they say, means nothing to you! They are talking about me, talking to me! Don’t- Don’t try to un- understand. Just s-stop!” Your voice breaks at the end of the sentence. “Stop trying to change anything, because it won’t. They won’t stop. Ever!”

With a deep breath, you close your eyes, trying to stop your chest from closing in on itself. It’s not like you to lash out like this, and you immediately feel bad. Winwin is the only person you have. How dare you even speak up to him like this. How dare you. You really are an ungrateful child. Your lips shake. “I- I- I’m- s-s-” Pulls of air interrupt your apology, but Winwin seems to get the jist.

He pulls you into him. Your face pressed into his chest, while you probably wipe your mascara and snot on his clothes, he gently puts a hand on your head. You don’t care about getting his shirt dirty now though, and fist your hands into the fabric, keeping him close. “Come on home.” Winwin nods, and looks down at you for confirmation.

“Yeah,” you sniffle, pulling the back of your hand under your nose, “home, please.”

The walk through the city goes slowly, because you keep twisting your ankles. It doesn’t hurt a lot, but doesn’t show of much sobering up. You’re glad Winwin didn’t drink a lot. The more you walk on, the more of the alcohol seems to filter through, in fact. By the last stretch, your body is slumped into Winwin’s almost completely, and he has one arm under yours, the other around your stomach.

You don’t know if he doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t have the vocabulary to do so, or if he just doesn’t want to speak, but at least he is helping you. You swallow thickly, and stare as he puts his hand in your back pocket to get out your keys. “Hey! Tha’s not for you, Winko.” You smile, grinning as he rolls his eyes at you.

He searches around for a second, while you rest your arms around his waist. Winwin pulls back empty handed though, frowning. “Where are your keys?”

“Keys?” You mumble, looking around with unfocused eyes. Didn’t you take it? “I don’t know. I didn’t have them earlier.”

Winwin pauses, and turns you around to check all your pockets. Nothing. He sighs, before frowning in thought. “Do you have spare keys at my place?”

You blink up at him, while sinking down against the hall, and tutt your lips. “Yeah, I think so. I think I left ‘em last time, right?”

Winwin nods. “Okay. Come, we need to get them.”

You shake your head though, jamming your fingers into your shoe. “No.” You pout, and try to pull of the thing, though it doesn’t really work. “My feet hurt,” you mumble, voice trembling sadly, “I don’t wanna walk anymore.” When you give him another sad look, Winwin just blinks for a second. He’s clearly torn.

But taking you with would have it take twice as long, and you don’t want to move anymore. He runs a hand through his hair, and nods. “Stay here.” You nod limply, but Winwin bends down in front of you. “Really. Don’t move.” You just nod again, and let your head cock back against the wall. Not that you’d have anywhere else to go. “I’ll be back soon.” He nods, and takes off his jacket to drape it over your exposed legs.

Then he’s off, with quick footsteps. The walk to his dorm is quite a while, but at least he doesn’t have to drag you around. You frown, and let your eyes flutter closed. Your worry spikes up when you hear the door downstairs open and fall back shut though, indicating he’s really gone. What if he runs into the Oasis dudes again. You let your head fall to your shoulder, and think back at Johnny, earlier.

He’d really like for you do disappear. You would like that too. Time ticks by slowly, and after a good five minutes your eyes flutter closed.“I’m tired.” You whine into the air, opening your heavy eyes again. “I wanna go… i’side.” You frown, and jam your clumsy fingers in your pockets again. The key is really gone. You sigh, and look up at the door you are sat next. Your vision sways a little because of the brisk movement. When you focus though, you see the flower pot at the end of the hall, and a light goes on.

You hid some extra keys behind there, for safety. You huff and drop the jacket next to you, pushing yourself up from the floor and keeping yourself from toppling over by holding onto the wall. You lift the flowerpot, and smile at the single key that lays on the floor. You quickly pick it up, and rush over to the door, looking around the hall proudly. Winwin would be proud of you. You pick up the jacket and push in the key door, letting your weight lean into the door while unlocking it.

With heavy steps you enter the tiny apartment, stumbling against the wall for a second, and close the door behind you. Winwin is going to run all the way back for nothing now, but he’s probably already halfway home, so it’s no use trying to call him back. You huff and try to kick off one of your shoes, failing a few times at first. Sitting down in defeat, you pry your fingers into the boots to pull them off. Why are these shoes so difficult?! When you look around, you notice that the apartment is uncomfortably warm. You should have left the window open a little. You’re too hot right away, your skin feels sticky in this top.

With fluttering eyes, you push yourself up from the floor after kicking your shoes off, and turn on the button to the speakers that sit next to the door. Some soft background music fills the room. You run a hand through your hair to brush it out of your face, and frown at the mess on the floor. It’s not the first time Winwin has been here though, so you don’t care too much. He knows that you’re a disaster. You toss his jacket on the old couch, and slump against the wall for a second. Your head is really spinning badly now.

You’re still thirsty, mouth sticky from the last drink you smoothly tossed down. Maybe drinking something will help your head from buzzing. You walk over to the fridge, and take out a bottle, quickly taking one of the many spoons on the counter, and crack open the drink. That’s one thing you’re good at, at least. You take two quick gulps, but the drink feels painful and raspy in the back of your throat. You don’t want this. With a frown, you put it on the counter. Maybe Winwin would want it later.

Your feet drag when you walk over to the window, and lean your forehead against it quickly. The coolness of the glass feels immediately better, bringing your headache down a bit. At least, that’s the plan. You feel really drunk, more than most days. Yet your head is heavy, while your body feels joyful. Standing with your head down, makes your stomach twist though. When you close you eyes, images of Taeyong and Yuta come to mind, their hands on your neck and hips, and Johnny towering over you. You pause.

You never did them anything. Never bothered them, yet still they torture you and your friend. Maybe it’ll be your legacy for the rest of your life, being the fucked up daughter of two alcoholics. You probably deserve all the shit they give you. Tears prick at your eyes, and you wipe them angrily. Why are you crying this time?! You shouldn’t cry, you don’t have anything to cry about. Johnny’s voice rings through your ears.

Whore. Dumb bitch. Freak.

You loll your head, letting it cock back away from the window, and let your gaze travel the room. On the counter that cuts up the kitchen and living room, there’s a pack of beers. You’re drunk, but clearly not drunk enough, if you can still remember those guys’ faces. You walk over to the lowered wall and pull the pack against you, trying very hard not to drop them. Clumsily, you let the pack rest on your lifted thigh, and pull out a can after some trying, cracking it open and downing it too quickly. It’s bitter. You don’t mind.

Again you look around, realizing again you’re really too hot. Your first thought is ice, but instead of looking for it in the freezer, you walk over to the bathroom, and flick on the light. You try to pull your sweater over your head a couple of times, but it doesn’t work. So instead, you walk over to the shower, and turn it on cold. It rains down into the white bathtub.

You hold out your hand to feel the water drip through your fingers. It’s is freezing, and it cools you down. Good. You dunk your head in first, getting your hair all wet, and next your entire body follows, when you lift your legs to clumsily tumble into the tub. The cold shower feels good. Another drink is opened, and downed. Your head hurts, just like your chest. After a while, you look around, and see that your socks are getting drenched too. The bathtub is filling up. You slide down into it, letting the cold drops hit your face.

With your empty hand, you twist open the tap too, making the bath fill up slowly. Maybe you’ll disappear finally, if you let it fill up high enough. You toss the empty can to the floor and reach for another. Someone would tell you to stop if you weren’t alone, but you don’t care. You want more to drink. A long while passes, just resting in the cold water, before it starts reaching your neck.

You look over at the tap, and at the mess you’ve made. There’s two cans left from the pack of eight, one of which you grab for again. The tap stays on, water pouring into the bathtub, while the shower head drums drops on your face. You lift the beer to your lips again, not caring if half of it spills into the bathwater. It’s only when rushed feet sound from the hall, that you pause.

The water now reaches your cheeks, and you have to tilt your head to breathe. A shout sounds from somewhere, but it sounds too distant, your face is dunked under the water. “Y/N!” It sounds again, more clear now. A person comes into the bathroom right as you close your mouth and eyes from the raising water, and let the water swallow you. His hands are on you before you can realize, and are pulling your head up. Your vision sways along with the movement.

Winwin falls to his knees, wrapping his arm around your back, and pulls you out of the water so that your top half is resting against him. The showerhead rains down on him too, but he doesn’t seem to care. He doesn’t lessen his hold on you as he looks around. His eyes slide over the dirty floor, the crumpled drinks, and back to the water where you’re laying in. He swears something in Chinese, before reaching his hand into the water. His hand searches around, pushing your thighs apart to pull the plug from the bath.

The water gurgles as it drowns out of the bathtub quickly. Winwin breathes deeply as he puts you down to turn off both taps, and then falls back on his butt. You should say something, but instead you just start laughing softly, looking at him over the edge of the bath. “I’m done, Winwin. D’chu ... d’chu know what that means? I give up ... I really want everything to stop now.”

Your tongue doesn’t want to work with you, causing your words to come out messily. You rest your head against the cold stone as your fingers shake. You hadn’t noticed that you were too cold, until just now. “I want a drink.” You sigh, pushing your limp body up from the slippery bathtub as not-drunk as you can, and hold on desperately to the edge, only to trip while trying to get out and tumbling on the floor. “Aw.” You pout. Add another bruise to your skin.

Winwin frowns, and moves over to help you up. “You are cold. Where are the towels?” He asks, brushing your wet hair out of your face.

You take a deep breath, and cock your head in the direction. “In the closet of my parents’ room.” Winwin helps you up and nods, letting go of you when you stand stable to go look for a towel. You follow behind a bit, pausing in the kitchen against the counter. There’s an opened bottle standing at the corner, that you vaguely remember opening. Most of what happened about a half hour ago seems to blur out though.

You pick it up and press the cold glass against your lips, tossing back your head. You’re sloppy, messy, but in a way that seems strangely amusing, and when some of the drink slips down your face and neck instead of down your throat, you giggle. You can’t help it, it’s so funny. And it tickles.

Winwin comes around the corner with a towel in hand, only to stop halfway through the door when he sees you giggling to yourself in the middle of the room. He frowns, sighing deeply. You notice that he looks upset, so your smile slips off quickly. If something upset him, you don’t want to be the reason.

You lift your nose again, messily tilting back the bottle again, and feeling the cold drink slip down your throat, leaving a bitter taste on your lips. You don’t feel that drunk anymore, but your body seems desperate to prove otherwise. Winwin moves from his spot, and grabs your wrist to pull the bottle away from you. “Stop.” He mumbles, eyes flicking over your face in muted worry.

You pout up at him. His hand is warm on your skin, holding it in the air, away from you, like you’re trying to hurt the bottle. If anyone is hurting anyone, it’s the bottle you, not the other way around. When he doesn’t move, you breathe, focussing on his face for a second.

His hair falls in wet tresses over his face, covering his forehead and brows, a drop of water dangling from the single strand that falls into his eyes. You focus on his eyes, big and wide and beautifully slanted just that little bit, with long lashes that spread out over his cheeks. The same lashes that blink down at you dumbly. He’s so pretty. He really is.

A strange urge comes over you. One where you want nothing more than to hold him in your arms, and tell him how pretty he is. You pull your hand away, trying to put the bottle away, but Winwin doesn’t let you. He still has that worried look on his face, not wanting to let go of your wrist. You frown, and pull back again. “No.” He says, voice stronger than before, shaking his head in denial.

You know why he doesn’t want to let go, but it stings. Does he have that little trust in you? Of course he does, how could he not. You mess up all of the time, it’s only logical for him to anticipate and stop you before you do. You look away from him, looking instead at the obnoxious patterned carpet on the floor. You hate that carpet, the stains on it. You want to pick it up and throw it out, but your dad wouldn’t like that. “I won’t drink more.” You whisper, eyes not moving from the stitches making up the patterns.

You’re lying. You will drink more, maybe just not now.

Your friend breathes deeply for a second, before clasping his big hand around your smaller one, holding onto the brown bottle more steadily than you are. When he feels your grip slipping, he takes the bottle out of your hands all together. “No more.” He repeats, putting the drink on the counter, safely out of your reach. You watch his movements, getting a little dizzy when he moves around the small kitchen too fast to jank open the cabinets that you are too short to reach comfortably.

He takes out a glass, while you take a step to the side to lean against the fridge. With a small glance back at your movement, he fills the glass with tap water, and walks back over to you. “Drink all of that.” He says, tilting his head back in a motion that shows you how. It’s so sweet, you start laughing. Winwin seems confused at your sudden laughter burst, but doesn’t say anything. You don’t want water right now though.

“I don’t want water, Winko.” You mumble, pouting like a child. Winwin won’t give up though, pressing the glass into your hands. At the motion, you take a step back, staring blankly at the crystal in your hands. Your eyes get tired looking down like this, so you look up at the kitchen cabinets instead. You don’t want water, you don’t want the pleasant buzz in your head to die down. Really, you want it stronger.

You want it filling you up to the edge, until you can’t feel anything anymore and you end up passed out without having to cry before sleeping. You want the buzz to overtake everything. Who is Winwin to stop you? “I don’t want water.” You say, suddenly sad. Winwin, your own best friend, doesn’t even want you to be happy. You just want to be happy.

Tears well up in your eyes, ones that roll down your cheeks when you close your eyes to get away from his burning gaze. You hear a sharp intake of air, before his footsteps sound, coming closer. Your eyes flutter open again when you feel his warm hands on your arms. Winwin looks up with huge eyes, confused beyond knowledge, crouched down in front of you to watch your face. “Wh- You’re crying?” He just questions, reaching up to brush the tracks away.

Your lip wobbles, but you don’t respond. You’re pathetic. Winwin must think you’re pathetic. Instead of leaning into his comfort, you walk around him and back to the counter. You put the glass down next to the bottle, looking at it sadly. For a moment, your fingers twitch to glide around the brown glass, but you hold yourself. You want something stronger. When you turn around, you smile at your friend.

“You’ll like this, Winko.” You walk over to one of the farthest cabinets, and pull it open, bending down on your knees to rest them on the tiles. With some clumsy fidgeting, you grab hold of one of the unopened bottles of vodka, and get back up. You leaned forward more than you expect though, and smack your head into the frame. “Ow.” With a giggle, you back up more, and sit down on your butt.

You crack open the bottle way easier than you should, in your drunk state, and down a few good gulps before Winwin has scrambled up and is back over your hands. “No, no, no more. Really.” You don’t let him though, pushing him away with your shoulder. “Give it.” He grunts, reaching his obviously longer arms around you to grab at the bottle. You hold it away, spilling everywhere as you lie down on the floor, holding it as far away from his as possible.

Winwin’s one arm is squeezed under your back, the other reaching for the bottle, which means that his body lies on top of yours, his breathing heavy. When you realize how close his face is to yours, you still, suddenly not that courageous anymore. Winwin looks pissed. He is still so pretty though. You let him grab the bottle from your hand and put it aside, let him push himself up from the dirty floor to sit on his legs. His one arm is still stuck around you, so you quickly lift your back from the floor to release him, scared of angering him.

It says quiet between you two for a whole while, your back awkwardly lifted from the floor so he can move his hand, but the entire moment of silence, he just looks. From your eyes, to your neck, your hands that are littered with bruises, and then at the bottle. He sighs. Suddenly, you feel the hand wrap around your waist, to pull you up.

Winwin doesn’t say anything, he just takes a breath, and pulls you closer. This way you’re sat in between his thighs, as his hands rub up and down your arms softly. He doesn’t look at you as he warms you up, not that you need it because you’re burning from the alcohol swimming in your belly and spreading over your chest. You don’t find the strength to look away from him though. So you don’t.

“Winwin?” You whisper, only now catching his eyes as he looks up in surprise at the added closeness. You gently lift your hands to his face, resting them on both sides of his face. You don’t know what you’re doing, but it feels nice. He feels nice, under your fingertips. You take a sharp breath. God, you’re so fucked. The only sound in the room for a moment is the blurred background noise from the music from the speakers. Then you lift your hands to brush over his cheekbones. His brows. The soft slope of his nose, bottom lip and jawline, and then his lips again. All the while, Winwin doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything.

When every dent and curve has been followed, you drop your hands in your lap, and rest your forehead on his shoulder. “Do you hate me, Win?” He doesn’t respond. You don’t expect an answer, you’ve already made one up for yourself. He hates you, and you hate yourself. One day he’ll get fed up, and leave you. And you’ll kick and scream, but when they leave, they don’t come back. People don’t stick around for messes like yourself. You’ve brought yourself here.

He’ll leave.

“Are you tired?” He asks, pulling back to look at you, face close to yours again. You just rub your eyes a second, before shaking your head. “No?”

“Not yet.” You mouth, running your hands through your wet hair to push it away your face. You scoot back a little, and push yourself up from the floor. Winwin’s eyes don’t leave your shape as you walk past the kitchen to turn around the living room. You pout a little, and look over your shoulder to catch eyes with your best friend. He pushes up from the floor slowly as well, right when you open your arms. “Dance with me.” You beg, cocking your head to the side cutely.

Winwin frowns a little skeptically, but comes to a halt in front of you like asked. He’s even taller than normal, because you’re on socks and he on shoes. You smile a little at Winwin’s confused expression, and come to stand between his feet, wrapping your arms around his chest. You’re normally nowhere near this cuddly, but you’re drunk and hazy and in awe of how much you care about your best friend. “I never got to dance with anyone I care about.” You whisper, breathing softly into his shirt, and lean into him more.

Winwin hesitates for a second, but then brings up his hand to brush your hair carefully, the other wrapping back around you and holding you close. You two sway back and forward softly to the music that comes from the bathroom. You have no clue how long you stand like that, pressed safely into his hold, listening to his heartbeat.

After a while, you sigh. “Win.” Your friend doesn’t respond, only hold you tighter and keeps swaying. With a little shove, you start giggling against his clothes, unable to break away. “Winwin.” You call again, cocking your head back. “Let go, I need to pee.”

Winwin blinks blankly and lets you step out of his arms, and over to the bathroom. After washing your hands, you also brush some water over your cheeks, which are a bright red against your paler than usual skin. You sigh at your reflection. Your mascara is smudged, the skin under your eyes purple and irritated, your clothes still pretty drenched and your blonde hair like a mop on top of your head. You would regret all of this in the morning, if you can even remember any of it. You brush your hands underneath your eyes quickly to get rid of most of the mess.

When you walk out of the bathroom, Winwin is just taking off his shoes, sat in the big couch and almost disappearing in it. He looks up with his big eyes when he spots you, taking you in too intently like usual, and then smiles. You smile back. He pushes himself up from the floor and walks over to you to back hug your smaller body, taking both hands to interlace your fingers with his. “Lets get you sleep.” He mumbles into your hair.

You don’t respond and let him lead you about the place, like he owns it. Though he’s been here many times, you doubt he’s ever seen it quite this way, this messy. And you as the biggest mess of all right in the middle of it. Your friend deposits you in front of the bed, helping you under the blankets. When he tries to walk out though, you’ve already pulled him down with you, determined to keep him close.

Winwin seems like he wants to protest, but eventually gives in, and with that comes to lay close to you, so that you can be tucked under his chin and bury your face into him. Winwin lets out a deep sigh when melting into the hold. “I’m sorry about the vodka bottle,” you suddenly say, remembering Yuta as you brush your fingertips over his clothed shoulder blade very carefully, “and about the bruise.”

“I’m happy you didn’t get hurt.”

You fall asleep soon after Winwin’s closing sentence, dreaming solidly for once of something happy. You can’t get hurt when you’re already broken, but for tonight you’ll believe that you’re healing.

<< 6 months later >>

You brush your hair behind your ear and smile, giggling softly as Winwin bumps into your side and motions you over to the table mid in front of the windows. The tall young man smiles back, and looks down at you. “It’s weird to be back for another year after three months of doing nothing. I missed it, weirdly enough. I missed you.”

You frown at that, and laugh, while plopping down on the bench and tossing your backpack next to you. “Winko, you saw me legit every day of those three months. Without fail.”

“Yeah,” he nods, settling into the seat opposite you and taking out his lunch, “but you’re a lot less annoying in public.” Your jaw drops open at that, and you kick his shin softly under the table. Winwin winces but when you try to pull back, he catches your foot between his legs and doesn’t let go, smile pulling at his cheeks.

School has been up and running for a good two weeks now, but the cafeteria has been closed under renovations, so now everything finally feels normal again. Well.

“Yo~” A voice calls, as you look back and grin, catching the two approaching figures while other people fill in around the room. A brown haired boy with gold rimmed glasses on his nose and a slightly shorter figure walking next to him with fiery red hair come to join you at the table. Mark and Donghyuck. Both first years smile brightly. Mark settles next to you, the redhead making Winwin slide over instead. Winwin lets go of your foot with a frown but does so, while Hyuck smiles proudly. The boy knows how much power he holds with his adorable face.

Mark takes the word, smiley as always. “I’m so done with school already, and we’ve barely just started.”

You giggle at that. “Mark Lee. You are one of the smartest people on this campus. I’m not letting you fail any classes, you hear? Besides, you’ve been in class for two weeks.”

Donghyuck smiles too. “Yes, mom. We’ll do our very best.”

“I know that you will, Hyuckie.” You wink, returning quickly to your food, because you’re starving. “But don’t call me mom, you punk. I will not stand for this slander.”

“Why do I have a feeling that Hyuck could call you every bad word in the book and he’d still get away with it?” A bubbly voice calls then, from beside the table, and you look over. Doyoung is walking with his backpack in one hand, two books in the other, and balances a tray on top of that all. He comes to take a seat next to Mark.

You smile at that, looking between both boys twice. “I’m not saying that he could, but that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Donghyuck giggles at that, and reaches over the table to grab a candy from Doyoung’s tray, who fusses loudly. “Hey, hey- That’s mine, you little-” Mark clasps his hand over the older’s mouth, and smiles a little guiltily.

It’s strange that you get along with Doyoung now, definitely since he’s the one who basically started everything that ruined your days all throughout first year. Somehow though, he left the frat towards the end of the year, and apologised to you. He was ‘childish and insecure’, his words, and rather made someone else feel horrible than feeling it yourself. You forgave him quite quickly, even though he didn’t ask for it. Now, he’s someone who you’ve spend the last month and a half with any time you’re not spending it with Winwin or Markhyuck.

You quickly stuff some more food into your mouth, and look up to catch eyes with the purple haired man across the table. Winwin’s hair is a darker purple now, more blue than when you first met him, already more than a year ago. You grin when he looks up, eyes narrowing. “Winwin~” You beam.

He swallows his piece of mango, and hums in response. “What’s up?”

You smile, unable to help it when a wide grin pulls on your cheeks. “I love you.” Winwin’s eyes widen, though a shy smile comes on his lips. The three others around the table start loudly groaning though.

“Ayy, don’t be like that~” Donghyuck whines, putting on a face of disgust and stuffing some food in his mouth.

Doyoung just sighs, while Mark looks between you two and squeezes the air in cringe. “Oi, oi, oi~ That’s not okay.”

Right at that moment, another person comes to join the table. Kun looks around a little confused. “What did I miss?” Kun is another exchange student, who transferred just last month.

“Winwin and Y/N are being greasy.” Hyuck sighs, crossing his hands over his chest. You can’t help but laugh brightly at that.

“I can’t help that you like me so much, Hyuckie.” You smile at your younger friend, and then reach over the table to take your boyfriend’s hand, squeezing it softly. “But Winwin owns my heart, and I have to express that every now and then.” There’s a soft glint in his dark eyes when you say that.

You pull back after another squeeze, and take a mochi to stuff it in your face. Mark hums softly, and pokes a hole in his Caprisun. “It’s weird to think you guys are dating, to be honest. You are never close like that, like others are.”

Winwin’s mouth twitches, and you have to hold your laugh at that too. You don’t know what he’s imagining, but have a clue. He giggles softly, shoulders shaking, but takes a deep breath. “We just don’t twirl around each other when you guys are around.”

“Yeah,” Doyoung takes some of your mochi’s too, “otherwise Donghyuckie’s little heart would be crushed with one kiss.”

The redhead glares at the older, and tosses something at his head. “Will you stop that?! I never said I liked Y/N, you guys are just being bullies!”

Doyoung looks almost offended at that. “You did!”

Mark nods, pointing a chopstick at his younger friend as well. “Right. First second we step foot inside school, and I quote: ‘Wow- this is so cool and big and- Oh my God, look- at- her. Let’s follow her. Mark- Mark please.’”

Hyuck’s cheeks burn bright when everyone giggles at Mark’s accurate copy. “Whatever.”

Right when Doyoung wants to dig in again, his eyes flick to the side, and he sighs. “Oh no.” You look over your shoulder, looking at a familiar dark haired man walking in your direction. He’s not dressed dark like how you remember him to for the last year of your life, which is still a little strange.

He’s about to walk past to get to a table a bit further along, but comes to a sudden halt in front of your table when he spots you. Johnny, hair now a softer brown color than his usual raven, nods with a clenched jaw. “Hey, Doyoung.”

The younger nods with a little smile. “Johnny.” That’s all he says though, before looking back at his food.

The tallest seems torn between his body which is ready to leave, and his mind. He looks down at you for a second, before looking at his feet. “Hello, Y/N.” You nod, and give him a small smile as well, before he walks away to his friends along the wall, a tiny girl jumping up around his neck and pulling him into a kiss quickly.

You breathe out deeply, and look around the table. Maybe one day you can forgive him for what has happened. For now though, you’re happy to just distract yourself by losing yourself into the people who surround you. You smile at Winwin when he catches your eyes, and wink.

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illustratedtapes · 5 years

Photo

Welcome to Illustrated Tape’s favourite releases of 2018 that sounded and looked good, chosen by this year’s contributors. We’ve put together a playlist featuring one track from each of the releases featured so you can check out the sounds we were digging this year. Happy listening!

➔ spoti.fi/2LCgrQp Listening in order recommended

Delta Sleep - Ghost City Big Scary Monsters, 10 August Artwork: Owen Findley at Or8 Design Selected by Megan Reddi // IT014

This is my favourite music/artwork combo of 2018! The whole album is just amazing - it is beautifully arranged and has this lovely dreamy quality to it, with repeated musical motifs woven throughout to really pull the whole album together. Not only is Ghost City musically fantastic, but the artwork is beautiful and so fitting for the album. It is designed and screen printed by Owen Findley and the warm colours, imagery and textures are just spot on.

Definitely my favourite release of 2018. It is my go-to driving album and I will be blasting it while we’re driving around this Christmas!

➔ Listen to Illustrated Tapes 014: Nautical Dusk by Megan Reddi

Okay Kaya - Both Heavy Body, 1 June Artwork/design: Kaya Wilkins, Aaron Maine, Phillip Wong

Selected by Hannah Buckman // IT016

Okay Kaya’s Both as an album that came out this year which I enjoyed, and which I feel has a strong visual component to it. To me the album feels sickly (in a good way), gloomy but still pop. I think the mood is conveyed really well through the Adinah Dancyger directed music vids and the album art.

I liked finding out more about Kaya’s thinking behind the project, like how the twin in the videos is like a physical manifestation of trauma... it’s something that once I read I couldn’t stop thinking about. The idea of something traumatic inducing this birth of a second self, a kind of split off part that is still attached in some way to the whole, but there being a kind of safety in acknowledging what might be a darker part of yourself, from a distance. Also the album art kind of conveys the idea of duality and how that relates to race/sexuality, but I didn’t feel like that was really explored as much. I think I like this album ‘cos it kind of ties in with things (mentioned above) I’m currently interested in, but maybe it feels a bit surface-y at times.

➔ Listen to Illustrated Tapes 016: Protect Your Extremities by Hannah Buckman

Quavo - Quavo Huncho Capitol / Mowtown / Quality Control, 12 October Artwork: Mihailo Andic

Selected by Conner Perry // IT020

I think my favourite music/design combo of this year has to be Quavo’s Quavo Huncho. Not only is it full of bangers, the cover by Mihailo Andic is just brilliant. It really sets itself apart from the Migo’s visuals and changes the way you listen to the record. Definitely check out the rest of his work, especially the stuff for Lil’ Yachty.

➔ Listen to Illustrated Tapes 020: Nice one bruva by Conner Perry

Parquet Courts - Wide Awake! Rough Trade, 18 May Artwork: A. Savage

Selected by Holly St Clair // IT021

I was really late to the Parquet Courts party, but actually both of my initial encounters with their two recent releases have been solid arguments for the importance of decent album artwork. For both Wide Awake! and Human Performance I ran into - literally - the artwork before the music. Twice, two years apart, whilst wandering around London I turned a corner and came face to face with Adam Savage’s superb cover work. He smacked me in the face with poppy colours and amorphous dancing forms and I loved every moment. Add in an anarchic use of type and you’ve got me shouting, “Oh shit! A new Parquet Courts album!” to no one in particular outside an old meat market in Shoreditch.

A. Savage is both front man and painter and that adds a special flavour to the whole affair. Album marketing can be a laboured, commercially driven affair, there’s something authentic - a little DIY flavour - about this relationship between artwork and music. It’s a nice parallel to the musical throwbacks typical of the bands style. Wide Awake! dropped earlier this year and it’s fab. (Although, I love the artwork so much even if it was god awful I’d still buy the record and hang it on my wall.)

➔ Listen to Illustrated Tapes 021: To: You, Love: Me by Holly St Clair

D.A.L.I - When Haro Met Sally Burning Witches, 23 May Artwork: Luke Insect

Selected by Thomas Hedger // IT017

According to my recently played, I’ve been stuck on a pre-'90s loop. I've crept slowly into 2018's releases picking out albums like books - by their covers - and it really paid off! I don’t often delve into electronic but I love this album, it’s a perfect blend of hopping on your bike and hitting the tracks, nailing the look of how the album feels in all its haze. A solid sunny day good time.

➔ Listen to Illustrated Tapes 017: Sink by Thomas Hedger

Young Fathers - Cocoa Sugar Ninja Tune, 9 March Artwork: Tom Hingston

Selected by Katie Chandler // IT003

This cover was immediately striking and memorable to me. Upon listening to the album, I found that the artwork resonated with this feeling of odd, unrestricted expression. It's a little unsettling, ultimately bold and intriguing. Much like the music, it feels hot and cool all at once, like a burst of energy that leaves you in a sweat. It's the exhilarating soundtrack to your runner's high, and you're not really sure why you're running or what you're running from.

➔ Listen to Illustrated Tapes 003: Porch Light by Katie Chandler

Gesu no Kiwami Otome (ゲスの極み乙女。) - Suki Nara Towanai (好きなら問わない) Taco Records, 29 August Selected by Greg Stasiw // IT009

Although it’s not the ambient and electronic fare I usually enjoy, Suki Nara Towanai (好きなら問わない) by Gesu no Kiwami Otome. (ゲスの極み乙女。) is a hoot. The artwork features a stylized neon pachinko machine. Or maybe it’s a console in a rad indie pop spaceship, which would also make sense for this funky fresh group! It feels somehow familiar, somehow alien, and altogether really, really cool.

The neon suggests something retro, and there are some retro leanings in their funkier tracks, but it's definitely neon as seen in 2018. Modern pop (and J-Pop) tropes emerge, but infectious basslines, tight drumming, and smart keys make this album something special. Some math rock even surfaces at times, and the remix included proves that this group goes for whatever feels fresh. One look at the artwork reminds me that this is one of the funnest albums I've listened to in a while. “Funnest” is definitely a word when you’re talking about this band!

➔ Listen to Illustrated Tapes 009: Atmospheres by Greg Stasiw

Aphex Twin - Collapse EP Warp, 14 September Artwork: Weirdcore

Selected by Alex Vissaridis // IT002

2018 was a great year if you grew up listening to the music I was into. Some of my all-time favourite artists released new stuff this year, and they didn’t disappoint. The artwork was pretty excellent too, but nothing grabbed my attention like the world created around Aphex Twin’s Collapse EP. Album art doesn’t seem to mean as much as it once did, so it’s always exciting when it appears outside of the little square on your screen in unexpected ways.

This year, Aphex Twin logos appeared all over the world, from Elephant & Castle tube station to the side of a record store in Tokyo, designed in a way that made it look like the logo was collapsing into the environment around it. I’m a sucker for stuff like this; random cryptic messages that send internet detectives into a frenzy. It was eventually announced as marketing for the Collapse EP, but they kept the ‘collapsing logo’ visual going on the EP artwork, in the music video for the track ‘T69 collapse’, and even through to projection-mapped videos around London (again announced in typical smoke-and-mirrors fashion) and a collaboration with Crack magazine. Way more than just a collection of pixels.

➔ Listen to Illustrated Tapes 002: Tape Fuzz by Alex Vissaridis

Flohio - Wild Yout EP Alpha, 2 November Selected by Rachel Maughan // IT012

I got into Flohio after I saw her on COLORS in January with 'Band'. She's fucking explosive on that track, you can feel her spitting straight into your chest. She's been savvy with her producers and killed her work with God Colony - 'SE16' was my most played track of the year. Her 2018 EP, Wild Yout is a cocktail of perfection.

Mashing up genres it's a high energy listen with punchy, grimey hip-hop that is uniquely South London. The artwork is beautiful simplicity - her achingly slick androgynous aesthetic, the clean photographic composition, with a flowing chain to bring it tightly back to SE. Gorgeous.

➔ Listen to Illustrated Tapes 012: High Rise by Rachel Maughan

Sudan Archives - Sink EP Stones Throw, 25 May Photography: Jack McKain Design: Jeff Jank

Selected By Tom J Newell // IT004

Sink submerges the listener in flowing loops and beats, with splashes of violin and vocals floating above the sunken monolith, which stands tall on the deep blue cover art. The composition is reminiscent of two of Jank’s other iconic Stones Throw sleeves, Donuts and Madvillainy and continues his striking yet varied art direction for the label.

Check out the ‘Nont For Sale’ video from the EP too, which adds powerful choreography and styling to create another successful visual accompaniment to the music. Much love to Sudan Archives and hats off to Jeff Jank. I painted a tribute to the cover art on a 12x12” piece of wood.

➔ Listen to Illustrated Tapes 004: FEAR. by Tom J Newell

Drinks - Hippo Lite Drag City, 20 April Selected by Molly Fairhurst // IT015

Hazy, dazed, an album I hold dearly to 2018 (and many strangely lit walks in a then new, unknown city).

A collaboration between Cate Le Bon and White Fence’s Tim Presley, the pair took an (isolated) retreat to St Hippolyte-Du-Fort in the south of France to record, frankly, crudely, seemingly, whatever the fuck they wanted to. Hippo Lite is born, a joyful, playful, sometimes quiet, sometimes screaming object.

What senses like an eavesdrop through closed doors rightly has a cover that can’t be quite understood- a narrow column of, at the glance of the reader, ‘nonsense’ notes, which flank photos of Le Bon and Presley. Both are snapshots of an absurd holiday we have been invited along to, so long as we sit across the table. A tender and private piece.

➔ Listen to Illustrated Tapes 015: The Wilder Woman by Molly Fairhurst

Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs - King of Cowards Rocket, 28 September Artwork: Sophy Hollington

Selected by Drew Milward // IT010

First off, this album is wall to wall, solid gold bangers. Kind of like the lovechild of The Fall and Black Sabbath, who has been cautioned by the police for possession of a massive bag of skunk, a bong in the shape of a skull and a copy of ‘The Holy Mountain’ on DVD.

Aside from the fact it’s a full on riff-o-rama, the artwork by Sophy Hollington is absolutely incredible. It summons up the sound of the band, via folk horror infused wildness. It really captures the sonic landscape of the album, yet completely avoids any of the cliched imagery that could so easily have taken its place. It really is the whole package.

➔ Listen to Illustrated Tapes 010: BE GONE, YOU CREATIVE GREMLINS! by Drew Milward

Djrum - Portrait With Firewood R&S, 17 August Artwork: Michael Mitsas

Selected by Sam Ailey // IT001

Portrait With Firewood is one of those rare gems within the electronic genre - a true ‘album’. With holistic production, emotional range, and a captivating narrative, this really is a stunning listening experience from start to finish. Felix Manuel combines electronic and acoustic sounds seamlessly on this intimate record, with exceptional attention to detail in his sampling and tender piano sections played by Felix himself.

Michael Mistas’s cover art is a real departure from the typical design aesthetic of electronic albums and caught my attention straight away. I love its composition and rough, imperfect execution. To me these feels reflective of the range and depth of emotional states explored across the album, and the feeling that some things are easier to express through your craft than with words. Plus I’m a sucker for pink things.

➔ Listen to Illustrated Tapes 001: Quiet by Sam Ailey

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onyx-archer · 6 years

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Thoughts on Mean Girls: The Musical

So I figured, since it’s been a little over a week since the Mean Girls cast recording has dropped, that I’d give it a quick “review” or whatever. It’s gonna be a little long, so I’m gonna put everything under the cut. The short answer is that while I didn’t hate it, I’m still disappointed. If you want to see more of my thoughts, you gotta click the “Keep Reading” button. Just note: it’s a very “stream of consciousness” kind of read, and less of a proper “review.”

Some context: Like many others, Mean Girls is a movie I’ve seen quite a few times, and I still very much love for it’s sense of humor, among other things. It’s a movie I’ve probably seen several dozen times at this point due to various factors. So when I heard they were making a musical version of it, I was ecstatic. I waited with bated breath for the day the cast recording was gonna drop, because I wanted to see if the musical could live up to the movie.

I’m gonna be honest: I’m disappointed in the final product. I don’t hate it or anything, but I’m certainly let down by it. Keep in mind, I have a feeling that it’d be better if I could see the whole show, but at the end of the day, since we don’t have legal access to a full stage recording, this cast recording is all I can use as the basis for my opinion, lest I want to shell out hundreds of dollars to go see the show on Broadway, which ain’t happening.

The Musical starts with the excellent, if criminally short “A Cautionary Tale,” and let me tell you, this is a great song. The voice of Janis, played by the lovely Barrett Wilbert Weed of “Heathers: The Musical” fame, is a strong way to start, at least for me. I love her voice, and have listened to “Heathers: The Musical” at least a hundred times through just for her voice alone. Grey Hanson’s portrayal of Damien also serves well as a companion to Barrett’s Janis, and it works for the song. Like I said though I feel like the song could have been longer, but hey, Janis and Damien aren’t the main characters, so it’s understandable why it’s short.

And then “It Roars” starts, and what interest I had begins to wain. It marks the start of my biggest problem with the musical: Cady’s songs kind of fall flat. I consider this one to be the worst offender though, as it’s effectively the “real” opening number. I’m of the mind that the song that introduces the main character, as well as the song that marks the start of the actual story, should contain some kind of hook via the chorus. This song doesn’t really have that for me. It lacks a moment like “Life can be beautiful~♫” or an “Oh my god, ohmigod you guys!~♫” I do get a feel for how the musical is going to portray Cady, but I think I’d be a little lost on it had I not been so familiar with the movie.

Before I get into the next song, I want to address the fact that my problem with the song is not, I repeat, NOT, a result of Erika Henningsen’s performance. She does a good job. Had the songs she is the focal point of not felt so basic and by the numbers, I think a good chunk of the musical could have been way better than it is.

Moving onto “Where Do You Belong?” I find myself thinking “why is this song a thing?” every time I listen to it. It’s not the say that Grey Hanson is not a good singer, but the song he’s singing doesn’t really feel like it belongs in the musical. In fact, I’d go as far as to say they could have taken this song out, and add all of what it’s trying to do to “It Roars,” and it would have made that song better, I think. The whole “Where~ Do you belong~ Where do you belong~♪” bit just kills the feeling of flow for me, and thus, drags this song into the bottom of the list for me.

“Meet The Plastics” by contrast, is actually one of the best songs in the musical. It does it’s job of introducing the characters of the Plastics, giving each of them a moment in the spotlight for a verse, and it works. It shows the listener how much Taylor Louderman is loving being Regina, her voice basically saying “drink in the sight, peasants,” and it’s great. Alicia Park’s Gretchen follows, and it’s basically the musical version of the introduction of a “yes-man,” and I think it works well. And last, but certainly not least, is Kate Rockwell’s performance as Karen, and man, does her bit sound like she’s playing “the dumb, hot one.” It slows down, and it works because of how simple the lyrics are, and the need to sustain notes in order to match the music is great.

And then we have “Stupid With Love,” which is, if I’m being honest, my least favorite song on the musical. I just... don’t like it. It’s a song about how dumb Cady feels when it comes to her crush on Aaron, and I just don’t think it works. It feels flat, and contrived. I don’t know, I just don’t think the song has much beyond it other than the surface level stuff, and it just doesn’t mesh with me.

You know what song I like a lot though? “Apex Predator.” While I take issue with way the title is said in the song, I don’t know how else they would have done it, so I can let it slide. This is the first song I heard from the musical, and man, does it work. Barrett Wilbert Weed, once again, kills it with her portrayal of Janis (though I might be biased given that “Heathers” is my favorite musical, and she’s the lead in that, so...), and when Erika Henningson comes in as Cady, I think she, as opposed to her last couple of songs, actually kills it too. The instrumentation, and the better use of animal metaphors for Cady just flow much better for Erika’s voice here, in my opinion.

Meanwhile, we hop back to one of my least favorite songs, Gretchen’s first solo number, “What’s Wrong With Me?” I’m not the biggest fan of the character, though I enjoyed her first moments in “Meet the Plastics.” Sadly, I’m just left wondering why this song is here, and not after Cady, Janis, and Damien’s plan to make her feel like Regina is giving her the cold shoulder breaks her. It just feels like it’s coming out of nowhere. I’m sure it makes more sense in the context of the stage performance, but because I don’t have a legal means of watching the lead in to the song, I don’t have that context, and instead have to look at it as is, and I don’t gel with it. If you’re asking me, it’s not fetch. Sorry for the bad joke.

Next up: “Stupid With Love (Reprise).” I don’t have much to say here, other than it’s better than the original song. Kyle Selig’s Aaron gets to actually sing a bit, and I like his voice. The lyrics still feel bland though.

What I find the most interesting is that my favorite song is not a Janis song, but is, in fact, “Sexy,” Karen’s solo number. But my god, do I love this song. It starts off with Karen’s trademarked air-headed singing, where she sings about Halloween and World Peace. Then it turns into a total bop about sexy Halloween costumes. And boy do I love this song. It’s got a great beat, fun lyrics, and has the excellent comedic moment towards the end of Karen “curing sex cancer.” It’s fantastic.

“Someone Get’s Hurt” is another great song, and serves as Regina’s first full solo number. It’s great because of how it spins Regina “getting Aaron back,” just so she can screw with Cady, and it’s just amazing. Taylor Louderman, once again, indulges her inner bitch, and I love how it sounds.

Revenge Party is honestly a fun song for Janis, Damien, and Cady. It’s probably, next to “Apex Predator,” my favorite song Cady is in. I don’t really have a lot to say, other than I just really enjoy the reference to the movie in this song. You go Glen Coco!

“Fearless” is next, and it’s effectively the song I thought “What’s Wrong With Me?” should have been. I honestly don’t have much to say about it though. It’s kind of “middle of the road” as far as the musical’s song are concerned.

Oh Damien, why do you get the lead on songs that I think are incredibly awkward to listen to? “Stop” is kind of another round of “Where Do You Belong?” for me. Unlike that song though, there are things I like about it. It’s still got some jank in it’s structure through, and I don’t really care for it because of that. A lot of my problems with it are echos of the aforementioned “Where Do You Belong?” but it’s less of a pace breaker than that song is. At least, as far as I’m concerned.

“What’ Wrong With Me (Reprise)” is basically a shorter, better version of the original song. It works better here though, because it reflects how Cady has basically become a second Regina. It feel less awkward for the story pacing than it’s original song to me, which is a marked improvement. Alicia Park does a good job here.

I honestly have not much to say about “Who’s House Is This?” It’s a dumb party song about Cady’s house party. It’s not special or anything, though I think it’s fine. Nowhere near something like “Heathers: The Musical’s” song “Big Fun,” but still serviceable. I guess if I have anything bad to say about it, is that I don’t like Cheech Manohar’s voice that much.

“More Is Better” certainly could have been better. It’s better than something like “Stupid With Love,” and I just think it could have been better. I think the whole “word vomit... no, actual vomit” bit should have been in the song? I don’t know, this song doesn’t really stand out to me as anything that great, or outstandingly poor. It’s just “meh.”

“Someone Gets Hurt (Reprise)” is barely a song, and I don’t have much to say. It’s the scene in the movie where Janis and Damien call Cady out as basically the second coming of Regina. Janis’s moment of “At least Regina didn’t have the guts to keep pretending to be my friend” was probably the highlight of the whole thing.

I have an... interesting opinion on “World Burn,” though it’s not a negative one. I actually really love this song, since it’s the peak of Taylor Louderman’s performance as Regina, and it’s a great “villain” song. My only problem is honestly that, as far as I can tell, is the first mention of the Burn Book in the musical. Well, the cast recording of it at least. I feel like had I known nothing about the Burn Book, I’d probably have just thought this was a great song, but the fact that it took so long for the songs to directly mention the Burn Book just feels wrong for a Mean Girls Musical.

As far as “fuck you” songs go in musical theater, I think “I’d Rather Be Me” is a great song. Janis is just venting, but in musical form, and need I say more? It’s more Barrett Wilbert Weed, and I can honestly listen to her sing about probably anything. It’s probably my least favorite Janis song, but considering the bulk of my favorites from this whole musical are Janis songs, that is, by no means, a bad thing.

“Do This Thing” is easily the best song Cady has that lacks the backing of either Janis or Regina’s voices. Of course, I don’t like Cheech Manohar’s voice, but it’s less of a big deal here, because it’s not a bad song. Again, it’s probably one of the best Cady moments of the whole musical.

“I See Stars” by contrast, is like a callback to “More Is Better,” but with a corny, feel good message. It’s still weaker than that song though. My reasoning? Because this is the closing number of the cast recording, and it lacks a sense of “finality” to it. I feel like the best closing numbers for musicals are the ones that call back other songs in some capacity. While technically not the closing number, “The Play” from “Be More Chill” comes to mind, because it references a ton of the songs in the musical. Heck, that musical’s actual closer, “Voice In My Head” still has the callback to “More Than Survive” at the end, and it works so well. Maybe I’m forgetting something from this song, but honestly, I think it’s pretty crappy ending track.

So... all in all it’s a pretty mixed musical for me.

Some things I would have changed, outside of giving Cady’s songs more to work with, are the previously mentioned “add the purpose of ‘Where Do You Belong?’ to ‘It Roars,’” as well as the following:

1. Have “I See Stars’ reference other songs, especially “It Roars” and “A Cautionary Tale” to give it a sense of proper finality.

2. Make Cady’s change into a more “Plastic” version of herself be more apparent in her appearances in songs, if only to add some depth to the character’s music. Show her become like a second Regina, only for her to become more like a better version of her old self by the end.

3. Add a song where The Plastics introduce Cady to the Burn Book, and them trying to coax her into using it. It would have added a layer to “World Burn,” and it would have given us a Mean Girls song akin to “Candy Store” from “Heathers.” You know, and a chance to hear more of Taylor Louderman’s excellent Regina.

Anyway, yeah, that’s what I liked, what I didn’t like, and what I’d change for the most part. it’s very all over the place, but still, hopefully you all got something out of it?

#Mean Girls #Mean Girls the Musical #Thoughts #a very string of consciousness kind of look at the musical #mixed opinion #I liked it #but was also disappointed

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