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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 9

Masterlist

As always thank you to my beautiful bestie @acollectionofficsandshit you can also thank her for all the Max content in this chapter. Its a long one, enjoy!

Word Count: 9.6k

Recommended song: “Hate the way” by G-Easy and blackbear

The one thing that never failed to lift your spirits was your dad's homemade blueberry chocolate chip pancakes. Whenever you were upset as a kid, whether it be your team losing a sporting event, your high-school boyfriend dumping you for the head cheerleader, or getting rejected from an ivy league college you never expected to get into in the first place, his pancakes had been there to cushion the fall. Clever as he was, he always messed them up in some insignificant way like leaving off the whipped cream and hiding the container so you were forced to talk to him in order to remedy it. Then he would crack some stupid joke or cheesy pun that would just barely have the ghost of a smile curling your lips.

Blueberry chocolate chip pancakes were no match for the heartbreak of losing your best friend.

The morning after, you only trudge to the kitchen when your stomach's demands to be fed become too loud to ignore. A steaming pile of fluffy pancakes sits at your usual spot, no syrup in sight. You don't have the energy to find your dad and ask where he's hidden it, instead picking at them. You knew the flavor should be fruity and sweet but every bite tastes like ash. One pancake is all you can manage before nausea roils, threatening to make your meager brunch resurface.

"Some is better than none," Ben murmurs behind you and you drop your chin in the barest of nods. "We can save the rest and you can warm them up later."

"Thanks," you mumble when he takes your plate. You pull your blanket tight around your shoulders as your gaze turns to the window while your brother washes your dishes, wishing for all the world that you could make your uncooperative limbs move and help him but the mental effort it requires is too taxing. Instead you stay curled up on the chair, the noises of the house waking up around you a dull buzz in your ears. At some point your mother kisses your head and hustles out the door to work, her husband close behind. Ben is the last to leave and is reluctant to do so.

"Promise you'll text me if you need me," he says. "Mom already gave me permission to cut class after trigonometry."

"Sure." You both know it's a lie and a bad one at that. Your voice is dull and flat, completely void of emotion.

"Mom said she's coming home early anyway,” he tries. “Something about overstaffing at the greenhouse."

"Okay."

The mechanical spooling of the garage door tells you he's finally gone. Your elbows slide forward until your head rests on the table, unable to hold it up any longer.

Every fiber of your being yearns for him, to hear the distinct r's and flowery lilt of his accent as he comforts you through the heartbreak, always knowing exactly what to say. It was second nature to call one another when either of you had had a bad day or a good day or just a normal day - you'd talked so often that last year you had convinced your parents to add international minutes to your phone plan.

Your fingers itch to dial the number you had long since memorized, knowing it would ring no more than twice before he picked up. He never let it go to voicemail unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it and you had a hunch he was waiting for your call.

Despite knowing better, you scroll through the messages on your phone. Love was evident in each witty remark and wish goodnight, pulling at your heartstrings. Your finger hovers over the delete conversation button, and after a minute of debate, you can't bring yourself to do it. You would allow yourself one reprieve to look back on and remember the good.

It would be so much easier if he had given you a reason to hate him. If he'd cheated or intentionally led the media to your house, hating him would be easy. You wouldn't have to admit that you still loved him because his betrayal would have yanked out the newly blooming bud of love you nurtured and crushed the fragile petals. Instead, you were left knowing that it had been your choice to inflict damage in him. You had no right to seek comfort in his arms or even ask how he was doing. You deserved to be miserable for causing him to feel the same way.

Yuki is the first to check in on you. You don’t know what he expects; you lie through your teeth when you tell him you were fine.

The press is asking me for my thoughts. No idea why. I told them not to stick their noses where they don't belong.

At least someone had the guts to stand up to those bloodsuckers. Yuki was the last person you'd suspect to do so, but the scrappy twenty-something continued to surprise you.

Thanks, you type back. How is he?

You hesitate. You didn't really want to know the answer. Pierre was devastated and just as broken as you are. You delete the last part and opt to refrain from subjecting yourself to biting off more than you could chew.

I'm here if you need me, is Yuki's reply.

Charles, Daniel, and his newly promoted girlfriend were the next ones to text you, all offering varying degrees of support. Daniel's friend was the one that offered to sucker punch anyone that came near you without your permission, and actually dragged a single huff of laughter from your aching lungs.

I'm good thanks. But if I need a bodyguard you'll be first on the list.

Just because Daniel can lift me with one arm doesn't mean I'm not punchy!

I believe you.

Spent, you set your phone down and retreat under the down comforter. The bright pink clashed with your earthy decor, but at least the old blanket didn't smell like Pierre. Your mother had taken it upon herself to erase all trace of him from your room when she had managed to coax you into a shower, and the half hour you had spent letting the scalding water run over your skin had given her plenty of time to do so. The absence of him hurts almost as much as the trace of cedar you know you're imagining when you breathe deep.

It has to be impossible for so much agony to be contained in your body. No matter how much you try, the tears won't stop flowing because Pierre's crushed expression had taken up residence at the forefront of your consciousness.

It didn't help that so many of your recent memories were touched by his presence. Getting into university served to remind you of the ecstatic call you'd gotten after his race that Sunday, voice strained with a mix of excitement for you and the disappointment of his race ending crash on the opening lap. Even something as simple as staring at the saggy bean bag chair in the corner brought back the memory of the countless times he had lounged there, sprawled out like he owned it.

Max's text brings you briefly back to reality.

You doing okay? Dan told me what happened.

No, was all you say back. Within a minute, Max's face occupies your screen. You sigh but accept the call, laying the phone on the pillow.

"I don't feel like talking, Max."

"That bad huh?" He asks, concern lacing his usually chipper voice.

"Yeah. That bad." As if that summed up getting your heart torn to shreds.

He's uncharacteristically quiet for a beat. "Wanna hear about Vic's day? She had some crazy clients at her salon- it'll take your mind off it."

"I guess," you say, utterly nonplussed. You could care less if he kept talking or not, you wouldn't be paying attention. He prattles on for a few minutes, seemingly unaffected by your silence as his words pass through one ear and out the other.

"Told you it was crazy," he says finally, your cue to respond. You hum noncommittally and Max just sighs.

"Look, I don't know how I can help you unless you come here. I know you have a flight booked- do you still wanna come to the gala? My date's been stolen so I'm in need of one."

"Who stole your-"

The realization hits you before you can finish. Pierre. Pierre stole Max's sister and left him without a date. Something about his willingness to replace you so quickly rubs you the wrong way. It shouldn't have been so easy for him to find someone new; he should be hurting just as much as you. Fundamentally, you knew nothing would happen between Pierre and Victoria. She wouldn't go for him out of respect for both of you and you were thankful in the knowledge that it was completely platonic. Still, it was like rubbing salt in a wound.

"You know what? I'll go." It was the most you'd said all day, your throat scratchy with disuse. Max whoops on the other line and you could almost see him punching the air in victory.

"Great! When's your flight get in? I'll bring the Acura and pick you up."

You put him on speaker and login to the airlines website to punch in the flight number. Last night you'd debated canceling the flight that Pierre had paid for, determined to stay home and be miserable. Looking back you were glad you'd trusted your gut and left the reservation untouched. If he could find someone else to attend the gala with, so could you. "I land in Nice at noon on Friday. It'll be a short flight, I can text you when we take off."

"Sounds good. I'll set up the spare room for you. Victoria is staying here too, I'm sure she would love to help you get ready and do whatever it is girls do before fancy events."

"Hey, Max?"

"Whats up?"

You trace patterns through the condensation left by the glass on your nightstand. "Thank you. For understanding."

"That's what friends are for," he assures you. "Is there anything you wanna talk about now? Or are you planning to wait until you're here?"

"Ben's been keeping an eye on me. I'm okay for now." Better now that you had something to look forward to.

"All you have to do is call," he promises. "I'll listen, I don't have anything going on this week besides streaming."

You latch on to the small redirection and run with it. "You and the twitch quartet?"

"They've been kind enough to allow me to join them on the sim this week, yeah."

"I'll try to catch a race. No promises though."

"See you Friday. Try to contain your excitement."

Your lips twitch upward. "Bye Max."

**********

The rest of the week was more of the same. You stayed home and your family dealt with the swarms of people that still gathered on the lawn each morning not so patiently waiting for you to tell your side of the story. You had decided that the best course of action was to keep your mouth shut and let them figure out for themselves that there was no longer a story to report thanks to the wedge they had driven in your relationship.

By the time Ben drives you to the airport Friday the buzz has died down. You hug your brother tight before checking in for the flight and texting Max. His response is immediate, letting you know he's excited to see you.

You wish you could return the sentiment. You wanted to see your friend, sure, but you were beginning to dread the upcoming gala. Max would be your crutch and you knew he was okay with that, but it still felt wrong.

Unlike your brother, Max was waiting at the curb when you arrived in Nice. A nondescript cap was perched on his head, the oversized sunglasses he wore hiding his eyes from passersby. His gleaming orange peel of a car attracted more attention than he did for once, people stopping to ogle the Acura as they came and went.

"Hey you," Max greets, a broad grin causing his trademark dimple to appear as he wraps you in a rare hug. You cling to him, throat going tight at the intimacy of it. Max wasn't a physical person by any stretch; if he was hugging you this tightly it meant he knew how broken you were.

He waited for you to break contact first, giving you all the time you need. You sniff and wipe the single tear that had somehow escaped and laugh lightly.

"Hey," you say, voice scratchy. "Thanks for picking me up."

He waves a hand, brushing it off. "Vic wanted to come but she changed her mind when I told her I was driving."

"Probably a smart choice," you observe, letting him pop the trunk- which was in the front of the car, since the Acura NSX was a mid-engined beast of a Japanese supercar- "and considering your choice of car, she wouldn't have fit anyway."

"This is true." He starts the engine, the roar of which makes a poor old woman a few yards away drop her purse.

The drive back is near silent, broken only by Max's occasional quips about a landmark or an observation about someone's driving. It was impossible for any driver to turn off the analytical part of their brain, their Formula 1 habits crossing into their daily lives.

When Max parks at the curb outside his apartment, you move to open the door but he hits the lock button. You glance over your shoulder at him and quirk a brow.

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Are you gonna talk about what happened?"

Sighing, you sink back into the seat. The way the bolstering hugs your sides almost makes you believe you could fade into it if you try hard enough. "I wasn't really planning on it."

It had only been a handful of days since you had broken it off, the wound still leaking fresh blood when you poked at it. It refused to scab over or give you any kind of reprieve from the torture.

"You know you'll have to face him tomorrow at some point. He'll want to talk to you."

"That's why I'm going with you. You won't have a problem telling him to leave me alone."

Max sighs. "Yeah, I suppose. If that's what you think is best."

The trudge up the stairs and subsequent silent elevator ride allows your thoughts to wander to Victoria. It wasn't her fault that Pierre had asked her to come with him after you'd canceled, after all she was already planning on going and the late notice meant it was likely no one else could make it, but it didn't stop the pang of jealousy that rocketed through you each time you ruminate on it.

It didn't help when she wrapped you in a hug the moment she saw you and whispered an apology in your ear, like she knew she'd done something wrong. Tears spring to your eyes again and Victoria shoots Max a leave us alone look.

"Uh, I'm gonna hop on the sim. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Thanks Max." Your eyes are pinned to a smudge of dirt on the wood floor, safely out of range of anything triggering. Keeping it together was more of a struggle than you'd expected.

"I hope you don't hate me," Victoria starts genuine concern lacing the words. "It was just easiest-"

"I know," you cut in. "And I don't." Your smile is tight, not quite hitting home as she returns it.

"Well then. Let's figure out how we're gonna do your hair tomorrow, shall we?"

**********

The dress was a single, simple piece of fabric, spun of sunset orange and free of any bells or whistles. The feather light chiffon hugged every supple curve through your hips until flaring out slightly at the bottom just enough to allow you range of motion. The deep vee of the neckline prominently displayed your cleavage, toeing the line between attention grabbing and scandal starting and leaving little to the imagination. The back dropped low, leaving the elegant curve of your spine free to be kissed by the salty Mediterranean breeze.

The dress is nothing special compared to the thousand dollar pieces that the other boy's dates would be wearing, but you didn't have the money- or the will- to find something new. It by no means broke the bank when you picked it up from the second hand store last year, but it looked the part. It had been a showstopper at the spring formal you'd originally worn it to and judging by Max's reaction, it still was.

He let out a low whistle when you stepped into the living room. "I'm sorry, did you pick that out with me in mind?" He laughs and despite yourself, heat rises to your cheeks. You hated being the center of attention, even among friends. "It's the perfect shade of orange to match my tie. I swear I didn't plan it that way!"

"I know you didn't." You give him a forced smile, praying he doesn't call you out on it. The dress you wore hadn't been your first choice. The one you originally planned to wear still sat in your closet at home collecting dust. It had been the perfect shade of blue to compliment Pierre's sky eyes, but it didn't match Max's deeper ocean blue. So at home it had stayed, and you had chosen the orange one because it made the necklace at your throat pop.

Your fingers engulf the stone before you can stop yourself, as they always do when your thoughts wander to him. Him, because you could scarcely think his name before your heart wretches at the reminder of what you'd lost. Flashes of bright smiles and soft kisses filter through your mind, making you lock up. You swear you can feel the ghost of plush lips to your throat and the scrape of callouses over the curve of your spine. Your eyes fall shut, desperate to get lost in the idea of him like you used to.

"You good?"

Max's quiet words startle you back into the present. No, you were in no way shape or form good, but you had no choice to fall back on the familiar mask of humor to cover up your inner turmoil.

"The real question is are you?" You smirk and look him over. The Red Bull navy suit strains over his broad shoulders, suggesting he had put on muscle since the last time he'd been forced into it. "You look stiff as a board in that tux."

"I feel so awkward." He straightens the suit coat and absentmindedly lifts a hand to tousle his hair. You grab his wrist just in time to keep him from ruining his sister's hard work and shoot him a chiding look. He grins sheepishly and lowers his hand.

"Vic would kill me if you got to the gala looking like you got run over."

"That's a good point." He offers you his arm and you accept the lifeline he unwittingly offers you. "But I refuse to leave the windows up on this beautiful night, so we'll test how well it'll hold."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "You're driving us there?"

"Well duh. I always drive when I'm at home."

You glance sidelong at the glaringly orange Acura parked at the curb a few floors below. Your dress would blend right in with the paint, but perhaps that was a good thing. It would provide that much more of a shock factor when you arrived and stepped out.

"Just don't crash out on the hairpin," you tease half heartedly.

He rolls his eyes. "At least it's just the two of us so I don't have to call an uber. Vic's getting picked up by-'' Max cuts himself off and gives you an apologetic smile.

"You can say his name," you whisper, eyes trained on the tile of the hallway as you walk. "It's not like he's gone."

"Getting picked up by... Pierre," Max tries, carefully monitoring his neutral tone. God, you thought you could handle it but you can't, stumbling over your own feet with only Max's grip on your arm to catch you.

He'd dance with Vic tonight, and probably countless other women, his hands drifting over their bodies like they'd done on yours only days ago. You'd be forced to watch from the sidelines and make small talk that no one would remember come morning, utterly unable to do anything about it. At least Daniel’s girlfriend would be there to be the voice of reason, if you could peel her away from Daniel long enough to speak with her for any length of time.

Max was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride to the venue, leaving you to study the city as he drove. Few yachts were left in the harbor as the sun was swallowed by the sea, the owners undoubtedly set sail for a weekend getaway. Your gaze involuntarily searched for the slip that held Charles' Ferrari red speedboat that you'd visited countless times with Pierre. The eyesore was hard to miss when surrounded by its monotone brethren, memories flooding back in droves at the sight of it.

Sighing, you turn away to glimpse what you can of the city through the ridiculously tiny sliver of windshield. How anyone could confidently drive the Acura while having so little field of vision was beyond you. It was probably second nature to Max, who weaves through the narrow streets with practiced ease and barely lets off the gas through the corners.

The city of Monaco rarely slept, and tonight was no different. Soft yellow fluorescent glow seeps from high rise balconies, the occupants soaking up the last dregs of sunlight before heading out to the casinos and clubs. People spilled out of cafes onto the sidewalks, their laughter lingering on the breeze as you speed past.

The list of people you trust enough to get in the car with and let them drive with such intensity is short: Max and Pierre. Not even Daniel made the final cut, not when his then not-girlfriend had recounted the tale of him losing the rear of his McLaren 570s at a track day and nearly sending them into the wall. According to her, he'd been too busy ogling her to keep his full attention on the road, but it was enough for you to question his judgement at times.

If you close your eyes, you could pretend it was someone else next to you, cutting through the gears like a hot knife through butter and coaxing every inch of performance out of the car that he could with the light traffic. You draw a surf-scented breath deep, lungs aching with the effort.

Max joins the queue of cars waiting to park outside the venue, your attention trained on the guests stepping out of cars and climbing the wide set of marble steps leading to the sleek glass building. The modern structure is slightly out of place among the Roman-esque buildings surrounding it but the air of importance it exudes overrules any who dare say it doesn't belong.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that there's an open bar," Max remarks, hanging his head out the window to wave at someone. "It makes these events so much easier."

"You're telling me," you mumble, searching involuntarily for a familiar head of dusty blond hair in the droves of people arriving. Instead of sight, it's the unforgettable rumble of his Civic Type R's exhaust that alerts you to his arrival. Your head whips around, eyes eating up the pearl white paint of Pierre's favored car as it slides in behind you. You silently thank whatever deity is listening that his windshield is tinted, protecting you from seeing the smirk you are certain is playing on his lips.

Once upon a time, the cockpit of that car had been your favorite place in the world. You'd spent countless hours inside it eating shitty gas station cuisine and singing along to the radio at the top of your lungs as Pierre drove you to whatever adventure he had planned for the day.

Max waves at your- his friend, you remind yourself sharply- and revs his Acura in response. He leaves the keys with the valet, picking up on the tension in your shoulders as the white car parks behind you. Max tugs your arm in attempt to turn you away, but your feet are rooted to the spot.

“I see you found another date-” The flash of a grin on Pierre's face as he steps out is immediately dashed when he notices you on Max's arm.

If looks could kill, Max would keel over then and there. A muscle in Pierre's jaw flutters as he takes in the sight of the two of you together, your hand on the Dutchman's forearm and your matching attire looking for all the world as if it was purposefully coordinated.

Max lifts his chin, spine going straight under Pierre's threatening glare. “Her airfare was already paid for and she already had the dress. Someone had to take her.”

Your stomach sinks; the last thing you wanted to do was become a point of contention between the two boys, but you refused to apologize for at least attempting to enjoy yourself.

Pierre doesn't speak again, only nods to Max and pointedly avoids your stare. He tosses the keys to the smart-dressed kid serving as his valet, coming around to open Victoria's door. With his back turned to you, you take a moment to study the crisp white suit he's chosen for tonight. You had always told him black wasn't his color and he seemed to have taken it to heart. White was what you loved seeing him in, and the tight cut brought back memories of a different type of suit in an entirely different city only a few weeks ago. You'd peeled him out of that Alpha Tauri race suit the moment he made it to the trailer, eager to worship him after his podium. You'd be lying if you said it hasn't been the best sex of your life.

"Come on," Max urges, placing a chaste hand on your upper back and turning you around. He leads you up the stairs, his comforting touch never leaving your skin for a moment. The callouses were all wrong, the fingers too broad to be who you wanted it to be, and yet you couldn't help but imagine it was Pierre leading you up, stopping to smile for the few cameras scattered around.

Flashes spot your vision as you pull your face into an expression of excitement. Max murmurs something in your ear that you think is encouragement but the din of reporters is too deafening to be sure.

"How come you aren't with Pierre?"

The shouted question comes from an unknown assailant but it strikes you like a physical blow. You freeze, mouth going dry as you search for a suitable excuse. Max grants you the space of a single heartbeat to respond before he does so on your behalf.

"How about you mind your own damn business and worry about your cheating wife?"

The man who had bombarded you goes slack jawed, Max's wild guess clearly somehow hitting him just as hard as he had hit you.

"Keep walking," he urges you, leading you through the blinding sea of flashing lights. When you hear the same question directed at Pierre, his flippant laugh grates on your nerves.

You don't have it in you to appreciate the grand architecture of the entrance hall, too busy trying to keep your breathing in check. Max steers you off to the side and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Look at me," he demands, and you drag your eyes up to his face. "Breathe. He's hurting just as bad as you, only difference is he's better at hiding it. Just enjoy the night okay? I'll grab you a drink and we can find Daniel and his friend and you two can catch up."

You nod, placing a hand on your throat. The delicate chain of the necklace is a vice around your neck, the reminder of him pulling it tight. Your pulse hammers beneath your fingers and you focus on it until it slows. "Get me whatever you're having."

Max disappears in the crowd, and you take a seat at the bench tucked in the corner. No one pays you any heed as they walk past, entranced by the elegant decor and fragrant florals. Your head falls forward to rest in your hands and you struggle to take deep, calming breaths.

Pierre was here. Inhale.

He looked happy. Exhale.

He was getting by. Inhale.

You could get by, too. Exhale.

Renewed, you glance up in time to find Max standing before you with a drink of dark liquid adorned with maraschino cherries in each hand. He extends one glass to you and you don't bother to question what it is before swallowing half in one go. "Better?"

"Much." You stand and brush out the wrinkles in your dress. "Where are we sitting?"

"Er, about that," Max starts, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "They put two teams at each table. We're at the Red Bull Alpha Tauri table."

"I see." You take another deep, steadying breath, letting the anxiety ebbing in your veins fade out with the exhale. It was times like this that you channeled Daniel a bit. It sounded silly and you would never admit it, but the slogans on his helmets worked if you focused on them hard enough. All good, all ways.

If Pierre could get through tonight, so could you.

“I can try to see if I can switch tables-”

"It's fine," you say and down the rest of the drink. “I can handle it.”

Max shifts on his feet, his discomfort something you rarely see from him. He usually excelled at keeping a straight face in uncomfortable situations but it seems that your unease rubbed off on him. “We should get going then, dinner will be served any minute.”

You once again take the arm he offers you, the liquor in your veins already granting you false courage. “We would have time to mingle if you hadn’t taken the scenic route.”

“It was nice out,” he protests, and pulls you to a halt when he spots Daniel across the hall. His girlfriend waves at you with a sad smile. She gestures between the two of you to indicate that you’ll talk later before Daniel pulls her towards the McLaren table. That boy was punctual to a fault and would be caught dead before he was late to anything.

Thankfully, the two of you arrive before Victoria and her date and are able to secure seats that ensure there’s a buffer between you. By some small miracle Christian Horner and his wife were absent and instead a few engineers and their significant others sat at the packed table. Max greets Gianpiero while you take your seat, happy to observe.

“Hey!”

You twist in time to see Yuki’s short frame emerge from the crowd and point to the empty seat to your right. “This one taken?”

You shake your head, standing to give him a quick hug. “How are you doing? Where’s your date?”

“Ah, she couldn’t make it. Had some family stuff to take care of. You look great, by the way.”

You dip your chin in thanks, unsure how else to respond. He was in a white suit that you were sure would wind up stained five minutes into dinner. “Did they mandate that you wear white?”

He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “Honestly, it’s the only one I own. I haven't been to enough events to build up my closet yet."

"Well I think it's…"

You spot Pierre before he sees you. His brow is slightly creased as he hunts for the correct table using the same focused determination as when driving his Alpha. For a split second, he meets your gaze. The cacophony of the event fades to background noise and suddenly it's just the two of you and you damn near lift your hand in a wave. You're positive he can see your heart beating out of your chest like in an old cartoon as you curl your fingers into a fist in your lap. Your restraint proves fatal, the floor falling out from beneath your feet when he drops your stare. This was your new normal, you remind yourself. Stolen glances were all you would get.

"I can move," Yuki says, starting to rise. You grip his wrist, holding him in place.

"Please don't." The only other open seats were across the table, and at least then you didn't have to worry about brushing elbows with him all night long.

Yuki nods, slowly settling back in. Max finally takes his seat after giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"You don't have to say anything to him," he reminds you, barely audible over the scrape of chairs and various chatter.

You find anywhere else to look as Pierre pulls out Vic's chair for her and makes his rounds to greet everyone. Daniel and his girlfriend are seated a few tables away and you distract yourself by attempting to read their lips. You manage a few minutes of tenuous peace, catching snippets of Daniel's cheesy jokes and her disapproving, yet flirty, responses.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of home. His words are honey and you lap them up like you'd never tasted anything sweeter. They weren't even directed at you and yet somehow you twist them to fit your narrative.

Pierre stands at the bottom of the stairs like a chaste high school prom date patiently waiting for your grand entrance. He checks his watch and rakes a hand through his messy hair. You stifle your laugh with a hand, amused by his unnecessary nervous energy.

Taking mercy on him, you clear your throat. His gaze snaps up to you, mouth falling open. You take your time gathering the orange fabric of your dress and descending the stairs, savoring the way he eats you up. He was resplendent in his crisp white tuxedo and you had half a mind to make him late for the gala and strip him out of it then and there and devour him.

Your heels clack on the marble floor of his entirely too fancy apartment and you pause to do a little spin for him, earning you an appreciative whistle for your trouble. A laugh bubbles out of you and you place your hands on his shoulders. His own settle on your waist to pull you flush against him, his body heat soaking through the thin fabric of your dress to warm your core.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You start when knuckles graze the back of your bare neck. The touch is there and gone but you know immediately that it's Pierre. It's slight enough to be brushed off as accidental to anyone else, but nothing was accidental with Pierre. The barely there contact conveys more than any words ever could.

He still loved you. You looked stunning. He wishes you were still his so he could prove it to you. All this and so much more contained in a half second brush of his skin to yours.

It all comes back to you in a rush, the emotion you'd so carefully tucked away in a locked box in the back of your mind finally set free. His touch ignites any other thought in your mind that isn't him, burning it away until it's ashes on the wind.

Despite your better judgement, you lean into him, giving him permission to unravel you. This time you sigh when his fingers ghost over your skin, electricity sparking in their wake. You didn't care who might be watching; the tiny touches were slowly repairing your shattered heart. Your traitorous mind replaces his fingers with the brush of his lips to your nape, imagining the heat as he slides the strap of your dress off your shoulder, lips moving to follow.

You bite your lip to stifle a groan when his heat is withdrawn, leaving you feeling inexplicably naked. You open your eyes to find Victoria's pitying stare paired with an apologetic smile. Max nudges you with his elbow, and you realize someone has addressed you.

"Um, what?"

"I said I like how you guys coordinated outfits," Pierre repeats and openly prods your shoulder. "Obviously Max chose the color."

His tone is playful, but his words are clipped in a way only you understand. Craning your neck, you twist to look up at him. His eyes are cloudy and his smile doesn't reach them, more for show than anything else. "It was an accident."

"Doesn't look that way."

Your retort is ready on your tongue but he doesn't give you a chance to reply before retreating to his seat. His ability to act as if nothing has changed astounds you, as your head is still reeling from the pinpricks of his skin on yours. Instead of being rendered speechless, he strikes up a conversation with Yuki about the Alpha's performance, leaving out the confidential details but giving enough away that it surprises you.

The sheer fact that he can so easily switch off whatever feelings he harbors is unfair. The sensation of his fingers on your neck still lingers and it's all you can do to keep from stepping around the table and slotting yourself between his legs like you had in that bar in London. Your nails bite into your palms, listening in if only for his voice to wash over you and calm your racing heart.

When he mentions the rake angle, you know it's just to mislead anyone who might be eavesdropping. He'd told you the exact angle in the past, and it certainly was not one degree, and it did not cause the level of understeer he was describing.

"The understeer comes from improper tire selection," you blurt. "And driver error."

All eyes turn to you and you straighten. You knew enough about the construction of a Formula 1 car to be positive your assessment was correct. You were almost as certain that he'd said it to force you into speaking to him whether you liked it or not.

"What was that?"

If Pierre could torment you with his subtle touches, you could do the same and call him out when he was wrong.

"Driver error caused the rear end to slide out around that turn in Japan, not the rake angle. That's got nothing to do with it. Your tires were blistered because of you taking an imperfect racing line and they were old. You miscalculated the level of traction they'd give you."

Why no one else had pointed it out was beyond you.

"So you're an engineer now?" Pierre challenges, crossing his arms. Something about the arrogance radiating from him rubbed you the wrong way. You let all the emotion of the past few days surface and add fuel to the fire.

"No, but I've learned enough to see through the bullshit drivers spin to mislead other teams."

Max murmurs your name in warning but your frustration is boiling over. He replaced you tonight, didn't even pause to consider going alone and instead choosing to take Victoria. Sure, it had been your fault that he was dateless, but that didn't give him the right to hurt you too. He knew it would destroy you to see him with anyone else even if it was completely platonic, but he did it anyway.

"Why don't you tell me where I should brake on turn ten since you're an expert all of a sudden?" Victoria lays a hand on his arm but he yanks it out of her grip. "What crack in the pavement? Or is it a mark on the barrier? Drive one lap in my car and then you can tell me how to drive."

It wasn't your analysis that had upset him. You'd done so plenty of times and he had always taken your criticism with an open mind, using it to tweak his driving style to improve his lap time or turn it into a teaching experience so you could learn. No, judging by the way his eyes are lined with silver that he fights to blink away, it's your betrayal that upsets him and rightfully so. You glance around the table but no one is willing to meet your eyes save for Max, who angles his head as if to say fight for it.

But you can't. It's monumentally easier to let Pierre win and sweep it under the rug than to address the deeper issue. "I was trying to help," you say lamely, picking at the salad in front of you.

"You don't get to do that anymore."

The venomous words hit like knives, knocking the breath out of you. Your mouth hangs open like a fish gasping for air but any reply you think up dies on your tongue.

As the music fades out and a man climbs up onto the stage, Pierre gets up and leaves. You track his progress as he weaves through tables, noting Daniel reaching for him as he passes. You flinch when the balcony door slams behind him, an astonished murmur rocking through the crowd.

"You should probably talk to him," Max whispers.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. You had no idea what you would say. 'Sorry' was insignificant and 'I love you' would be cruel when the barest of thought regarding how the media treated you made your stomach churn.

Max pulls his phone out under the table and you think you see Charles' name on the screen. Good; someone had to make sure Pierre didn't do anything he would regret in the morning and if it wasn't you, Charles was the next best chaperone. A minute later, the Ferrari driver leaves his seat too, exiting the same way as Pierre.

Focusing on what's said on stage proves fruitless. Try as you might, your attention is trained on the side door Pierre had disappeared through, praying he returns despite knowing it would mean more barbed words hurled at you. Neither he nor Charles return at any point during the presentation. His absence was quickly becoming a gaping black hole, swallowing up any semblance of sanity you had managed to gather in preparation for tonight.

"Try to have some fun," Max says, nudging you with an elbow. "As soon as this guy shuts up I’ll get us some more drinks and then we can eat and get out on the dance floor and forget about everything, yeah?"

You nod. You already feel the buzz of the first drink, and one or two more would push you thoroughly over the edge into blissful forgetfulness. "I don't wanna be sad anymore."

**********

He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from you before he said something that would tear whatever hope he held of repairing what was between you to ribbons. He registers Daniel's low, "Gas, you good?" as he breezes past, but doesn't pause to answer. His sights are locked on the wide, carved oak doors that lead to fresh air.

The breath whooshes out of him when he flings open the balcony doors. They slam behind him and he winces. Chalk that up as something else for Helmut to pick him apart for on Monday.

Pierre rakes a trembling hand through his hair and rests his elbows on the railing, sucking in lungfuls of air like he'd just surfaced from a dive in the harbor.

When you'd agreed to come to the gala with him, he had been overjoyed. You hadn't made it to the winter gala earlier this year due to a last minute exam and he had sulked the entire night. He still had the place card embossed with your name in the fishbowl by his door, the sizable container nearly overflowing with memories of you. Everything from forgotten earrings to plastic hotel key cards filled the bowl and it was a bright reminder of your adventures together. His plan had been to add another place card to the mix after tonight but after what he'd just said to you, he'd rather forget today ever happened.

He fucking hurt. Everything just hurt, from the shirt collar scratching at his neck to the bone deep ache that had started when he laid eyes on you on those steps, arm locked with Max's. You'd stolen the words from his mouth, the jab he'd planned to toss at Max dying at the sight of you.

He hadn't expected you to come tonight. Despite anyone's objections, he'd been fully prepared to get completely shit faced to the point that the ghost of your skin no longer haunted his fingertips and your voice no longer sang in his head. But seeing your damned face had shattered the false reality he had constructed, the one where you never broke him and left him scrambling to piece himself back together.

The universe had dealt him another low blow when he discovered Red Bull and Alpha Tauri would be at the same table and he'd be forced to endure your presence at arms length, close enough to touch but absolutely not allowed to do so. It was his own personal hell, constructed solely to punish him for whatever transgressions he'd made in his life.

And that fucking dress.

The orange painted the aquamarine charm at the hollow of your throat in sharp relief, showing it off like he somehow still owned you. If you had arrived with him, he would have already led you back to the Civic and bunched that damned dress up past your hips to drag his favorite sounds from you with his tongue. If he could just get you alone, he's sure it wouldn't take more than a single touch to have you crashing into him and begging for more.

Seeing you with Max tonight paints an entirely different picture.

It's Max he sees tearing off the dress at the end of the night when you get back to his apartment. Max's hands slide over your hips and you laugh, walking back so you can keep your lips on his as he slams the door shut behind you. You dip your head back when he presses you to the wall, Max unfaltering as his lips and teeth trace the curve of your exposed throat and he slips the straps of the matching dress of your shoulders to let it pool at your feet. Max's name breezes past your lips on a shaky exhale as you become putty beneath his fingers.

No matter how loud Pierre calls your name, you don't hear him, instead cupping the back of the Dutchman's head and pulling him in for a heated kiss. When you do finally notice him observing from afar, agony wracking his body, all you do is grin. It feels real, even though Pierre is certain it's a crazed fever dream, his mind spinning his worst fear to life: you seeking comfort in the company of someone that wasn't him.

Pierre starts when the door squeaks open, the nightmare thankfully dissolving. Charles steps out clad head to toe in blazing Ferrari red and instantly he knows who sent him. The thought alone stokes rage in his chest, the image of your lips on Max's still fresh.

"Not as easy as you expected it to be, is it?" He asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Fuck off," Pierre growls and immediately regrets it. Beyond you, Charles was his closest friend. They had known each other for ages. It wasn’t a friendship he was willing to sacrifice just because he felt like shit. Pierre sighs and throws him an apologetic glance. "No it's not."

"Why don't you talk to her?"

"She doesn't want to fucking talk, Charles. Take one look at her, she's hanging on Max like she can't get enough of him." Pierre hangs his head in his hands, emotions shifting faster than he did on race day. "I can't go back in there and watch her choose him over me."

"You don't really believe that bullshit, do you?" Charles asks, joining him at the railing.

Not entirely, but he still struggled to understand your thought process. He thought he knew you, but you being here tonight when he had been certain you wouldn't be proved he didn't.

"I don't know what to believe anymore. I thought it would be forever, that I'd finally found someone who didn't mind my lifestyle and accepted it for what it was, who loved me unconditionally. I thought she was my forever."

"You think she's done with you just because some assholes invaded her privacy?" Charles shakes his head. "She's loved you for a long time, years even. You haven't seen the looks she gives you, but the rest of us have. You hung the moon in her sky, Pierre. That kind of thing doesn't just get swept away by the breeze."

His shoulders curl inward in an attempt to hide the frustrated tear that escapes him. "What am I supposed to do?"

Charles shrugs. "I don't think there's a right answer to that. Try giving her some space. She didn't grow up in the spotlight like we did. It's not an easy adjustment for some people, mate. And blowing up on her when she tries to make conversation doesn't help anything," he says gently. "Let her figure it out and come to you when she's ready."

The concept of letting you go even temporarily was terrifying to him. Waiting on you to make the first move was even worse because he was setting his fate in your hands.

"I miss her," he murmurs, turning his face to his friend.

"I know." Charles throws an arm around the taller man's shoulders and follows his gaze out over the tiered streets of Monaco's city center. "My suggestion is to throw yourself into the season. Show her you know how to fight, y'know?"

Pierre nods. He could do that. It was how he normally handled his problems anyway; let the track wick away whatever was on his mind and force him to hone in on the details surrounding him in each moment.

"You ready to head inside?" Charles asks.

"I don't think I can go back just yet."

"Want me to hang out here with you?"

"No. I'll be back eventually."

Charles' hand falls from his shoulder after a short squeeze, the sound of a tinny voice over the speakers temporarily flooding the balcony as Charles returns to the banquet. Pierre allows himself a few more moments of reprieve before slipping back inside just as the applause starts. Rather than returning to the delicately portioned meal that sat cooling before his empty chair, he orders a drink. Whiskey on the rocks, his go to in times of crisis. He takes one sip before the reminder of you ordering it for him in London makes holding the glass of caramel liquid unbearable and he downs it in a single swallow, going back to order a beer instead.

He nurses the green bottle of Heineken as he leans against the wall until the meal is finished and the chit chat starts. You stand with Max, practically pressed against him as you snatch a flute of champagne from a passing server. You search the crowd, brows drawing together when you don't locate your quarry. Pierre had made sure that he was tucked out of the low lighting, unsure if he could survive you stealing worried glances at him all night.

Charles winds his way over to pass off a roll he snagged from dinner, practically forcing the Frenchman to eat it before returning to his date. He nibbles at it absentmindedly, entirely too focused on you to divert an ounce of focus elsewhere.

Your dress is a glowing sun in a sea of earth tone garments, drawing his eye as you pull Max out onto the wood platform serving as the dance floor before the tables are fully cleared. The flush in your cheeks tells him you're deeper in your cups than you should be; Max didn't know your limit as well as he did. Three drinks was all you could manage before you got tipsy, five if you wanted to be completely blitzed.

The lights dim and his hiding spot is no longer quite as good as the party lights sweep over him from time to time. Max places one hand on your hip and you place one on his shoulder and grin up at him. Judging by the fit of giggles that requires you to lean into Max for support, you were teetering dangerously on the edge of being wholly drunk. You throw your head back and laugh at whatever Max says in response to your fit, Pierre straining to hear the musical sound over the band.

"Hey," Victoria says, breaking his concentration. "You wanna get out there?"

Pierre grimaces. He had managed to completely forget about her, too stuck in his own head. "Sorry, Vic. I don't think I'd be a very good partner tonight."

"No worries," she says, a soft, understanding smile on her lips. "I can keep myself busy."

Pierre nods his thanks, his attention immediately returning to the dance floor. Daniel and his girlfriend steal the show, both laughing as he dips and twirls her across the floor.

Being together was so fucking easy for them, effortless in a way it wasn't for you and Pierre. They never once paid any heed to the photographers that swarmed them or the headlines printed about them, they just laughed the rumors off and carried on. No one could question their love for each other because they were vocal about it- sometimes annoyingly so- and Daniel was rarely seen in public without her at his side. They were always touching, holding hands or stealing kisses or even the near scandal of his hand blatantly on her ass at the podium a few races back, and neither of them cared.

Their love was all that mattered. They didn't care who knew it.

But you and Pierre were far too private to be like that, at least not when you were still trying to figure things out yourself. The first sign of outside pressure had you cracking, and he wouldn't stand for knowing he was the source of your pain.

He tries and fails to convince himself he isn't jealous of the way Dan's hand so easily glides under the navy blue silk of her dress to caress her back without a second thought, wishing he could do the same to you. If he's being honest, he's living vicariously through Daniel for the next few songs, pretending he was someone else observing you and himself on the dance floor instead. It almost works; the way she shudders when his lips graze her ear is strikingly similar to how you'd react. The smile she flashes up at him is agonizingly close to your own wicked grin.

When her mouth finds his, Pierre gathers his wits and turns away. Their blatant public affection flipped a switch inside him, disgust rocking through him for a split second before he pushed it away.

He was happy for them. He knew what a long, rocky road it had been for them to become lovers instead of friends, had firsthand knowledge of the stress they'd gone through before they'd finally admitted their feelings to each other, put their pride aside and got together. Pierre had been the one to offer her advice on a night not much different than this one months ago, helping repair the damage Daniel's idiotic, thoughtless words had caused.

But Pierre had since become the person who was sickened at the sight of others in love. It reminded him that part of himself was missing and he hated it.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering back to you. You still occasionally scan the room as Max struggles to lead you through a dance. By some stroke of bad luck your gaze snags on him just as a spotlight illuminates his face and he grimaces. A slow blink is the only surprise you let show before laying your head on Max's shoulder. Jealousy spikes through him like wildfire, igniting his blood and tinging his vision with red.

He wants to march over and rip you off Max. He wants you tucked safely against him as his thumb rubs circles on the bare skin of the small of your back. He wants, more than anything, to take you to his apartment and half carry you up the stairs, having to shush you because you're giggling loud enough to wake the dead, and lay you down in his bed. He wants to help you out of that stunning dress and into a pair of his sweats and curl up against you, letting you sleep off your hangover until noon.

He'd fucked up that chance though, hadn't he? He had slipped up and driven you straight into your friend's arms, who he trusted not to make a move on you but not enough to negate the jealousy coursing through him.

In that moment, he hates you. He hates the hold you have on him, the way a simple gesture between half-drunk friends could send him into a spiral so steep he didn't recognize himself. He hates that he can't keep his eyes off you, your gravity too strong for him to resist.

Most of all, he hates that he doesn’t know how to quit you.

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval

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twisted-imagines · 4 years

Note

Hello! May I request some sfw and nsfw relationship headcanons for the Savanaclaw dorm students Jack, Ruggie, and Leona please?

I... genuinely didn't expect it would take so long😶 It's finished now and I really hope I did the boys justice in these headcanons😅 A lot of them already circulate in the fandom or in the discord(thank you guys!), but I still decided to flesh them out and include here.

Whew, that's my biggest work so far, whooping 6k words. Also the boys required adding female♀️and male♂️-specific bullets, hope it's fine with you. Still no read-more, I'm sorry for every passerby out there.

Please prepare yourself and enjoy💗

Savanaclaw relationship headcanons (SFW/NSFW)

Jack Howl 🐺

Sfw

• So that's the men they talk about, behind whose backs you feel like behind a stone wall? Not only is he big in stature, but Jack is also very reliable. Except for being your boyfriend, he's also your best friend and the biggest supporter; fan, if you may. There's nothing you can't discuss with Jack or ask for help with.

• Actually, the process of transition from friends to lovers was very hard for him, mainly because of how shy he was at first. One day you speak like always, discuss college and laugh together, and the next day he's a blushing mess, unable to say a coherent sentence to you. That day you asked him, whether he was ill, but the ones you actually had to ask about his state were his seniors who, as a gesture of goodwill, confronted their dear junior about his not so obvious crush on you the evening prior and ultimately turned his world upside down, when he finally realized that he liked you more than a friend.

• His bashfulness doesn't go entirely, no matter how long you date. Holding your hand in his still makes his cheeks red, hugging you makes his heart beat faster and kissing? Rest assured, you're the one initiating it most of the time.

• Which doesn't exactly make your kisses less pleasant. Jack can kiss, and he does it exceptionally well. Jack's kisses are the most loving and passionate, starting out very sweet and slow, and gradually becoming deeper and more intense, leaving you breathless. He's a type to cup your face and hold it there just gazing at you with lovesick puppy eyes.

• Jack is an open book. Whether he's happy, sad, angry, tired, or just thinking about something, it's pretty easy to spot and after some time into relationships you won't have problems gauging his mood.

• But even in instances when his expression doesn't betray him, he'll still talk with you, Jack is pretty earnest. His goal is for both of you to feel comfortable with each other. He wants to know about your hardships and vent about his own.

• Jack doesn't let just anybody close to his heart, and when he does he can be very vulnerable with them. That's also why your arguments always have such a heavy impact on him. In the middle of a fight he's not going to back down, and it'll continue as long as one of you doesn't storm out, but when he calms down he's going to regret so hard. Most of the time, he would want to go and find you, apologize and mend things as soon as possible, even if he was indeed right. With his fluffy ears sticking close to his head and bushy tail hanging down impossible low, he would ask you to just speak with him peacefully, saying he didn't want for this atmosphere between you to last any longer.

• By the way, you and only you have the unique privilege to pet his ears and tail. It both stresses him, because of how shy he is, and turns him into a puddle of affection when you gently caress him. He swears to himself, he could spend his whole life on your lap.

Did he actually say it out loud?...

• Your boyfriend is plainly adorkable and you treasure him so much.

• Also consider chilling with him in his wolf form! He doesn't get why you're always so eager to see him transform, but as long as you're happy he'll oblige. Cuddling, or lying above wolf Jack is the most serene feeling in the world, it's like lying on the fluffy, warm cloud.

• Jack is a walking heater, he emanates warmth, when you just stand next to him. What a hot man~ You'll probably be so thankful for it in winter, cuddling up to him is just the best, and he won't complain much about your freezing feet, he loves you after all. But in summer? Wolf boy got used to your hugs and is actually offended you don't embrace him as much. You can't fathom how he doesn't boil from the heat by just holding you in his arms. Power of love, truly.

• Bear hugs? Who needs them, when you have wolf hugs! Definitely, a type to completely engulf his partner into a hug, even his tail curls around you. The spoon, and no elaboration on that. No matter who embraces whom, in Jack's mind it's already perfect.

• Definitely not the PDA type, Jack is pretty reserved, and the best you can get out of him when people are watching is a light peck to the head and hand-holding.

• Sometimes he sticks into troubles because of his temper and distinctive sense of justice. It's for you to de-escalate the situation before it can turn into something serious. He may grunt because those guys definitely deserved to have somebody teach them a lesson, but you try to explain to him that it's for the best, he didn't stay aside, and that already counts.

• He wants you to delegate him all physically taxing tasks, whether by carrying your shopping bags, giving you something from the shelf, or anything else really. Chances are, you're still weaker than him and he wants to take care of you, the boy feels so proud when he can help you! "W-what? Me, a good boy?! ",- yes, Jack, the best. He sometimes hates it so much, how easily you fluster him.

• He would like to create a morning routine together with you. If you're not as keen on sports, muscle building, or can't endure heavy physical training he will just be glad to have you doing morning exercises near him, he genuinely thinks of it as some form of bonding. You noticed that while being in relationships with Jack your lifestyle changed into a much healthier one.

• Jack can be very playful with you, at times reminding of an actual wolf. When he's in an affectionate mood he may discreetly nuzzle your face, nibble on your ears or pet your hair. Most likely he doesn't mean anything sexual by it, just enjoying your presence, by other times his touches mean an entirely different thing.

Nsfw

• He definitely didn't have any experience before getting intimate with you. He blushes so hard, you think he'll pass out from excitement and his tail is just a flurry of colors, with how fast it wags.

• The first time is messy and chaotic, he is totally lost and doesn't know where to place his hands and what to do. Thankfully he's a fast learner, the rate with which he improves actually amazes you.

• The first time he goes down on you is a disaster too. But he's getting better quickly, and where he still lacks the skill, he makes up with determination. He's not leaving his place between your legs, until you cum at least once; if his jaw locks, he doesn't care. Jack gets addicted to your taste and he's the happiest when your tights are around his head, hands tugging on his white locks and the smell of your sweet arousal enveloping him.

• The first time you go down on him boy dies and ascends. Poor wolf cums in a minute and when he sees you struggling to swallow his cum? Jack swears he has never become hard so fast. Blowing him means freeing a good amount of time in your schedule, because, even if he gets embarrassed about it later, he'll hold you down there for a long time. He feels just pure bliss when you suck and lick him.

• Before you even try to initiate something in public, he's already looking at you with judging face. He despises the idea, that some other people may do such things in public places, so Jack himself is not going to engage in them.

• Pet the dog the boy! Do it, he'll be ecstatic. The base of his ears and tail are his most erogenous zones. He'll let out the neediest whines when you touch him, it's a sure way to get him in the mood. If you take back your hand he will growl softly and chase after it.

• While his growling may sound threatening Jack doesn't mean anything by that, he's just trying to release tension from being aroused. He's actually very tame, never exceptionally rough with you, unless it's your goal to rile him up. Jack doesn't fall entirely into sub/dom classification, he's vanilla, but he prefers to be on top and do the most of the work since it means he'll get to enjoy your whole body and he's all about expressing his love to you.

• The boy is pretty animated, but he always minds the volume. It's mostly grunts and growls, with occasional moans you adore so much. And feeling him growl when he's performing oral on you? Priceless.

• He has a knot. Even normally his cock's base is pretty thick, compared to the rest of the shaft, but when he's in you he rarely can withhold from forming a knot.

•♀️With female significant other Jack won't hesitate to beg her to let him put it in. The feeling of being connected like that with you makes him very emotional and appreciated even. It goes away after some time, and if you're worried about him actually knocking you up, Jack is actually very diligent about putting a condom every time you have sex.

• While he likes to see your face, the expressions you make, and that he can easily spot if you're not feeling good, Jack's all-time favorite pose is doggy style, how obvious. Having you on your four under him inevitably brings out his most carnal desires. Best believe, he's going to rock your world.

Ruggie Bucchi 🐆

Sfw

• This boy is husband material. Intelligent? Check. Good with money? Check. Knows how to cook, sew, clean, pay taxes? Check. Nobody will judge you if you propose to him after the first few months, Ruggie is good all-around if you've already learned to love him for who he is.

• The hyena boy is not very confident early into your relationships. He feels like if he starts to open up, you'll get to know him better and eventually... break up with him. He's on guard the entire time, trying to be a picture-perfect boyfriend, but it's so different from the way he behaved before, you can't help, but think something is wrong. At some point, all the stress from college, dorm management, and your relationships is going to get at him, resulting in you consoling him on your lap after he breaks down and cries from overworking himself constantly. After he's let it out if his system, venting to you about how anxious he actually is, and how he doesn't want to lose you, when you have just returned his feelings, you can finally soothe him and address what he's said. When he's in such vulnerable state, Ruggie really needs to hear that you want to see his other sides, even if he thinks they are not beautiful, that you are willing to accept him no matter what and he doesn't need to be perfect for you to love him and you're definitely not leaving him any time soon. This talk does make him feel more secure afterward and it's easier for him to rely on you a bit more.

• His love language is definitely acts of service! He loves to be helpful, to hear your praise when he's cooked lunch for you, took your clothes to the laundry for you, fixed your tie or shoelaces when you didn't notice it was loose. It makes him feel accomplished and you being grateful and repaying him for that, unlike a certain lion, is definitely a nice bonus. His preferred way is to receive your love in gifts, but you need to be careful with them! He won't appreciate you wasting your money on something stupid or of no use to him; it has to be practical, but not necessarily expensive. If you present him with a handmade gift though, he's going to treasure it, no question asked. The thought of you, spending time to create it with him in mind makes Ruggie feel warm all over.

• Quality time between you is very important for him too. A nice evening together, without the college, annoying seniors, and other distractions is perfect for him. If you can concentrate your attention solely on him, lavish only him with your touches, hugs, smooches, and words of praise, Ruggie is the happiest man alive.

• For your dates he prefers to stay inside, prepare dinner together, dance and fool around without the care in the world, watch some show popular in Twisted Wonderland right now or groom each other. Yes, Savanaclaw guys do like self-care evenings from time to time, Ruggie in particular likes when you trim his nails, you find out that they're much harder than human nails, or comb his hair and pet those fluffy ears.

• If it's a special occasion, he won't be against going to some nice restaurant or cafe, he does know that it's important for couples to go out together, even if your budget may not be that big. Reserving pricey dates for holidays and important dates leaves him some time to save up money and feel prepared.

• The type that claims that's he's the big spoon, but the moment you lie down together, he's already cuddling up to your chest like the smallest spoon that he is. Ruggie loves to be close to your heart, listen to it's heartbeat, feel your warmth around him, it's such a blissful feeling for him. Just sometimes or when you ask him to, he'll hug you from behind and whisper sweet nonsense into your ear, assuring you that he'll protect you and everything will be okay.

• He may seem this confident, self-assured, and quite bold young man, who isn't shy at all to show his love for you, freely kissing and flirting with you. The truth is, as soon he's out of your vicinity, he's blushing like mad, while his heart is hammering in his chest. He's not used, definitely not used to courting somebody, it makes him so nervous, but it's not like he'll ever admit this.

• He doesn't like to be called cute, at all. Ruggie doesn't associate it with a compliment and he would rather have you think he's handsome, pretty or sexy but not cute, might as well say that he's weak or you don't see him as a man. He's can be pretty stubborn when he wants to, so what's left for you is to choose other words of affirmation.

• In Ruggie's mind kisses and embraces are an intimate practice. He can tolerate casual touching, give a friendly pat on the back, or even put an arm around somebody's shoulder, but he has to draw the line at kissing and hugging. He feels very grossed out when someone he doesn't trust enough tries to breach his personal space like this and evades it like the plague. Most likely, you're the only one who he has ever had close enough relationships with to do these things.

• Ruggies kisses can vary. Sometimes it's just a quick peck when you're passing by in corridors. Other times it's loving french kiss that leaves you both breathless, and which the boy tries to save for when you two are alone. But when he's jealous or feels threatened as in seeing a particularly noisy suitor of yours making rather bold moves, he won't hesitate to show his tongue down your throat right before them to get his message across.

• This hyena is very possessive. He still remembers how it's like to not being able to eat your food on your own, to not have a constant safe place to sleep at night, to feel like the worst, least deserving flea ever, not being able to protect what is yours. He still struggles, but he's no longer the scrawny, weak kid he was before, and he finally has the power to preserve what he treasures. And you're one of his treasures: the most beautiful and kindest being he's ever met. When you are by his side he feels like he could take over the world and waking up at the morning has never been so easy for Ruggie, for he knows he'll meet you today once again, and will be able to hug, and kiss, and hear that you love him.

• You'll have to learn it the hard way, that his history made an impact on his morality. As long as his ways are beneficial to him, to you or to his friends, Ruggie has no qualms doing the dirty stuff. It's not always violent in nature, but he broke bones with his unique magic before, you even was the one to out him on that, but it doesn't mean he gave up that mindset completely. It anything, he has now learned to go with more complicated, round-about strategies. Leave justice and righteousness to the folks like Jack, Ruggie is not as naive to think that the world is fair and he knows he has to work hard for the things he knows he deserves. But you're with him for reasons, and not letting him loose all his compassion is one of them. Sometimes it's important that you work as his moral compass and stand up and firmly tell him out of doing something that you deem wrong.

• Your arguments are almost nonexistent since most of the time Ruggie is the first to back down and accept your point of view. He almost never loses his cool and If he thinks you are not right, he'll still agree with you just to pacify you enough so you would discuss it with him and reach a consensus. Ruggie doesn't like to fight with you, he would rather fix the problem right at the start, so it wouldn't escalate, than wait until one of you can't keep silent anymore. By considering each other's opinion and working around them, your relationships remain healthy and beneficial to both of you.

Nsfw

• You can't help but question, whether it's actually his first time as he's said or not, but you aren't going to complain, with how he masterly finds and stimulates all your sweet spots.

• ♀️He will fulfill his position on the top without a fault, but if you seek something else entirely, he won't disappoint you either. Ruggie wholeheartedly thinks that the best place for him is where you say him to be. He will attentively listen to your commands and fulfill them to his best ability, just for a chance that you'll praise or reward him in some way. Handle him the way you want, he's already on the seventh cloud to be able to mate- oh, he meant to make love to you. In short, Ruggie is the best hyena boy, who'll submit to you in a breath.

• ♂️ The brattiest bottom, and none other than you got him. Prepare to wrestle him, quite literally, for a chance to have him underneath you, or just around you. Unless you prove that you're deserving of it, he's not going to relent. But the gratification for it is immense: the blushing, whining, breathless mess that Ruggie is when you're done with him is truly the sight to behold.

• Ruggie has nice stamina and can handle a lot, and is even somewhat masochistic, but degradation and punishments don't sit well with him and make him very uncomfortable in the end. If you want to discipline him for teasing you on public or getting it on without you, the best way to make him realize his mistake is through orgasm control. Crying from over-stimulating or from broken orgasm makes him learn the lesson, but not feel disrespected deep down. Just edge him for hours on end and he'll be as good as gold the weeks afterward, until he starts thirsting for your treatment once again.

• It's either raspy dirty talk or loudest, most sinful moans possible, no in between. Poor residents still can't figure it out who keeps them awake at night, the pornstar worthy cries just don't tie in with the image of petite vice dorm leader, and even if some of them understood, one glance is everything it's going to take to silence them.

• ♀️ He loves the feeling of being in you, how warm and tight it is, but don't hide the strap-on too far, he loves it equally as much, the devilish glint in his eyes tells it all when you first suggest it. Ruggie receives it very eagerly and is very supportive of the idea of adding it when you have some "alone time" together.

• He's a putty in your hands when you blow him. The hyena feels very special when you pay such close attention to his dick and can't handle it for too long. Blow jobs are definitely the currency he accepts for being an amazing boyfriend and it's a treat he always looks forward to.

• Considering his stature, he's definitely not the biggest one out there, but does he know how to use it, and what positions make both of you feel good. A grower, you sometimes question yourself, if it's some kind of magic.

•♀️You on top of him makes him not under the collar at any time, but especially when you fuck. No matter if he's penetrating you, or eating you out, he's overjoyed and so head over heels for you. And does he love to go down on you. Ruggie adores your clit, and always pays it the utmost attention. Hyena boy loses the feeling of time when he is there, smothered by your tights and licking, tasting, sucking, drinking your juices, and enjoying your moans. You'll have to forcefully remove yourself from his mouth because he's not stopping on his own, even if you're already tearing up from overstimulation.

•♂️ He's going to demand to be on top, even if he's the one taking it, he wants to have an illusion that he's in charge, even if you ram his ass like there's tomorrow. If you're the one receiving his cock, hands down(ha!), he positions you into a doggy style, the penetration is amazing and his hip game is top-notch, you'll have a hard time declining him a top position afterward.

• He can be pretty stealthy, when he wants to, so if you're up for it he will gladly finger you/give you a handjob under the table. The feeling of his calloused fingers in your most intimate place can bring you to orgasm very fast, not to mention how skillfully be moves his hand. Oral in a hidden alley? Not entirely out of the plate too. And the way Ruggie deals with accidental witnesses or uncomfortable questions still hasn't made you face consequences, so it's definitely working.

Leona Kingscholar 🦁

Sfw

• Stupidly sexy lion. He knows the hots you have for him are immense and he's going to use it against you. If flashing the cockiest smirk you've ever seen and whispering in your ear is all it takes to convince you to sleep with him, ditch your homework, to laze around with him or just generally pay attention to him, he's going to abuse it as much as he can.

• You feel like you've become ten times lazier since you've started to date him, he thinks that you just spend quality time together as a normal, lovable couple.

• It's pretty much impossible to make him do anything, even if you're his significant other now. He's not helping you with your crappy homework, neither will he buy you anything from the store or cafeteria, even if he's walking by it. Get your own shit. Even better, bring him something too, since you're going anyway.

• ♀️ That's it unless you're a lady with a more or less firm grip. There's definitely more respect he pays to you, having grown up in the pride of Afterglow Savannah. Ladies first and foremost, he can't ignore it. Suddenly he's the one getting his own shit and bringing you whatever you want with a silver lining, probably not looking the most enthusiastic about it, but you're his woman and that's what you deserve.

•♀️The dream boyfriend when you're on your periods. He's getting you the right pads without a fault, knows just what snacks to bring you, heating packs are already there and an even hotter lion is embracing you and petting your hair.

• Still overall Leona is not your prince charming, and your relationships are full of compromises and until Leona finally understands that it takes two to tango, it's on you to support them. Which can be pretty hard, but the pay off is big unarguably.

• Your arguments start out calmly, up till the moment Leona gets sick of it and then the worst starts. It takes time for the situation to escalate to that point, Leona does have some patience and sense in him, but once you both are angry and don't hear each other prepare for this fight to leave no stone unturned.

♀️With a lady, Leona will be pretty tame, and rather than shouting he'll be growling lowly, which isn't less aggressive, but the chance of him scaring or snapping at you is pretty low. He'll be the first to storm off, not having the patience to stand it anymore and unable to let it out because of his innate respect for you.

♂️It's brutal, even if he's meters away from you. He hates to be bossed around or scolded like a guilty kitten and you remind him of all the arguments he had with his family at home, which makes his blood boil. The best course of action would be for you to leave him alone for the time being and patiently wait when he's up to talking again.

Sometimes you talk and the problem is solved and you don't return to and quarrel about it ever again, other times Leona just plainly drops the subject before it comes to bite him in the ass and you have a fight again. You have to be the smarter one with a hot-tempered and prideful boyfriend that you have, for arguments to not shake your relationships, and even straighten them.

• When he's not sleeping Leona can be quite cute and affectionate with you, corny when he's on a mission to make you blush. He doesn't care if anybody is round, you're the only one who he sees and right now he wants his wake-up kiss and nobody can stop him unless they want a couple of broken bones. You got into trouble because of his careless nature a lot of times, but when you look at his charming smirk and naughty eyes you can't resist him which allows him to peck you ten times more until you either drag him to a hidden from prying eyes place, or others shout at you to get a room.

• One kiss is never enough for Leona, especially since he doesn't acknowledge close-mouthed kisses and not the one to ever restrain himself. The make-out sessions are frequent and very heated, with his hands roaming everywhere, low groans sending pleasurable chills down your spine. What a relief he's usually in the places where no noises and people can disturb his sleep, or "bonding time" with his mate.

• The biggest spoon, he almost never gives up his place. If you catch him at his sleeping spot somewhere at the botanic garden or square and he's awake enough to spot or smell you, he'll trap you in his grasp and not let go until it's either time to eat or return to dorm. Crying that you have important matters and you can't just rest like that is futile. He's pretty warm too and even more cuddly than Jack, so prepare to suffer. But it's also very sweet how pissy he gets when you try to leave, clutching your form closer still, employing even his tail just not to part with your comfortable presence. The only time he's willing to be a little spoon is when he lays on your lap, happy to receive pats and scratches to his ears, at times like that he feels practically blessed to be with you.

• He may not show it openly, but he cares. He cares so much about you. He knows your likes and dislikes, maybe not precisely, but it's already outstanding for a guy who mostly gives no shit about people other than himself. He knows how to make you happy when you're sad or stressed, and how not to worsen your state. He'll talk with you about your problems to help you find a solution, and when you thank him for helping you, Leona will just brush it off and say that you were the one to come up with it. He's also just fine with lending you an ear, even if inside he wants to turn into sand whatever or whoever made upset. Yes, if it's alive, they will probably not be happy that they survived, because the following day will be a total nightmare for them. Nobody in their right mind would harm the lion's mate, and Leona makes sure everybody knows that.

• He's quick-witted and can come up with smartest, most efficient ideas in no time, but he's always too lazy or doesn't see a point. If you're needing his help, he may consider it, but you still receive a negative answer sometimes. Unless you have something you can offer, which for Leona you always do. The answer is straightforward - you.

• When you stay at their dorm, Ruggie always dumps his usual responsibilities on you. Leona has to wake up to his morning classes and how you manage to do it is on you. And bring his breakfast, or he'll forget and by the time he remembers nothing is left for him already. Also, braid his hair, and exclusively to you, try to not be taken to bed once again. It's quite rare you complete your quest. Other times Leona just takes advantage of it and skips the day entirely, lounging around and doing stuff with you.

• Ruggie and Jack admire you for how you can put up with Leona's lazy lion ass and how you get along and accept Leona-senpai even though his character is like that each respectively. Both agree that it's quite a feat you didn't bailout in the first weeks. They notice how much Leona mellowed down, in a good way, when he got together with you and are quite glad that the senior found such a person to love as yourself.

• Jealousy over the roof, but you won't ever catch the wind of it. He's good at pretending, and he can't let you know that he's about to chew this poor soul head off, together with their limbs and flesh. In his mind you literally belong to him, only he is allowed to flirt and tease you. He'll try and lead you away as nothing has happened, but his blood is boiling.

• Being Leona's lover means getting the privilege of being called "aunt/uncle" by small Cheka. He loves you so much, the lion cub looks forward to playing with you and his uncle when he visits NRC. It's the rare instances when Leona doesn't conceal his jealousy and demands your attention back openly. You think it's funny how he feels challenged by the kid, but choose to watch from the sidelines, how instead of being scared of fuming uncle Cheka just goes to give love to him instead. Leona thinks that you get along well with children, and just sometimes imagines how would you look caring for your own cub. If you ask him why he's spacing out like that, he'll just huff, but the small blush will remain on his cheeks for quite some time.

• "And what should I do with you?"

"Love me, feed me, and never leave me."

This big ass cat just needs your TLC to enter his cat heaven.

Nsfw

• The ultimate pillow prince. Love him and fondle him, kiss and bite him, he'll take everything and then ask for more. He'll agree to everything as long as you keep the good stuff coming. He even tries and acts like he's the one in charge, but you know that you're the one doing most of the work and his bravado is just for show.

• But when he needs to really show you who is alpha here he won't half-ass it. When he's especially angry or jealous Leona is not releasing you from his room all day long and goes to extreme, by his and probably your standards, lengths to prove that you don't need anybody else, and only he can satisfy your every need.

• He has had sex before and that's a fact, but was he ever so emotionally connected to somebody else? If his intense gaze and low roars tell you something, it's that he has never dedicated himself to somebody, neither in or out of bed.

• Unashamed nudist, Leona will fuck you just anywhere as long as you both want this. Charm to the max, when you say that you're worried somebody will walk in on you. "You're not thinking about anybody else when I'm right here, kitten".

• Blowjob is not just a way to motivate him, sometimes it's the only way you can make him do something. Prone to throat fuck you on occasions when he has the spare energy. More often than not just lets you take all matters into your hands and do whatever you want. If not for those quiet grunts you would think he fell asleep again. He did not, the man is living his best life.

• Animalistic growls, groans, and grunts are heard in Savanclaw hallways when you make love. While he may not be the most vocal lover, he doesn't hold himself back either. You make him feel good, and he lets you know about it.

• Leona Kingscholar is massive and he knows it. As if the big dick energy wasn't already radiating off of him, he actually has a lot to stress it. "Not the most human dick" squad, he has the penile spines, though not as painful as in actual mammals, they just add more excitement to already satisfying feeling. Best believe, he knows what to do with this package to make you see stars.

• As long as you're above him he's content, missionary, cowgirl, 69 you name it, he loves it. Do mind that his trust power is bruising, not taking into account his size, as a result, you won't be walking normally, if at all if was especially fired up, the following day.

•♀️While you're up there, might as well sit on his face and let him have a snack from his personal five-star restaurant. He loves every minute of it and can probably stay for days there, making you come over and over again because he's so damn good at it too. He knows just how to lick, where to apply pressure, what to do with his fingers, and that rough tongue is plainly amazing. Never heard of it before? Now you did and it has the most mind-blowing sensation against your labia and clitoris. So messy, Leona is; when you finish with him he'll have your slick and cum smeared all over his face, which he doesn't mind at all, licking off what he can, successfully making you turn even redder from the erotic sight beneath you.

• ♂️ The sloppiest suck you'll ever get, nobody can challenge Leona on that. It would be nice if he just repaid you a bit more often. You'll probably learn to treasure his blowjobs, because of how rare and memorable they are simultaneous. The king, oh this irony, of deepthroating, you wonder if this man even has a gag reflex. Apparently, he does not, or just holds himself together very well, because he'll remove himself only to breathe in some air before he goes to town on you once again.

• Does he have a nice imagination, this lion. It's not rare for him to just daydream about fucking you in any setting possible, pop a boner, never do something about it and just drift off again. The reason he always turns your cutesy cuddly times into marathon sex is because he's always horny, but rarely acts on it and just opts to let off the steam together with you.

• Prepare to be littered with bites and scratches, the sex with Leona can be very wild. No matter your position you'll receive lots of marks all over your body, and don't raise your hopes - you won't be able to conceal it, for he chose very specific areas that are always seen by others, Leona is a possessive man after all.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twst x reader #savanaclaw #jack howl #ruggie bucchi #leona kingscholar #twst jack #twst ruggie #twst leona #lemonade #mel writes

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unsaidjulie · 3 years

Note

helloo

fairy lights for juke pls :)

(good luck with these prompts and your WIPs btw!!!)

thank you bby <33 i went with canon-compliant with this one bc the idea popped into my mind and!! whoop it’s set at some point after unsaid emily, but before the finale. i hope you enjoy this!!

the prairie on the wall

Julie gets fairy lights. She’s wanted them for a while and Ray finally took her to the store and got the nice, purple set. He offers to help her put them up, but it’s something Julie wants to do alone.

She’s always imagined putting them up, what it would feel like to step back, turn off the big light, and turn on the fairy lights. In her dreams, it’s where the magic begins.

She doesn’t count on Luke appearing out of thin air, joining her in standing on the bed. ‘Fairy lights are a thing?’

Julie falls off the bed, hitting her head on the floor a little bit. ‘Luke! How many times do I need to tell you to stop doing that?!’

‘Sorry,’ he says, and gives her a hand. ‘I just thought you heard me enter. I knocked,’ he adds, wagging his eyebrows as if that’s supposed to mean anything.

‘I didn’t hear you, so please announce your presence when it’s not an inch of my face.’

She’s back on the bed and Luke shoots her a grin, pushing the fairy lights up on the ceiling bit that’s too high for her too reach. ‘Noted.’

Julie sets her hands on her hips. ‘Luke.’

‘Mhm?’

‘Wouldn’t you at least ask before doing this instead of me?’

‘What?’ He turns around with a frown on his face, but lips tilted in a slight smile. ‘I thought you could use a hand.’

‘I was doing it alone.’

‘Oh. My bad. You want me to leave it?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Okay.’ Luke steps away and spreads his arms like a kid, as if calling her to see him be a good boy. He jumps off the bed and falls into her chair, watching her climb back up and start doing it herself (struggling a lof more than he did.) ‘Did I ever tell you I basically invented fairy lights?’

Julie gives him the infamous side eye, stepping on the tips of her toes to attach the lights to the ceiling. ‘No you didn’t.’

‘Yes I did. I had the most rad bedroom ever.’

‘No you didn’t.’

He frowns and she bites her lips from forming a smile. ‘I’ll show you.’

And with that, he’s gone.

Julie spends the next fifteen minutes finishing up the fairy lights. It’s a bit more taxing than she expected it to be, and she’s a little out of breath, for whatever reason, but it’s done. When she steps off the bed and turns off the light, she sees it in all its glory -- and it was absolutely worth it.

Luke poofs into the chair in that very moment. He looks the same as before, albeit a little more ecstatic, with hair a little more ruffled. He jumps off the chair and onto the bed, grinning. ‘I found it! Nice lights, by the way. So this is my old bedroom.’

Julie sits down on the bed and takes the photograph from him, and he sits next to her -- close enough for her to know she would’ve been able to feel him if he weren’t...

She stares at the photo. There’s Luke, at fifteen or sixteen, with braces and the worst haircut she’s ever seen. Behind him are stacks of books and records, and there’s a very prominent light coming from definitely not safe Christmas lights propped up on the walls and around the shelves.

‘That’s a safety hazard,’ she says. ‘You could’ve set your house on fire. Also, you look ridiculous and I’m never letting you take this back.’

‘Julie!’

She’s laughing, but all she can think is this: he went back home to look for this. For me.

They bicker for a few moments and Luke makes a weak attempt at chasing her around the room, but they both know there’s nothing he can do. In the end, Julie just hands him a polaroid camera. ‘Take a photo of me with my lights.’ She pulls up the photo of him and says, ‘That’s your reference.’

If she could bottle up the way he’s looking at her in this moment, Julie thinks it would smell like a prairie. Like daisies, and fresh air, and the feeling that everything is possible.

He takes the photo, and Julie puts it on her wall. When he doesn’t see, though, she puts his own photo right underneath it -- so she can always have him, hidden, but there. Behind her. Guarding her. (Just like he always is.)

send me a word/phrase + ship + canon/au and i’ll write a short drabble!

#freeshawarmas #juke #jatp #julie and the phantoms #jukebox #juke fic #my drabble #drabble night 1 #i actually loved writing this lajfdsgk

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leggomylino · 4 years

Text

Vibe So Hot | Han Jisung

Genre: Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

AU: neighbor au, prank war au

Word Count: ~11.7k

Warning(s): mild language (censored)

A/N: inspired by the song “Vibe So Hot,” Priscilla Ahn

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

-〤〤〤-

There were times when you weren’t really sure about Han Jisung.

The day you moved from your parent’s house into your new home, life was a dream. A delight. A living fantasy. You and your closest friend of twenty-odd years had been visualizing it for ages- a home for just the two of you, where you could make and break all the rules you wanted, eat dinner out of the cookie jar, throw paint and crayon all over the walls, and dump all the grease, homework, and leftover brussel sprouts down the garbage disposal that you wanted. It would be your kingdom with the two of you at equal pedestal on the throne, and no one could say or do anything about it.

While your visuals and ideals did change over time, what with hormones and taxes and a general understanding of how the world worked, you and F/n never stopped dreaming of the day you each held one half of the kingdom between your fingers. One half of freedom. It was a blissful, beautiful Tuesday morning. Exactly five months ago. Birds chirping in the small tulip trees. The sweet spring breeze ruffling the surrounding azaleas. The simple but water-efficient sprinkler system the two of you had worked a summer job to afford that was...spraying…...coke…

...Yes, it had been a beautiful Tuesday morning. And also the arrival of hell next door.

“HAN JISUNG!” you yelled, banging on your neighbor’s front door. “Han Jisung, I know you’re home!” You stamped your foot. “Open this door right now!”

It was now five months later. Five months since you’d moved into your dream home, something small and sweet and affordable that you and your friend worked hard for years to achieve. Just something small to start the two of you out, while you finished up school and figured out what the heck the two of you wanted to do with the rest of your lives.

It had easily become five months of back-and-forth hell. “HAN JISUNG!!!”

Click. The door slowly creaked open. It was dark inside, far too dark for 2 pm, like something out of a horror movie.

Oh, but you weren’t falling for another one of his tricks. Not this time. “Han Jisung, I know you’re there…” You called...weakly. “C-Come out this instant. I know it was you who stuffed cereal into the birdfeeder and left glue on the door handles. I was almost late for work this morning and F/n is stuck on the back porch.”

There was no response. You agitatedly sighed, running a hand through your hair and taking a handful of strands with you thanks to the faint remainder of krazy glue that simply wouldn’t come off.

“Han,” you called, poking your head inside. “Han? Han Jisun-”

The moment you stepped inside, a loud whrr! resounded, your body hoisting upwards. You spun around in the flimsily thin netting, falling into a fetal position backwards.

Han and a few of his cronies came out cackling at your expense, watching you gently spin and sway in their ridiculous trap. “I caught Y/n!” one of them cheered. “That’s 1,000 points.”

Another scoffed. “You didn’t do anything,” he said, blowing long blonde locks out of his face. “The points go to me for setting up the...project.”

“Shouldn’t they go to Han?” Yet another asked. “It’s his house.”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to adjust. Han tromped over proudly and swung his arm around the boy. “Exactly!” he cheered, pinching his cheek. “I’m glad you see it my way.”

The kid squinted his fox-like features in disgust, shoving the ringleader away from him. Han merely laughed, smirking up at you next. He sent a flirtatious wink your way. You scoffed.

“S’up, gorgeous?”

“Drop dead.”

“Ouch,” he playfully winced, pretending to take literal damage. “Didn’t like the glue, or the cereal? I told Hyunjin no one wanted his bland raisin garbage. But,” He shrugged. “He insisted it was good for the birds. The raisins, anyway-”

“Screw you,” Goldilocks groaned. “Shove off, I never said I ate the stuff. I just said it was better than wasting Lucky Charms or something actually good.”

“...Yeah, so there’s that.” He spared a passing eye roll before putting back on his deceitfully charming smile. Disgusting. “What brought you to swing by? Just dropping in?”

The other boys laughed again, causing you to turn an annoying shade of pinkish-red, some cross between coral and rouge. “I don’t have to tell you anything!” you snapped in your anger.

Unfortunately, Han Jisung needed to know the facts. “Then...how am I supposed to help you? Oh, oh! Hold on a minute.” He simpered. “Are you maybe trying to tell me that you came by unannounced because...you wanted to get caught up in my web?”

Han’s crew all made catcalls and whistles along with nervous smiles and suggestive expressions. The nerve of him. You fought yourself into an upright position, clawing angrily at the seams. “I meant you already know what you did wrong! Get me out of this stupid thing and get over to my house so you can fix it.”

“Oooo,” A freckled-faced boy you recognized as Felix cooed. He’d often been a leading officer in many of Han’s classic pranks and schemes. “I think she wants you bro.”

The heat on your face was intensifying, whether from rage or embarrassment, you didn’t care. Your prison shook. “That’s not what I-”

“Well then,” Han (classically) interrupted. “Guess I better get over there and fix it.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a salacious manner, padding around the clamour of boys and taking the stairs three at a time like a gazelle. When he reached the top, he revealed a rope from around the corner, lowering you gently...at first.

After three careful tugs, he dropped the rope entirely. Your eyes went wide, screaming as you fell--

...Right into Han Jisung’s arms. The boy glided down the stair rail and caught you at the last possible second. “Plenty of time to spare,” he insisted, showing you his teeth.

You slapped them away, wrestling your way back to your feet. “...You’re such an asshole, Han Jisung,” You dusted yourself off, smoothing out your attire single handedly. “I--”

...You yanked your hand down. Away from his face. Hard. Harder.

It was stuck. Your hand was stuck to his cheek. Krazy glue.

“OW! Ow ow ow okay! That hurts! Sh*t!” He cursed. You rolled your eyes, kicking his leg.

“That’s what you get for gluing my door! Now come on!”

To make things less awkward, you gripped his left ear, yanking him like a mother would a misbehaving child. The others crowded around and followed, laughing as—

The door slammed in their face. “OW!” You heard Hyunjin yelp. His watered-down image through the distorted window showed him covering his nose, the other two goons frantically asking if he was okay.

...Well, Felix did, anyway. Fox-face merely stared and shook his head a little. “Let’s go. You’re cleaning the glue off both doors and changing out the birdfeeder. If you screw it up, you’re buying me a new one.” A harsh gaze fell over your shoulder. “After you unstick F/n!”

Han grunted, his groans and whines a feeble echo of white noise along with the ridiculous passes he occasionally made on the way over.

-〤〤〤-

After spending an hour and a half watching Han unstick glue from around your house (after unsticking your hand from his face) and taking a trip down to the hardware store for a new birdfeeder that 100% came out of his pocket, you sighed, trudging yourself through the front door and collapsing onto the nearest sofa by a front-facing window. You leered, observing Han shuffle up his own walkway and exchange harsh words with his friends before they all piled inside.

That bastard. He was always coming after you, ever since you first moved into the neighborhood. After the first week of assaults (from moving day) you’d asked the other neighbors if any of them had any bad experiences from house 117, but they all gave a generally same response: “Who, Han Jisung? Oh, heavens no! He’s such a nice boy! A little quirky, sure, but such a nice boy! ...Are you sure it wasn’t a raccoon or a stray cat?”

Heh, yeah. Like a stray cat was capable of impersonating your friend to have the locks on your house changed. Didn’t they have to do security checks for that stuff?!

Speaking of locks, the sound of keys ricocheted from your left, and you turned your head to see F/n enter...very strangely. They looked spooked, their eyes wide as they turned their head this way and that, creeping into the house like an Egyptian wall painting.

“Is the cost clear?” they asked. “Is he gone? Nothing’s missing? Nothing’s amiss?”

“Relax, F/n,” you said, scratching your head. You desperately needed a shower, but that had been rather hard with the pipes spewing nothing but Mr. Pibb for the past three days. It’d apparently be a fourth until they cleared out. “The menace is gone, back to his evil layer. I made sure he cleaned up his mess and got him to replace your grandmother’s birdfeeder.”

F/n scowled, back to normal as they tromped into the room, throwing their bags down. “She made that birdfeeder from scratch, Y/n. With her own two arthritis riddled hands, that birdfeeder may as well have been an ancient relic. It was one of a kind.”

“I know, I know,” you insisted, peacefully trying to calm them down. “Just relax. I got it under control and taken care of.”

“You said that last time. Now look at the place.”

You looked around. “...It looks spotless. Han actually did a really nice job with that extra work he put in.”

“Well it wasn’t before! ...Wait, you let him into the house?!”

Whoops. “Only to do some extra chores. To make up for outside. And many other times he’s screwed us over.”

Your friend grabbed the sides of their hair, practically seething. They regarded you like you’d gone insane, and they were just on the brink. “Y/n have you lost your mind? Are you stupid? I thought you were smart! What was that 3.5 GPA for?!”

“Hey, GPA isn’t everything. It’s just a matter of getting on a teacher’s good side and paying attention. Also, I’m aware that...that may have not been the best move. But it’s fine!” you insisted, now following your friend into the kitchen. “I was watching him the whole time. He didn’t leave my line of sight once!”

F/n opened the fridge, glaring perplexedly. “...Not once?”

“......”

You thought. Oh wait...well…

You smiled sheepishly. “...Actually...ahaha...he may have asked to go to the bathroom once…”

F/n’s jaw dropped. “And you let him?!”

Your hands found their way into the air. “What was I supposed to do, F/n? Follow him into the bathroom? That’s creepy and gross and uncalled for.”

Your friend grabbed a beer from the fridge, slamming the door shut after. “No, Y/n. You tell him to go next door and use his bathroom.”

“But what if it was an emergency?”

“I think he can hold it.”

“But what if he couldn’t?”

They paused just beside you, giving you a harsh glare. “After all he’s done? I’d say that’s a real shame and another mess he’d have to clean up.”

“F/n--!”

“NO, Y/N,” Your friend of twenty-odd years turned to you, making it halfway back to the front door. “You don’t get it! It has been five years--”

“Five months.”

“...It has felt like I have had my guard up for five years. I can’t relax in my own home. I can’t relax at work, I can’t relax at school-- I can’t relax anywhere!” They polished off the beer, crumbling the can and tossing it aimlessly into the kitchen. You ducked, the can soaring over your left ear and colliding with a kitchen cabinet. “URGH!”

They grabbed their bags, beginning to march out. You were faster, sliding on sock-clad feet across Han-polished floors to beat them to it, blocking the exit. “F/n, listen. Please. I agree it’s bad, but I think you’re overreacting just a little.”

“Overreacting?! …” S/he crossed his/her arms, glaring at you skeptically and in disbelief. “Okay, fine. Which bathroom did he use?”

“Huh?”

“Which bathroom?”

You swallowed, thinking again. “...Uh...the upstairs one.”

F/n deadpanned. Cold and hard. “Great. Thank you for that. All my school supplies are up there. My office and workspace is up there. That’s where I sleep, Y/n.” You blinked.

“You sleep in your office?”

“URGH!”

They pushed you aside, storming into the wide, open world. Hysterically you followed, snagging your keys off the side table by the front door and making sure to lock up behind you. “F/n- ...F/n wait…! Ah, stupid locks…!”

“Don’t follow me, Y/n!”

“WAIT!”

“I SAID DON’T FOLLOW ME!”

From the corner of your eye, a silhouette of dark brown hair and overly-white teeth made its way toward your property line. “Hello F/n, Y/n.” The careful fall breeze blew the shade from his eyes, where evil and mischief still resided. “Having a little back and forth banter, are we? A disagreement, perhaps?”

Han-bleeping-Jisung. Your vision narrowed, a scowl aimed directly at him. When he was around, it’s all you could focus on. Your senses heightened, and not in a good way. He couldn’t be trusted.

You shouldn’t have let him into your house. Your sensors were picking up on something. He seemed too happy for someone that was just forced into doing chores in a house that wasn’t their own. And willing so…

A hot vibe was residing along the back of your neck, between your shoulder blades. A sinking, sensationally bad feeling. “What can we help you with, Han?”

“Oh,” he piped, brows raised. “We’re on a single name basis now. That’s rare.”

F/n cast him a dark look and continued down the sidewalk to their car. You sighed, trying to relax and having little success; F/n was right, it was hard to remain calm with a hellion next door. “What do you need?”

Han Jisung shoved his hands in his pockets. “Need is a strong word. I need a lot of things. Food, water, air--”

A groan escaped your lips. “Fine. Forgive me. What do you want?”

“Hmmm…” He smirked, listing his head. “I want a lot of things, princess. Depends what you’re referring to.”

You’re pretty sure you could hear the gag coming from F/n’s car as they started the engine, shifting into reverse. Han chuckled, letting you know he heard it too.

“Alright, fine.” He held his hands up in surrender. “You caught me. I came to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“......” He pursed his lips. “...I may have gotten a bit carried away and...well, I couldn’t resist, really. But I was thinking and, maybe it was in bad taste. Since Hyunjin did break your grandmother’s bird-thing.”

A rustling came from the bushes. “That wasn’t me! That was you!”

Han cringed, turning over his right shoulder. “Shhh!”

You faltered, zoning in on Han’s shrubbery. “Who is that? Is that Hyunjin hiding in your flowers?”

Han rolled his eyes, tossing...some junk from his pockets. A coin or something. “I told you not to say a word!”

Blonde hair revealed itself from the viburnum bushes on Han’s property. “Cattywampus.”

“I SAID TO SHHH!”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Oh, so when we’re playing Scrabble, it’s not a word. But now that we’re probing Y/n for information, all of a sudden, it’s a word!”

The air left your lungs, quite dramatically, and you took a step back farther into the safety of your porch. “...What is he talking about? What information?”

Tensions spiked like never before. Han simply groaned. “Dammit...thanks a lot, Hyunjin.” He turned to you with a sour face. “Yeah, okay, whatever, just...I wanted to know when your birthday was.”

He shrugged, trying to pull off the most innocent, blow-it-off look possible. You weren’t buying it. “What were you saying before? What did you do to my house?”

“Oh yeah,” He clasped his hands behind his back, sending another classic trademarked wink your way. Hyunjin freed himself from the viburnum flowers, along with Fox-face, who’d gotten himself tangled up in the next-door rose bush; he tripped over an illy placed hoolahoop and ran into Hyunjin, the two of them taking turns removing literal thorns from their sides. “I left you a present inside.”

I left you a present inside.

He left you a present inside your house. A surprise. A bad one. You had invited him into your living space, your relaxation hub where relaxation was scarce, and gave him just enough alone time to leave something behind.

Something terrible. Something rotten.

Han Jisung was no longer looking like Han Jisung to you; what you saw before you was his true form: a plotting, overzealous, sadistic little impish demon of a man, no...a demon pretending to be a man. Someone like Han Jisung couldn’t possibly be human. There was no love at all in his heart.

“F/N!” You yelled, chasing after them as they drove down the street. “F/N, WAIT! STOP THE CAR! PLEASE!!!”

You could feel Han Jisung’s eyes as he trailed you all the way down Maple Street, his friends watching as F/n hit the brakes a hundred feet shy of the stop sign and let you clamber in the back.

“Step on it.”

S/he nodded, slamming the accelerator and getting the two of you safely out of Dodge. “I’m going to a friend’s house. I have to return a few things I borrowed before Han Hellion ruins them,” They looked over their shoulder. “Where are you headed?”

Your eyes glared proudly through the rearview mirror. F/n drew back, nervously looking between you and the road unassured.

But there was nothing for it. They could yell and pitch a fit at you later. Today, this very moment, everything was going to end.

“The craft store,” you said. “And you’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“We’re taking our house back.”

“......”

The car rolled to a stop at the cross section of Water and Runway Boulevard. If it was the friend you were thinking of, F/n would have to make a right here. Your local craft store was the opposite direction.

With a unanimous nod through the rearview, the two of you made a left down Water Street.

-〤〤〤-

Hobby Lobby had to be your favorite store, next to Fye’s Music Records where you occasionally went for your music collection and your favorite restaurant. ...Though a store wasn’t really a restaurant, and vice-versa.

You and F/n scoured the many aisles of arts and crafts, decor and gifts, candles and knick-knacks, searching high and low for everything on a messy-scribbled list the two of you put together in the parking lot. Revenge was going to be so sweet. Total bliss.

“Buckets?” A young employee repeated back to you. “Yes, let’s see, they should be near the back of the store, on the right-hand side. If you pass the glitter and pipecleaners, you’ve gone too far. I believe they’re on Aisle 13.”

“Thanks,” F/n said, grabbing your wrist and dragging you behind them. They almost seemed more excited about this whole revenge-war than you did. “Aisle 10...Aisle 11...Aisle--”

S/he stopped, pale-stricken. “What is it?” You tried peering around the corner. “What’s wrong? Are they sold out or somethi--”

Your heart nearly stopped. There, in the middle of the aisle, stood Lee Felix, perusing a wide selection of glitter glue. A bucket (not a basket) hung from slack fingers, carrying a barrage of other craft equipment as well as a plastic bag from the Home Depot next door.

Some kind of rage was flooding through your system. You could sense it in F/n as well. The two of you were in sync, fed up with the Hellion Clan’s crazy antics and batsh*t ideas that only brought you pain and suffering. Enough was enough.

You practically shoved your friend aside. “LEE FELIX!”

Felix jumped, startled, frantic, eyes zooming in on you like a deer in headlights.

Then, unlike a deer in headlights, he ran.

“AFTER HIM!” F/n cried, shoving the list in their pocket. S/he ran farther towards the front of the store to block the entrance, while you followed in hot pursuit of the freckled boy’s trail.

Your phone buzzed as you ran, and without taking your eyes off your target you shuffled it out of your purse, slamming the receive button a little too hard. “What?!”

“He’s going towards the back of the store! He’s heading for the emergency exit!”

You gave a quizzical look toward your friend’s voice coming out of your phone, then back at your target’s backside. “What? How do you know that? Where are you?!”

“Look up. Aisle 1. Holiday crafts.”

Carefully your eyes scanned the tops of the shelves near the entrance, and after doing a double take on a statue you found F/n squatting among some Santa Claus and Christmas angels, a pair of high-grade binoculars in their mits.

You had no idea when they’d gotten those. “Where did you get those from?! How the heck did you get up there?”

“That’s not important right now! Just SEIZE HIM! He’s getting away, run faster!”

With an aggravated grunt you hung up, shoving your phone away and pushing your legs to hit the tile twice as hard. Some twenty feet in front of you Felix squeaked, making a surprise turn down Aisle 2 and knocking over a stack of decorative boxes. You cursed, calling forth your skills from high school gym to hurdle yourself over the monstrosity and skid to a temporary halt before barreling down the half-storage half-Christmas decor aisle.

“He’s getting away!” F/n yelled. “Move!!!”

“Why don’t you help me?!” You called back. Felix made a 90 degree turn, charging farther back into the store in the opposite way you were anticipating; unless…

A store manager suddenly appeared at the end of the aisle, holding her hand out to stop you. “Excuse me, I don’t think so; there’s no horseplay allowed in the store.”

Though she tried to grab you, you dodged like a badass, perrying right, then left, then spiraling after a mop of retreating orange hair down Aisle 7. “Can’t! Sorry! I’ll pay for this later!”

“I’m sorry?!”

“Hold that thought!”

The sound of static and muffled voices crackled behind you as the manager called for backup, but you didn’t care. This would all be over once the little coral pipsqueak was in your grasp; you’d make sure to make him sing everything that was going on.

“LEE FELIIIIIX!”

Somewhere on the opposite side Felix squealed, either running into something or barricading another path to ensure his freedom. You slid to another halt, straining your ears to pick up on the sound.

Maybe you could sneak up on him. You were getting pretty tired, and running all over the store wasn’t a very good strategy for either side. Tiptoeing down Aisle 6, buttons and sewing equipment, you held your breath, carefully peering down both directions of the aisle.

Empty, minus a mom and her kid. You dropped down on all fours, crawling to the next aisle-- except--

“Ow!” you hissed, pricking yourself on something sharp. It was a discarded sewing needle.

It gave you an idea. After sucking on the injury a moment, you snagged the discarded object, pinning it to the side of your bag.

You hopped to your feet and gathered the strongest thread and yarn you could. After diving into a pile of fabrics when a few security guards walked by, you got back to work setting up your ingenious idea. A little thread here. Some fabric there. A weight right here…

You quickly sewed (loosely) a few strips of fabric together, finally finishing your creation. “Sorry, this aisle is closed right now,” you said to a few customers, spreading slime over each end of the hall. It was showtime. “I’m ready,” you told F/n, uttering the words through your phone.

F/n had done well to keep their disguise as an oddly-put Santa, peering through their binoculars when no one was looking. “Okay. I sort of lost him after the cops started lurking by here. Let’s see…”

Another curse left your lips. “He didn’t leave, did he?”

“No, I didn’t hear the doors open or close. He’s gotta still be here somewhere…..aha!” Their cry made you jump. “Found him!”

“Where?!”

“Opposite side. Aisle 18. He’s hiding around the picture frames.”

“Dang it,” you groaned, “I need him over here!” You looked around hesitantly. “Can you get him over to this side? I’m on Aisle 7. Additional Sewing and Craft Supplies. Fabrics, yarn, etc.”

“I’m scared to leave my post, but…” F/n sighed. “...I guess if you have a plan, I can chase him that way.”

“Great, okay. Hurry.”

“Roger.”

You hung up, taking another deep breath. Waiting. Ducking when the cops circled back around.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar battle cry from the other side of the store, followed by a man’s scream. The security guards and management started racing that way, but by the time they’d get there the source would be long gone…

Because he was headed straight for your trap. You scaled to the top of the aisle, keeping low with a blanket of fabric over your head as you watched Lee Felix weave in and out of craft stands and passing customers, buzzing toward Aisle 7 like a bee to a honey hive.

“RwARGH!” F/n cried, their Santa disguise flying with a full-powered shove. Felix went plunging for the nearest aisle, your aisle, and the moment his sneakers hit Elmer’s Color Slime Kit, he slipped, spinning out of control right into the giant DIY net you created. Yes! Score!

“HIYAH!” You screamed, jumping off the aisle shelf and tackling him. Gave over. You’d won.

Felix squirmed and fought with all the strength he had left in him, his abs, his arms, his quads, but alas, twice his body weight from you and your friend combined was more than enough to stop him. He gave out with a long sigh just as an employee rounded the corner, crying for assistance.

You were out of time. Tying his hands behind his back and bundling the rest of the fabric around him, your friend threw a couple twenties from their pocket at the young man before the two of you slipped out the emergency exit.

“You’re going to tell us everything!” You demanded, carrying his torso. Felix scowled, rolling his eyes. Despite his obvious anger, he was sweating bullets and looked rather afraid.

“I’m not telling you anything. You made me drop my stuff.”

“You can go back for it later. F/n, open the door.”

F/n shook their head, placing your captive’s feet down and unlocking the back of their car. “Nuh-uh. He’s riding back here.”

“In the trunk?!” The boy cried.

“In the trunk.”

F/n was dead serious. You stifled a laugh, even if it was kind of mean. Felix whined and bowed his head as the two of you placed him inside, F/n smacking a bow on his head that’d stuck to them during the chase.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

The two of you slammed the door shut.

-〤〤〤-

The moment light hit your captive’s eyes, he squinted, groaning from the bumpy ride (as F/n insisted on hitting every speed bump and pothole). Lifting the boy on the count of three, he made sure to cry out for help- “HAN!!! HYUNJIN!!! JEONGIN!!! I’M OVER HERE!!!”- but, as it was expected, F/n simply dropped the boy on the driveway and threatened to stomp over a...delicate area...before smirking at his wide-eyed response and stuffing the bow in his mouth.

“Um, F/n…” You muttered, hoisting your prize up the porch steps, “don’t you think maybe you’re being too-”

“Don’t,” they warned, casting you a glare. “I’m not being too anything. These jerks deserve way worse.” They shifted Felix’s weight in order to allow you room to open the door. “Besides, it’s not like we’re gonna torture him or anything. Just ask a few questions.”

Felix gave a sigh of relief.

“...We can figure out what to do with him after that.”

...He took a sharp breath, beginning to sweat.

Inside the house the two of you tossed Felix onto the couch, running around the lower level to gather equipment before shifting him to a dining room chair. You were adjusting his bindings when the phone rang, F/n scampering off to answer it after sharing a look.

They smirked at the familiar caller I.D. “Y/n and F/n residence,” S/he answered in an overly-pleasant tone. “How may I help you?” Quickly they pulled the phone away, placing it down on speaker. The two of you, and Felix, glared at the voice coming out from the other side.

“We know you have him,” Han’s voice echoed throughout the living room. He sounded serious, demanding almost, sending a shiver down your spine. That was new. “What do you want?”

“Oh, what do we want?” F/n asked. They scoffed, peering out the blinds on the opposite side of the fireplace, just next to the kitchen. Directly at Han’s estate. “That’s something you don’t hear everyday.”

Han huffed, sounding disgusted. Suddenly, Felix erupted, spitting out the bow you’d forgotten to secure. “HAN! HAN I’M OKAY!!! BUT I LOST THE STUFF AT--”

Frantically you pounced, stuffing a fistful of Kleenex in his mouth. A chorus of anxious whispers filled the other line from Jisung and his goons, before Han silenced them and got back to business.

“Felix, if you can hear me, it’s okay. I need you to take one for the team right now until I come up with something.”

Ironically and unneeded, Felix nodded, as if Han could see him. You and F/n rolled your eyes.

Suddenly, a loud splat! sent them squealing backwards.

Your jaw dropped, watching rotten egg dribble and creep down your immaculately-just-cleaned window. Felix chuckled, falling on a sour note after you elbowed him. When two more assaults hit, you ducked for unnecessary cover behind Felix, F/n plastering themselves against the fireplace.

“What do we do?!” you whispered, cringing every time an egg bomb made contact with the glass. What if by some crazy law of nature those things actually broke the window and leaked into the house?! It could take days to get the smell out. Heck, given that it was right next to the fireplace, and you had yet to test the installation of the seams...it’d likely start leaking into the house within the coming hours.

The pelts were slowly getting louder, rising in a horrifically drawn-out crescendo. “GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE HIM BACK!” you heard the goons chanting.

Were they on the roof?! You couldn’t bear this much longer. Your house was being eggified. Sullied. Disgraced. Finally cracking under the pressure, you flew some hand signals F/n’s direction that didn’t really mean anything and army-crawled to a yet-to-be-ambushed window, examining the battle situation outside before rolling back to your feet and sprinting for a backroom.

“Where are you going?!” F/n whispered harshly. S/he and Han bantered back and forth a bit, his demands of Felix’s release rattling the warfront before you returned with exactly what you’d been looking for: a megaphone. Ah, camp counselor days.

F/n saw what you were doing and instantly, wildly, vehemently shook their head no. But you were taking matters into your own hands now.

“Han Jisung,” you stated, loudly enough so your voice could travel over the massive egg-pelting outside. “Hold your fire and I’ll bring Felix outside.”

You waited a few seconds, and the firing stopped. Han’s voice practically purred over the speaker. Very disgusting. “You’re starting to see things my way. That’s good.”

“Oh yes. I’m most certainly starting to see things your way.” The phone lifted between your fingers. “We’ll meet on the roofs in five minutes. If I hear or see one more egg on my property, the meeting is off.”

“......” There was an uncomfortable silence on the other line.

You tilted your head. “Han Jisung? No deal?”

Felix whined a few feet behind you. Han sighed, clearly hearing it. “...Fine. We’ll meet you there.” Click.

You tossed the phone to F/n, who scarcely caught it, juggling it a few times on nervous butterfingers. “Alright, look,” s/he said, pacing across the room and slamming it down on the receiver. “I don’t know what kind of cockameme scheme you have planned, but…”

You smiled. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

They sighed exasperatingly. “I’m sure you told yourself that when you let him into the house earlier, too.”

“......” You faltered, crossing your arms. “Touche. But this time, I really know what I’m doing.” With the utmost confidence and summoned strength you tilted Felix’s chair back, causing him to panic. “C’mon. Help me get this up through the attic.”

-〤〤〤-

Glitter glue. Hair dye. A bucket.

Truth be told, you actually did manage to go back and secure Felix’s belongings. It was around some point during the creation of the gigantic net at Hobby Lobby: F/n had seen them while running around, snagged it, and stashed the goods in the car without telling you.

Now, you were going to use them against the enemy. If only you knew what the wrench from Home Depot was for… “Okay, listen up,” you stated, standing proudly on your roof. F/n stood at your side, Felix in between you two, still strapped to the dining room chair. Though the Kleenex were now gone, his pie hole remained shut...with Puffs. Not the good brand, F/n had said. “We have your friend, and as you can clearly see, he’s fine. We haven’t done anything to him.”

“Yet,” Hyunjin sneered, standing atop Han’s roof. He crossed his arms at Han’s right, Fox-face (Jeongin) on the left. “I fail to see how tying him up and stuffing his mouth shut equates to not doing anything.”

“Hyunjin, enough big words,” Han moaned. “We get it, you’re good at Scrabble, and you should have won. Lay off already.”

Hyunjin growled, making a face. From the opposing roof, you lowered your mic, extending your hand left. F/n glanced sideways, placing the box of hair dye in your hand. The situation on the other side swiftly grew stiff, everyone’s eyes watching you expectantly.

“Y-Y/n...what are you doing?”

It came out as more of a statement than a question. A fretful smirk played on the corner of your lips. “Oh my, what am I doing? …”

Yours fingers got right to work tearing open the packaging. Felix turned his head as far as his binding would let him, his eyes widening and brows sinking beneath his coral-colored bangs the moment he recognized the object...and the word permanent etched within a warning sign. “Mmm! Mm-mm mmm! MMM!”

“Wait, Y/n,” F/n said, reaching out. They suddenly looked hesitant, unsure. “We never questioned him first. Shouldn’t we…”

You paused, tossing the box and plastic wrap over your shoulder. With any luck, it’d blow into Han Jisung’s yard; if not, you could just pick it up later. “What, now you’re getting cold feet?” You huffed. “You’re the one that was getting carried away before. I thought you were sick of all this crap.”

“I am...I am. I’m just saying, maybe we should have pressed him for answers before running up here.”

“After they started egging our house?! What, was I supposed to wait for toilet paper to fly through the trees and spray paint to stain our front door?!”

“No, I’m just saying—”

“I’m done talking!” Your eyes narrowed, focusing on Han’s. He was staring right back at you, an intense look residing. “I want revenge. I want action. This ends today.”

You popped the cap off the bottle of murky green liquid, Hyunjin and Jeongin both seeming to lose their posture as the cap flipped through the air, bouncing to the ground below. They started to squirm, much to your delight; though perhaps a little overdramatic; but it was about time the other side felt the same pain and turmoil you had. It’d been far too long an unjust imbalance.

But Han held his hands at peace, calming his soldiers and taking a step forward; sending the imbalance back where it was, in his favor. He cupped his hands around that loud mouth of his. “Y/n!!! Listen to me, you don’t wanna do this! ...I-I don’t think, anyway!”

He seemed nervous. Flustered. You actually had Han Jisung, Hellion of 117 Maple Street, in a nervous fluster.

The moment was sweet, rich, decadent and savory. In the air, a cool breeze blew by.

“I’m sorry? What was that?” You lifted the bottle over Felix’s head. His whole body tensed, slightly leaning away like a magnet that didn’t attract.

Han bit his lip, gaze flitting between your hand and the boy below. Behind him, Hyunjin and Jeongin watched with battered breath, biting their nails and covering the lower half of their faces. Han sighed, suddenly waving his hand behind him. “Jeongin, you shouldn’t see this. Cover your eyes. I don’t know if I can stop her.”

The boy frowned, shakily turning from Han’s voice back to you. “I-I can’t, Han...it’s too horrible, but I can’t look away.”

“Then get back inside. I’m sure Y/n will at least allow that much.”

Raising his brow at you in question, you carefully gave a single nod, watching the young fox-face go. Jeongin had never done anything to you, except for maybe participate in the egg-throwing debacle eight minutes ago. Otherwise, as far as you could tell, he was clean, just a bystander in Han’s antics.

As the roof door shut above Jeongin’s head, F/n gave you a worried look. “Y/n…” s/he said, turning to you sideways. “...Something’s not—”

“Shhh!” You spat. Your hand holding the bottle teetered towards a horizontal slant. “Not now. This makes things easier. One less groupie to worry about.”

“But Y/n—”

Felix could practically sense your movements, starting to squeal. “HAN! Please! I have an interview tomorrow and I don’t think they allow unnatural hair!!!”

F/n grunted, crossing their arms at being ignored. You listed your head to match the angle of the bottle. Revenge was so sweet. “Well, Han?”

It felt like an eternity went by. Everything was still, calm, the only noise to be heard the rustling of the trees. A distant clicking that was probably just the other neighbor’s cat. You felt like you were in a Shonen anime, where the characters face off for episodes at a time with nothing but empty heated stares and uselessly repeated banter (usually flashbacks).

“......” Han Jisung swallowed. “Okay, Y/n, stop.” He sighed. “...You win.”

A heaviness released from your chest. You...won? That was it? Was he really just surrendering right now? No surprise counterattack? No negotiations?

Instead, Han Jisung and his last remaining sidekick glared pitifully in your direction, like all hope had fleeted from their grasp. Meaning…

You won. You actually won...

The biggest smile took over the lower half of your face, so happy you could have cheered, overjoyedly so, kissing your friend’s cheek. You squealed in delight, tossing the bottle in the air and not really caring where it landed, so excited, so stoked, so—

“Ow!” a young man’s voice said.

Gasp. What was that?! That didn’t sound like Felix or...your friend...that was...wasn’t...

“Y/n!!!”

You whirled around, just in time to see Jeongin standing at the height of your roof, stuffing your friend down the ladder. He paused, similar to how Felix had in Hobby Lobby; that deer in the headlights look; and with terrified effort kicked F/n down the attic, hopping in and letting the door drop after him.

Laughter could be heard bellowing along the wind, a hurricane billowing your direction. You whirled around, flabbergasted, horrified to see Han Jisung with that coy smirk on his face, that evil glint in his eye, the long-legged Hyunjin doing a memey sort of dance, as the two of them laughing it up at your expense. Even Felix, still bound to the chair, was…

...Well, actually, he looked rather annoyed and a little pissed. “HEY!” he griped, stamping his feet. “What happened to releasing me first?! I thought that was part of the plan!”

Plan…? ……

“You mean…” You glared expressionless. “This was all setup...from the beginning? Even Hobby Lobby?”

“Duh,” Hyunjin piped, giving you an incredulous look. “We saw you and F/n heading that way, so I called Felix while Han coached Jeongin on the art of...sneaking onto other's property. We knew the two of you were probably at your breaking point, given how you were screaming all the way down the street…” He shrugged. “We figured you’d try to retaliate. It was too good to pass up.”

“......”

Anger wasn’t enough anymore. You were downright enraged, seething...and also, a bit heartbroken. A lot heartbroken. It was all planned. Your revenge was just another part of their game. They anticipated it, adjusted to it, even arranged it. It was all for not...and, what’s more…

Now they had F/n. The Fox-faced demon would be scampering out of your house and into the devil’s layer at any minute.

But he’d made a fatal mistake. You still had one of their own in your grasp.

With the utmost vexation and irritability you screamed, grabbing the bottle of hair dye from where it got caught between two shilling panels and tore the whole lid off, dumping the entire bottle into Felix’s hair. Han and Hyunjin froze in the middle of their victorious dance ritual to watch in horror as Felix screeched, trying to shake the substance out and make any feeble attempt he could to get away. You ripped open the glitter glue next, aiming it right at his scalp.

“Give F/n back right now or I’m adding glitter. Lots of it.”

“......”

Han Jisung and Hwang Hyunjin just continued to stare at you dumbfounded. Because they didn’t respond, you emptied the entire container, not caring if it seeped into the boy’s eyes as you dropped everything else for the attic door.

“OH SH*T! MY EYES! MY FACE! YOU GUYS SUCK! AHH—”

The roof latch clicked behind you.

Flying down the ladder and around the hall you ran with all your might for the front door. Surprisingly enough, however, Jeongin was having a tough time getting there himself, wrestling with F/n for a position that allowed him to keep them quiet while having the freedom to move quickly. Unfortunately for him, F/n wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Let...go…! Get…off…...ahh! Y/n!!!”

They were wrestling at the end of the hall, just above the stairs. You pushed yourself harder, faster, ready to pulverize this kid you once found cute and adorable.

Something was off, though. You noticed as you got closer. The way they fought— it was almost too carefully, like they were trying to avoid hitting something.

You found out too little too late. F/n’s eyes widened.

“Y/n, no, look out—!”

Fwoosh!

Your foot tripped over a wire, and the three of you went tumbling upwards.

You couldn’t believe you fell for the same trick twice.

-〤〤〤-

“Hold still,” Hyunjin groaned, clawing at Felix’s bindings. The boy practically refused, squirming with all his might.

“I’m holding still! I can’t see!”

“What does that have to do with being still?!”

Felix fumed.

Han Jisung made his way to the top of the ladder, rolling onto his back to catch his breath. It wasn’t like he wanted to drive Y/n to do this. Rather, he was just having a little fun, passing time, and essentially, getting to know her.

She was the girl he thought about spending quite a bit of his life with, after all.

He turned his head sideways, taking in the view of the mountains, the small forestry area, the big city on the other side. Dang it, he knew Y/n’s roof had a better view of the area. “Both of you...quit whining...for a sec…”

He fought to catch his breath. Normally he thought himself to be in pretty good shape, but maybe eating a whole cheesecake and slacking off last week for that Netflix marathon put him back a few steps. Diagonally above him, Hyunjin sighed, removing the last of Felix’s restraints. “Okay, there. You’re free now.”

Felix stood, immediately rubbing his shirt over his face and stretching his arms out wide, then his legs. He looked around.

“Something wrong?” Hyun asked. Felix began to sweat, visible from a mile away.

“Oh, gosh, you guys. I still can’t see. I think I’m legally blonde.”

“......” Hyunjin blinked. “You mean legally blind? Legally Blonde is a movie.” He glanced up at his sparkling dishwater-green hair. “Also, your hair’s green now. An ugly green. And shiny. Too shiny—”

“Both of you shhh,” Han griped, sitting up sideways. He pushed himself up all the way, stumbling diagonally as he hiked up toward the other side of the roof. “Has Jeongin come out yet? Where’s Y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Felix spoke, swatting at his surroundings. “I can’t see anything.”

“He obviously wasn’t talking to you,” Hyunjin piped. He leaned over the edge, examining the front porch, then the lawn. “...I don’t know either. I didn’t hear the front door but, then again, I couldn’t hear anything with Whines-A-Lot back here blubbering so loud.”

“Why are you in such a bad mood today? Normally you’re really sweet and chill. And why is everyone attacking me all of a sudden?! I’m the one that agreed to be the bait of this operation! Me!”

“Okay, okay,” Han waved his hands. He really hated being the responsible one, but with these two at each other's throats and Jeongin nowhere to be found, he really had no other choice. “Felix, go inside and see if you can find Jeongin. Or Y/n. Anyone.”

Felix scoffed, throwing his hands in the air like a tossed salad. “Oh, yeah. Send the blind guy in. That plan always works. Makes total sense!”

“Oh, right...uhh, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin scrunched up his face. “No way. I’m not going in there. Breaking and entering is not going on my personal record. Pranks are fine, but I’m not violating the law. That’s your department, Mr. Fifteen-Unpaid-Speeding-Tickets.”

“......” Groaning, Han made his way to the top of the roof, kneeling just short of the peak to pull the lever. However, the door wouldn’t budge. “...It’s locked.”

“Locked?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Locked.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Shoot, why would she stop to lock the door? Now wh—”

“HAN JISUNG!!!”

All three college boys froze. Crouching, they whipped their heads around wildly. Even Felix. “What was that?!” He asked. “Was that Y/n?!”

“HAN!!!” Another called. Smaller, lighter, yet contradictingly more masculine. Hyunjin gasped.

“That sounded like Jeongin!”

Then, suddenly, all three missing voices meshed together, the chorus dark and booming: “LET US OUT! LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!”

Hyunjin jumped to his feet, kicking and pounding at the door. “Quick, open the door! We have to rescue Jeongin!”

Han’s jaw fell a little. “What about Y/n?”

“What about her?!” He grunted, hitting the door harder. “Jeongin is our first priority!”

“I thought you didn’t like breaking and entering,” Felix sneered from the back, still waving at the air like a recently-blind person would. His elder tsked, scowling.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s life is in danger! Han, what the hell kind of trap did you put in there?!”

Han blinked, trying to process. Everything had gone South so quickly, curved in a direction he wasn’t expecting— he couldn’t think. His mind drew up blanks. Never in his thirteen years of pranking history had he ever not been in control of his own crafty work.

Now his work was playing a joke on him. “Han! Hello?! Earth to Jisung?”

“...I…”

“What did you do in there?!”

“......” He swallowed, barely regaining his composure. “I set up another net. Just a quick one, like the one from earlier today.”

“What?!” Hyunjin roared. “But that took me all morning! How did you do it in five minutes?!”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I did it in four.”

Hyunjin deadpanned, smacking a hand over his face. “‘Kay…how did you manage to pull that off?”

His superior in the art of mischief fell back on his behind, staring out seamlessly at nothing in particular. Obnoxiously calm for the circumstances. “I’ve been sneaking into her house every now and then when she left the back door open. I’d set up a small part here, or a spring wire there, just small stuff out of the way that no one’d notice. They’ve hardly been home with midterms going around.”

“......” Hyunjin shook his head in disbelief. “Han, there’s no way they wouldn’t notice or not accidentally set something like that off until now.”

Han turned back to him in earnest. “I just set the final wire down this afternoon. The activation one. One of them— probably Y/n— tripped over it.”

“...If that’s true, then…”

Another sonorous from down below reached the canopies above: “LET US OUT!!!”

Hyunjin dropped back on all fours. “LET US IN!!!” he cried, pounding on the hardwood door. “Jeongin, buddy, it’s going to be oka—”

“Come on!” Han said, leaping to his feet. He grabbed Felix by the wrist, tugging the two along behind him before making a crash landing for the bushes. No time to waste now. He needed to get his act together, take a leap of faith that, maybe, if he played his cards right, Y/n could see him in a whole new light.

It would be a long shot. If he remembered to jump from the right spot, anyway. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” Both boys screamed, clinging to each other’s sides. They hit the shrubs, bouncing forward and rolling into Y/n’s front yard.

“...Was that a trampoline???” Felix asked. Han scoffed, shoving the two off of him.

“I planted an emergency escape device in her bushes last week, just in case.” He dusted himself off, screwing his head on straight while jogging to the front porch. “What do I look like, stupid or something?”

“......” Hyunjin watched him cross to the front door, lying upside down. “Do you want us to answer that?”

“...No.”

Han rang the doorbell. Stamped his foot. Remembered all house guests and tenants were currently tied up at the moment, slapped himself, panicked. He banged his fist against the door.

“Y/n?! It’s okay! Daddy’s going to fix this!”

Hyunjin made a noise (he was full of noises), tromping up the steps while Felix rolled himself around in the yard, trying to figure out which way was up and what he should do with himself. “Did you just call yourself—”

“Yes, now shut up.” Han dug around in his pocket, pulling out a key. “Heh heh heh…”

He jimmied the lock, twisting and turning the key this way and that. But the door wouldn’t budge, not even an inch.

“Sh*t!” He grabbed his hair. “Why isn’t this working?! I made copies of her keys three weeks ago!”

Hyunjin glared sideways. “You changed out her locks two weeks ago.”

Shoot, that was right. Han kicked the door, fuming. “Dang it! ...Ow!”

He was spent. Gone. Energy depleting. And now, his foot hurt. Spinning around he banged his head against the door, sliding down to sulk on his backside.

He hadn’t meant for things to go awry. He’d just wanted to mess with Y/n, see what made her tick, have some fun. Find out what she liked, what she didn’t like, maybe get up the nerve to ask her what she was doing for dinner next Saturday so he could mess with the food at her favorite restaurant and force her to come to a candle-lit dinner in his backyard instead, where he’d have her second-favorite takeout waiting on plates of gold he’d “borrowed” from Hyunjin’s aunt.

If only things would have worked out that way. “LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!” the house called.

Hyun and Han shared a pitiful look, plastering themselves to the walls and door. They had no choice. There was nothing left. “LET US IN LET US IN LET US IN!!!”

“HAN JISU— …”

Quiet. That was strange. What was it quiet?! What happened?! What could have—

...Oh no. What if…!

“DON’T HURT JEONGIN!” Han screamed, pressing his nose to the glass. “PLEASE! Y/N F/N PLEASE HYUNJIN WILL KILL ME IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO HIM!!!”

“WHAT?!” Hyunjin yelled, pressing against the glass as well. “Move over, I can’t see! WHAT ARE YOU FIENDISH PEOPLE DOING TO HIM?!”

There was no response. Han began sweating profusely, feeling his heart ready to burst in a bad way. This was it. It was over. He’d have to call the cops to have them released, and then Han would probably go to jail for twenty-seven misdemeanors and a couple felony charges. Not to mention those unpaid speeding tickets.

Chink. Clunk. Creek.

A force against him gave way, the front door magically opening. As Han and Hyunjin fell forward, a blind, sparkling, green-haired man smiled down at them, standing at the other side.

-〤〤〤-

The clamouring coming from your front door set you on edge, wiggling and slashing at the ties that bound you. And F/n. And Jeongin.

The three of you piled on top of each other in an awkward heap, you being fortunate enough to have flipped on top. “Ow! Y/n, get your foot out of my eye!” F/n cried.

Apologetically, you shifted your weight, trying to give them room in the small net. Jeongin huffed as you did, making the most cumberous and uncomfortable face as you shifted your bottom over his backside, close to his head. “This is your fault for sneaking in here and trying to kidnap F/n,” you scolded, only feeling a little sorry given the circumstances.

He blushed, perplexingly so, carefully trying to claw his way to a corner that didn’t exist. “I, um...I’m sorry…”

Like that was enough to get the three of you out of this arrangement. Rolling your eyes, you focused your attention on the front door you could just barely see, tuning your ears to adjust and pick up on anything.

“What are they saying?” F/n asked. You shrugged, huffing and puffing disorderly.

“I don’t know. I can barely hear anything. They’re whispering. They keep looking over here, though.”

“Who opened the door?! How did they get in here???”

F/n was currently squished with their head facing the opposite direction, explaining their heighted insecurity and naggingness. You sighed, squinting and rocking your weight in order to make the small flexible cage sway to better see around the corner. “I think...Felix let them in. He must have used the back door or something.”

“Son of a b*tch, Y/n!!!” F/n quietly fumed. “This is why I always tell you to make sure both doors are locked! You never think to check the back door and it drives me crazy!!!”

“I know, I know okay?! Calm down! You’re gonna draw attention!”

“HAN!!!” Jeongin suddenly screamed. “FELIX! GET ME OUT OF THIS THING!!!”

Both you and F/n panicked. “SHHHHHHHH!!!”

He regarded the two of you like you were crazy. “Just five minutes ago you were screaming too!”

F/n hissed. “Yeah, well that was five minutes ago, and this is now!”

Jeongin sighed. “Listen, this is really uncomfortable for me, especially because you’re sitting...entirely too close to me,” he spoke, “so how about I make a deal with you two?”

“No way. I don’t make deals with demons. Or vipers, or monsters, or Fox-faced devils that sneak into our house and try to kidnap me!!!”

Jeongin sighed again, letting out a slight hiss of annoyance at the end. At the base of the stairs, Han and Hyunjin started making their ascent, Felix stumbling around a bit with a bandana now over his eyes before following after them.

“Oh shoot,” you whispered. “Here they come.”

Making his way around the net once, Han paused right square before you; and there it was, that evil flirtatious wink, tongue sweeping over his lips scarcely so. “S’up, gorgeous?”

Shoot me. I want to die.

Han poked your nose, making a little annoying sound effect and laughing when you teetered backwards, swatting away at the germs he left on your face. “Aww, I think someone doesn’t like their situation very much.”

“Lay off. Get us out of this stupid thing and then get the hell out. If you don’t, I’m calling the cops.”

Han chuckled and slapped his leg like you were just the cutest little thing to him. “Oh, alright, calm down princess. You’re just sour over falling for the same trick twice.”

It burned you how much truth there was to those words. You would have spit at him if F/n wasn’t at risk of being in the line of fire. “Just shut up and get us out of here. Take your friend with you.”

Tangled up behind you, Jeongin sputtered; you could feel him roll his eyes. “Gladly,” he muttered.

After admiring your pissed-off look for a few seconds, and Han taking a few selfies for his own selfish gain, Han and Hyunjin got right to work, snipping wires here, tugging at rope there. Eventually, after a few moments of unblissful trepidation and embarrassment, the net lowered gently, falling lifelessly about a foot above ground.

The three of you groaned, F/n having the wind knocked out of them for a second. Scampering and shoving off of each other, you turned away the moment you found your legs, brushing yourself off and walking down the hall a few paces. Your feet prickled with numbness, then faded and blood rushed through.

When you turned around to check on F/n and kick everyone else out, Han Jisung had already found his way to your face. “Hey there, gorgeous. All better?”

You scowled most irately, placing your hands on his chest to push him off and startling yourself when he wouldn’t budge, and your hands just...stayed there. “Get out of here. You got us out, now you’re no longer welcome.”

“Oh, was that all you needed from me?” He smiled. Almost tenderly. Or maybe it was, you didn’t know. “I’m hurt, Y/n. I thought maybe we could...talk more. Get to know one another.”

“What?!” You tried to see around him, but he mirrored your every step and movement. When you pulled your hands away, he latched onto your wrists, placing them back. His fingers smoothed over the backs of your hands, intertwining with yours. You gulped, a feeling in your gut exploding.

“This is nice,” he said softly, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “Isn’t it?”

It most certainly was not nice. Not nice at all! ...Yet, you were having quite a bit of trouble telling him that. His hands were so soft and...rigid...even the small calluses that sprouted along his palms and outline were somehow oddly alluring, inviting you to stay.

You shivered, bristling all over. No, no. Get ahold of yourself Y/n. This can’t happen. I can’t go down like this.

Shaking your head you shoved yourself back instead, running two steps to the right...and slamming gently into the adjacent wall. Gently. Softly. Softly slamming.

What the hell, why was everything with Han Jisung so soft all of a sudden?! You bore your eyes up at him, seeing as he was now just...inches away from you...again...g-getting closer…

His nose brushed right up against yours. A breath caught in your throat, begging to scream. Everything else in your body was. He had slithered himself to press up against you.

You’re pretty sure, even if you couldn’t feel it, your face was the darkest shade of red right now. Han undoubtedly noticed too, simpering just a fraction from your lips. “What should we do now, princess? Should we…” He inched your waist forward. “...go next door?”

Next door. Next door, where the hellhole of disasters had started.

...Something about that line just didn’t sit right with you. Feeling as if the whole moment had been ruined (and good gravy you had to get out of this), you shimmied yourself a bit of wiggle room and shot your knee skyward, wincing as a howl of pain rang out in your ear. You kicked Han back, making a run for F/n…

...Who was again, gone. Everyone was gone.

Turning around, Han gave you a childish salute, that flirtatious wink following him all the way out the front door. You couldn’t do anything. Just observe him leave in shock.

Until you heard a thump from downstairs, and raced to find Felix feeling his way around the kitchen.

“Now, I know there’s a backdoor somewhere...it was in here when I came in…”

You bore your eyes into him. Smirked.

Five minutes later, his whines echoed all through the house and down the porch steps.

-〤〤〤-

It may not have been high noon, but that didn’t stop Hyunjin and Fox-face Jeongin from turning on an old western showdown score.

You stood on your side of the property line, Felix rebound though now standing at your side. If he was miffed about his hair and the overzealous glitter drawing attention to it, he didn’t say anything. Possibly because being temporarily blind was pulling all his attention away.

On the other side, about ten or twelve meters from the line, stood Han Jisung, in all his hellion, dark-profiled glory. F/n was bound and gagged beside him, looking like a tick about to pop. You’d never seen that vein before, throbbing above their forehead. Hyunjin and Jeongin observed from afar, amongst the safety of shade and porch railing.

You lifted the megaphone you’d brought back with you from the roof. “On the count of three,” you instructed, gripping Felix’s sleeve tight.

Han Jisung cackled, or his eyes did anyway, a sparkle of humor at play. “Alright. Hostage exchange on three.”

“Okay…”

You both paced exactly twenty-something steps until you were only two feet from the line.

“One…”

“Two…”

“...Thre—”

“Wait.”

Your mind did a little flip, attention spiraling upward. “What?”

The hellion next door smirked. “I have one condition.”

“Oh?” You sputtered. “So do I.”

“Ladies first.”

You deadpanned. “Stop intervening and disturbing my life and F/n’s sanity and I won’t call the cops.”

He laughed, a very hearty, joyful sound. It sort of...made your heart spin. “That’s fair. I can agree to those terms...if you agree to mine.” You scoffed.

“And what would that be?”

Han Jisung smiled. Brighter than the sun. For once, it was almost as if he was revealing a side of his persona to you he’d kept locked away all this time; he suddenly appeared to be genuine, sincere, and oh-so benevolent. Not to mention handsome. “Go on a date with me. Saturday, at five.”

“What?!”

The world came to a crash. Everything just seemed to stop, the birds even dropping like flies to gawk at the enigma that was Han Jisung. Behind him and to the left, Jeongin and Hyunjin stared at each other in bewilderment. Felix muttered some kind of disbelief beneath his breath. F/n looked like s/he really would pop.

“Mmm?!” They shrieked. Han chuckled, ruffling his hair away from his face and casting squinted eyes out over the neighborhood.

“Yeah, uh...I’ll pick you up at five, if you like. I mean, you have to, because this is a condition. My deal. Where we’re going is a surprise, but I can give you a hint.” He leaned forward, twitching his nose a bit. “There’s a lot of action going on in the color department, and it usually gives me an allergy attack. But, I figured you may enjoy watching my face fall apart.”

“.........”

Slowly, you adjusted your gaze over to F/n. They were shaking their head wildly, though limitedly, so as not to tip off anyone.

“.........” You turned your face back to Han Jisung. “...Make it five-thirty. I have an errand to run that day.”

He bit his lower lip to keep from smiling too much. “Deal. Okay, on three. One…”

“Two…”

“Three.”

You each pushed your captives over at the same time, Felix and F/n stumbling forward over the property line. Hyunjin and Jeongin raced down into the lawn while you quickly got to work untying and freeing your housemate.

S/he turned and looked to you with the utmost confusion and disappointment in their eyes. You smiled, sadly, and turning away watched as three of the four boys embraced and spat at each other, Hyunjin and Jeongin poking and teasing Felix about his hair, and Han Jisung watching you back with stars in his eyes. Once a hellion, it was as if a great fog had lifted over the valley, and now you could see he was both day and night. A myriad of sunlight, and a mischievous moon.

“You’re not really going on a date with him,” F/n scolded, walking in sync with you up the porch steps and in through the front door. You waited until they were safely inside and halfway to the kitchen for another drink, waving and even winking in Han Jisung’s direction. It caught him off guard, and you snickered at his confused stare.

“We’ll see,” is all you said, shutting the door behind you.

-〤〤〤-

Saturday, 5:25 p.m.

Your house mysteriously felt like the Island of the Lost.

“F/n! Have you seen my hairbrush?!”

Running back and forth in front of the TV, up and down the stairs, rummaging through both bathrooms, F/n sighed, annoyed at having their early-evening talk show interrupted. They set the TV on mute. “What are you looking for? Your hairbrush?”

You nodded, heading back towards the upstairs bath. F/n jumped up from a commercial break, following you.

“How did you manage to lose your hairbrush? Sheesh, Y/n, you’ve been forgetful all day.”

You turned toward the mirror, staring worrisome eyes at the curlers in your hair, the sloppily-applied two minute makeup job on your face. F/n noticed as well, giving a small pout as s/he crossed their arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Where are you going, anyway?”

Uh-oh. “Hmm...?”

You pretended not to hear that. F/n blinked, their face falling to an unimpressed state. “I asked, where are you going?”

“......”

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Crap. It wasn’t five-thirty yet!

F/n turned toward the sound, their brows lifting in minor surprise. “Who could that be? Are you expecting a package or anything?”

They began wandering in the direction of the staircase, but you cringed, throwing yourself as a blockade. “Ahahahahahahaha! …” Sweat. “...I-I’ll get it. You should get back to your show!”

F/n gasped, pushing past you and gracefully making a sharp left just a few feet from the door. Phew.

You peered around the corner, trying to make out the silhouette through the foggy glass.

Tall-ish. A bit on the short side. Skinny? Seemingly masculine.

It had to be him. Panic struck you like a bat out of hell, scrambling to the bathroom and ripping the curlers out of your hair. You fought through three bottles of creams and mascara while juggling your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth, rinsing, spitting, and finally flipping your hair down, shaking it loose and flipping back over.

Oh yeah. Messy-chic look. Perfect. With a touch of gloss (or lipstick) you smoothed out your casual-dressy outfit before skipping downstairs and slipping on your favorite dress shoes at the door, purse slung over your bodice.

This was it. You discreetly shifted your eyes to the left. F/n was still inthralld in their talk show. Now was your chance for a clean getaway without any awkward accusations or encounters.

Taking a deep, measured breath, you gingerly opened the door, blowing it out on the exhale. Han Jisung stood in all his new-lighted glory, his back turned to you as he examined the neighborhood, waiting.

You gave a small cough, stepping out and locking up behind you. Han turned around, his eyes widening when he saw you. “Whoa...uh…”

“Yes?” Your gaze traveled down to the flowers in his hand. “Are those for me, or an apology to F/n?”

You both laughed, Han thrusting them forward a bit forcefully. An awkward color painted a ring around his face, across his ears and along the curves of his cheeks. “Uh, b-both, I guess. ...But, mainly for you.”

He was nervous. For real this time. You smiled, taking the small bouquet and burying your face into the petals. You inhaled deeply. “...Mmm...they smell really nice!”

You beamed. For maybe five seconds. After that, a spout of water soaked your forehead.

Han Jisung pressed his lips together, trying his darndest not to laugh. His eyes avoided you entirely, observing everything but your face. A moment later, he bolted, signalling for his groupies to turn on the sprinklers. Coffee rained down on both of your lawns, dyeing both sides murky Vanilla Latte.

You chased him down the porch steps, through the caffeinated shower, laughing.

-〤〤〤-

“...And that about wraps up our show for today!”

F/n flipped the TV off, turning their gaze to the window. Is it raining already?

As they approached the window, their jaw fell. They opened the window. “Y/N!!! HAN JISUNG!!!”

...It was no use.

Pulling up a chair, they fell to their knees, observing the bizarre weather in a moment of acceptance. They extended their mug over the windowsill, sighing as the caffeinated shower refilled their morning latte.

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scythian-andromache · 4 years

Text

is it really a road-trip if you don't stop at a 7-Eleven?

A ‘The Old Guard’ gen fic that is a companion piece to this fic, but can be read solo

Also available on [AO3]

Summary: In the middle of a road-trip, the Old Guard Immortals make a stop at a 7-Eleven. A lot of bickering ensues, but that's what happens when you take road-trips with your family.

***

It’s been two hours since they got into the shootout, which brings their Days Without An Incident count (previously at four) back to zero.

That was on them, a stupid mistake that’s put something of a damper on their road-trip (end goal: Grand Canyon, but who knows if they’ll actually make it there before something goes horribly wrong). Since then, they’ve been driving steadily westward. It’s nearly two in the morning, but Andy is (still) driving, and the rest of them are in various states of dozing—or as much as one can doze when Andy’s driving.

“Fuck, we’re getting low on gas.” Andy says this out loud like it’s a surprise, like there isn’t a gauge on the dash with the sole purpose of keeping the driver apprised of the gas levels.

“This is the last exit for thirty miles,” Joe says absently, eyes closed and feet propped up. They’re also, by all rights, past the acceptable merge point.

In response, Andy swerves across two full traffic lanes and cuts off the only other driver on the road to pull off the exit ramp, not bothering to stop at the stop sign and careening across the road and into the 7-Eleven’s parking lot.

Booker lets out several extremely creative swears in a mix of French and English. “Jesus, Andy, there are traffic laws; please follow at least one of them,” he groans.

“My headlights are on,” says Andy, like that settles it, and Booker swears again.

“If not for us, then for you! You’re not invulnerable anymore!”

Andy rolls her eyes. “My driving has never gotten a single one of us killed.”

Booker makes a face that clearly indicates he’s skeptical of that answer, but whatever he’s working up to is interrupted by a new voice in the conversation.

“Nile could take over for a little bit,” suggests Nicky, blearily clearing sleep from his eyes.

“Nile doesn’t even have a license right now,” Booker shoots back, exasperated.

“Nile doesn’t even have a birth certificate right now,” grumbles Nile from where she’s squished between them. “The only thing I’m legally classified as is a problem.” Quỳnh laughs from where she’s laying—apparently not asleep—in the very back, among their duffle bags. No seatbelt, but far more room than Nicky, Nile, and Booker have, all crammed in together on the bench seat not really meant for three.

Nicky, meanwhile, ignores Nile’s comment, looking directly at Booker as he asks combatively, “And whose fault is that?”

“Oh, come on,” says Booker. “I haven’t had time to forge a new identity for her!”

Nicky says something under his breath in Italian and Booker flings open the car door and stalks toward the bright beacon of the convenience store.

“I’m getting snacks, Joe,” says Nicky, and follows. Joe gets out and opens the hatch to check their supply of baklava—not that the 7-Eleven off I-40 is the spot to replenish it—and Andy exchanges a few words with Quỳnh, while Nile sighs and starts pumping gas. After a few moments, Andy and Joe head inside too.

“You don’t want anything?” asks Nile, peering into the car to check on Quỳnh.

“Joe will buy more snacks than he needs in case Nicky wants them, and then I will steal them from them both,” says Quỳnh, a mischievous smile on her face, and Nile can’t help but laugh. They had a rough start, her and Quỳnh, but they get along pretty well now.

“Fair enough,” Nile says, as she returns the pump to its hook.

“Maybe a pair of earplugs,” Quỳnh muses, as an afterthought. “To drown out their relentless bickering. The only thing I miss about the ocean is the peace and quiet,” she deadpans, and Nile almost chokes on her gallows humor.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Nile says, and pulls the car around before heading inside herself.

They’re all still bickering when she gets inside—of course they are. Immortals, with more years between them than the populations of whole towns, and they’re still children. She heaves a long-suffering sigh—it’s self-care, okay?—and says, “We’re all gassed up and ready. Everyone got their snacks?”

“Not quite,” says Joe, and then tells Booker—in English, this time—to let him drive. Damn, they’re still on that?

Nile lets them be, looking around a little for some earplugs for Quỳnh, until she hears their voices raise, and Booker practically yells, “—and we got stuck behind Soviet borders for a MONTH.”

Shit. She glances over at the cashier, who looks entirely too interested in this particular conversation. For all their talk of laying low, they can be pretty bad at it, sometimes. Sighing again, she sashays over to the counter, throws on her most charming smile and says, in an effort to disrupt whatever train of thought is mentally calculating how they could possibly have been detained behind Soviet borders, “Hi! I was wondering if you had any earplugs?”

They do not have earplugs, and she tries to keep him distracted, but it backfires a little, because she’s forgotten she’s still wearing the same clothes from the shoot up—they all are—and the cashier (Andrew, his name-tag says) has noticed.

“Costume party,” she says, a lame excuse, but the best she’s got, and she’s about to talk about how their theater friend does really extravagant murder-mystery parties when the rest of them decide they’re done bickering, and drop all their shit on the counter.

Andy gives the cashier the iciest look Nile’s seen from her in at least three days, and the poor kid hops to, ringing in enough candy to send their bodies pre-diabetes until they reboot again.

Joe, Nicky, and Andy all head out, leaving her and Booker to finish up the transaction, and then Booker—that absolute dipshit—drops a hundred euro note on the counter instead of USD.

“Idiot,” Nile hisses in French, elbowing him and fishing money out of her out wallet. She pockets the euro note (serves him right) and grabs their bags.

“Keep the change,” she says to the cashier, and uses her free hand to pinch Booker’s arm hard (“Ow!”) and steer him out of the shop. They slide into the back seat of the waiting car (Andy, unfortunately, is still driving), and it skids off before the door is even fully closed.

“Y’all need to work on your subtlety,” says Nile, glancing back at the gas station, where the cashier is standing in the door, staring after them. “Or at least have your arguments in French. That kid was listening to everything.”

Andy waves a hand dismissively—unfortunately, it also happens to be the hand that was holding the wheel and the car swerves—and says, “We’ll send a text to Copley. He can wipe the footage. What’s one more convenience store after a bloodbath?”

“Yeah? You also gonna wipe that kid’s brain?”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, and he’s a nobody,” says Booker.

“I was a nobody,” hisses Nile. “You can’t just…discount people like that. That kid could become the next Kozak or the next Copley, or someone just like them could see him as collateral damage when they try to find us.”

“You are right, Nile.” It’s Nicky who says it. “It is easy to let people blur together, to believe them inconsequential, but it’s a poor mentality to have. We will be more careful.”

“That’s all I ask,” says Nile, softly. The car lapses into silence for a few moments until Joe asks for his Twizzlers, and all of a sudden there’s bickering over who bought what snacks.

Quỳnh somehow ends up with a pair of Twinkies and the Flaming Hot Cheetos, and just gives Nile a little wink over the back of the seat when Nicky says, “Booker, did you steal some of my Twinkies?”

Booker makes an indignant noise in the back of his throat, flashes his bar of chocolate, and says, “You couldn’t pay me to eat that garbage!”

Nile laughs into her iced tea, and then looks up and accidentally makes eye contact with Andy in the rear-view mirror. She’s got an amused smile playing around her mouth, everything in her expression telegraphing her fondness, and also her exhaustion.

“Let me drive for a while,” Nile says, over the argument happening between Booker and Nicky (“Don’t call them garbage, a Twinkie is just a petite madelaine with a little cream in it.” / “How dare you even utter Twinkie and petite madelaine in the same breath!”)

“You don’t have a license,” says Andy, although it’s a weaker protest than it had been before they stopped at the gas station.

“Oh, come on. Like that’s gonna make a difference. Like you’re really gonna show a license to the police if they pull you over for a traffic violation.”

“I—”

“You need sleep, Andy. Pull the fuck over.”

To the astonishment of the whole car, Andy does. Well, except for—

“Ha!” whoops Nicky gleefully, leaning around Nile to get a better look at Booker. “Pay up!”

“Nile stole my euros,” says Booker grumpily.

“No. Uh-uh. Don’t make this about me,” says Nile, as everyone shifts around to accommodate the change in drivers. “I know you have more. And besides, I spent $100 at the store.”

“You were the one that told him to keep the change, and besides, a hundred euros is ten dollars more than a hundred dollars.”

“It was $87 and I was just trying to get us the fuck out of there. And consider it a dumbass tax, for trying to give him euros in the first place,” says Nile, and the car erupts in cackles.

“Everyone good?” She checks the rear-view mirror as she pulls back onto the highway: Andy has climbed into the very back to stretch out (snuggle) with Quỳnh; Joe and Nicky are shifting around in the back seat; and Booker is sitting shotgun next to her.

“I’m not,” complains Nicky. “Booker still hasn’t paid me.”

Booker says something under his breath, but digs his wallet out of his pocket and fishes a fifty euro note out, passing it back to Nicky.

“Grazie,” he says, waving the note to Joe like it’s a trophy.

Booker huffs. “Prego, è stato un piacere, va’ all’inferno!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” says Nicky pleasantly. “I have a papal indulgence.”

That draws raucous laughter from both Joe and Quỳnh, and for all that he puts on the air of being grumpy, Nile sees Booker’s smirk from the corner of her eye.

They all settle down pretty quickly after that; it has been a long day, after all. They’re the only car on the road, and the miles disappear into the inky black night quickly as they fly down I-40. The next time Nile glances into her rear-view mirror, she sees that Andy and Quỳnh have tucked themselves into each other, and Joe is leaning into Nicky, arms half around him as they doze together.

Only Booker, slouched in the seat next to her, remains awake. “You can go to sleep, Book,” she says, easy.

“Nah,” he says, “someone must stay awake with the driver.”

She doesn’t take his statement at face value, but she doesn’t challenge him on it either. “Well,” she says lightly, “then you’re the DJ. Find us something good.”

Booker leans forward and turns the radio on low. The opening strains of a Depeche Mode song drift from the speakers, and Booker hisses. “English bastards with a French name,” he says, but tellingly doesn’t change the channel. He must secretly like this song.

As the song fades out and the opening chords of another song thrum, Nile looks over to find that Booker, too, has drifted off, but Nile finds she doesn’t mind. She’s surrounded by her ridiculous family, finally taking a break, and she’s got this. She turns her attention back to the highway, focusing on the thrum of the engine and the soft strains of the music and the peacefulness of an empty road, as they move ever closer to their next adventure.

***

fin.

***

~Twizzlers are halal! ~grazie = thanks ~Prego, è stato un piacere, va’ all’inferno! = (roughly; I am not a native speaker) “yeah, you’re welcome, my pleasure, now go to hell” (PS: Italian has all kinds of fun, creative, extremely dirty swears. Soooo even though Booker technically says "go to hell", it's fairly mild. Nicky's still salty at Booker but not salty enough to take it seriously.) ~There really was a papal edict offering indulgences to those partaking in the crusades. Nicky 100% exploits this.

***

#the old guard #the old guard fanfiction #nile freeman #andromache the scythian #sébastien le livre #nicolò di genova #yusuf al-kaysani #quỳnh #lenci writes #gen fic #road trip fic

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thelightofthingshopedfor · 3 years

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I spent all fucking weekend working on the final really-better-get-there-by-Christmas Etsy commission and I still stayed up past midnight last night and shelled out $30 for FedEx to get it there on time, which I don’t plan to ask the buyer to pay because, I mean, they should’ve originally contacted me more than a month before Christmas but I was the idiot who agreed to do it and then could’ve gotten started at least a few days sooner, probably

so the other fun thing about that is, after the cost of parts and shipping, I’m going to end up with maybe $10 for my literal hours of work and multiple days of sleep deprivation from staying up late with Etsy stuff, and for various reasons I can probably chalk this up to the ADHD tax but it still sucks considering it’s Christmas and there are so many other things I’d rather be doing than killing my neck and back hunching over a bunch of paint and a Funko figure, especially when I was doing it practically for free

and also I’m like...dizzy-tired, and doubly annoyed that I didn’t really get to do anything for my birthday because I was too busy with Etsy stuff

BUT this also means I’m finally done with the really urgent Etsy orders, which means I actually can get to bed at a decent time tonight and also do anything else, which is great because, again, I still have a million other things I either need or want to do

HOWEVER, THE SEQUEL TO BUT, I am apparently only capable of feeling urgency--or, at any rate, the type of urgency that gets me to do things instead of just going “nah, I have more time, I can do it later”--when I’m so hard up against a deadline that I know for a fact I can’t do anything else, which conveniently is also the only time I’m able to tell quickly and easily which thing I should be prioritizing! otherwise it’s DECISION PARALYSIS TIME AGAIN BAYBEE! so now I’m finally done with the screamingly urgent tasks, and I would like to do nothing or maybe actually use some of my current Xbox Game Pass time, but there are still loads of things I need to do, like:

wrap gifts, especially anything for my sister and her family because she’ll be in town tomorrow so we kind of have to give them then (this also potentially involves making a few more things tonight, hahaha fml)

wrap and mail gifts for out-of-town people, although at this point anything I send is for sure going to be late

arrange the last couple gifts on my list that don’t involve ordering things

clean up the general mess of craft stuff that wasn’t great already but is now very bad

finish the rest of my 25 postcards to Georgia voters, which were supposed to be sent by Dec. 15 WHOOPS SORRY

actually put my ornaments on the tree, it’s up (and pre-lit, thankfully) but it’s pretty sparse

contact the local mutual aid network because they’re probably still looking for toys and I haven’t heard anything back since replying to something on Facebook

start working on the other two Etsy orders due soon (in a perfect world these would’ve been done for Christmas too, but I told the buyers upfront that it was highly unlikely)

install my new hard drive!!! so I can actually install games and do shit with my computer again!!! because somehow my SSD is down to like 16 GB of free space!! and also I need to do this to figure out whether I can get anything off my dead drive

reapply thermal paste so I can maybe stop cringing so hard whenever my fans get loud

play a few remaining Flash games (or request them on Flashpoint) before they disappear

finish my Yuletide fic--I defaulted a couple days before the deadline because I realized I absolutely did not have time for everything I was trying to do and defaulting would be better for everyone, so at this point I would really like to get something up by the fic-reveal deadline but it’s not actually necessary

work on other fic, for that matter, because it’s been fucking months and that sucks

buuuut aside from wrapping gifts (which is frustrating in its own right because a couple things aren’t here yet) and doing those postcards, most of this stuff is not screamingly urgent enough to feel self-evidently urgent, which means it’s all just part of my constant self-replenishing to-do list, which means I think about the things I need to do and I get overwhelmed again!!

#bad adult #adhd #I guess

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realfuurikuuri · 4 years

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Chapters: 12/? Fandom: Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Mao Mao/Tanya Keys, Mao mao/badgerclops AN: We are here again my undoubted friends. You know how these things go, the personal updates are that I finished SMT IV and started SMT IV: Apocalypse which is good 'cause Atlas RPGs are always fun. I've noticed we've gone a bit of time without an action set piece, so I threw one in here for good measure. Also for those that left comments on my NSFW fanfic, it turns out I turned on manually approve comments, so... whoops. As always follow @spookylovesboba on Tumblr and enjoy the chapter.

Direct Link: XXXX

Chapter Below the cut

Mao Mao dug through the closet, looking for the white suit that he was certain he put somewhere. It shouldn’t have been that hard to find. It was pure white, dammit! He tossed capes and sashes to the ground, digging through the endless pile of junk. He tossed Badgerclops’ tools out the way, pushed aside some of Adorabat’s toys, and wondered where the bathrobe that belonged to none of them even came from.

“Badgerclops! Are you sure my suit was in here,” he yelled to the other room.

“Yeah, I’m sure I saw it in there.”

“Well, it's not here.”

“I don’t know why you’re stressin’ about it. The plays’ not ‘till tonight I’m sure you’ll find it.”

“I’m not stressing about it. I want to iron it first.”

“I don’t know how long you think it takes to iron things, but it definitely doesn’t take 7 hours.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m pretty sure I do.”

Ding-Dong!

“Mao Mao, someone's at the door.”

“And you’re in the living room. Answer it.”

Mao screamed his frustrations into the bathrobe before throwing it aside. He didn’t understand how Badgerclops could be so lax about this. She’d already been dropped off, and the silence her absence left made Mao Mao feel anxious. Adorabat’s play was in seven hours, and a lot could go wrong in seven hours. The house could burn down, the Sky Pirates could attack or-

“Hey, Mao Mao you’re gonna wanna come here.”

“I’m busy. Who is it?”

“I don’t know. He’s pretty tall, wearing gold… says he’s your dad.”

-his dad could make a surprise visit again. What could he want? He wanted the finger back, obviously, but what else? His next thought was that he wanted to apologize. Mao Mao quickly dismissed that thought, but he slowly brought it back around. Everything he thought he knew about his father had been turned around. Maybe he actually did want to apologize. Mao Mao rose to his feet, huffed, and slammed the closet shut. If papa wanted to apologize then the only question to ask was how would he fuck it up this time?

It was then that a thought struck Mao Mao like a bolt from the blue. Why should I forgive him even if he doesn’t fuck it up? His first instinct was to come up with an argument against it but found nothing of any worth, yet he still pushed the idea aside.

He stepped in the living room, finding his papa standing just outside the door frame, lest he breaks it again. The first thing Mao Mao noticed was his armor. Normally kept pristine and shining had scratches and dents marring its facade. It wasn’t even waxed. Had hadn’t returned home, had he?

Mao Mao fought back the urge to ask what he was doing here. Mao Mao pushed past Badgerclops, stepping onto his porch, and closing the door behind him.

“Son,” Shin Mao said.

Mao Mao ignored the question. He reached into his sash flicking the broken finger towards his father. “This is what you came for, right?”

“Part of it, yes.”

“Of course it was,” Mao Mao spat.

“That’s not-,” papa took a deep breath to get control of his voice,” that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean? ‘Cause everything you say and does tell me that you don’t!”

“I came here to apologize!”

“Oh my god! We literally had this exact conversation a week ago. I bring up all your problems and you deny and deny and deny!”

“Well, I’m trying to own up to it now!”

“And it still doesn’t mean shit!”

The door was thrown open. “And that is enough of you two,” Badgerclops yelled.

Neither of them heard Badgerclops. They kept arguing.

“I get it,” papa screamed,” I get that I’ve made mistakes! What do you want me to do to make it up to you.”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” he yelled back.

Their voices rising higher and higher, so high that it wasn’t even words anymore. Just pointless screaming. Again, a thought wiggled its way into his head. Why should I forgive him? It stood above papa’s voice and even his own. It was just an infuriating mess of noise inside and out. At first, he gave in to his rage and grasped for the hilt of Geraldine before thinking better of it. He ignored the shouting, got onto the aerocycle, and left.

* * *

Despite taking his leave Mao Mao felt no calmer. His knuckles ached,

He could hardly drive straight, so he landed at a small clearing in the forest. Everything irritated him. The bird’s singing, the cool breeze, the fragrance of the pine forest. He sat on a large boulder to gather himself. His father would leave sooner or later. Then he would go back home and- Dammit! Adorabat still had her play and he still hadn’t ironed his clothes or even find them. Mao Mao sighed. Whatever. Badgerclops was right, there was still time to waste.

The maddening chain of thoughts kept going. His mind turned from one problem to another, from one mistake to another. The terrible thoughts shared no connecting theme. Sometimes it was how he embarrassed himself as an adult, other times it was the mistakes he made as a child. It made his throat feel rather dry rather quickly. Maybe it was the devil’s luck that he had nothing to drink. However, he did have Geraldine.

Mao Mao took his sword and swung at the nearest tree. The tree crashed down to the floor with a single slice. Mao Mao examined the stump with displeasure. Despite only taking one slash the cut wasn’t very clean. The wood was jagged and frayed at the edges. Not sure what he expected considering he let proper maintenance fall to the wayside. When was the last time he took his care of his sword? It was nearly two months; around the time Jǐngtì first showed up if he remembered right. That was when his life really turned into an entire pile of shit, wasn’t it?

Mao Mao took to running his sword along the edge of the boulder he once sat on. To his surprise, the rock worked rather well as a sharpening stone. It had a nice grain that matched his sword well. Maybe he should remember this spot, or better yet take a piece of the rock for himself.

Mao Mao held his sword backhanded and swung it through the tip of the boulder, taking a nice chunk of it. That was when the ground began to shake. Mao Mao struggled to gain footing as the dirt cracked and exploded out as the boulder grew larger and larger and larger, towering over him in a wispy mass of shadow.

That was no boulder! It was a monster.

The monster was utterly massive, even by monster standards. Its loose shape only contained in the bony protrusions that he thought were rocks. Mao Mao barely shook off his shock in time to dodge a swipe from its wings. He stared at the terrible gash in the ground where he once stood. How many hits could he take before dying? If he hadn’t just gotten out of the hospital he might actually be able to tank a hit. Like this, a glancing hit might kill him.

A beast with strength like that could only be dodged. And dodge he did. He ducked under swipes and leaped over attacks, holding a half-sharp Geraldine in his only hand. He stepped out the way of another attack and retaliated with a quick slash. It chipped the stone-like edges of its wings.

There was no point in striking its exterior. He’d have to go for the shadowy flesh. He rolled over one of the slashes, using the momentum to toss himself towards the monster. He left a nasty gash across the beast, but something was wrong. It felt like he was cutting through a thick cloud of smoke. He landed and immediately jumped away from another attack. He clung to a tree watching the gash get filled in by more shadowy mass. Did he do any real damage? How many more hits would it take?

Mao Mao leaped back into action. He slashed and slashed, taking entire chunks of the monster, but it was always right as rain in seconds. He, on the other hand, couldn’t keep this up forever. He was a cat, not a monkey, and he couldn’t keep running around like one forever. His entire body felt weak and it was hard to find balance. The sheer pressure of knowing that a single hit would bring him just shy of death was taxing.

Mao Mao remembered a piece of advice he hated. He who runs away lives to run another day. He was ready to leave when he heard a thunderous crash that seemed to shake the world. He hesitated to look over his shoulder, regretting that hesitation immediately. He should’ve just said fuck it and run away.

Amongst the kicked up dirt and dust, amongst the black shadows fading in the wind, was the glorious glint of gold. Papa had found him. Badgerclops was there, too. He watched them argue from the trees. He considered still listening to the hated advice but ignored better judgment, like always.

He sprang from the tree with a stumbling stop, falling to his knees to catch his breath.

Papa, to his credit, rushed to help him to his feet, but Mao Mao forcefully pushed him off. “I don’t need your help,” he spat at his father.

“What were you doing,” Papa asked. “You’re in no shape to be fighting monsters.”

“And you’re in no shape to be acting like a parent.”

“I think we should get him to a hospital,” Papa Badgerclops.

“Hey, fuck you. Don’t talk like I’m not here.”

“Calm down, son.”

“No. I won’t calm down! Every time you’re around you always make me feel… small . You ignored my existence and when you don’t you ignore my feelings and blow them off like they don’t matter. I don’t love you. I don’t care what happens to you, and I don’t want to see you, Shin , ever again.”

“You need to take a minute. You’re obviously delirious. You probably have a concussion.”

“Who cares! Who cares what you think! I’m done caring about what you think,” Mao Mao poured his entire heart into those words, screaming his throat hoarse and raw. “I think you’re a self-serving asshole too obsessed with your ego to realize your mistakes! I think you're so selfish that you honestly think you can suddenly realize your mistake and suddenly expect forgiveness!”

“I think-,” Mao Mao licked his numb lips, stumbling forward as his vision grew blurry, “ -I’m having a stroke.”

Everything went dark as the ground came rushing towards him.

* * *

Mao Mao woke up in a regrettably familiar setting. It was cold, reeked of sterile antiseptic, and home to the closest thing the valley had to a doctor.

“Hey, why am I at Camille’s Tower this time,” he said to no one.

Badgerclops rushed to his side. “You had a stroke, dude.”

“Right… wasn’t that a side-effect of Camille’s medication.”

“If you didn’t watch your blood pressure.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds familiar… hey, it might be the stroke messin’ with my memory, but wasn’t I doin’ somethin’ before I got here.”

“You were getting ready to attend Adorabat’s play.”

Mao Mao nodded along. “Was that before- no, that’s not important. He’s not important.”

Mao Mao stumbled over his words trying to push off the fatigue. “What I mean to ask is if you can tell me the time.”

Badgerclops placed a hand on his chest to keep him from getting up. “Oh no. I know that wide-eyed look. It means you either got the zoomies or about to do something stupid. Same difference really.”

“I’m fine.”

“You literally had a stroke.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not find.”

“Actually, it does mean you aren’t fine,” Camille corrected from the back.

“I don’t remember asking for the peanut-gallerie's opinion.”

“But the peanut gallery has a point. You can stay here and get better, while I can go attend Adorabat’s play.”

Mao Mao searched the room. There was a window on the far side, but he probably wouldn’t be able to reach it, and he certainly didn’t have an idea what to do once he jumped through it. He sighed, realizing how little options he had left. He gestured for Badgerclops to lean in as he whispered into his ear.

“I know I don’t talk about my childhood for obvious reasons, but did you know that I actually was in a school play. I tried out for the leading role, but ended up playing a bush and -don’t laugh- and I actually handed an invitation to my father to make sure he knew it was happening. You can guess what happened on opening night.

“He wasn’t there,” Badgerclops said.

“Don’t say it out loud. Point is: Going to this play is a very important thing to me. I don’t want to be like Papa… Shin, I mean.”

Badgerclops stood up. He drummed his fingers against the patient’s bed while he thought. “We’ll go to the play.”

Mao Mao swung out of bed to have Badgerclops put his hand on his shoulder. “But, you’re coming back here when we’re done, alright?”

Mao Mao nodded along. He would’ve nodded to anything you said at this point. He was just happy to go.

* * *

Were theatres required to markup ticket prices on showing days? Mao Mao and Badgerclops took their seats as the curtain was drawn. Mao Mao kept his eyes on the stage the entire time, but couldn't remember anything about it. He remembered yawning, leaning against Badgerclops, the ruby pure heart was mentioned somewhere. It was a huddled mess, a confusing blur of time that got lost in his endeavor to just stay awake. Suddenly, everyone started clapping and Mao Mao tried clapping too, alas he forgot he only has one. Adorabat found them soon after the play ended.

“Did you see me,” she asked.

“Yeah, I saw you,” he answered.

#MMHOPH #Fanafic #Mao Mao #Badgerclops #Adorabat #Shin Mao #MissingArm!AU

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perfeggso · 4 years

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Noir (yutae)

Week I pt. 1

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies)

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 1.7k (will progressively get way longer)

Yuta was easily recognizable. He was of about average stature, but that was the first and last thing about him that could be described as “average.” Yuta reckoned that anyone living or working in the areas in and around Ueno Park and Akihabara could describe him to the police if they felt like it, but they all knew better, didn’t they? He had a striking face, which others often remarked could have landed him in an idol group in another life. He kept his hair in an undercut which swept over his head suggesting ever so faintly the shape of a mullet, but he would never call it that. Mullets were for Mötley Crüe, not for men of taste. Although he kept the bottom of the haircut in its original black, the long part was died white – an aesthetic choice that Yuta not only liked but which also made him feel nearly invincible in its destruction of his anonymity.

Yuta was freshly 24, a prodigy of sorts in his own world of the Inagawa-kai family, where he had been promoted to Shategashira lieutenant last year and was now the commander of a small gaijin and zainichi unit operating in Shitamachi. There was gossip that his position was due only to his relationship with Oyabun Hirai Goro’s daughter, but he knew better than that which was all that mattered.

It was late October and a crisp evening as Yuta weaved his way down Chūō Avenue. He drew plenty of looks: of fearful recognition but also of admiration from certain young women. Not one for subtlety, he wore a double-breasted dark blue snakeskin suit and a jumble of rings and piercings. A scar transversing his right eyebrow and the tendrils of tattoos reaching out from his sleeves and collar confirmed his connection to the underworld for anyone who saw him, but that was alright if it gave Yuta some space to walk in the crowd.

He took a right into an arcade where Mark was sitting absently behind a yellow desk and flipping through the pages of the latest Young Magazine installment of Akira . When he saw Yuta, he immediately straightened to attention.

“Good evening Shategashira!”

“At ease,” Yuta said casually, “how’s business today?”

Mark went back to slouching over his comic and shrugged as Yuta surveyed the room.

“Average,” hazarded Mark, “I’ve been hearing the machines in back pretty consistently my whole shift and Jungwoo’s still somewhere fixing shit and trying to get people to buy computers.”

Yuta rapped his knuckles against the desk. “Having any luck?”

Mark shrugged again. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Yuta withdrew from the desk with a performative huff and straightened his jacket. Sometimes he wondered if he should be less familiar with his subordinates, but he couldn’t imagine acting strict like some other lieutenants; he liked most of his men too much to be anything but personable. So as usual, Mark’s cautious sass went unacknowledged.

Yuta made his way to the back of the low-ceilinged white room. The walls were lined with cubbies full of manga, tech and porn magazines, and cassettes; string lights; mirrors; Nintendo arcade games; and in the center of the space, you could peruse tables of PC’s in various states of disuse alongside Mazinger Z figurines. Jungwoo had stationed himself in the middle of the clutter, fiddling with the hard drive of an ’82 Apple.

“Jungwoo!”

“Shategashira!”

“At ease.”

“This just came today!” remarked Jungwoo, referring to the computer. “The computing power on this thing is off the charts! A shame I have to fuck with it.”

“A necessary sacrifice,” said Yuta, not giving a damn about the technical side of this business since he couldn’t begin to understand it. “How many have you sold?”

“Seven today,” said Jungwoo, sinking into a chair with his whole weight and pushing at his cuticles with the end of a screwdriver, “so that’s 225,000 yen, give or take. I can get the books if you want.”

Yuta smiled, catlike. “No, that’s alright. Good work. Although I’m confident you can do better still.”

Jungwoo stood again sharply. “I assure you I can, Shategashira !”

“Good.”

In reality this was not a bad amount of revenue for the day so far. The Inagawa-kai paid the property and business taxes on the building to shore up favor with the local government but didn’t technically own it. The real owners covered all other expenses and utilities, meaning the Inagawa people ultimately could keep more of their profits than the average business owners, and this setup wouldn’t change because the landlords knew the local precinct had Inagawa’s back and that Yuta – or if not him, someone else – would not hesitate to pull a katana on them if they suddenly took issue with the arrangement.

No, thought Yuta, this is good. Jungwoo was selling near his quota, and with the viruses he had installed, many of the unsuspecting customers would eventually be bringing their devices back for costly repairs.

Yuta looked at the unassuming door behind Jungwoo.

“Johnny in there?” he asked.

Jungwoo nodded curtly in response and Yuta passed him to open the door, stepping into the windowless back room. Smoke hit Yuta instantly, warming his lungs along with the stinging scent of hard liquor. The room may have been devoid of natural light, but it did have plenty of colorful artificial illumination: a wall of well-populated pachinko machines making brassy noises so loud Yuta could have sworn they were coming from inside his skull. Each machine was a hypnotizing box of glowing neon, flashing lightbulbs, and shiny silver balls clacking in a perverse rhythm with the players’ chorus of disappointed groans and victorious whoops. The men at the pachinko machines were all around middle age, smoking their heads off and depressing the shit out of Yuta.

Yuta swept his gaze over the rest of the room; the weathered purple booths on the other wall, the checkerboard tile on the floor, the mildewy walls; until he landed on Johnny. He was in the bar in the back, under a dusty glass chandelier, smoking with a young woman seemingly attached to the front of his mahogany suit.

Johnny didn’t notice Yuta until he was a few paces away, and Yuta sensed a flicker of disappointment on Johnny’s face when he did look up, although Yuta couldn’t reproach him for that and he did well to hide it.

“Ah, Shategashira ,” Johnny greeted languidly, and Yuta acknowledged him back with a nod of his head. Johnny was a few months older than Yuta, so he could afford to be more casual with his superior. The only reason Johnny didn’t have Yuta’s position was that he indulged too much in life’s vices and wanted to keep it that way.

“Can we speak somewhere a bit quieter?” Yuta asked, and Johnny nodded, whispering something to his companion before leading Yuta out the back doorway into an alley. Yuta breathed the crisp autumn air in once outside, a relief from the stuffiness of the pachinko bar. Yuta reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes and a lighter, smoking to match Johnny and giving Johnny time to get situated next to him against the wall. Yuta had to look up to speak since Johnny was a good bit taller than him and when he did, Johnny’s face was sharper than usual in the shadows of twilight. Yuta took a long drag of his cigarette.

“So,” said Johnny, “you know when yet?”

“A month and a half from today,” said Yuta, “gives us enough time to finish preparing, I think.”

Johnny nodded, grinding the burnt-out end of his cigarette into the brick behind him. “Good. Can you relay the details? What do I need to do?”

“You and I and the other Sokaiya members will be going into the Mitsubishi executive offices with the goal of getting 130,000,000 yen and the right to ship arms and drugs to our Triad allies in Hong Kong disguised alongside the company’s car and electronics exports.”

“Goro’s getting ambitious, huh?” Johnny figured aloud.

“Yes,” Yuta answered, “in return we’re offering our own men as indefinite security details for commerce in the South China Sea and for members of the executive board, personally.”

“Mercenaries and bodyguards, I see.”

“You could call it that.” Yuta took another drag of his cigarette and let the smoke escape his mouth in a meandering cloud. Once it dissipated, he said, “but as to your role, you’re in charge of gathering information on Sato Kenichi. He runs Mitsubishi’s finances and although we’ve found ample evidence to use against the CEO and I’m still working on some leads for the VP – Miyazaki is his name – we need dirt on as many of the higher ups as possible. They can’t refuse us or we’re dead.”

Johnny nodded, lighting himself another cigarette. “Sato Kenichi. Understood. Any leads on the guy?”

“Yes, I have them here.” Yuta pulled a small sealed folder out of the interior of his jacket and handed it to Johnny, who slipped it into one of his inner pockets without opening it.

“Thank you, Shategashira .”

“Just do a good job,” said Yuta, adding, “please.” Then he dropped his cigarette to the asphalt and ground it out with the heel of his boot. “We have almost enough stock to make the shareholder’s meeting so that shouldn’t be a problem. Also, the Triads are sending a group of emissaries to advise us on their priorities and join us at the meeting. They should be here in a few weeks or so. That is all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go meet the princess for our joint birthday dinner. We decided to combine this year.”

Yuta and Johnny pushed themselves off the wall and exchanged conspiratorial smiles.

“Tell her I said omedetou ,” said Johnny, backing away to return to his post at the dingy Pachinko bar, pulling the packet on Sato Kenichi out of his pocket and passing it between his hands. “I can’t wait to see what this Sato-san gets up to in his spare time. These executive types are all extortionists and perverts. And they call us the criminals.”

Yuta chuckled to himself. It was ironic, wasn’t it? He saluted Johnny and turned on his heel with a “work hard, please,” and that was that. The sun was setting, hot pink. He’d be late to meet Momo if he didn’t hurry, but this was important business after all. A month and a half. What could possibly go wrong in such a short time?

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dxmichelle · 4 years

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I am not normally one to throw a whole lot of personal stuff around on my blog, but I feel the need to rant.

Some big-name grocery stores are paying hazard pay to their employees. $2/hr bonus for having to deal with the customers panic-buying all the eggs, meat, toilet paper, and pasta sauce (but not pasta? What’s all the sauce for???), restocking as much as they can, and dealing with the likelihood of catching COVID-19 just because they have to show up for work because it’s an essential business that can’t close.

That’s great! Now that the employees have to be there, of course, because I’m sure they’d all rather be home, but that their companies are acknowledging that they are what’s keeping the store afloat and are compensating them better for it. Even if it is a temporary boost in pay until the pandemic is over, I’m sure it will not go unnoticed by the team members.

Now. Having said that...

I think I’ve mentioned once before that I work at Walgreens. (If not, it’s no big secret *shrug*). Like any other grocery store and pharmacy, we are an essential retailer that can’t just close down in the face of a serious pandemic. We know the store has to stay open. We don’t expect it to close. Ever. I mean, we’re the only store in town open on Christmas all day. The world can end twice over and we’ll still be selling cigarettes and printing photo orders.

Some of what’s happened to other stores (read: grocery) has happened with us. My store in particular is out of toilet paper and paper towels, milk, eggs, sanitizer, etc. All those nice things that the panicking hoarders bought everyone out of within two weeks or so, they’re gone. They’ve been gone. And it’s near impossible to get it back in stock.

We’ve had customers give us shit because we don’t have any paper goods, cleaning supplies, disinfectant, masks, gloves, rubbing alcohol, heck - even the Tylenol is all gone. You know how much OTC pain medicine we keep on the shelves year-round? TONS. And it’s wiped clean. Even the generic Tylenol is out. It’s nuts.

“Why are you still out of everything!? Don’t you guys receive trucks anymore?”

“When are you getting “[name that product]” in?”

“WHY DON’T YOU EVER HAVE TOILET PAPER?”

Okay, truth be told, we have been getting paper goods back in stock. By the third hour it’s been restocked to the floor, it’s gone again, and that’s with setting a harsh limit per customer. We’ll get maybe two bottles of hand sanitizer in a week. Clorox or Lysol wipes and disinfectant spray? Forget it.

The Tylenol is a recent addition to the “whoop, it’s gone!” club. We’ll probably restock just fine on it, but it might take a week or so. ...Or maybe it won’t. Who knows.

I can see exactly what comes in on each truck before it arrives. But I can’t tell the customers that in fear they’ll storm the truck or something before we’ve finished unloading it.

“Our truck comes later this week. We can’t guarantee what’s going to be on it.”

Which is true, because essentially every distribution center is out of all the things people want.

And because we are also a pharmacy, where the sick come to get the medicine to feel better, we are constantly in the line of fire for picking up whatever illness our customers drag through the front door. Doesn’t have to be COVID-19. People don’t know how to stay the fuck home when they’re ill.

You would think that all the Karens and the Susans who bought all the hand soap, sanitizer and face masks would have better sick etiquette, but nooo, they’re the ones not covering their mouth and nose and spreading their germs all over everyone and everything.

And don’t even get me started on how dirty money is.

So, being such a large and well-respected(?) retail pharmacy, what has Walgreens done for our employees in these troubling times of uncertainty and unease for their team members?

1. 2 weeks of paid sick pay but only if you’ve been confirmed to have COVID-19. And since testing is so readily available (HA), if you have flu-symptoms and choose to stay home and self-isolate, you can! But it comes out of either your PTO, or goes unpaid.

And if your child is home because no school and you have no one to watch them? It’s fine to stay home, but you won’t get paid unless you pull PTO. If you have it.

2. Social distancing markers! There are tape lines on the floor for the checkout and pharmacy lines. Except that when you need the pharmacist for a consult and you’re at the window, or standing at the pharmacy/front checkout counter, it is impossible to stand 6ft away. What, am I supposed to let the customer throw the money at me? Am I supposed to ring out their purchases and fling the bag back at them? Let me tell you a secret: it doesn’t work.

3. Discouraged wearing of gloves and masks at the front register. Okay, I see the point behind these. Not that anyone has masks to wear, mind you, but they don’t prevent the catching of COVID-19. And wearing gloves just keeps the dirt and germs on the gloves, and keeps you from frequently washing your hands, which is what everyone recommends you doing anyhow. But...realistically. The checkout cashier doesn’t have the ability after every 2 transactions to go wash their hands. And sanitizer is really only so effective. Either way, it’s not stopping whoever wants to wear gloves from wearing them, so we have gloves up front to use.

4. Sent care packages to help us clean, and reduced store hours. My store was open 8am-10pm. Now it’s 9am-9pm. That hour in each direction really doesn’t do a whole lot of difference. The idea is to clean, disinfect everything, and restock in the new time window that the store is now closed. Which is fine. But we don’t have anything to restock, our stockroom is BARE. And those care packages for the store to use? A case of toilet paper that I could have ordered myself when ordering supplies, a 6-pack of paper towels, two tubs of Clorox wipes, a box of 30 gloves. Oh yes, this will last a long time... We’ve also been given the go-ahead to expense any product off the shelf that we need to keep the store disinfected.

...Expense what!? THE SHELVES ARE EMPTY.

---

To give my company some credit, they are very good at keeping us updated with what’s going on. There are usually message posts every/every other day, and I honestly do feel like they are trying to do well in a situation that is trying for just about everyone.

Many team members have spoken up in comment forums with concerns, and they are doing what they can to address them.

Now, having said that....

(Remember that first paragraph about hazard pay? I know it was like a year ago up there at the top of the post)

Today, 3/22/20, Walgreens announced that they are giving their store and distribution team members a one-time bonus to show their appreciation for us.

We, the team members ringing out all of our customers purchases while they cough and sneeze uncovered in our general direction, the pharmacy technicians and pharmacists dealing with angry and impatient patients because the lines are long and everyone’s trying to get early refills on their medications, on top of the usual crowd in for their regular pickup or just trying to drop off a new script. We the team members having to placate the customers by walking into an empty stockroom, look at the empty shelving for 10 seconds so we can then walk back out and assure them that “no, we really are out of face masks and rubbing alcohol”.

We hourly team members fighting the fight on the front lines and praying to whoever we believe in that we don’t contract COVID-19 from anyone and everyone, will get a one-time bonus of $300 for full-timers, and $150 for part-time, at the end of APRIL.

Are. You. Serious?

I realize that it is better than them shrugging their shoulders and doing absolutely nothing. For many people, I’m sure it’ll be welcome. I can definitely use the $300, considering I lost all my hours at my second job and am going to probably be short in the upcoming months.

But, as this is a bonus, it’ll probably be taxed to hell. I’ll probably really see only half of it. And when you break it down, it’s like a $.53 raise, for four weeks. But you have to wait four weeks to get it.

We are just as vital as the grocery store down the street. The fact that Walgreens think that this will placate its worried employee-base is completely out of touch. But then again, the people making these decisions are probably doing so from the comfort of home and not in the stores super busy with customers standing on top of each other, and us while they grab the last can of soup and box of vinyl gloves available.

For us fighting to keep everyone else happy and healthy, this is a slap in the face and a punch to the gut.

If I am going to work every day, risking my health and the health of my family just so everyone else can pick up their essentials...and non-essentials, I should be compensated for it. Without us in the stores, no one is getting their good sad stare at the toilet paper aisle, ranting over the lack of Tylenol, or waiting in line for that flu shot they should have gotten at least 5-6 months ago.

Not to mention...you know...getting their medication. That’s important too.

It’s time Walgreens gave us the hazard pay we deserve. And conveniently enough, several days ago, someone started a petition in hopes that might happen.

So if you’ve made it to the end of my rant, and want to try and help out a frustrated shift manager, or any of the other thousands of store and DC employees who must feel extremely slighted right now, feel free to click and sign. There are already 45,000+ signatures. Every bit helps.

And if not? Maybe signal boost this post. It might wander onto the blog of another Walgreens employee just as frustrated as I am. Who knows.

Thanks for reading, Michelle the disgruntled employee

#michelle's ramblings #if you made it to the end congratulations #I'm going back to regularly scheduled fic-writing now.

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johannas-motivational-insults · 4 years

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9 and 37?

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

Hmm at this point I’d have to say Satisfaction. Any smut fic or fic involving smut is always challenging to write, because you (or at least I) want to keep it fresh and interesting and get across something more than just the sex, without resorting to being clinical. But this one was especially tricky because it was just as much a character study and a fucking essay to anyone who thinks sub!Catra could ever be a thing as it was a smut fic, and because the content was very delicate and I needed to make sure it was getting across exactly what I was trying to say and nothing more, nothing less. So there was the usual slog of writing smut plus the paralysis of feeling like it needed to be perfect, and frustration when I couldn’t seem to get it right. That’s quite the combination, I’ll tell ya.

37. Talk about your current wips.

Oh, boy! I love this question. :D

In no particular order…

Demons (She-Ra, Catradora): This fic is basically therapy for myself and Catradora, and anyone in the fandom willing to brave the trigger warnings. It’s been taxing but extremely cathartic to write, as it’s essentially about what it’s like to be a survivor of child abuse. This fic really only has a plot to allow me to address whatever issues I want to, and it was originally supposed to be, like, 6 chapters. We’re going on 23 now, whoops! I really do love this fic, though, with my whole heart. It’s probably the most raw, profound, meaningful piece of writing I’ve ever done. I love She-Ra for how openly it deals with the long-term effects of abuse, and I can only hope I’ve done the canon story and characters justice.

Loyalty (Hunger Games, Joniss): This is my longest fic, both in terms of words (333k) and how long I’ve been working on it (5 years). Believe it or not, I am still plugging away. And actually, in some ways this might be the most meaningful piece I’ve written. It involves a lot of the same themes as Demons, like abuse and implied neurodivergence, but it’s all in the background, as this is much more of a plot-heavy fic. But a lot of really heavy subjects are addressed, and I like to think they’re examined in a deep but delicate way. This fic is full of twists and the character development is pretty damn next level, and the ship dynamics are super fun, as it always is when I write Johanna x Katniss. Honestly I love this fic to bits and I wish I had more time to work on it, but She-Ra is my current main special interest, so updates have been sparse lately. However, there is a new chapter coming soon, so go get yourself caught up! ;)

But I’m a Lumberjack (Hunger Games, Joniss): Oh boy, speaking of fun Hunger Games fics! This is my THG x But I’m a Cheerleader crossover, and it’s stupid but also really sweet? Man, I miss this fic. Another one I really want to get back to. I reversed the intuitive casting by making Johanna the oblivious lesbian and Katniss the asshole who totally knows she is gay, so they are both very snarky in this fic and it is hilarious. I mean, it’s especially funny for people who have watched BIAC, but yeah. It also has some heavy themes, like homophobia and child abuse (which seems to show up in basically all my fics? wonder why that could be), but all in all it’s a pretty fun, light-hearted fic.

Live With It (She-Ra, Catradora [past]): This is neither fun nor light-hearted. This story only exists because @jaelav3 absolutely trampled my heart with her one shot where Adora had killed Catra in battle years prior and was still grieving hardcore. I continued the story and made it hurt even more, but only so we could get to a more cathartic, tragic but hopeful ending. I promise, we will get there! Sorry, these first few chapters have been rough but I promise it will get better. Adora x Therapy, y’all!

Ice (The 100, Echo [gen]): This was my Echo backstory fic that I wrote as a companion piece to my multi-chapter Becho fic Building Trust. It’s fallen by the wayside a bit considering Echo’s actual backstory has since been revealed, but I reread it recently with the intention of leaving it unfinished but realized I really loved writing about the Ice Nation politics and potential relationships between its characters that were largely left unexplored. The last couple chapters are both over half-written so at some point I will finish it, god damnit. Oh btw it is also SUPER full of emotional and physical child abuse and it is just not a fun time, so it’s not a fic I ever really recommend to people. I kinda wrote this one for myself because I find the Ice Nation (and Echo in particular) fascinating.

Enough (Hunger Games, Joniss): This fic is another one that I’d classify as dumb but loveable. It’s my only un-betaed THG fic, so I feel like the quality is slightly lower than the others but it really just started as a fun little side project. Back when @jonissheadcanons-archive was active, there was a theme for a while of modern au ideas where Johanna was Katniss’s babysitter when they were kids. Someone else drew some adorable artwork of Johanna teaching Katniss to walk, and the heavens opened and this fic rained down on us. It’s actually pretty angsty, since there’s a lot of babygay pining and some really painful parallels to canon (for instance, Katniss’s dad dies and mom goes nonfunctional and they end up in foster care), but there’s also a lot of goofy jokes, and nostalgia for those of us who remember the 1990′s.

Oh wow do I only have 6 WIPs? Damn, it felt like more.

40 Questions — Meme for Fic Writers

#asks #akari-hope #ask games #writing asks #fanfic #spop #thg #the 100 #demons #peacekeeper au #but i'm a lumberjack #live with it #ice #babysitter au

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snow-slayer · 4 years

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A Bunch of Good Things from 2019

*I don’t do things consistently, so there’s chunks of time I just forgot to write. So the blank spaces are days where I could not recall the exact good things that happened.*

January 1: Started the year off right by hanging out with @nah-young, eating some delicious leftovers from New Year’s Eve and working on a puzzle. Also caught a shiny Delibird in Pokemon Go as the first catch of the year. 2: Had a headache at work, but went home to take care of myself. Dad and I talked for a long time about money and taxes without arguing. I have also discovered a future hobby I want to get into: 3D printing. 3: I cranked out four solid hours of studying. I’m going to ace the Auditing section of the CPA exam. I feel it in my bones (especially when I finally stood up and stretched). 4: My ‘other mom’ (one of my best friend’s mom) took me out for a belated Birthday lunch to our favorite Thai food place, and I enjoyed more mango sticky rice. It’s one of my new favorite desserts. 5: Did some epic New Year cleaning. Caught up on laundry, filed away my 2018 paperwork, and did some 2019 taxes. Finally on top of things! 6: A puzzle day! I connected a big piece of the sky to the side on the Lion King puzzle. I’ve still got a lot to go, but progress is being made. 7: As usual, I both surprised and pleased the teller at the bank when I moved some money from savings into my IRA. They wanted to know if it was for tax year 2018, but I could tell them last year was maxed out and it was for 2019. 8: Got to practice my training and supervising skills with @arrowhearts. 9: Spent the night at Lucy’s (she’s a cat). She’s the sweetest cat though, and was cuddling in my lap for so long! She even held my finger with her paw for like ten minutes. I love her. 10: It’s been forever, but I finally sat down and played some video games. I’m replaying Arkham Asylum again and really just exploring every nook and cranny I can find. 11: Might have started a new Francis story line ... Whoops :) 12: Helped Jane clear an apartment and acquired many new tools and art supplies to use. 13: Snow! It was snowing before bed, but I still woke up at 5 am to about 4 - 5 inches. Activated my dad gene and started shoveling at 5:30 am (sorry neighbors to the house I was dog sitting at). It’s so pretty out! 14: A quiet day, but I did some work for Jane and gamed some more. Can’t wait to start Arkham City when I get 100% on Arkham Asylum! 15: I took my coworker a basket of fun snacks from Lotte for her Birthday. She’s so excited to try them all! 16: Donated blood today and when I went to get dinner on the way home, I got a free salad! The entree was already free and I ordered a side salad. I pulled out my wallet to pay, but the coupon covered it, too! 17: Treated myself to breakfast on the way into preschool (my new volunteer place since the teacher I followed to several elementary schools is now at). Also ate some amazing home cooked food for lunch with @nah-young before going out for ice cream. 18: Did some very early spring cleaning to prep for my next yard sale and straighten up a bit. 19: Beat the storyline and finished gathering all of Riddler’s trophies in Arkham Asylum. I do still need to finish up the additional content for 100% completion. 20: Working with Jane to help clean out an apartment again and got stencils to use for my art (the ones with shapes of different sizes). I had wanted to get me a set, so I really lucked out. 21: Started reading a book for fun. Lol, I forgot that I can still read non-accounting things for fun. 22: Sent out 1099s at work. It’s always a dreaded part of the year, but it’s taken care of! 23: I started uploading my old Franmouche stories to AO3. I forgot that I’d written 185 pages of them. At least if someone else likes my rarepair, they have lots to read. No guarantees on the quality, but there is quantity. 24: Made fun penguin cutouts for the preschool class I volunteer at. Then studied for nine hours on campus. A busy, yet productive day. 25: Finished watching all my lectures for the next portion of the CPA exam! So much auditing knowledge!!! 26: Panic alleviated. My check engine light had been on for a few days. Usually it’s just a gas cap issue so I was worried, but after readjusting the cap again (which usually fixes it) and an oil change, the light went out! 27: Played some Pokemon Go for four hours with @arrowhearts and Lyla. No Kyogre, but at least we each got a Groudon. Plus, the weather was beautiful for this time of year. 28: I found a dollar today while sweeping the parking lots with my dad! I’m gonna be riding this wave for a week. (Fun fact: my dad and I used to go bike riding on Sunday afternoons/evenings in the local parking garages and look for pennies. We’d always get bragging rights when we found a quarter or more. We still get excited and tell each other of the day’s finds when we find a few coins while we’re sweeping). 29: Had a bit of a headache, but managed to get through it so I could finish the workday. Then I get some well deserved rest. 30: Met up with @nah-young for some fries and ice cream! 31: My annual physical went well! Took care of a couple test we’ve been putting off, too, and they weren’t quite as bad as I thought they’d be.

February

1: I had such a productive day in the office, even for a Friday. Special thanks to @arrowhearts for helping me move all (24 years worth) of our files. 2: Started off the day a little rough and feeling low, but I decided to go up to campus, and I’m so glad I did. I was able to help a bunch of people get to their destination. Also hung out with @nah-young and @arrowhearts in a sketchy room. 3: Technically today (starting at 1 am). Had a great talk with @nah-young about a lot of things including our friendship. Successfully avoided the Super Bowl (which I heard sucked, so that was a good use of my time). 4: Had a really good conversation with my dad for almost an hour. We had some fights earlier in the year, but it was nice to be able to connect some. 5: It’ll be silly to look back on, but I thought I lost a reference letter for a scholarship applicant, but realized I could find it on our shared drive. Such a relief! 6: I tried Duck Donuts for the first time today. One of our board members brought me and a coworker a half dozen each. 7: Caught a Miltank in Pokemon Go! I thought I missed my chance, but there was a special running, so I got it. 8: Just heard we got a new boss at work, so it’ll be nice to be full staffed again. 9: Started working on a painting for @arrowhearts. It might be my first completed artwork of the year. 10: A lazy day, but I flipped through a book on home decorating. You know, to plan for my future house. 11: Officially started working for Jane’s business. We’ll see how it goes, but at least it’s an extra couple of hours per week. 12: Finished a dog sitting job, and I’m super thankful to be sleeping in my own bed again. 13: I gave Lucy, the sweetest cat ever, a piggyback ride and it was the cutest thing ever. I was on my knees and forearms trying to get Lucy to boop my nose when she just climbed on my back and sat down. I rose up on my knees and hands and she did the “i’m not so sure but I’m going to stay here” stand and let me crawl across the floor a while before finally jumping off. I love this cat. 14: Took the auditing section of the CPA exam. I feel much better about this one than I have about the other two. We’ll see on the 26th. 15: Such a busy day at the office! It was productive, but just a lot of work. 16: Even though I just too the other exam, I managed to get a lot of studying done. 17: Mamaw and I got to chat and work on the puzzle for a while. It was nice to hang out with her since I haven’t done son in quite a while. 18: We had some really good food at our investment club meeting today. Sheppard’s pie (like meat and mashed potatoes), salad, this great cracker dip (I have no other details other than feels like sharp cheddar finally shredded with a hint of spice in some sort of sauce). 19: Our new executive director started today. I think I made a pretty good first impression! 20: Started playing Arkham City again. We had a snow day and even my office closed, so I made the most of my day. 21: Lol and today I finished the main storyline of Arkham City. Accidentally, because I was doing side quests, but Batman got mad when I tried to go finish some before the last mission. 24: I am obsessed with Excel, but I figured out a formula so that it would total certain categories even if they weren’t in order. Plus I learned how to make a drop down menu (on two versions of Excel). Guess who’s budget looks beautiful! 25: I caught a Latias in Pokemon Go. Not having much luck with the water legendaries. I wonder if they don’t like me because we picked the grass starter. 26: I passed the Auditing section! (and instead of keeping it quiet, I made a point to tell some people). Then @nah-young and I went to dinner to celebrate our successes of the day and just have a nice chat. 27: Good news: I starved off a migraine that was starting on Feb 26. Maybe this new method will help them from getting bad. Just took an Aleve with some hot tea. 28: Went on a Pokemon run, and I found $20 blowing across the yard when I got home! A nice find for the year.

March 1: I’ve been really getting into “Ghost Story” by Peter Straub and had so much time to just sit and read while it rained. 2: I watched “Spiderman: Enter the Spiderverse” today. An epic movie and I highly recommend it! I also have several new costume ideas... 3: Officially started working on my Library Comic Con cosplay. There’s not much to show, but it was nice to start costuming again. 4: Hiked up to the nearby bubble tea. It was good! I got a mango green tea creama. Next time I know I have to mix it up before I start drinking it. 5: 6: 7: 8: 9: 10: Started replaying Castlevania IV. It’s been a while since I beat it, so hopefully I can still finish it! 11: I have proven myself an Excel deity. Well, at least Jane thinks though. She needed a spreadsheet for something and had some ideas so I whipped it out in five minutes flat with a bunch of formulas she didn’t even know were possible. I’m quite proud of it. 12: Lol, speaking of excel, I was geeking out over my budget with one of our board members. She was showing me how she built her itinerary in excel for her next trip and I got to show off my budget. 13: 14: 15: It was fake St. Patrick’s day at work, so I got to show off my green Riddler suit. Apart from being mistaken as dressing like a leprechaun a few times, I received a bunch of compliments on it. I’ve gotten a lot of use out of that suit jacket. 16: Tagged along with @nah-young to her grandfather’s birthday party and watched Bohemian Rhapsody. Apart from the timeline inaccuracies, I really enjoyed it! Look at that: two new movies in one month. 17: First big leaf job of the season. I guess the first major landscaping job. Dad helped out, so it made life easier. 18: Investment club meeting went well, and I ended up staying late to chat and help clean up, but it was enjoyable. Also had some great tiramisu from Trader Joe’s. 19: 20: 21: It was a downpour today, but I also made a 20 minute Costco run. Parking was great, the lines were short, and I managed to balance everything without a cart. Success! 22: Finally got around to doing invoices. It’s such a weight off my chest to take care of them. 23: I had the house to myself, so got ample studying done, played some pokemon, and treated myself to some bubble tea. Got myself a bunch of good pokes from Community day. 24: Another lovely day to sit and hang out with @nah-young. I always enjoy our hour long conversations just sitting in my car in her driveway. I also finished the lectures for the BEC portion of the CPA exam. 25: I found a gift card loaded with $30 today. It had been thrown into the dumpster, so a little gross, but it washed off nicely. 26: Ran up to the local library to turn in my books (look @arrowhearts, I did it the day before they were due and didn’t have to make a midnight run). I wasn’t going to check out more books since I already had some checked out from another library visit (I go to many branches due to my job and often check out a book or two, resulting in cycles of books due at different times), but I did anyway. I started reading Area X, too, and so far, I’m really enjoying it. 27: Our family’s accountants think I’m a bit weird because I was so excited to get my tax papers back even though I owed money. I was just like “cool!” to all the facts and things on my sheets, which is apparently not what they’re used to, but one of the new tax laws works in my favor as small business income is taxed at a lower rate or something. 28: 29: 30: I love Annihilation in the Area X series! I haven’t plowed through a book that fast in years. 31: I was catching up on my business spreadsheets and it turns out I had the most profitable March since I started my business :)

April 1: No April Fools jokes, which is always a huge plus. 2: 3: 4: Took the BEC section of the exam and then clocked in a bunch of hours for the Foundation. Jubilee is almost here!!! 5: 6: The Jubilee is over!!! What a relief! A lot of things went well, and I heard it was a lot of people’s favorite. Not sure what actually happened because I was stationed at check in/out all night, but hopefully the silent auction results are good. Huge shout out to @arrowhearts and @nah-young for getting me through the night! 7:A quiet morning of returning the Jubilee to the Foundation. Plus some other landscaping. 8: I know everyone at work is saying I should take time off, and I didn’t, but I’m actually feeling blessed that I have the physical and mental stamina to keep working on things. Plus, I need to catch up with post Jubilee stuff. 9: 10: 11: 12: 13: 14: 15: 16: 17: 18: 19: Got to talking with my art dealer for a long while and we exchanged headcannons and ideas. 20: Had a nice Pokemon run with @arrowhearts‘ dog. Plus, enough work to keep me out of trouble X) 21: A very busy Easter. I moved a huge mound of mulch. It was half the size of my car. Hopefully the home owner will like it. 22: 23: 24: 25: 26: 27: 28: 29: 30: 31: I’ve been feeling behind, but I finally knocked out a really important thing at work today. Got our annual applications in!

May 1: 2: 3: My gauntlets for my comic con costume look so cool! They’re a little stabby (there’s staples on the inside, although I should be able to tape it down for safety), but overall look cool for a first draft. 4: A long day, but I feel like I was really able to help my friend and her family, which is nice considering how much they do for me. 5: The event that happened wasn’t good, but I’ve been humbled as to how well our house was kept and motivated to try and become more organized. 6: Dad and I were chatting today, and we could even touch on topics in a civil manner. It was quite nice! 7: Just found out I passed the BEC section of the CPA exam! I’m 75% CPA!!! And no cavities were found after my dentist appointment :) 8: Frantically working on my costume, but my head piece looks really good! 9: Mom even chipped in to help. We rigged up a steampunk mask I have (which doesn’t fit on my head right) so that I can actually wear it. 10: I’ve been fasting for Ramadan and I think my body and I are finally on the same page. It was a rough start this year, but I’m looking forward to focusing on being thankful for what I have and working on self discipline. 11: Library Comic Con! My costume is a bit rough, so no final pictures, but I have plans to make it better! 12: It was a busy Sunday. Lots of lawns, but thankfully the weather was cool. 13: 14: 15: 16: 17: Had a nice meeting with my boss. I keep feeling like I’m not on top of things or she’s disappointed, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Plus, she said I did great at the finance committee meeting, so that was nice. 18: Although I scared everyone I worked with all day, I was able to donate blood even though I had been fasting. 19: I saw the tiniest inch worm while I was pulling weeds today. It was more like a quarter inch worm and it was just trying so hard to climb up my arm when I found it. I also saw the first lightening bugs of the year. As a bug type Pokemon trainer, I’m quite pleased with all of this (less so with the mosquitoes though, as I got my first bite of the season). 20: I have found a nice way to keep cool at the property Dad and I work at. I’m allowed to douse my head, neck, and hat with the hose, and man does it feel good! 21: I received many compliments at the executive committee meeting for all my hard work on the budget, the Jubilee, and finance committee. 22: Caught up on reconciliations at work (finally). It’s been just a nightmare, but I’m happy they’re done. 23: Another me day. I’ve been taking Thursdays off and got to game for a bit but also accomplish a lot of laundry and studying. 24: Had a good meeting at work to discuss the future of the nonprofit I work at. Plus I finally made a phone call I didn’t want to make. 25: Went to a foam helmet making class with a coworker. I’m super excited to start trying out this style, and I think the sample we made in class can easily be used to make a helmet for Vile. Might have purchased a few things to go with it :) 26: Found a new drink that I love from Kung Fu Tea! Also got to rewatch Coco, which is always good. 27: Part of my afternoon spent working with Jane was changing her screen saver. It was set up for one photo of pictures, but some were so fuzzy, so we set up new pictures and I got to add my fuzzball to the reel. 28: I visited one of Jane’s friends to discuss dog sitting and we had such a nice conversation afterwards. 29: I found a four leave clover today while mowing lawns. It’s been years since I’ve found one, so that was exciting. 30: I plowed through about 6 hours of studying for the FAR portion of the CPA exam. Only two more lectures and then onto multiple choice! 31: Filled out a form at work (finally). Now I just have to hope my boss will sign it and have it notarized.

June 1: 2: 3: 4: 5: 6: Took the (hopefully) last CPA exam. It was nice as I spoke to an elevator engineer before the exam and it helped to calm my nerves a bit. 7: 8: 9: 10: 11: 12: 13: 14: Wasn’t sure what day to put this on, but @nah-young and I hung out for hours just sitting and chatting on the cats’ back porch. 15: Successfully navigated into DC with the help of @arrowhearts (and had an interesting laugh about her being my son...? Oh well, at least we got to give the people sitting outside a show as we left the building with two rollie office chairs each). 16: Started working on my Halloween costume. I’ve abandoned the idea I originally had and will be switching to a different Mega Man X character (fun fact: it was a costume I originally intended to make before being introduced to Scaramouche back in 2017) 17: It was a scorcher, but had a slurpee for the first time in almost a year. I’m so thankful for the 7-11 within walking distance of where my dad and I work on Mondays. 18: I’ve officially passed the CPA exam! Now onto the next steps... 19: I have been struggling with telling people good news, but I did make an effort to inform some people about me passing the exam. 20: Told some more people about the CPA exam and just trying not to stress. I got celebratory milkshakes for my family after dinner. 21: My coworkers are so sweet. They brought me in a cake and we had a mini celebration. 22: 23: 24: 25: 26:Found a praying mantis while mowing. She kept standing where I wanted to mow, so I got to pick her up and put her somewhere safe (with lots of snacks for her!) 27: 28: 29: So glad I went to see Detective Pikachu with @nah-young and @arrowhearts! I really enjoyed it! 30: 31:

July 1: A new fiscal year! I did manage to get a good bit done on my latch hook. 2: A sudden thunderstorm took me off the weed pulling job early (i.e. a perfect opportunity to read). 3: It was quiet in the office. Too quiet ... yet super productive! I processed so many gifts and letters. 4: I don’t really celebrate, and spent a lot of it working, but played some pokemon in the rain. It was a warm day, so the cool rain felt so refreshing! 5: A jammed packed day with trashrooms, a bank run, and more pokemon quests! I completed another 15 and hatched a new pokemon. Plus I finished another book: Dr. Death. 6: A busy day, but I was able to finish everything so I can take the next day off completely (for once). Again, apologies to @arrowhearts for dragging you out and getting caught in a downpour so I could get some bubble tea! 7: 8: 9: 10: Unboxed my unicycle! Not sure when I’ll ride, but it’s ready when I am. 11: 12: 13: 14: The vanity is back in my bathroom! Dad’s renovating it, and it’s been a slow process, but I finally have a sink! 15: 16: 17: 18: 19: 20: Spent a few hours working on cleaning the basement, and I’m finally seeing some of the fruits of my labor. 21: 22: 23: 24: Officially finished the Vile helmet! 25: Just started a new dog sitting job, and the house is right on top of a pokestop. Guess I’m going to have a full item bag again! 26: Finally got myself a memory stick for my PSP. I’m replaying the Maverick Hunter X game ... because I can! 27: Got three team rocket grunts in one day at the one stop. 28: Plowed through the Vile portion of Maverick Hunter X. Lol, I probably make it harder on myself since I only use my favorites, regardless of if they’re good against the boss. 29: Had a huge crab and shrimp dinner at Jane’s house. 30: Hung out and ate delicious homemade butter chicken with my best friend’s mom (she’s basically like my other mother). We laughed and chatted, showed off our latest projects, probably kept the neighbors up, and just had a good time until like 2 in the morning. 31: Welp, it wasn’t a raid day for armored Mewtwo, but @arrowhearts and I did defeat more Team Rocket Go grunts in the rain.

August 1: Chatted with @nah-young for a few hours and I’ve got a new place to eat on my radar! 2: I kept feeling like I was letting my boss down because I couldn’t answer her questions/didn’t understand, but she insisted I was handling myself well, and found the information she needed later. Plus, she’s very complimentary of my work and appreciates my transparency and work ethic, both of which I work hard on and value. 3: 4: 5: 6: 7: 8: 9: 10: 11: 12: 13: 14: 15: 16: 17: 18: 19: 20: 21: 22: 23: 24: 25: 26: 27: 28: 29: 30: 31:

September 1: 2: 3: It’s official! We’re having a Halloween party at work. If my new schedule turns out, I’ll be at work on that day and will show off a costume. Not sure if it will be the one I’m working on, but I can always recycle an old one. 4: 5: 6: 7: 8: 9: 10: 11: 12: 13: 14: 15: I had such a good ripstik run. @nah-young and I practiced for a good while yesterday (and she did her first trick, too!). I guess it’s nice to see the fruits of our practice since we’ve been working off and on for about a month. 16: Had the investment club meeting at my house. I didn’t get to cook everything, but I picked the recipe and it turned out well! 17: I finished “Every Tool’s a Hammer” by Adam Savage (from Mythbusters) and I really recommend it. It’s such a great book for anyone who makes or creates. It’s a fun read and chocked full of helpful hints. 18: I decided to start reading the Naruto series. I’m enjoying it so far! Now I just have to wait for the next to volumes to be available from the library. 19: I started replaying Scooby Doo and the Cyber Chase. It’s amusing, although I’m a little rough. 20: 21: 22: 23: I’d been on the fence about taking a vacation early next year because I want to save up for a down payment, but after talking to my dad, I decided I’d do a little something. I still need to work out the plans (and make sure the people I want to visit are free), but I’m looking forward to it! 24: 25: 26: There’s a chance I might be going full time at my office job, so dad encouraged me to take the day off from trash rooms. I still got up early, but knocked out a bunch of chores, finished Scooby Doo and the Cyber Chase, finished a drawing, and cleaned in the basement a bit. 27: Lol, I just realized I have three cycles of books checked out again. I started reading The Wicked Years series. I’m trying to set aside time each night so I can read a chapter or two before bed. 28: I made the pattern for my gauntlets! I’m actually trying to do it the right way and making measurements, creating an accurate template, and just generally taking my time. 29: Part 2 of the gauntlets: They’re made! My template worked and I spent a couple of hours slowly forming and shaping them. I still need some practice on the gluing component, but at least they feel sturdy. 30: Started replaying DK 64 again. I really love this game. Besides Gauntlet Legends, it’s probably my favorite N64 game we own. 31: Got rained out at work, but managed to take it easy in the afternoon and just generally keep ahead with laundry.

October 1: Today officially marks the first day of working full time at my office job. They added ten hours a week, so now I’m working 4 days at 10 hours each. It’ll take a little adjusting. I’m happy for the extra hours! 2: I sent out invoices on time for once! 3: It was my fuzzball’s 16th Birthday today! Someone also brought in some really yummy snacks to work that were leftover from a meeting. I also managed to create templates for the leg gauntlets and cut them out of foam. I’m just rolling with the motivation now, and would like to have Vile finished by Halloween (keep reading to find out if it was finished). 4: Really just having a good time playing DK 64. Knocked out Gloomy Galleon, so all that’s left are my favorite levels! 5: 6: 7: I have leg gauntlets formed. Lol, I guess I should look up the name... All that’s left is the chest plate and cape! 8: I lucked out! My coworker can’t go to a book signing even this weekend and asked me to get her book signed since I’m going. It was the perfect opportunity to get my hands on a copy of “Where the Crawdads Sing” which I wanted to read before this weekend. 9: Making some headway on the costume again! Arm and leg gauntlets have the plating and base coat of plastidip. 10: I finished “Where the Crawdads Sing” within 48 hours of having it my possession. That’s such a huge accomplishment to read something so quickly and eagerly! 11: I was plowing through my to do list at work. I knocked out 11 items. Woo! 12: 13: 14: 15: 16: 17: 18: 19: 20: 21: 22: 23: 24: 25: 26: 27: 28: 29: 30: My Halloween costume is finished *gasp* before Halloween! Barely, but it counts. 31: I won the most creative costume at work! Well, tied for first, but that’s cool.

November (whoops, I really forgot to write this month) 1: 2: 3: 4: 5: 6: 7: 8: 9: 10: 11: 12: 13: 14: 15: 16: 17: 18: 19: 20: 21: 22: 23: 24: 25: 26: 27: 28: 29: 30: 31:

December 1: 2: 3: 4: 5: 6: 7: 8: 9: 10: 11: 12: My coworker is back! She had been on extended leave for a while, but now she’s back. She bring such a positive and fun attitude to the workplace. 13: 14: I’m officially 25! I worked a few hours in the rain, but got a lot done (and saw Lucy, my favorite cat I cat sit). Instead of going to a steakhouse for dinner, which I’m not a fan of, we ended up going to somewhere I did enjoy. Overall, it was a nice and quiet celebration. 15: 16: 17: I finished the Naruto series today! It was a good series, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Going to take a manga break to work on a few novels I have checked out and then decide which series to start. 18: 19: A busy day again. Knocked out two leaf clients for the year and went to see three bands perform at a local music club. I stayed out way too late, but had a great time hanging with a friend, one of the performers, and the performer’s friend. 20: 21: 22: 23: 24: Hung out with my brother and grandmother. I crushed them in several games! 25: Went to my coworkers in the afternoon and dueled for the first time in quiet a while. They wiped the floor with me, but I had fun with my deck destruction deck. 26: 27: Ended up hanging out with Jane for a while and just chatting about everything. We’re seeing eye to eye on a lot of things, so it was nice. 28: Finished my leaf jobs for the year! Time to relax. 29: 30: 31: Welp, ended up being sick and missing out on the intended New Year plans. I guess I did start the year with a migraine, so here I am ending it with one. After I rested up, I did start playing my favorite video game. Plus, I frantically read “Hey, Kiddo!” before the end of the year

Notable stuff

Highlights: Passed the CPA exam Officially hired full time

Books read: “Ghost Stories” “Every Tool’s a Hammer” “Where the Crawdads Sing” “Wicked” Naruto series “Hey, Kiddo!”

Movies watched: Spiderman: Enter the Spiderverse Mary Poppins 2 The Princess and the Frog Pokemon Lucario

#2019 in review #2019 #a year in review

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gosecretscribbles · 5 years

Text

Stanuary 2019 Week 1 Bonding

“GET BACK HERE!”

“AAAGH!”

Stan chased after the tourist, brandishing his cane in one hand and the crossbow in the other. The guy had tried to pay for his tour with a baby goat! What did he think this was, Medieval Europe?! Goats were not currency! Goats weren't even profitable! They just ate, pooped, and stank!

Stan thought he was in decent shape for an old fat guy, but the skinny farmer sprinted to his truck like all the tax collectors in the state were on his heels. Plus that stupid baby goat was prancing around Stan and tripping him up. Even so, Stan nearly made it to the truck when the farmer hit the gas. The engine roared to life and dirt sprayed in Stan's face. He skidded to a stop, coughing and scraping at his eyes.

There was a thunk and Stan looked down. The kid had keeled right over, all four legs straight out.

“Oh, great, now he's dead! YOU PAID ME WITH A DEAD GOAT, YA MORON!”

He swung up the crossbow and fired, but the truck hit a bend in the road. Instead of popping a tire the bolt just hit the license plate and jarred it loose. It fell off with a noisy rattle as the truck swung around the curve and disappeared, the other goats' bleating quickly fading from earshot.

Swearing a blue streak under his breath, Stan went to retrieve the license plate. Never know when you'd need one to throw the cops off your trail.

Now he had to decide what to do with a dead baby goat. The next tourist bus wasn't coming until noon, so he had about an hour to figure it out. He didn't really want to stuff it, but he couldn't think of anything else to do with it. Hey, maybe he could make his new mechanic do it instead – what was his name, Zeus or something? Sure, that'd work. He just had to get the goat out of the way until Soup came back from school.

He reached the goat and bent down to grab its leg.

“Baa-aa-aah.”

“AAH!”

He jumped back. The goat's ears and tail twitched, then it rolled over and looked up at him.

“Baa-aa-aah,” it repeated insistently.

“Yeesh, give me a heart attack already,” Stan growled, one hand over his chest. “If you're looking for food, you're lying in it. Grass, meet goat. Goat, meet lunch. Now stay outta the way, I got a business to run.”

“Baa-aa-aah.”

He went inside to work on more pun-related exhibits for the museum. Those wax figures had brought in a ton of money when he'd first set them up, but business had gone dry a week ago, and he needed another money maker and fast. Those portal parts didn't come cheap.

The goat bleated from the porch for a solid twenty minutes, then he heard it clopping away. Stan snorted, then went back to gluing googly eyes on a plastic octopus. Maybe eight eyes, so it was like a combo spider-octopus? Yeah, that'd work. Now he just had to think of a catchy name for it. Or maybe Octo-spider? Arachnipus? Octo-Eyes? Hmm, maybe that'd work...

Stan came out of the Shack in time to greet the next tourist bus. He didn't see the kid anywhere, so many the dumb thing had wandered into the woods. Perfect, one less thing to worry about. He put everyone in the carts and drove 'em out to see random stuff in the forest, like the Tree of the Screaming Tourist. He told them the eerily twisted bark was an actual tourist whose spirit had been sucked into the tree when he refused to pay for the tour. (Everyone was suddenly very eager to pay him for the tour. And tip him. Generously.)

He drove 'em back and waved them into the bus. Then he headed back to the Gift Shop. His pockets were practically bulging with cash. He definitely had to use that Screaming Tree story more often! Even if it kind of freaked him out. Wait, hadn't Ford's journal's mentioned something about –

“Hi, Mr. Pines!”

“AAH!”

He jumped back for the second time that day, glaring down at Deuce, who was standing innocently in the doorway of the Gift Shop.

“Geez, kid, make some noise when you move!”

“Sure, Mr. Pines! By the way, I didn't know you had a pet goat!”

Deuce moved aside. That dumb stinky nuisance was sitting on the floor, legs sprawled everywhere, its floppy tail thumping like a puppy's.

“Baa-aa-aah!”

He groaned. “That's not a pet. And get it out of here! Smells like a moldy haystack, and I got some new attractions I need to make for the museum.” He stepped over the goat and strode to the craft counter in the corner. “Octo-Eyes was a huge hit! Taxidermic monstrosities are gonna make me a fortune!”

“Couldn't we make this little guy an attraction too?” Moose asked behind him. “I bet you could even give him a punny name! Like 'Cutebacabra'!”

Stan stopped and turned around. The goat looked up at him with those weird sideways pupils.

“Yeah,” Stan said slowly, holding up both hands to frame the little moneymaker. “Yeah, the Cutebacabra! Glue on some fake wings, coupla cow legs – maybe some red paint drooling from its mouth! Ha, I love it!”

Bruce beamed at him. “Thanks, Mr. Pines!”

“Kid, gather every spare stuffed limb I've got and a ton of crazy glue. Then go set up a display for him in the museum. This creepy cuteness is gonna be our next main attraction!”

Exactly forty-three minutes later, Stan was showing a new set of tourists into the museum. He'd already taken them to the Tree of the Screaming Tourist, and now he was gonna milk 'em dry. Zeus had rigged up a little stage and a red velvet curtain for Chompers. With a single grand gesture, Stan pulled it aside. Instantly the crowd went 'AAAAH!' and 'AWWW!'

He grinned and gestured grandly. Sluice had made it a little vest and glued on every spare animal limb they had. “That's right, folks, the rare baby Cutebacabra! The only one in the world! Pictures are five – no, fifty dollars each!”

Immediately tourists stuffed good ol' Grants into his hands and snapped pictures, flashes going off in every direction.

The goat's eyes went wide and it keeled over, legs straight out.

A kid in the crowd screamed. “OH MY GOD IT'S DEAD!”

“WE'RE CURSED!”

“RUN FOR YOUR LIIIIFE!”

“Oh come on!” Stan shouted. He didn't bother chasing the tourists – he'd pick-pocketed them while they had their eyes on the goat, and he knew they didn't have even two bucks left among the lot of them. But why in the name of Paul Bunyan did the goat keep playing dead?! If it had done that two seconds earlier it would've cost him all those picture fees!

“I'm back with the goat feed, Mr. Pines,” Puce said, poking his head into the Museum. He was dragging a forty-pound bag of feed. “You didn't give me any money, so I had to pay Mr. Sprotts with three hours of child labor.” Then he caught sight of the goat, turned white, and dropped the bag. “SWEET MOSES HE'S DEAD?!”

“No he's not,” Stan scowled. He reached out and poked the goat with a foot. The goat twitched, then flipped upright and started gnawing on one of the cow hoofs taped to its back. “See?”

The goat bleated and head-butted him.

“Aw, he likes you!” Spruce said.

“Ugh, get it offa me. The darn thing's defective!” He paused. “Then again, if I could get it to do it on command...” Imagine the look on people's faces if he walked his goat into traffic, then made them think they'd hit his Prize German-Australian Longhair Goat! They'd pay through the nose just to keep him from suing them!

“Eh, he probably just has that myotonic thing. Or maybe it was myopia? I always get those two mixed up.”

“Mia-what?”

The gumdrop shrugged. “Myotonia. Mr. Sprotts told me about it. You know how people get startled, and then they freeze up? It's like that, but for goats. And it lasts for longer, like their muscles seize up or something. It doesn't hurt them or anything,” he added, “but it is a genetic thing. Mr. Sprotts said a lot of his goats got it from the toxic waste dump.”

“So he's being literally scared stiff?”

Moose laughed. “Good one, Mr. Pines!”

The goat had finished chewing on the cow hoof and proceeded to gnaw on Stan's pantleg.

“Whoops!” Soup pulled the goat away, then set it down in front of the bag of feed and tore it open. “There ya go, little Gompers! This'll taste waaaay better. Trust me, I tried it!”

“Baa-aa-aah!”

Stan watched the goat eating. “Hey Swoose.”

“It's 'Soos', Mr. Pines!”

“Whatever. You're sayin' the goat just keeps getting scared?”

“Yep!”

“'Cuz it's genetic?”

“Uh, I guess so?”

“Well NOT ON MY WATCH! After one day of Stan’s Scare-A-Thon Therapy Session, this goat’s gonna be so desensitized it’ll never faint again!”

First, Stan got Moose to wire his satellite to pirate-stream horror movies from Japan. (Watching these also traumatized Puce, which Stan found hilarious.) Next Stan hired a clown (who he did not pay) and then practice his jump scares (which made Soos scream so loud it scared off all the birds in a three-mile radius). After that, Stan converted the Museum into a haunted house, complete with sheet-ghosts, cobwebs, and a looped sound track of death metal, complete with screaming. He shoved Gompers in and locked it tight.

He didn't realize until he went back three hours later that he'd also locked the child labor. Moose had collapsed on the floor in the middle of the room – but Gompers was stumbling around bleating to himself. It didn't look like he'd played dead at all!

Stan grinned. “Alright, now we're makin' progress!”

“That's great, Mr. Pines,” Bruce gasped. “You should – oh sweet burrito angels – you should totally save this stuff for Summerween.”

“Summer-what?”

“Summerween!” Soup struggled to sit up and collapsed. “It's – it's this holiday where – oh man I'm having a panic attack.”

Gompers clonked over, bleated, and started chewing on Soos' face.

Stan roared with laughter and slapped his knee. “Ha! This is goat's the best! Alright, Floose –”

“Soos.”

“Get ready for the main event. Something even scarier than Japanese horror movies or that weird mold growing in the corner.”

Sue sat up. “Okay, but if I don't come back, tell my grandma I love her and give all my stuff to charity.”

“The Mystery Shack appreciates your donations!”

Night was falling and the full moon was out. Luckily Soup had fixed the golf cart right down to the headlights, so they trundled along the beaten road in relative safety. Gompers and Soos were in the backseat, the kid's arms wrapped around Gompers like it was a really smelly plushy. He grinned. When he was done that goat would be almost as hardcore as Stan himself!

When they got close enough, Stan stopped the truck, hustled around to the trunk and started handing a stuff to Soup.

“Okay. Run ahead and put these all around the tree ahead. The batteries are all dying so the light'll flicker all weird and creepy. This one has a full battery. Lie down at the bottom of the tree, and then when I give the signal, shine it right at the bark.”

“Sure, Mr. Pines! Which tree is this again?”

“The one with a human soul was trapped in its bark writhing in agony!”

“Ok!”

Stan gave him a shove and then hustled back to the cart, where Gompers was currently chewing on the back seat. He hopped back in the driver's seat, waited three seconds and then drove slowly up to the Tree of the Screaming Tourist. It was hard to see the shape of the messed-up bark, which would make it even creepier when Zeus lit up the flashlights.

He parked, took his portable radio out of the trunk, and then grabbed Gompers. He set the goat down in front of the tree, backed up, and hovered his finger over the “play” button.

“Okay, Sluice...NOW!”

From the radio, a hollow scream filled the air and the whole tree lit up with a flickering yellow light.

“Ha! That's perfect!”

“Baa-aa-aah,” said Gompers.

He grinned, but before he could tell Zoop to step it up, the lights suddenly flickered. They turned orange, then red. The radio suddenly crackled with static and he dropped it as electricity singed his hand. The bark of the tree started moving and a huge ghost-y thing ballooned out of it, just a massive face made of fire and fury. Stan backed up with a shout. Several tree branches snapped and started bending like spider arms. One of them swung around from the back of the tree – and a certain pear-shaped mechanic was dangling from its twigs.

He waved. “Hi, Mr. Pines! I'm a hostage!”

The spirit's yellow eyes turned on him. Its pupils went red. “YOOUUUUU!”

“AAH!”

He sprinted for the golf cart, but the spirit lashed out and smashed it with a bark-covered arm. He grabbed Gompers and held it up.

“JUST TAKE THE GOAT, TAKE THE GOAT!”

“Do you know how long my spirit has been stuck in that tree, completely alone, just listening to those stupid squirrel-squids chatter about acorns and sushi? And after years of waiting for you to come back, you finally bring people to visit me – and you tell every last one of them how terrifying I am, so they'll never! Come! BACK!” The face swelled until it blotted out the sky. Its heat seared his skin. “AM I SCARY ENOUGH FOR YOU NOW, STAN PINES?!”

He screamed and tried to run, dropping the kid, but she swooped down and grabbed him up. She lifted him higher and higher, squeezing him so tightly he could feel his bones creak. He could barely breathe! He had a funny feeling he wasn't the Stan Pines she was talking about, but he couldn't get enough air to tell her that!

“Um, excuse me? Ms. Tree Spirit?”

They both looked at Soos, who was wiggling one of his chubby little hands to get the spirit's attention.

“Hrrrrr,” she growled.

He smiled. “Oh, I'm a him, actually! Although I do have a feminine softness. It sounds like you're mad because you've been lonely for so long, right? But Mr. Pines has been bringing people to see you all the time!”

“They are TERRIFIED of me!”

“Not everyone.” He pointed.

Gompers was standing on the ground below, absently chewing on a fallen stick. The ghost growled and moved closer, her face distorting until her burning yellow eyes were the size of whole cars, and her face was a gaping maw dripping with reddish flame, mere inches from the goat's puny face.

“DO YOU FEAR ME, LITTLE GOAT?!” she boomed, and her voice was so loud and deep the trees nearby actually shivered and creaked on their roots.

Gompers blinked.

“Baa-aa-aah,” he said, and resumed his chewing.

“Hmm.”

“Good goat,” Stan managed. The spirit scowled and squeezed a little harder.

“But this is not what we agreed to. I don't want people to be afraid of me!”

“But scariness is part of the fun!” Soos said earnestly. “Plus it's a fun way to spend time together! My dad never hangs out with me, but Mr. Pines and I watched a horror movie marathon. And even though I wet myself a couple of times, I wouldn't trade that time for the world. I'll bet the families who visited you remember how frightening and fun it was, and they'll probably come back to see you again next year!”

Stan could see the spirit thinking it over.

“Baa-aa-aah,” added the goat.

The spirit snorted and gave Stan a hard look, those ruby peepers staring right into his soul. “You will keep your promise, Stan Pines? You will not leave me to suffer in isolation?”

“Guarantee it,” he wheezed. “Main attraction. Every tour. Can't breathe.”

“Very well. But if you break your promise one more time, the woods will never be safe for you again.”

She let go of Soos and Stan, who hit the forest floor with a dull thump. The spirit withdrew into the bark, lifting her arms to become branches again, while the bark of the trunk twisted and rippled back to its previous shape. Stan waited for a second, but the tree didn't so much as twitch.

He sprang to his feet and scooped up the goat. “Ha! You did it! You beautiful monster, you really did it! You looked that tree-thing straight in the big yellow eye and didn't even twitch! I bet this goat could handle the frigging apocalypse without batting an eye!”

“Probably!” Soos agreed cheerfully.

Stan smirked, then mashed Soos' head in a noogie. “Ya didn't do too bad yourself, there, ya midget.”

“Really?!”

“Uh, are those actual stars in your eyes?”

“For you, Mr. Pines, I would go full-on anime.”

“Don't make this weird, kid. Now let's see if the golf cart's drivable. I'm allergic to all this bonding and I left my old-man tonic in the Shack.”

“Soda isn't tonic, Mr. Pines.”

“Says you.”

“Baa-aa-aah.”

A/N

“A myotonic goat, otherwise known as the fainting goat, is a domestic goat whose muscles freeze for roughly 3 seconds when the goat feels panic. Though painless, this generally results in the animal collapsing on its side. The characteristic is caused by a hereditary genetic disorder called myotonia congenita. When startled, younger goats will stiffen and fall over. Older goats learn to spread their legs or lean against something when startled, and often they continue to run about in an awkward, stiff-legged shuffle.”

- from a-source-I-forgot-to-save-the-website-for

Also Nour386 came up with the idea about why the Tree was screaming! I had a different idea but this one is so much better!!!

@nour386

#stanuary #stanuary 2019 #stanuary week 1 #stanuary 2019 week 1 #stanuary 2019 week 1 bonding #nour386 #bonding #goat #gompers #baby gompers #stan #stan pines #soos

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