#because i think it makes it so much easier for jackson to connect with them. he has something to come home for and focus on

[carefulfears]

baby mulder 2 gonna be like 12 years old when jackson has his first baby and she becomes an aunt lmao

they’re so unserious. did y’all read this fic where baby2’s friends say her dad is old and mulder is like 😧😧 sjjcjdjf

#they have to be monster hunting or baby raising like they can't just hang out #i love post-revival fic so much bc i love that we all agree how unnaturally adored and doted over this little girl is #and i love picturing jackson as his 'emo kid' angst blogger 'i hurt everyone i'm around' self meeting his baby sister just like waitttt #mulder as defined by losing his sister and his son as defined by gaining his <3 that's cinema. that's a STORY. #asks #in that linked fic the way that when scully was pregnant and jackson was looking through the baby catalogues #mulder told him that it's too late to buy a crib for him but he always has a bed there and they love him #yeah. i know that CC invented the pregnancy to try to ignore/replace jackson but the reason why i adhere to it and love it is #because i think it makes it so much easier for jackson to connect with them. he has something to come home for and focus on #other than his awkward weepy birth parents #it gives them all something to ground them and bring them together #jackson

[ordon-pumpkin]

Percy Jackson spoilers and criticism below.

I see people complain about how the show just has the characters figuring out things way too quickly (I completely agree with this.) Then I see people complaining about that criticism saying things like “Oh it makes sense! They would know that because Annabeth’s been at camp, Grover is a satyr, and Percy’s mom taught him about the myths!” However, there is a difference between them knowing about the stories and them IMMEDIATELY figuring each potential trap/situation out and zapping the energy from the scenes.

These same instances in the book usually involve a feeling of unease, something feels off, things seem kind of familiar, and it slowly dawns on them what they are dealing with OR they are escaping one situation to be thrust into another and don’t have time to think about it at all. There’s tension, there’s drama. I’m here for it. The show on the other hand? Oof.

Also the circumstances in which they encounter these situations in the book greatly influence how things go. They are human(ish) after all and them getting into these messes makes them easier to connect to as characters. Let’s break it down a little more there.

- With Medusa they were lost in the woods and hungry. The smell of food lured them in. They were hungry children dang it! From the circus lol (Honestly, this instance didn’t bother me too much in the show when I first watched it because it was early on before the knowing things too soon became an ongoing theme.)

- With the Lotus Hotel and Casino they were tired and feeling grimy, having just traveled in the back of a truck with a bunch of animals in horrible conditions. It was scorching hot outside. They were absolutely exhausted and wound up there where a doorman invited them in and it was a relief to have somewhere to take a break, recoup and figure out their next move. Once inside they had access to a shower! There were snacks. Plus the place was incredible. It also showed their interests with Annabeth being drawn in to trivia and city building games, Percy liked the bungee jumping! Grover played a reverse hunting game! Percy figured out the trap by asking a guy using 70s slang and dressed to match, what year it was. He kept asking and getting different answers. Then he was able to snap Annabeth out of it by describing spiders, which he knew she had a fear of from the Tunnel of Love ride. (This whole scene in the show was such a let down, so was the Tunnel of Love scene but I’ll leave that alone for now.)

- With Crusty they were on the run and dashed into the store. This encounter is one of my favorite moments of Percy’s quick thinking in the books btw. Also his absolute lack of hesitation to slice someone’s head if they mess with his friends. Percy is smart. He’s very street smart actually. In the book this scene shows that really well. (The way I paused the show in frustration and almost turned it off when the episode started already at Crusty’s with the line “I know who you are.” Like of course. That’s just how we’re telling this story now. Check. They met Crusty. And he doesn’t feel like a threat at all. But they met him I guess.)

The exhaustion and the circumstances in these instances in the book and getting into these traps aren’t the trio being “stupid.” They were moments that set up the situation to feel more relatable, alive, tense, and interesting. The show’s changes have taken away most of the tension from these scenes. Them knowing and catching on to things so quickly is lazy and it is incredibly boring. It just feels like they are checking off a list of places from the books they wanted in the show, while losing the entire energy and impact of those locations and scenes.

To me everything in this show feels like it’s at 20%. The humor, the stakes, the tension, the personality, the freaking lighting (why is so much of this show so hard to even see?), the whimsy, the magic, the charm. It’s all so dialed back and watered down. The book is a roller coaster of making you laugh and putting you on the edge of your seat with the tension and situations these kids get into. It’s campy, it’s intense, it’s crazy, and so energetic. The show feels bland in comparison. Idk how you manage to make Percy Jackson feel boring but they did it.

I’m not asking for it to be an exact copy of the book. I’m just disappointed with how dull it is. When it’s boring and it’s a scene that was the furthest thing from that in the original version then YES I’m going to compare it and wonder why there were changes to make it less interesting. In fact, my favorite scene in the show so far is actually the taxi in the parking garage scene. It captured the energy and vibe of Percy Jackson really well and it’s a scene not in the books at all. The energy is important and this show is lacking severely most of the time. It has some really good moments (back to that 20% thing) but overall it’s such a let down.

We have one episode left of the season and I don’t exactly have high hopes of it making things better. It just makes me sad because I wanted to love this series. The incredibly talented cast, a major studio behind it, passionate people being involved including the author, amazing source material… I look at all of the ingredients and it should be amazing. But I’m pretty disappointed right now.

#pjo tv #Percy Jackson and the olympians #Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson spoilers #pjo #pjo tv critical #pjo tv crit

[bigfan-fanfic]

Settling Down (Peter Parker x Percy Jackson x Dick Grayson x Reader)

Requested by @jayfeather965 for Short fic request! Moving to the Pokémon world with Dick, Peter, and Percy?

A slight modification in that we're assuming they're already in the Pokemon world, and helping you choose your first Pokemon/general headcanons about them with Pokemon. Dick has a Lucario that he taught Acrobatics. Peter has a Pikachu that knows Electroweb. And Percy has a Dewott.

With the three loves of your life being lifelong Pokemon trainers, it may be surprising to some that you have never had one.

But you've never had the time, or the room, or inclination.

But with two vigilantes and a demigod as your partners, now you have all three.

Your apartment, a floor-through space, though technically Dick owns the whole building, is Pokemon friendly and accommodating. Percy uses the water room for training along with his Dewott, which is way more disciplined than he is - though sometimes they train with Dick and his Lucario in the gym area. There's a lab for Peter's experiments where his Pikachu helps expend its excess energy by producing the electricity for his machines when not utilizing the solar power grid.

But, since it's a chill day before you've asked your partners to help you actually find a Pokemon, you decide to see if they have any final advice.

Peter and Pikachu

Peter got his Pokemon the conventional way, from a Pokemon Professor.

He was a shy kid, and his Pikachu helped him come out of his shell, so to speak, mainly because it was so outgoing.

And quick to electrocute his bullies.

Getting his superpowers was, pun intended, quite a shock.

But now he finally had the strength and the speed to keep up with his zippy little friend. He could swing around New York with his little buddy zipping along like a lightning strike.

It was probably that that cemented their relationship.

They looked out for each other, developed new techniques, and perhaps most crucially, finally exhausted the little mouse of its boundless energy.

So with a much calmer and less aggressive companion, Peter and his Pokemon seem at peace.

When you find him, he's in his lab, and his Pikachu is playfully bouncing sparks around in the little wire cage they use to expend the surplus electricity.

"Hey! Excited about tomorrow, babe?" Peter chirps, grinning at you.

"Yeah. Just... trying to see if there's any last minute tips you have."

"Well... don't count out a Pokemon just because they seem too different from you. Pikachu and I get along so well, but we were so different at first. It took a while to realize how much it likes napping on me, even if it makes my hair stand up, haha."

Moves - Electroweb, Quick Attack, Electro Ball, Magnet Rise (speedy moves + floating to easier maneuver with Peter)

Dick and Lucario

Dick only got his Lucario from Bruce. It was an egg that hatched into a Riolu.

Bruce had been endeavoring to help Dick learn some responsibility.

So Dick raised the thing from a Riolu pup, taking care of it. A task he took to like a fish to water.

At first, he didn't want to take the Pokemon out with him on patrol, knowing it'd be in danger.

But one day he came home injured, and the worried Riolu sat with him all night, working so hard on something.

When Dick awoke, he realized his Pokemon had evolved. And not only that, it had learned Heal Pulse to try to help him.

Dick felt so bonded with his Pokemon then, and they began to work together, even on patrol.

So they trained together, with Dick's style even helping his Lucario learn a move it ordinarily couldn't - Acrobatics.

Dick trusts his Pokemon partner with his life, and it him - so much so that it rarely, if ever, is in its Ball. It tends to just chill in its own space.

"Your Pokemon tend to teach you as much as you teach them. Don't think about what a Pokemon can do for you at first - instead, just focus on feeling that starting connection. You're finding a friend for life."

Moves - Acrobatics, Heal Pulse, Aura Sphere, Bone Rush

Percy and Dewott

Percy caught his Oshawott in Montauk - perhaps it was sent to him by Poseidon.

Unlike Dick or Peter, his Pokemon tends to be a lot different than him - instead of strengthening what he knows, it covers some of his deficiencies.

His Pokemon is both more childlike than him, and more disciplined.

Which means it tends to help him him relax when he needs to, and urges him to train and focus when he should.

Meanwhile he can be the midpoint between its playful and focused moods.

When it became a Dewott, they made the choice to have its scalchops edged with Celestial bronze, and it helps destroy monsters with as much aplomb as Percy does.

They have both made the decision together not to evolve it further, as Dewott likes to be able to use tools.

Of the three, Percy tends to use his Poke Ball the most to take care of his Dewott. It's a quick way to get it out of danger, and Percy doesn't like when it wanders off.

He'll have it stored in his Poke Ball in public, usually, and unleashes it to battle or at home for leisure.

You encounter Percy listening to music and chuckling as the Dewott tries to dance.

"You can't worry about it all that much." Percy says to you with a smile when you ask for advice. "Your Pokemon will choose you just as much as you choose it. They're not just pets, they're partners too."

Moveset: Razor Shell, X-Scissor, Icy Wind, Air Slash

At the end of it all, you feel pretty excited at the prospect of finding a Pokemon of your own.

Dick has reminded you to focus on the connection, and not the potential capabilities of a partner.

Peter has told you to keep an open mind.

And Percy has reminded you that it's a two-way process.

With all these tips, your anxiety is mostly calmed.

And of course, it's forgotten before bedtime when Dick playfully lines up their Pokemon and makes them "promise" to make your new buddy feel at home.

Pikachu chirrups playfully, Dewott nods seriously, and Lucario crosses its arms and holds one paw out, trying to do a thumbs up.

And you just know that no matter what happens, your new friend will be coming to a great home...

#peter parker x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #percy jackson x male reader #batman x male reader #pjo headcanons #spiderman x male reader #marvel headcanons #dc headcanons #headcanons #pokemon x male reader #pokemon headcanons

[snapscube]

hihihi ok. so i’m in my last of us fixation mode and i’m being extra silly about it but i NEED to know what’s ur current opinion on the last of us hbo?? also i logged onto tumblr and saw a lot of rly good points defending joel’s final choice and i remember during the last of us pt1 playthrough u had differing opinions so i wonder if u think the show’s differences affect that at all? btw i LOVE ur stuff and cannot wait until u do last of us pt 2 wehehehehe!!! anyway besides all that i just want u to know that u are one of the things in my life that makes it easier to get up in the morning

I still feel exactly the same about the final events as I always have! The show didn't change it for me, and actually being able to remove myself from being in control of the situation in the game and actually just watch the events play out in show format solidified that further. The connection I have to Joel as a player when I play the game really helps me understand his perspective more and stomach the goal a bit more easily, but without that immediate intimacy it puts into perspective for me how kinda monstrous the whole thing is from every angle. Obviously I don't ever lose that sympathy for him, and I never stop understanding why, because the whole point of the conflict is that no one is in the right. Ultimately I think the damning thing for every single person involved is that they removed Ellie's agency from the equation, and I still stand by that. They all should have talked to her. They should have told her the truth. All she wants is for her immunity to matter, and I believe that they may have been surprised at the lengths she's willing to go in order to make a difference, whether it's ultimately the right call or not.

I don't know what arguments you've seen exactly in defense of Joel's choice, but personally I don't really agree with one I see a lot and I'd expect will pop up again now that the show is over, which is the whole "well who's to say a vaccine would have worked anyway?????" angle. I think, while reasonable from a meta standpoint, completely ignores the intended framing of the story in order to more conveniently justify a protagonist that the story through its entire runtime is trying to tell you is a little bit of a piece of shit. It's pretty clear and safe to assume that the ultimate intent here is that... yes, the vaccine WOULD have worked. Maybe not in the sweeping way they hoped, but Ellie's sacrifice absolutely would have done something. The whole moral dilemma of the situation really does not make any sense unless you give them that as fact imo.

So then, assuming that is true, you have to wrestle with the idea that Joel is willing to take down the entirety of humanity for Ellie. And not really for Ellie, because none of this is what Ellie wanted. The game AND the show QUITE LITERALLY SPELL OUT for us that Ellie really really really does not want to go back to Jackson without finishing what they started, regardless of the cost. Joel's reasons for saving Ellie, while understandable, are ultimately selfish and rooted in his own trauma and having just seen the light at the end of his grieving over Sarah. Again, incredibly sympathetic, but it's selfish. I know we like to joke as much, but Ellie IS NOT his daughter. They share a similar bond after everything they go through, but by the end of the game you can already feel Ellie pulling away from that notion because she's starting to realize Joel doesn't have the same commitment to the idea of her immunity being meaningful as she does, they're only a few miles away and he's already asking her to give up and go back to Jackson with him.

Then, of course, I think what ultimately damns Joel in my eyes on a poetic/storytelling level is his decision to lie to Ellie after it's all over. That's the nail in the coffin for me. It would be one thing if he said "they were going to kill you on that operating table without even telling you what was going on and I couldn't let them do that", but instead he lies to her to make sure she's still able to see him as the father he desperately wants to be again. It doesn't change anything. He tells her her worst fear has come to pass: her immunity, this unexplainable thing that has taken so many of her loved ones from her, is completely useless. Not only that, but now even more people are dead. Including Marlene, who's known her since birth. The only thing his lie changes is the fact that he's responsible for it all.

Anyway, part of what I love most about The Last of Us Part II is how it follows up on these threads and you may be pleased to know that I actually just started streaming the game last night after the HBO finale premiered cause I was so pumped up I couldn't wait any longer haha. So you'll be seeing VODs for that soon :)

[andreal831]

Gonna piggyback off that last question, what if there was no hope? Klaus was already back in New Orleans, Elijah was following, and let’s be real, eventually Rebekah would’ve gone back too. Hayley would’ve been in the area too with her trying to find her family. I could see Klaus thinking Hayley was spying on him in some way after them being in the same area post one night stand. Instead of Klaus being jealous of haylijah due to hope, he could be worried they’re plotting against him.

What direction do you think the show would’ve gone in had Hayley never gotten pregnant?

It’s been like half a year since I’ve watched this show, so it’s very possible I got some of the details wrong.

So Klaus knew Hayley was headed to New Orleans, he's the one who saw her birthmark and told her about the Crescent wolves. He wouldn't be surprised to see her down there. But I could see him thinking that it was all a plot to get him down there. After all, he knew she had betrayed the MF gang, so he knew she wasn't afraid to manipulate.

Now, getting Klaus to New Orleans may have been different. Celeste had spread rumors that the witches of New Orleans were conspiring against him, however, I believe it was Katherine notifying him that something was going on in New Orleans that required his attention (aka pregnant Hayley) which actually got him to investigate. I would have loved for Celeste and Katherine to actually be working together on this. Celeste could have also just sent word to Klaus that Marcel was alive. I believe the Mikaelsons would have returned upon finding that out.

I love haylijah but I don't know how much interaction they would have outside of her being pregnant. A lot of their early interactions came from him protecting her when the witches used the pregnancy to harm her.

Without the pregnancy, Hayley would have gone out to the bayou and, from day one, her focus would have been on finding the cure to her pack. I could even see Celeste recruiting her early in and making a deal with her that the wolves would side with the witches if she undid the curse. This would put Hayley and Elijah on opposite sides of the battle. However, me being the haylijah optimist I could still see them working out. Elijah would go to her as the only werewolf that could speak up for them (Eve would defer to her). Elijah would attempt to be the diplomat and make peace in New Orleans for their family. However, without the pregnancy connection and her early connection with Elijah (him saving her) she would be less influenced to side with the vampires. Although, I do think Hayley was more politically minded than the other werewolves and would have understood it was more important to make peace than vengeance.

I also think she would be more wiling to go along with Jackson without her early connection to Elijah. She was desperate for any connection to family and here he was, saying marrying him was what her parents wanted. She wouldn't have had her own found family in the Mikaelsons and I could see her wanting to do whatever she could to connect to her parents after finding out they were dead. It honestly could have been a more interesting love triangle with Hayley agreeing to the betrothal but then developing feelings for Elijah, rather than Jackson just being on the outside of Hayley and Elijah falling for themselves and circumstances forcing Jackson and Hayley together.

I do think they would still fall for each other without the pregnancy if they were given the time to interact. Elijah loved how Hayley fought for her family, which would still be present, and Hayley loved how protective Elijah was, which I think would still end up coming out. They were immediately physically attracted to each other so the rest would just play out with them working together to bring peace to New Orleans. In some ways it would have been easier because Elijah wouldn't have to hold back because of Klaus. Though he might if he found out about the arranged marriage. So we would still have some drama to work through.

You're right that Klaus would have less logical reason to be jealous but that wouldn't stop him from being jealous. Klaus has always had a weird possessiveness over his siblings love lives, being jealous just because they dared to love someone outside of him. I think the jealousy would be even worse because he had no reason to not just kill Hayley, especially if she was challenging the power he wanted in New Orleans. Depending on how well Elijah knew Hayley, it would put him in the center of battle of New Orleans. I would have loved Season 1 to focus on Elijah since he was tied to each faction and being pulled in each direction.

Thanks for the ask! I love AU/canon-divergent haylijah stories.

#they were destined to find each other #it would have just allowed their relationship to not center around klaus #but lord knows the writers would never do that #haylijah #elijah x hayley #hayley x elijah #elijah mikaelson #hayley marshall #tvdu #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvd #the mikaelsons #fandom answers #tvd anon ask #tvd ask #fandom asks #anon ask #anonymous #tvdu metas #metas

[hypnotisedfireflies]

Six More Summer Fics for Tessjoels

Follow-up to this post! There I just posted some of my favourite in-progress Tess x Joel fics for summer reading - now here are some of my favourite completed tales from the last year. (Why did I limit myself to six? Whose dumb idea was that?)

I can't fuck it up if it's not there, by @seethesunny I mean, in the title alone Vane pretty much encapsulates the subtle foundation the very relationship rests. Vane is wonderfully prolific in fandom but this was the first recent story of hers I thought of for this post. It's gritty QZ life and a terrific character study of them separately, and their budding relationship.

gun-shy, by myhomeistheshire A few writers have explored this premise but I particularly loved the way this author handled the story (especially as it's Tess Lives!) Tess, Joel and Ellie are so in character, it's unreal, you can just hear them as you read. Essentially, sassy street kid Ellie finds her Tessjoel parents.

part of something good, by @two-birds-alone-together I only read this one today! Shame on me, because it's Tess Lives and that's my core drive. I love the nuance between Tess and Joel as they deal with their Ellie problem (lol) and the growing relationship between the three. I can be really picky about Tess joining the Ellie & Joel journey but this is really well-rendered. The chapter 1 cliffhanger is diabolical.

shine bright, by @tessaservopoulos Particularly partial to this one (check the dedication!) but that just made it easier to choose the right fic for this post! This is a sweet bite-sized story that crams so much atmosphere, subtlety and fun into one story. A little real light (figurative and literal, ha) in the darkness during the QZ years. I love me some QZ gritty, but this is irresistible.

Getaway, by @ameerawrites Comedy is really hard to put on paper, especially in fic where you have to both be funny to your reader and have the situation play out in the character's voices. Ameera does both in this cosy little AU fic. It doesn't just feel like an isolated story, though. Tess and Joel feel really authentic and you get cute glimpses of their wider life beyond their failed Colorado ski trip.

mist, by sillylily07 Choosing just one fic by this author for the list was a bit of a chore, because there are so many and separating just one out to include was really hard. This is a wonderful example of this author's understanding of the characters, combining the rough-edges of their relationship and situation with the tenderness they have for one another. Bite-sized flirty fun.

Fear of Heights, by @mariatesstruther Sike, a bonus story: Tommy/Maria! Look, this is the meet cute of the century for Tommy and Maria. At random times of the day I just find myself thinking of - oh, you'll have to read it, but I'm grinning as I type just thinking about it. The characterisation is on point and it feels canon to me. I love how Tommy connects with Jackson before the commencement of the story because it feels so realistic and you can feel his desperation, but he's still so fucking ... Tommy.

I tried to keep these lists kind of succinct so I didn't lose days of my life in compiling them, but they are not the extent of wonderful Tessjoel fic out there. I know I have left off terrific authors and stories but I tried to get a little sampling of some of the talent actively writing at present. Please leave more recs in the comments so I can smack my hand against my head and go OF COURSE and be angry at myself for making these lists so brief.

#fic recs #tlou fic recs #tess lives #joel loves tess #the last of us #tlou #joel miller #tess servopoulos #tess x joel #joel x tess #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tommy x maria

[ej-rambles]

Percy Jackson Au

In the sense that all the islanders live in some kind of 'camp' sorted by cabins based on their godly parent and sometimes get sent on quests.

Fit: Dionysus- Wild take but Fit is in Dionysus cabin. The more I think about it the more it makes sense- the whole reason he was sent to the island was because he was able to stay sane in Wasteland. If Fit was a child of Dionysus he would have the power of keeping that sanity- which might not seem like a lot but in the life of a demigod (and even an islander) it can mean so much. I also imagine that as a mini cape over his mechanical arm is leopard print- not enough to be in your face but a nice homage to his father. His trident would be his main weapon which you might be thinking 'wouldn't that suite better for a child of Posiden?' and you're right but its my au. The trident itself is pretty standard but feels more dolphin-y if that makes sense? (Due to dolphins being one of Dionysus' sacred animals). Also- at the end of it (the part with no points) is a pinecone topper. Also instead of grape vines he has rose vines.

Slime: Dionysus- Not so much of a hot take but hilarious to think about them in a cabin together. Charlie is almost opposite of Fit in the fact that he can produce a madness like insanity. His design would also have horns because I think it fits him and its like the older versions of Dionysus.

Bad: Persephone- I know in the books that Persephone doesn't have children but once again my au my rules. I think that this one was one of the easier ones but at the same time the absolute hardest. I had debated in putting in Hecate (due to the theory of Bad's connection with the goddess) or Athena (due to his battle knowledge and all the pranks he plays- well more like the creativity and complexity of them) but my heart told me Persephone (however I can def be convince otherwise). In this au Bad's main weapon is a scythe due to both being a symbol of the grim reaper and the farming. He can also leave a trail of flowers behind him but sometimes (depending on his health or mood) he can leave a trail of dead flowers and dead grass.

I cant think of any of the others rn but thats what I have so far!!

#ej_rambling #qsmp fitmc #qsmp bbh #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp #qsmp-pjo #qsmp badboyhalo #I can also see Fit as an Ares kid #But that seemed too obvious

[zsphoenix]

It's been forever and 1 times since I last wrote fanfiction. Here is a little bit of a come back. Hopefully I can make this in 3 parts.

Sterek, university professor/student Au!

Part one

-

The first time that they saw each other, they were crossing a bridge going on opposite ways. Their eyes met, they recognized each other; Derek waved his hand while talking to a colleague that walked along beside him, Stiles smiled and said "Hey, professor!".

That was the first time they saw each other in person, though. They met a year and a half before, during class.

It was 2020, Stiles was starting his second year as a Master student. He had chosen professor Hale's class because he was interested in folklore and magic, and the professor specialized in urban myths.

Due to the pandemic, all classes were online, so Stiles was following more lectures than recommended -but oh, how he was happy to do so! So much content! Knowledge for ages!

He opened the zoom app and prepared for the class. Slowly but surely he and his colleagues started to be accepted into the conference room, where the professor's camera was turned to the side and Stiles could only see half his arm, with sound off. As soon as everyone was connected, prof. Hale appeared on screen, turned on the audio and smiled.

Stiles' brain stopped working.

He blinked a couple of times, watching one of the most gorgeous people he's ever seen -including Lydia AND Jackson- speak about the semester ahead. Those green eyes were hypnotic, and better yet, he could listen to the man speak forever -he had such a nice voice... but quick enough he got his head back into the game and started taking notes about the class. He was considering asking professor Hale to be his Thesis Advisor, therefore he had to do his best and Be Present in class. And maybe impress him a little on the way wouldn't hurt.

-

The semester passed fast, but time seemed to stop during Magic and Floklore classes. Stiles got the attention of professor Hale, as he wanted, by making controversial remarks that made the professor reflect and exchange ideas with the students. After the fourth class, professor Hale started to invite Stiles to reflect upon the lecture's topic of the day, and they often exchanged smiles. Once or twice they even joked around in front of the other students, for prof.Hale's late mortification.

-

Derek liked Mr. Stilinski.

He liked how he held himself -very confident even when his point of view was a questionable one, and he was amenable to discussing different perspectives. It was important for someone that studied mythology to have an open mind.

He enjoyed their exchanges in class, mostly because so many students were quiet and teaching through zoom was depressing. He missed being in the classroom, full of new blood.

It didn't hurt that Mr. Stilinski was handsome to top off his brain. He had luminous eyes and a mouth that had been plaguing Derek's dreams for almost a month. His salvation was near, though, because soon exams would come and go -hopefully Stiles would take them on the first round- and then he wouldn't have to worry or avoid (very, very hard) fantasizing about him.

-

As predicted, exams happened.

Stiles studied a lot. He was confident that while professor Hale liked him, he wouldn't make it any easier for him.

And he was right.

Professor Hale gave him a 9.5/10. Probably because Stiles didn't mention the article professor Hale had written.

Oh well, it's not a bad grade! Now all Stiles has to do is prepare his research topic for next month.

-

"Hello, Mr. Stilinski, tell me everything", Derek said to the student on the other side of the zoom call. The young man gave him a small smile and moved on his chair.

"So, I was wondering what do you think of rural legends and their influence in urban myths as a research topic. Is it feasible?"

Derek touched his beard, thinking.

"Well it depend on which legends you want to use. You'd have to chose samples in order to be able to compare them, the way you speak about it is a bit broad".

Stiles kept moving in his chair, side to side, biting his lips. He nodded.

"Cool, I'll find a few samples".

They stared at each other for a moment. Derek had a suspicion of why this was coming up.

"Is that all?" Is not that Derek wanted to be rude. He just likes to be direct. Besides, those lips were A Problem for him. At the hair? It looks like someone passed their fingers through them and tugged. Did Mr. Stilinski got out of bed directly to the call?

"Eeh, I was wondering if you'd like to be my thesis advisor?"

There it is.

Fuck.

Think, Hale, think!

Derek breathed deeply.

"I could be, if you think your topic will be this one". He shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. He wouldn't abandon a student just because he wanted to taste his lips, fingers on his hair.

"Yes, I'm sure. I have been handling legends in urban areas all my life, coming from Beacon Hills and-"

Beacon Hills? What a coincidence....

He must never know.

#sterek #sterek fic #derek hale #stiles stilinski #part one

[faggotanachronism]

1 5 6 17 50 for everybody :3

:D this is a very good batch of questions thank you so much...!!!

1. Do they have any crafting hobbies?

Girl: she's tried knitting and sewing as well as book gilding recreationally but lost most of the time and focus for it after enveloping herself in academics and work..

They: possesses a penchant for technology (think along the lines of radio) and loves taking stuff like that apart and putting it together. also took a natural interest in plantlife under the circumstances of suddenly living in an icy wasteland with few readily available food sources. makes a lot of stuff (be it consumable or clothing) with the native species around where they took shelter

Milf: if you count "crafting" some unethical experiments and research then: yes. aside from that..? past experience with baking

5. Do they have any tattoos? If so what are they and do they have any special meaning?

G: extremely old and kinda fucked up stick n poke of a dragon on the forearm. eventually after she could get a real one there was an upper arm "even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream." both mostly things she found cool; the shirley jackson quote spoke to her (looks left and looks right)

the other 2 existing don't have any but a character in developmental larva state does... woah

6. If they were badly injured, and for whatever reason couldn't go to a hospital, who would they go to for help?

G: out of anyone in the whole wide world... probably her first serious girlfriend. in an obsessive and sad sort of way

T: i honestlythink in most cases they would try to like lay down and die or ignore and wait it out somehow. but probably their older sister because they have an easier time communicating with her about themself than they do with a lawt of other people

M: her oldest son (who i'd say would be about 25?) she has not been able to share huge amounts of time or sufficient vulnerability with her children in years. she wouls like to

17. How easily would they be convinced to do something that goes against their morals?

G: outspoken but succumbs to peer pressure. if it's something extreme she will detatch herself from the situation but small things can be convinced with a little fighting

T: really does not get the point of doing things they don't want to do and so will be suuper staunch on things they explicitly stand against. would probably need to be exposed to the threat of, like, bodily harm at which point they are getting it done as quickly as possible

M: she would probably do anything if you could make her think it was funny or interesting enough

50. What is your favorite thing about them?

G: she's very genuine and passionate.. if u start talking to her about any of her subjects of interest she can carry that conversation without straining a back muscle

T: lives as authentically to themself as possible even though they have faced brutal treatment for that in the past. isolated but doesn't try pushing people away forever they know their limits but generally don't mind sharing certain spaces with others

M: has had a lifetime of empty nest syndrome. remains extremely forward and dedicated to her work and connections in spite (though partially because) of this

#:D sooo ya #reprise #THANK YIU again

[astoriaroleplay]

MEET JACKSON “J” CASSIDY

AGE: 29 years old

BIRTHDAY: February 13, 1993

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis Man — he/him

OCCUPATION:  Mechanic

PLACE OF BIRTH:  California, USA

NEIGHBORHOOD:  North Valley

HAS LIVED IN ASTORIA FOR: 2 months

CHARACTER INTERVIEW

What are your reasons to move to Astoria? Will you be moving by yourself or with someone else?

“The main reason is to get a new start. I worry that I wore out my welcome in other towns just by not connecting, so it’s difficult to find a place that truly seems to stick. I really just want to find a place to belong where I can figure out who I am and maybe what I’ve been missing all this time. I don’t expect to find all the answers to what I’m looking for here, but I’ve never grown up with a sense of community, let alone been with a pack that felt like home and I think that’s honestly what I’ve been needing to get out of this hole I’ve been. I didn’t have much in the way of family growing up; honestly I have no idea who any of them other than they weren't good people and abandoned me so I really just want to find somewhere to stop hiding “ Jackson replied realizing he had been rambling quite a bit. It had been far too long that someone had asked about his wants and needs. He also didn’t want to talk too much about family either “ I’ll be on my own here. I don’t have any other attachments left in the previous places I’ve lived which is also part of the reason to come here. I didn’t have anyone to keep me sticking around and it was nine out of ten times my own fault.”

What’s something about your personality that you’re proud of? And what would you like to change?

“ It’s not the easiest to talk about myself in such a way but I guess what I am most proud of is my ability to adapt and accept anything. Nothing really scares me anymore and it won’t send me running if someone was trying to open up to me about something terrible. I wasn't the most reliable person in the past but if someone needed me, I would never turn from them just because of the information I’ve been let in on. I’m very loyal and despite not having many friends I would literally go to the ends of the earth for them just to make sure they were going to be alright. I wish I could change everything else. “ Jackson stops himself knowing he was going to be too hard on himself. He tried to keep his hands still, due to how nervous he was becoming, placing them on his knees to stop them from moving too much. “I spent a bit too much time on my own; even when in a pack. I’m not the most social of beings, I like to keep to myself and enjoy the silence and I know that isn’t how people make friends and I wish I could change that but I sometimes don’t know how to talk to others. It’s just easier to avoid trouble by staying by myself. It's a hard habit to break.”

Please elaborate on any violent circumstances you may have been involved with in the past.

The werewolf let out a sigh, worried this was going to be the thing that truly cost him a chance at a new start. He bit the inside of his cheek trying to find the right words. There was no way he was going to be able to fight the nervous energy he had while describing the incident. “ There was one thing,” Jackson admitted, not wanting to seem like he was hiding anymore. “ My parents had abandoned me when I was really young and I was living in foster care for most of my life. Some of the places were good and some of them I hated but the last one, before I turned 18, had been both. I didn't get along with my foster brother but his sister was the only friend I had in a long time. He wasn’t a great person. He was a bully and needlessly cruel to both her and me and eventually I couldn’t take it after he hurt her I fought back. I tried to protect her, but in doing so, he ended up in the hospital and I ran. I don't know what happened after that. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I don’t know. It’s why I keep my head down a lot now."

Your thoughts about supernatural beings.

“Jackson swallowed the lump in his throat at hearing the question so out there in the open, he was so used to secrets and this was new for him. “ I don’t have a problem with them at all. I am one which I’ve had to do a lot of work on my own with. I didn’t know for a long time that there were more than just what I am out there, but I think it’s cool. It is definitely why I want to be somewhere more like this where there is more than just what I am used to. I’ve hid for so much of my life and I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want any of us to ever have to feel like we have to hide to survive, cause we all deserve the same things. Pride, safety and a place to call home.

FACECLAIM: Joseph Quinn PLAYED BY: Rach

#joseph quinn fc #all #cis man #werewolf #north valley #violence tw

[mrvelocipede]

Considering the abstract

Before I can write the thing I was going to write, about making fractals that are also illustrations of things, I realize I’m going to have to talk a little bit about abstraction. Only it’s such a huge subject (and one that connects with all sorts of art history stuff, all over the place) that I barely know where to start. This hardly even scratches the surface. But it might at least suggest that there is a surface to be scratched. (Don’t mind me, I’m just over here with some of my lingering art-school trauma, keying its car.)

Abstract art can be kind of hard for people to connect with or relate to. It doesn't have anything concretely familiar, that would allow a viewer to say "Oh, that's a picture of a [thing] and it reminds me of [thing] that's part of my own life, which I feel [something] about." Since a major feature of abstract art is that it isn't a picture of something, it doesn't necessarily produce an automatic emotional response. Or any response at all.

With something abstract, it's often easier to just kind of shrug and say, "Ehhh, so what?" or "Why would someone spend their time doing this when there are so many other things in the world to do?" Making a personal connection takes more work, and in general there's not a lot of reason to bother. Sometimes people get as far as liking the colors, or thinking the effect is pretty/ugly/interesting/stupid, but mostly I suspect abstract art registers as boring.

Of course, there are degrees of abstraction. If you're looking at a single pencil line drawn with a ruler on a piece of perfectly white paper, or if you're contemplating some full-on Jackson Pollock squiggles, they're not depictions of real-world objects, whereas if you're looking at the Mona Lisa you know it's a portrait of one very specific individual. But what about the little person on the signal at a crosswalk? It's got a floaty circle for its head, and some suggestions of arms and legs, but really it's just a couple of very simple shapes. It's not a very realistic human figure, but it's certainly recognizable. Is it abstract? Where does pure geometry end, and where does stick figure begin?

Or what about the very specific kinds of reduction and exaggeration that are used in cartoons and comics? There's a huge range of representation available, and because of how our brains work, they'll fill in an awful lot of information that's missing or merely suggested. Think about how much personality it would add if somebody stuck a couple of googly eyes on the Jackson Pollock.

At any rate, fractals are kind of weird, because they occupy a zone that's neither as simple as Euclidean geometry, with its familiar circles and triangles and lines, nor as complicated and recognizable as the everyday world of people and animals and plants and buildings and such. Fractals are geometry that looks like something grown. They can count as familiar, in that you can say "That's a picture of the Mandelbrot set" the way you'd be able to say "That's a picture of a cloud." Only they're not exactly depictions of things so much as they're complicated graphs. I've never been able to decide quite where they fall, in the scale from abstract to concrete.

However, you can certainly use them to make images that are very strongly suggestive of familiar things, and let people's perceptions fill in the blanks. It's pure visual trickery, a kind of optical illusion, one that I really enjoy playing with.

Watermelon, 2014

#art #abstract #geometry #fractals #watermelon #stick figures

[naughtyneganjdm]

Parenthood

Summary: Being a parent is hard and exhausting, but being married to Joel makes it so much easier for Y/N after becoming a mother for the first time.

Characters: Joel Miller, the reader (OC)

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, etc.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31264607

Notes: Someone requested me to do a short one-shot for Joel and I know I've never written a Joel story directly, so this is my first. Technically I write a version of a character inspired by Joel for The Guest/Arcadia, BUT -- this is what I came up with. In case people didn't know Y/N means your name or you can insert any name you want. Thanks to anyone that reads it! And I also apologize for any potential errors, this was written rather fast and edited when I was really tired.

There it was again, that same incessant buzzing. Truthfully, Y/N should have been used to it by now. It had already been three months. It was the same time, every single night. Yet, when this time of night came, she never found herself ready. Drowsily, her eyes fluttered to an open. The room was still blurry while her tired eyes adjusted to the dark room around her. The only thing that lit up the room was the bright, red light from her alarm clock that she had set up. Three in the morning always came too fast.

Parenthood was the hardest thing she had ever experienced. Not that she didn’t love it. Hell, she loved every second of it, but you’re never prepared for how much work it truly takes when you have a baby. Everyone always warned her that it would kick her ass. Most of the time she thought it was a joke, but now she knew better. Then again, this wasn’t a normal world that she was living in. Maybe if things were ordinary and the world was like it used to be, things would be easier.

The fears of the infected were always lingering at the back of her mind. Not only that, but those that were trying to infiltrate the community was a repeating fear in her mind. There was never a dull moment in Jackson. The anxiety had always been there, but it just enhanced when she became a parent. Because then, you weren’t only thinking about yourself, but you were also thinking about the life of your child.

Finally mustering up enough strength, she turned her head into the pillow and let out a small groan. Sliding her palms out over the cool sheets beneath her, she pushed up with her strength and got herself into a seated position. Throwing her legs over the side of the bed caused a chill to fill her entire body. With the blankets and sheets wrapped around her on this cool fall night it had kept her nice and cozy. Without them, the briskness of the chilly Wyoming air had flooded in through the windows to her bedroom and she shuddered.

Curling her fingers around the edge of the bed, she dug them into the mattress and let out a yawn, “It’s my turn this time baby…”

Hearing nothing in return, she looked over her shoulder to see that her husband was missing from his side of the bed. Stretching out her hand toward his side of the bed, she felt the coolness of the sheets beside her showing that he had been gone for quite some time.

“Joel,” an undeniable grin tugged at the corners of her lips when she thought about her husband. There were no doubts in her mind where he was. It was where he was most nights. Even though they had set the alarm and she was always waking up, this was the same way most nights.

Getting up from the bed, she moved groggily through their dark bedroom making sure not to knock into anything until she managed to turn on the light. It may have been hard waking up at three in the morning for the feedings, but this was easily becoming her favorite time of the day. Quietly opening the bedroom door, she tip-toed through the hallway to try and stay quiet. A light filtered into the dark hallway just right outside the door of the baby’s room.

Coming to a pause, she stayed still in the hallway when she heard the faint sounds of Joel singing quietly and it made her heart full. Joel’s singing was something that had drawn her to him when she had first met him. On the outside Joel seemed like such a shy man. For him to sing, he really had to trust you at first, which of course blew her mind when she found out he wanted to be a singer when he was younger. Even though he was ridiculously charming, handsome and multi-talented, Joel had grown to become someone who was very self-conscious of himself. It was something she had been working on with him for quite some time. After helping him gain some confidence and getting him to open up to people, the walls he had worked so hard to build were slowly breaking down. Now he was giving guitar lessons to the folks in Jackson which was something Joel wouldn’t have done when she had first met him.

Dragging her feet, she stopped at the door to lean against the doorframe. The sight alone caused her heart to flutter inside of her chest. Joel was sitting in the corner of the room in the rocking chair that he had made himself. He was wearing his pajama pants with a burp cloth thrown over his shoulder. In his arms was their son. Joel’s eyes were locked on him with such love and adoration while he sang to him.

Awe flooded through her. It was a picture perfect sight. The two of her boys together reminded her all over again why she fought so hard for the life that she did. Having the two of them in her life made everything worth it.  Every day she found herself swooning over her husband in a new way. Joel made it easy to love him. On the outside he appeared to be rough and tough, but he had the biggest heart of anyone she had ever known.

A few minutes she spent just watching the two of them together until Joel’s eyes finally lifted up from their son to see that she was observing. It drew a smile to tug at the corners of his lips, but he didn’t stop singing. Once she knew that Joel was aware she was there, she moved into the bedroom and stepped beside Joel to look down at their son. The sound of Joel’s voice was calming him to the point of falling asleep again. As Joel finished the song, their son was fast asleep.

“He’s beautiful,” she reached out to place her hand over Joel’s bare shoulder, squeezing firmly at it. Joel leaned his head against her arm cherishing the warmth of her close to him. Seeing their son in his arms was beautiful. It blew her mind that together they were able to make something so pure and perfect.

“That’s because he looks like his mama,” Joel insisted and the compliment was intensified by the drawl of his Texan accent. It made her smile, but her eyes were drawn back to their son. Joel cuddled him in closer to his chest and hummed before speaking up again. “Isn’t that right Brayden?”

“Well, I think he looks like his daddy,” she corrected him, her fingers trailing up the side of Joel’s neck and toward his thick graying hair. Caressing over his scalp caused Joel’s eyes to close tightly and a worn-out sigh escaped his throat. “How long have you been in here babe?”

“A few hours,” Joel answered clearing his throat as he nodded over toward the baby bottle that was on the dresser. “I reckon I may have fed him like a half hour earlier than we were supposed to, but he was getting fussy and I figured I’d give you a break.”

“Well that’s because he knows his daddy is always going to be there to pamper him,” she continued to stroke her fingers through Joel’s hair. It was unbelievable how good of a father Joel turned out to be. Even with being as busy as he was for the people of Jackson, he always made sure to be there for Brayden. Even though parenthood was exhausting, she was thankful that Joel was the person that she got to share it with. Overall, Joel was a phenomenal father and husband. Without him, she was certain that she would have driven herself crazy. “I love you so much, you know that?”

“I love you too,” Joel lifted his head to stare up at her with exhausted, hazel eyes. When his eyes connected with hers, everything in the world seemed to fall into place for her. Joel was everything she could ever want and more. Lowering down, her lips collided with his and she delicately kissed him. The coarse hairs from his short beard tickled at her face and it made her smile against the kiss. When Joel noticed her smiling, he softly chuckled against her lips and hummed. “What?”

“You’re just…so perfect,” she declared, sliding her palm down over the side of his chiseled face. Appreciating his features, she knew that Joel was everything she could ever dream of. When she first met Joel, everyone labeled him as the handsome, grumpy, closed off brother to Tommy. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think she would be married and have children with him, but here they were and she was so thankful for it.

“I think you may be a little biased,” Joel winked at her giving her another small peck against her lips before giving his attention back to their sleeping son in his arms.

“You should sleep sometimes you know. You work your ass off. What is Jackson going to do if you collapse from exhaustion?” she inquired, palming in over his muscular shoulders and over the planes of his upper back.

“If something was going to happen to me from sleep exhaustion, it would have already. In the last twenty years, it would have already happened with how much shit I’ve gone through,” Joel denied her claim with a snort. Pulling Brayden up closer to him, he pressed gentle kiss over his son’s forehead and sighed. “I think I’m actually used to not sleeping. In the past, I’d have so many nightmares that I hated sleeping. I got used to it. Now, I’m just afraid of going to sleep.”

“Why?” she frowned, lowering down to her knees beside the rocking chair and Joel looked to her with a saddened expression that made her chest hurt. Sliding her palm in over his thigh in a supportive caress, she tried to get him to open up to her in a calming way. “Joel?”

“Because everything is so…perfect,” Joel simply stated with a small shrug of his shoulders. It took him a minute to gather his thoughts. Biting at his bottom lip, he made it obvious that he was really having a hard time putting words together to make her understand. “My whole life, I’ve never had things go right, ever. I’m afraid that one day I’m going to wake up and this is all going to be a dream or something bad is going to happen to Brayden.”

“Oh honey, you can’t think like that,” she tried to hush him and Joel tilted his head to the side, his eyes tearing over as he thought about everything that had happened in his life.

“You don’t understand. Since I’ve been a teenager things have just been going wrong. You know I had Sarah as a teenager. I was a stupid kid that wasn’t thinking things out. Ya know? At the time, I knew I had to get my shit together and give the best life I could to my baby girl. Then her mother took off on me and ran away. I tried giving her the best possible life I could, but…” Joel found himself getting caught up in his emotions when he thought about his late daughter.

“You did the best with what you had,” she insisted knowing that she had many discussions with Tommy about Joel's past with his daughter. Even Ellie had opened up to her about what she knew when it came to Joel’s daughter that he had lost so long ago. Her eyes fell to the broken watch that he still wore on his wrist and it broke her heart to know that these thoughts were wearing heavy on Joel.

“But I still lost her. No matter how hard I fought for her, it wasn’t good enough,” Joel countered and a single tear slid down the side of his face. Trying to attempt to open up to her why he was feeling this way was hard because even he knew that he was complicated. “Then for the next twenty years it was just nothing, but shit. I would try, but something was always happening. It wasn’t until I got here in Jackson and I met you that it felt like for once something was going right. I wondered if I had died back in Colorado because you…you were too good to be true.”

Damn, that hit her deep. Instead of saying anything, she reached out to slide her hand in over his arm giving him a supportive grasp.

“I was a broken mess and I was pretty much an adoptive father. I figured I would come to the town; give Ellie a life here and then that would be it. I accepted that life. Then the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on suddenly has eyes for me,” Joel chuckled thinking back to when he had first arrived in Jackson. It was a few months before the two of them really had a good conversation, but their chemistry was almost immediate. “I couldn’t believe my lucky stars that someone like you was interested in someone like me.”

“You know, you were the one that asked me out first,” she teased him, poking him playfully in the ribs and he laughed. Almost immediately, he looked to make sure that their playful teasing didn’t wake Brayden up. Adjusting their son in his arms, Joel looked to her again and shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah, but you made it very clear that you liked me. I just had no game. So, I didn’t know if I was stupid or not. So when I asked you out I was actually feeling like a total moron on the inside because I figured you might say no and I was wrong the whole time. From the moment you said yes, I knew that you were the one,” Joel stammered, a hint of a smile pressing in over his handsome features when he thought back to her past with him. “They say when you know, you know. Well that’s what it was like with me. The moment I made you laugh and smile, I knew that you were the one that I was meant to be with. It was like a horse’s back kick, it hit me that hard.”

“Leave it to you to come up with that kind of comparison,” she winked watching his nose wrinkling in amusement.

“I just meant I knew you were everything I wanted and more. I didn’t understand why someone like you would wanna be with a fool like me,” Joel recalled his thoughts from the past and his eyes surveyed over the ring he had been able to find when they went scavenging through a nearby city. They were just lucky that they knew someone who could make him a wedding band in the town. Getting married was a surprise. One that Joel never thought he would experience again. With his past, he closed his heart off from ever getting that close to someone again. But then everything changed when he met Y/N. “Then you said yes to marrying me and everything felt right. I had you…I had Ellie…and then this beautiful boy comes into our lives. God, I almost reckon my heart stopped on the spot when you told me that you were pregnant.”

“Tommy told me he thinks you passed out,” she informed him with a tiny laugh knowing that she had told Joel when Tommy was in their home. It kind of just fell out of her lips when she couldn’t get Joel to focus at the time. He was always so busy with everything that it was hard to make him think only about one thing. “He always teases that he had to catch you.”

“Well, I think you just almost knocked me right outta my boots,” Joel snickered, acknowledging that it did shock him. “I just never thought that it would be possible for me to have something like this. Happiness. Every night I sit here and wonder how I got so lucky to have you here in my life. The both of you. Ellie too. I worry that I don’t deserve you or any of you.”

“Joel,” she whispered, lifting up enough to palm in over the side of his face to get him to look at her. Leading him to her, she pressed a tender kiss over his lips taking her time to appreciate the chills it would give her every time she kissed the man of her dreams. “We’re lucky to have you. I can’t think of someone else I would rather share this life with. You…you’ve made me believe in second chances. You’ve made me believe in something more.”

“I just have lost anyone I have ever cared for,” Joel confessed, his eyes tearing over as he spoke and he found it hard to look at her when he admitted that. “Everyone I have ever cared for has gotten hurt or left me. That’s why I’m in here every night. I’m just so afraid…”

“And you have every right to feel the way you do. Life has been so hard, but I can tell you this. Since you walked into my life…you were the only thing that has ever felt right. You brought Ellie into my life and that kid is a pleasure to be around. Then you gave me Brayden and between the three of you I know what happiness truly is,” she explained with a quiet breath knowing that she was getting emotional as well with everything he was telling her. “I think our small little family here is going to do everything we can to take care of each other. We’ll do whatever it takes, just like we always have. I just know that every day I wake up thanking the world that I have you here in it with me.”

“I love you, so much,” Joel blurt out, his hazel eyes exceedingly serious when he nodded. “I just want to be the best father and husband that I can be. I want to give you the closest thing to a real life that I can. I want all of you happy.”

“We are happy. I don’t know if you realize it or not, but the only time that little man is happy is when he is in your arms. He knows who is daddy is and he loves you…so much,” she promised, getting up from where she was kneeling so she could lean over to press a kiss against his temple. “If you’re worried, after tonight we should move his crib into our room until he’s old enough to be alone. That way you can feel safer knowing he is with us.”

“You’d be okay with that?” Joel asked for confirmation and she nodded slowly. Of course she was okay with that. Nothing about that would bother her. Carefully, Joel pulled himself up from the rocking chair and moved over to put Brayden back in his crib. Standing at the edge of the crib, his large fingers wrapped around the sides of it while he watched his son sleep. “I worry about things because when I was a father last time, I was young. Now I’m fucking old.”

“Joel,” she laughed, moving in behind him to wrap her arms around his muscular body. Taking advantage, she managed to press a kiss over his shoulder since he was slouched down enough for her to do so.

“I’m serious,” Joel chuckled while her right hand caressed over his the center of his bare torso, teasing her fingers through the dark hairs that covered his body.  When she traced over the puckered flesh where his scar was, it made him look down at her fingers. After keeping Ellie safe and being able to have this family, all the scars on his body almost felt worth it. All that pain he went through was worth it to have the family that he now had. “I’m an old fart.”

“You are the only person I know that has the amount of energy that you do. I’m pretty sure you could outrun a lot of the kids in town here Joel. I don’t know how you do everything that you do, but your age is not a factor that I’m worried about,” she assured him, sliding in beside him and he loosely wrapped his arm around her shoulders while they stared down at their son. “Plus, I already know you’re an amazing father. That’s one thing I will never doubt.”

“I hope so,” Joel sighed pulling her in closer to him while they watched their son sleep. “I can make him another crib. I’ll go down to the basement so we’ll have two. I was carving him one of my horses, but I suppose I can stop to give us something more useful.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” she knew that Joel’s workshop got moved to the basement as soon as they had their son together. This room was full of wooden sculptures before and half made acoustic guitars, but now it was their son’s bedroom. Still, some of Joel’s sculptures he had done helped lighten the room for their little boy. “Are you ready to get some sleep?”

“Just a little bit longer,” Joel sighed wanting to be with his son for a few more moments before they would go back to bed. Wrapping both of his arms around her, Joel squeezed her tight to him and kept her in his arms firmly. “You are the first person who has made feel like I’m not alone in a very long time Y/N. I hope you know that. You gave me the greatest gift of all time and that was a second chance at life. I love you and I always will.”

#Joel Miller #The Last of Us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #TLOU

[idiotic-genius]

How to write an immersive scene

requested by @noa-i - check out their blog, they have amazing lists of helpful links to writing guides!

As a writer, it is mostly inevitable to get to the point in writing where you are questioning whether anyone will actually want to read what they have created. A question greatly important to writing something the reader gets hooked up with is: How do I lure them in and make them feel like they are part of something? Sometimes, writing immersive makes THE difference between a scene quick to skip over and a scene you can't take your eyes off. But how do you create immersion?

In this post: 1. Worldbuilding 2. Narrators 3. Writing visually 4. Setting the scene 5. Example to summarize

Step 1: Learn your own facts

It might be banal, since you are the author, to re-read your own notes and think about what you have written so far. However, to get the reader hooked up, make them INTERESTED. This is easily accomplished by creating a detailed fictional world that doesn't seem flat. It might be a tiring process, but it always pays off! Knowing exactly what kind of world your character finds themself in makes it a lot easier to fill in details that subconsciously make the reader believe they are dealing with an actual real-world instead of "just" a fictional one. But even though it may seem harsh, cutting out some details and facts might make the reader feel much more comfortable. Their mind wants to insert them into the universe they're reading about, so overloading them with too many unnecessary details can be just as defeating as giving them too little info. Here is a link to a great beginners-guide on worldbuilding.

Step 2: Know your narrator

As we all know, there are a bunch of different narrator types to pick from when starting a new story, and each of them is good for a different thing- reaching from the typical first-person narrator (The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson) over personal third-person (Warrior Cats, Harry Potter) to omniscient third-person (Anne of Green Gables) and biased third-person (A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy). If you are writing an unbiased third-person narrator in your WIP, you can just skip this step. However, if you have any indication at all in your story as to who the narrator is, you might want to think about this more closely. The narrator is the bridge that connects the reader to the fictional world. To immerse the reader in a book, it's usually easiest to use the first-person narrator or the personal third-person narrator, because that way the reader will either imagine themself as the narrator or as a friend of the main character, which keeps them interested. If your narrator is an actual character in the story, it is necessary to keep their speech and description patterns consistent with themselves and the events of the story. For example, a character narrating that has never visited a school or similar should not use highly scientific words to describe what's going on, etc, because it will interrupt the reader's reading flow and disturb the immersion just as much as time skips do.

Step 3: Writing visually

After making sure you have the narrator and the world they're in all set, it's time to choose a writing style, more specifically, to decide the visuality of it. What I mean by that is that having a fictional world so flat it's boring is just as bad as not describing it in a way that delivers it in the way it deserves to be delivered. Picture it like this: Every scene starts in a white room, with neither windows nor doors. If you as the writer don't describe what is going on in that room and what it looks like, at best while keeping the narrator's character in mind while doing so (to make it "3D"), the reader will never know what is actually happening. This also includes adapting the length and complexity of sentences to the scene: In a combat scene, you will usually find short and cut-throat sentences to represent the intensity and living-in-the-moment mindset of a fight, however, in a meaningful conversation between two characters about a heavy subject, it's more likely that longer and more complex sentences are of use to mirror the narrator's deep thinking of the subject and their concentration on the conversation.

Step 4: Setting the scene

By setting the scene, you fill in this white room in the reader's mind, adding characters, sounds, furniture, windows, and scenery in general, while still leaving space for the reader to fill in the blanks. To find a middle between these two extremes is up to every individual writer and depends on the writing style. If you over-describe the room, the reader will know every detail about it, but it will take away their focus from what is actually happening in the scene. However, if you don't set the scene at all, the reader automatically makes up what the room might look like based on what they imagine, and then breaks out of the immersion as soon as you mention something, later on, to be in the room that they did not picture. For example, if you just say that A enters B's bedroom, the reader might quite as well imagine there to be small windows, some bookshelves, a standard bed, etc. If you don't set that up right in the beginning and later on mention that B has small windows, the books stacked on the floor, a bunch of plants, an aquarium, and a bunk bed, the reader will get confused because it doesn't fit what they had pictured before. So ask yourself: What is so important that the reader should know it before the scene actually starts? Context also matters in that case.

5. Example

In the following, I will write the same scene multiple times in different styles to illustrate what makes a difference in writing immersion. The scene goes as following: Jae falls into a dark room underground with a hooded, mysterious person waiting for him. The hooded person greets him and lights a candle, and in the emitting light, Jae realizes who he is talking to. Remember: These are more caricatures of the different writing styles than actual representation and are very overexaggerated, but you get the idea.

1. first-person narrator (Jae), scene not set properly, no visual writing, no consistency in speech pattern

After three seconds, I landed on something soft and realized I had landed in a chamber underground, slightly lit by the moonlight above me. I walked through the only doorway and found myself in a second room. A hooded figure in the middle of the dark lifted their arm. From the table beside them, they picked up a candle and lit it using a lighter. "Hello, Jae", they said, and in the newly emitting light, I recognized them in front of the fireplace.

-> feels flat and jumpy, gives no significance to the change of scenery

2. biased third-person narrator, scene set properly, overly descriptive visual writing, consistency in speech pattern

After falling for what felt like an hour, even though it was probably just a few seconds, Jae finally landed on something soft. Before even attempting to get up, he shivered at the fresh memory of what slimy, earthy, suddenly appearing tunnels felt like. He stared up through the hole at the moon and the stars, and immediately recognized the constellation of Cassiopeia, high up above him. Cassiopeia is said to have angered the Gods, so they gave her the gift of divination, but made it so that nobody would ever believe her prophecies, finally banning her into the sky as this constellation. Weirdly enough, the stars' pattern doesn't look like a woman, or a human, at all. Jae slowly stood up from where he landed and realized he had fallen onto a rather big cushion with a print of primroses in yellow, pink, red, and blue. He looked around in my new location and found himself stuck in a small portico with no windows at all and only one doorway. The walls seemed just as dirty and muddy as the tunnel he had fallen through, and as he looked closer, he spotted about a dozen small, pink worms slithering through the soil. The floor on the other hand was made out of dark wooden panels- if you wanted to call it a "floor". The pieces were just loosely stuck onto the earth underneath, and mud squeezed out from the gaps in between. Jae slowly walked over them and reached the doorway after just four steps. He saw a hooded figure standing in the center of the next room. The room had two sources of lighting: One, the moonlight shining through the disgusting tunnel, and two, a crackling fireplace. It looked like it belonged in a small cottage, being made out of red bricks and looking a little old with the small black-and-white pictures put on top of it. The flickering orange glim of the fire met the silvery-white shine of the moon in the middle of the room. On the right side, Jae saw a big old round table made out of similar wood as the floorboards outside. There were obvious scratches on it, some made by smaller knives, others bigger and maybe made by swords, with splinters on their edges. Apart from two, the fours chairs around it seemed just as maltreated, but the two others were polished and reflected the two light sources, with no scratch marks at all. On top of the table rested a metal candlestick with one slightly burned-down candle stuck inside it. The candlestick had a few scratches as well, on the side and at the bottom. "Hello, Jae", the figure said snarkily, with a voice deep and rough like sandpaper. They wore a black cape, smooth on what Jae could see of the inside and rough on the outside, with a big hood covering their hair and most of their face. A few of the blue buttons with a golden pentagram engraved on them were missing from the coat, and it was slightly ripped in a few places. One strand of dark hair fell into the person's eyes as they reached out for the candlestick, lighting the candle inside with a silver zippo-lighter. The lighter had small scratches as well as a few symbols on it. Slowly, the flame grew bigger and bigger, until the shine from below reached the figure's face. Jae's eyes went big as he realized who he was talking to.

-> little place for the reader's fantasy, but details make scenery deeper and less flat. This kind of description does make sense if the narrator/the character the narrator fixates on (Jae in this case) is very observant and/or intelligent because they will notice details that others don't. The question is whether those details are important enough to keep in the story.

3. first-person narrator (Jae), scene set properly, visual writing, consistent speech pattern

After what felt like an eternity of falling and silently begging not to die from the impact, I finally landed with my eyes squeezed shut. Okay, legs, arms, and head still in place... I slowly opened my eyes again, realizing I had landed on a soft pillow with a flower print. Cautiously, I got up, gazing up at the tunnel through which I had fallen. The view of the slimy earth made me shiver involuntarily as I blinked against the bright moonlight far above me. The sky was clear enough to see stars, which could have been far more enjoyable if it hadn't been for my miserable situation. I had landed in a small chamber underground, with a single doorway leading into a bigger room. The walls were just pure earth and seemed to swallow all noise, but when I took the first step, the sounds of my shoes on the dark wooden floorboards and of the mud squishing out from beneath them was louder than I had anticipated. I could hear the crackling of fire from the next room and see the orange glow as I made my way over to the doorway and took a glimpse into it. The room was not very big, but also not as small as the one I had landed in. There wasn't much space because of a wooden round table and four chairs, which all seemed very old and maltreated, judging from the scratches on them. I could make out a few pictures on the fireplace, and in front of that- "Hello, Jae." I had to suppress a gasp as I realized that I was not alone. In the middle of the room, right where the silvery moonlight and the orange glow of the fire met, stood a hooded figure. Their coat looked as old as the few pieces of furniture, with missing buttons and rips. I couldn't make out much of their face, even though I squinted my eyes, but the flickering light made it hard to see anything, let alone recognize. But that voice... Before I could come to a conclusion, the figure reached for a metal candlestick standing on the table and lit the candle inside with a silver lighter. As the flame grew bigger, they dispelled the shadows below the hood that had disguised the person's features before. I could feel my eyes get big as I finally realized who was standing before me.

-> Gives enough information to "fill the white room" without dwelling on details too much, shows the context of the story, gives Jae a consistent personality

So that's it for this post! I hope I managed to pass on a thing or two that I learned while researching and that this post will help you with your writing. Please acknowledge, I am not trying to attack anyone's style of writing!! If you write the way I wrote a "non-immersive" scene, it does NOT mean that your writing style is bad, let alone wrong, because the existence of many different writing styles is what keeps it individual and interesting! Find your own way and let nobody get you down :)

#writing #writing prompts #writing tips #writing advice #story prompt #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #writing inspiration #immersion #writing immersion #immersive writing #story tips #how to write #tutorial #tips #request

[in-the-weeds-scream-ferociously]

honestly, if I see another post talking about how this artist or that artisty is an industry plant, I'm gonna became a hermit and swear off online discourse for at least a decade. every artist who has signed with a label is an industry plant - that's the point. You sign with the label because they're the ones with the money to promote your work and make it reach global markets.

Like, yeah, of course dinsey is backing the shit out of olivia rodrigo - it's mutually beneficial -, of course Big Machine (and now Universal) was part of Taylor Swift's success. That's the point - they saw these artists and thought, they have potential and we have the power to make them reach it. Michael Jackson was an industry plant, Whistney Houston was an industry plant, the Spice Girls were an industry plant, One Direction were an industry plant - every single big artist out there (or rather, every single signed artist out there) is an industry plant, because no label is going to sign you if they don't think you're worth the effort of promoting. And it's not always going to be purely about talent, that's true - sometimes is about sticking to a certain successful recipe that's proved effective in the past. But that doesn't mean that those so-called industry plants aren't real people with a work ethic, a modicum of talent and a right to their ambitions and success.

Not to mention, seeing all of these hot takes about how some of these names are industry plants and have no real talent simply because YOU don't like their work and think there are other artists more deserving of the accolades or whatever is blatantly ingoring reality. As much promotion and money as was put into backing these artists, the sales are not ficticious, and even if they shouldn't be taken as a synonym of quality, they should also not be disregarded, because guess what: if an album sells millions on the first few weeks, there are millions of people connecting with that music one way or another - that's not vapid.

Just because someone is conventionally attractive and successful does not mean that's the only reason they are (it just means it was a contributing factor that made their achievements easier than some other people's - it's privilege, sure, but it's not "cheating" or a moral failure) - otherwise I know many girls in my high school would've been worldwide famous right now simply because they were pretty and liked attention. To discard someone's talent (in whatever scale it exists) and hard work on the basis of "they're only famous because they're an industry plant" is ri-di-cu-lous. Just say "I don't like their music" and move on.

[dropsofletters]

how to lose someone in seven steps? | yangyang

— summary: yangyang lives his life going from party to party, but when one grand event suddenly threatens to make him lose all his money, she ponders if she should break his heart in pieces or not. instead, she teaches him how to live a normal life.

— title: how to lose someone in seven steps? — pairing: liu yangyang x reader — genre: rich kid!au ; magnate!au ; singer!au ; bet!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; love experiment!au — type: fluff ; angst ; romance ; humor ; drama — word count: 11,304 — playlist: criminal – taemin ; dway! – jackson wang ; 7 rings – ariana grande ; lifted – cl ; leonidas – yangyang ; +5 stars+ - cl — note: you have to read the prologue before reading this route.

Bottles stacked on top of one another, organized, some from the eighties, other from the latest few years. Shelves that clad themselves in pristine class, though their surroundings are dangerous for such expensiveness. There, with a dress that fits her body a little bit too tightly, she truly wonders what goes on through rich people’s heads. Money, obviously—how to spend it, how to waste it, and how to win it again, but whoever owns this mansion doesn’t think about the fact that any of the drunkards around the party could eventually knock themselves over with this shelf filled with alcohol—from wine to champagne—and possibly die in the process from a shard of glass going through their heads, or that someone could steal from him. Bottles lonely, void of anything to protect them, just a slide of the glass enough to grasp the material.

Though, she knows what she is doing. Tugging at the gold dress that Liying insisted on buying for her, she hopes that no one sees her. Not that she should be thinking when Hao specifically brought her to this party to socialize with possible record label owners or other artists that would want to collaborate with her—but after a while of speaking about nothing at all and sipping on the same glass of champagne, she feels drained out of energy. The host of the party word of mouth and yet, nowhere to be seen.

Cutting the chase, she turns around to see if she can find Hao somewhere. The living room is packed, people gathered dancing, some sprawling themselves on the couches, smoking and drinking. Nearby, a man tugs a woman to his lap, her cigarette falling on the floor to remain unlit as another person joins them. It’s only a matter of second before she feels her blood boiling in embarrassment, crossing one arm across her chest to hold her elbow upright with her drink when she sees the kiss shared by three. Parties like these do get a bit crazy.

The mansion is pretty, though, and while Hao is out—somewhere—trying to get her a record deal, she basks in the material beings around her. Golden walls, red decorations, and floors that were pristine when she had gotten there earlier but are now dusted in alcohol and ashes. She gives one step forward, then two, and she stops herself, not knowing exactly where to go. She has already talked to some people, but her social batteries are running out.

Getting her phone out of her purse, she puts her lips together until they decolorate the slightest under the pressure, typing a message for Hao. Not that she couldn’t call him, but screaming over the music as Post Malone plays for the umpteenth time just doesn’t sound like the best of ideas.

To: Hao-Hao.

Where you at?

I want to go home.

The response comes sooner than expected, her phone vibrating in between her fingers.

From: Hao-Hao.

I’m talking to the son of a record label’s CEO.

You can’t go now.

He’s a bit drunk but I’m taking care of him so he can hear you sing once he’s more sober.

To: Hao-Hao.

I’ll step out for a few minutes, then.

Call me when you need me. I won’t leave.

The sigh that rips from her throat only lets go when her phone plops back in place in the almost-empty purse, her heels clicking against the black tiles of the mansion. With each swing of her hips, energy drains itself out of her body. There is nothing that she would have wished for more than just lay herself flat on her bed, start a video-chat with her friends and just get lost in the conversation. At first, she thought it would be easier, speech slurred that would help her sound more appealing to those who are drunker than her, but no one pays attention to possible talents in parties like these.

The coldness of the night bites at her arms, as well as some mosquitoes, scattering across her ankles and making her hiss as she continues scratching herself. A fountain stands right at the front, surrounded by trees and a few sports cars. One of those cars, however, is Hao’s old, dark thing that seemed to be much less cool in comparison.

A swat of her hand against her skin has her hissing.

Fuck mosquitoes.

Fuck this party.

Fuck the broken dream that she keeps chasing with the hope of her story turning out to be more interesting than it really is.

From the far distance, just as she leans back against one of the many cars there, an engine starts to roar to life—getting closer and closer, perhaps wanting to get to the party faster, catching the attention of the entire block, not that they would care. With the golden fabric of her dress barely covering her from the coldness of the white convertible, she takes her phone out again to talk in the group-chat, but as her fingers work against the screen, the car gets closer. The wheels become music at that moment, the culprit making its appearance as the car enters the mansion, barely giving the security guards at the entrance any time to open the gates.

A gorgeous night blue makes the car outstanding, blend into the night but make it more noticeable in between the expensive cherry reds and the bone whites. Instead, the driver parks nearer to the mansion, closer to one of the street lamps by the entrance, draping its white glow onto the concrete that leads to the main door. Whoever the owner of the car is manages to park the car backwards, roaring the engine a few more times when he’s put in place before moving back a bit more…

And a bit more…

Even more…

Then, comes the crash. Miniscule, but enough to create a dent on the night-sky car.

The coolness only lasted for a second.

She has to look away, because she may not be an avid driver…but even she knows that getting too close to a street light wasn’t a good idea. Instead, she brings her phone up her face to use it as an excuse, eyes inspecting the car’s door when it opens, watching a set of slim legs peak out before the entirety of the owner makes his presence known.

Blown portions of his brown hair end up in the slits between his fingers, gripping at the strands for dear life as he stares at the dent on his car. Parted, obscured and defined lips call out for her attention, the ‘o’ in them almost funny had it not been for his beauty. His brown eyes widen in panic, knees creaking under his weight when he kneels beside his car and actually, for real, plants a kiss on the surface before connecting his forehead with it. If she is not mistaken, the sigh that rips from those precious lips sounds like an apology.

It’s none of her business, she tells herself, but when she crosses one leg over the other, she realizes just how freezing the night is, her thighs in full display while the handsome idiot with the car looks as toasty as ever. A blue hoodie on top of his body, black ripped jeans making his legs look like they last for miles and even some more. His shoes, however, are one of the latest releases of a popular brand that she feels like she heard one of her friends speaking about. Maybe Elena.

Maybe, he’ll have enough of a heart to give her something to cover herself up with—that’s the excuse she uses when she pulls her weight away from the white convertible that held her up to go over to him. The clicking of her heels does nothing to call out for his attention, forehead still pressed to his car like the main character of a romantic movie asking for the forgiveness of his partner after fucking up.

He did fuck up…his very expensive sports car, for example.

“Hey…” Her voice wavers a bit, eyes trailing down to the kneeling man. At this point, his thighs may be burning over the forced squat he is doing. “Are you crying right now?”

That seems to make him pull away from his car, pushing his face off the car before widening his eyes in the process. Not a single glistening tear clads his irises, so he seems to be fine. “Wh—? What? No.” He scoffs in the process, standing up and licking his lips in the process. “I’m just…some douche…one of my friends, like, he’s a total douche, he—ah, he crashed my car against the…the thing—”

“I saw you crash your own car.”

The puppeteer lets go of the marionette in him, shoulders dropping, legs becoming flimsy as his faux smile turns into somewhat of a pout, arms crossed over his chest to indicate just how attacked he feels right now. The grin from her is inevitable. “Then, why do you ask?” He conquers, though, one look at her has him giving a double-take, and sure, she looks good…but the squint of his eyes and the frown on his face is for something else. “You look oddly familiar. Have I, like, seen you before?”

“Have you?” Now that she thinks about it, the defined lines of his lips somewhat click on her. From where? She doesn’t know. “Now that you say it, I feel like I have seen you…”

Wiping his—probably—sweaty hands on his jeans, he claps his hands together. “Like, for real, I have seen you.”

“Maybe, the crash did something to your head, I don’t know.”

The guy in question can only hiss in the process. “That’s your nicest try for a joke?”

“That’s your nicest way of parking?” She asks, one thumb going over to his still very much dented car before sighing. “What’s your name? Because I really feel like I know you.”

Though, she does have a plan—leaving this poor man crying about his convertible isn’t something she is planning to do tonight. At most, she will call her brother-in-law and see if he knows someone who can fix cars, just if he wants the number. Not like he needs it with the amount of money he clearly has. “Liu Yangyang.” He replies, his hands placed on his hips when he looks at his car. “And that’s Emilia, my baby.”

“…You crashed your baby against a light—”

“My baby betrayed me and went a little too far, mind you.” Though, now that she has laughed and her phone is, once again, on her hand, she can think about that name. Liu Yangyang, Liu Yangyang.

Fuck.

Liu Yangyang!

“Oh my God, you’re Liying’s ex!” That’s not the kind of sentence that must have left her lips at that moment, but it’s what comes out of her. It takes a few seconds for Yangyang to process what she just said, pursing his lips in the process before squinting at her once again.

“And you’re part of her friends’ group. The little Girls’ Generation wannabe group.” Yangyang replies, though his voice begs to do no harm, she can’t help but feel a little bit hurt by his words.

“We are not a Girls’ Generation wannabe group.” She corrects, not realizing just how punctuated her words are coming out until Yangyang chuckles at her.

“You just did a sick dance move with your neck, bro.” The young man adds, making sure to move his head from side to side, perhaps more stylishly than her. “Are you sure you’re not a dancer?”

“I was going to call someone to help you out, but I’m not going to anymore.” She says, though Yangyang shrugs his shoulders.

“Dad will pay for it.” He adds, looking around for a few seconds. “And if you’re the only person who saw it, I just need to keep you quiet about it.”

“Why? Stuff like this happens at parties all the time—”

“Not when you’re the host and you’re not the slightest bit drunk, no.” This mansion…this goddamned piece of art that looks like it could be a castle, with how tall the walls are and how gorgeously decorated it is, belongs to no other than Liying’s ex?

“T—This is your house?” She asks, fingers widely pointing at the entrance before Yangyang nods. “What were you even doing outside? You’re the host!”

“You know, like, when it’s someone’s Sweet Sixteen party, they just arrive later than everyone and make a grand appearance and it’s, like, I don’t know, cool or whatever?” With the rapidness of his voice and how excited he seems to be about this situation, she can’t help but be in awe. “I was aiming for that.”

“Were you also aiming to crash your car or did your Dad pay for your license, too?” With the smile that appears on his features, somewhat shameful as he looks to the side, she can’t help but clutch her phone closer to her chest. “You bought your driver’s license!”

Yangyang rushes to place both of his slim hands on her cherry red lips, shushing her in the process, his face mere centimeters away from hers. “What do I have to do to keep you quiet? I need to look cool, still.”

Not that she was planning to ask him for anything, so she pushes his hands away from her mouth. “Ew, dude, I don’t know where your hands have been—”

“That’s not usually how that goes.” Yangyang mumbles, more to himself, before opening the door to his car once again. Bending down, he seems to be looking for something in the front portion of his car. “Listen, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m not that bad of a guy. I wash my hands.”

“Sure, you do.” She replies, aware of the fact that this is the man Liying had rolled her eyes to a bunch of times. Didn’t she ask her to break his heart like a month ago? Yangyang’s immature, from what she has heard, but the rest of him is a secret. “You don’t have to give me anything. I’ll just stay around this party for a bit longer and then, I’ll call it quits.”

“Aw, why? Is Taeyeon missing?”

“Taeyeon?” At the mention of such a name, she frowns.

Still, he continues to speak from inside his car, putting a few things together that she can’t quite make out from her position. “You know, like, Taeyeon from Girls’ Generation.”

“Huh?”

“I’m joking.” Dragging his voice, he comes out with a bag in between his hands. Typical in its beige and brown color, Louis Vuitton with just one clear glance. What is even more impressive than the purse on itself is how he pushes it towards her hands. “There you go, your gift.”

“…Yangyang, what language are you speaking in? I don’t even—What are you doing?” She asks, taking the purse in between her hands before shaking her head.

“Actually, I speak some. German, English…I took some Spanish classes—”

“Yangyang, I can’t take this purse.”

“It’s not that expensive.” He shrugs, as if this is really not worth more than anything she owns. Even more than her entire apartment compiled together. “Besides, you didn’t make a big deal out of me and Emilia having a moment, so…I’m letting you go with this bag. I brought it with me today, but I think it’ll go better with your outfit…” Though, she doesn’t miss the way his eyes trail down her body before correcting himself, blinking quickly and giving one of his infamous smiles. “Take it.”

“Yangyang, no—”

Unexpected are the steps he gives towards the door, rushed as he runs away from her, looking over his shoulders as he screams: “Too late, I’m already going.” Though, when he opens the door in one swift motion, he doesn’t forget to add something else. “See you later at the party.”

Though, she can’t even walk forwards to search for Yangyang in between the masses of people when she feels her phone buzzing in her purse.

Well, her original purse, not the Louis Vuitton one.

Is it even hers now?

From: Hao-Hao.

Go home…

The guy fell asleep after vomiting on my shoes.

It’s safe to say we’ve done nothing in this party.

Two steps back make her heels waver under the weight of the droplets of champagne on her system. Tugging both purses over her shoulder, she smiles. Yangyang, more than immature, has that youthful person that not a lot of people have.

###

Birthday parties are already not that good to start with. Put one single candle on a cake and start singing a song, that’s the best way to make anyone feel out of place and awkward. They are even worse when she feels two children tugging at her pants, and thank goodness a white belt wraps around the baggy beige pants, because they would have been at her feet had it been for Liying’s daughter’s friends.

Some people just launch themselves at their dreams as if they were a rocket, and Liying is one of them. Last year, when her stress reached her peak and her dating list only got longer with more mistakes, she decided to draw a line over all men in her life and go for her biggest dream all on her own. It wasn’t the clothing line that she had already worked in—and that, somehow, people were always surprised to hear about when seeing how plainly she dressed—, but having a child instead. That’s where the four-year-old child by her mother’s legs came along, adopted a year ago and still very much adoring her small, loving family.

But this is her first birthday party, and Liying had gone over the moon with preparations. Everything pink, in the shade of Peppa Pig, with children songs playing in the background as some of them scream, jump, and one of them even blows bubblegum into the air only to cover his face in the sticky substance. Surprise. The bubblegum is also very pink.

Liying picks her daughter up from the ground then, placing her against her hip as she gets closer to her. “Chengxiao, Mei, let go of her legs. She can’t even walk.” The monotone tone must have worked more than her pathetic plea, widening her eyes in adoration when seeing one of her best friends with her. “Did you buy the candles I told you about? I’m sure we need to give them some sugar before they start going crazy.”

She doesn’t know if she just chuckled or sighed. “Isn’t it too much sugar already?”

“It’s never enough sugar for them.” Liying conquers, placing a kiss on her daughter’s cheek before putting her down again. “Baby, tell all your friends to gather so we can start singing the birthday song!”

“Yes, mama!”

Liying pushes the strands of her dark hair away from her face, putting it up in a bun before asking. “So, candles?”

“I can’t even walk, Liying. They’re in my purse.” She points, well aware that she needs her bed more than ever right now. Not only had Chengxiao thrown a tantrum when she had not sung the Peppa Pig theme song for the umpteenth time, but she also had to take care of the other children. Wipe the bubblegum away from that little dude’s face. Make sure that everyone in well fed. Over everything, she has to pick the music and Lord forbid she picks something that isn’t Baby Shark.

Liying moves over to her pink couch, draping the children’s coats away to reach her purse before frowning deeply. “Your purse, you said?”

“Yes.” Using the coats as a pillow, she lays back on the couch, exhaling deeply as a sweet, tight-lipped smile appears on her face. “God, I’m about to pass out.”

“Don’t pass out on me.” Liying says, rummaging through her purse. “Why do you have so much shit in your purse?”

“The girls put all their stuff inside. Some of them didn’t bring purses.”

“I’m sensing Shishi and Elena in that statement.”

“Shishi can’t wear a purse that doesn’t have Pokémon characters all over it,” She starts. “And Elena is too cool for a purse.”

“Got it.” Liying finishes, pressing her purse to her abdomen to keep looking for her candles before a soft hum leaves her lips. “I found two things.”

“Two?” Her eyes open at that moment, staring at the objects in between Liying’s fingers. One of them is the number four in the form of a candle, and the other is a crumpled piece of paper that seems to beg to be recycled. “What’s that piece of paper?”

“I don’t know, was inside your Louis.” Liying whispers, unfolding the paper as she speaks. “And no matter how much I love that you’re wearing Louis Vuitton, it’s not your thing. You don’t wear anything expensive.”

Cameras flash inside her head at that moment, the aftermath of having a picture taken of her and the flash still bleeds inside her eyelids. Liu Yangyang in the shape of a gift, that’s what that purse means. Given to her a week ago, and still clinging to her side like pure nature.

What? The purse is cute…

“I—This is going to be so funny but,” Time for the truth, she tells herself. “I went to a party last week, right? And I went out to get some air because it was too cramped inside, so a guy crashed his car and—” Liying raises her eyebrows then, never showing quite as much of her expressions as that moment. “And it was so stupid, so I promised not to tell anyone and he gave me a Louis Vuitton.”

“Good guy.” Liying shrugs her shoulders. “Got his name?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice,” Liying says, turning the paper around. “Because he asked you to meet up with him in this place three days ago and you hadn’t even realized that he had put that paper inside your purse.”

Grasping the paper in between her hands, the flutter of a butterfly goes up her sternum and rests on her trachea. The handwriting on the paper feels like him, somewhat rushed, always on the verge of doing something, and with one little smiley face at the end, he does ask to meet up with her at certain place, three days ago, with the time written and all.

“…That’s the funny thing.” Though, her laughter sounds as fake as it possibly can be. “We both felt like we had seen each other and, hah, turns out it’s Liu Yangyang, your ex.”

Had it been anyone else, they would have at least gasped, but heart of steal, soul of stone, mind of ice—or better known as Liying—, simply seemed to find it fitting. “Huh,” She says, looking down at the piece of paper. “A downgrade for you but an upgrade for him. I think he’s asking you out.”

She shakes her head at that. “No way. He’s being friendly.” She says, quirking her eyebrow in the process. “Why? Is it the whole breaking his heart thing going on or—?”

“No.” Liying replies, zipping the bag in the process. “Yangyang is obnoxious and used to love Cheetos way too much for anyone’s liking, but he’s a nice guy.” She rolls her eyes then. “If you can keep up with the whole…Yangyang-ness that comes with it, and you’re really thinking about it, or about him. Who am I to say no?”

Sitting up, she hooks her fingers around the paper, crumpling it up in the process. “…Not like it matters if I’m curious about him. The day just passed.”

“Go there again.” The woman starts moving towards the kitchen, eager to give the children some sweets to see if they will get sleepy in the process. Liying’s intelligence goes above NASA at times. “Yangyang does party a lot, and attend a lot of events, but it’s always in the same places. People go to Yangyang, Yangyang never goes to the people.”

“…Why’s that?”

Liying sighs. “He’s rich, babe.” Pushing the candle into the pink-coated cake, the cream sloshing around a bit in the process, Liying chuckles at her own words. “Everyone follows after you if you’re rich.”

“…I don’t want him to think I’m just looking for money, though.” But, why does she even care about it? She has a Louis Vuitton bag now—

“And you took the Louis in the process of not wanting to seem like an opportunist?”

“I took it because he ran away before I could give it back to him.”

“And you were unable to go after him because…?”

“I was tired.”

Liying puts one hand on her waist, the shirt she is wearing a little bit more see-through with the passage of years, sticking to her like glue. Liying’s emotional side lets her cling onto the most miniscule of things. “Sorry to break it to you, babe, but your mind played games on you and took the purse because you wanted to have a reason to see him again, or something to cling onto until you saw him again. Not to blame…he’s a charming guy. Younger, but that’s the charm.” She sighs in the process of her train of thought. “…If only I liked older guys, I wouldn’t even be here on the first place.”

“I’m not interested in Yangyang.” She replies, clapping her hands together as she calls for the children.

“I could be the greater friend and say you shouldn’t, because he’s a man-child, and he’ll possibly be more of a headache than a good thing but—” Liying joins her then, screaming for the children to gather, the sounds of toys being dropped to the floor and cheers coming from the masses of children making her curse internally. While she’s here, their other friends are by Liying’s room, playing games online— “You are curious about him, and the mom in me is telling me I have to let you live your life so…” Liying taps her fingers against the crumpled piece of paper in between her hands. “Go there on the same day this week, same time. See if he’s there.”

###

A recording studio is not where she imagined herself to be on a Thursday at two in the afternoon, but it’s where Yangyang had invited her to go last week. With its gray walls, harsh lights that make her cringe onto herself in case someone looks a little too close at her face, and the staff rushing from one place to the other, she feels both sad and thankful that she’s not part of this. One, she doesn’t have to be judged by anyone but two, that almost means she’s not known by anyone as an artist.

Much to her surprise, the security guard at the entrance—at least two heads taller than her—had let her in at the mention of her name, but lost as lost can be she is when inside the studio. Asking one of the staff would be much too embarrassing, for Yangyang had invited her there, but he wasn’t exactly expecting her. Besides, if he had invited her, it would look too ridiculous to ask for his whereabouts. A fan, she would look like a fucking fan.

But, Yangyang doesn’t seem like an actor—if he was, and with the amount of popularity he has, he would have had at least three paparazzi on his back when he crashed his car. One step forward and she almost stumbles against one of the light guys, apologizing profusely as she continues going forward without a North. Whatever it is that she is doing other than looking around, is not the closest thing to finding Yangyang.

Much to her surprise, in front of one of the many green screens in that endless studio is Yangyang, seated in what she would compare to a director’s chair, the lights on him only highlighting the aspects of his face that had not been there when she had met him at the party. His lips are rosier, a sheen of highlight on both his cheekbones to make them more prominent—though, the structure of his face sculpted by the Gods was—. A golden bomber jacket rests on his arms, one leg crossed over the other as he speaks into the air with certainty. Confident with his hair pushed to the side and a small smile playing on his lips.

“Honestly, I’m just here to have a good time.” He shrinks into himself the slightest, tucking his hands under his thighs before swinging his legs back and forth. “I don’t care what anyone says,” A quirk of his eyebrow comes after, laughter following his statement. “Why would any of the other guys judge me for partying and buying expensive stuff when they, like, they do the same thing? It’s just…I want to live my twenties before I just completely turn my life upside down.”

The director asks, far too quickly. “How are you going to do that?”

Yangyang thinks for a moment, but he doesn’t deflate, much like he doesn’t give an absolute answer. “…What everyone does, go to Hollywood.” Though, he laughs at himself, shaking his head at the same time that the director asks to cut, a group of stylists rushing to him to fix his hair just at the same time that he stands up.

Statements. A green screen. Extra good makeup.

Questions.

They’re asking him questions about him…

And he’s here each week…

Yangyang is part of a reality show.

What the fuck?

Crossing her arms, she leans back on the wall as she watches the staff gather around him, telling him about places to go to after this, shootings that they need to do, and each voice molds onto itself until they are imperceptible. The farthest he gets from the green screen, the more she comes into view—with far less makeup than him and a red leather jacket that is much too old to compare to his bomber jacket.

Whatever.

Yangyang stops on his tracks when he sees her, stopping his typing on his phone when he smiles widely, like a kid that had just gotten his preferred kiss. “Girls’ Generation!” Confusion bathes the faces of the staff around him, and it takes her a second to curse under her breath when he moves towards her. Next thing she does is tell him her name. “Oh, sorry, I don’t keep up with the newest members.”

The only member he seemed to know was Liying, after all. “But you sure do keep up with something, Kim Kardashian.” She says, jotting her chin towards the chair that has now been taken over by someone else. “I didn’t know you were part of a reality show.”

“My manager asked me to join. Something about publicity…and people investing more in my appearances if I do. Influencer stuff, I guess? Like, I don’t like to call myself an influencer because I can’t, like, even influence my cat but…you know.” Yangyang goes around his answer a few times, earning a chuckle from her at the same time he drops a joke. “And please, call me Kendall. Taller, ass less fat, and I can pride myself on my legs.”

One look at them promises her that he is not lying. Long, slim, definitely looking good in whatever kind of pants he wears. “I’ll have to watch your show later.”

“Please, don’t.” Mortified, Yangyang shakes his head. “It’s all scripted and for drama. I promise, that’s not really how I want you to see me.”

Instead, she licks her lips. “Well, I found a paper in my bag asking me to meet you up here so…” She trails her voice. “How do you want me to see you?”

The challenge must have excited Yangyang, who runs his fingers through his hair and she almost believes she saw one of the staff dying in the process. That, or she’s trying to find other reactions similar to hers, heart thumping against her chest. “Well, I have some unreleased movies in my mansion and I thought we could—”

A woman with glasses propped on her nose, very much over the age of sixty, shakes her head as she nears Yangyang. “You can’t do anything today.” She finishes for him, throwing a look towards her before swallowing thickly. Something tells her that this is his manager, because she doesn’t look like Yangyang at all, and because of her authority.

Each day she is more thankful of having Hao.

“Why?” Yangyang drags his voice in a whine, turning to his manager to talk to her. “I thought I had Thursdays all for myself.”

“You thought correctly, but not today.” The woman turns her tablet to bathe Yangyang’s face on its glow. “Someone contracted you for a photoshoot today and I need you to take your pretty face to your limo so we can get there on time and have your makeup redone.”

Well, fucking shit.

She came all the way here for nothing.

Yangyang glances at her in the matter of seconds, his hands coming forward to grasp hers in their hold. His fingers are cold, mannerisms not as quickened as his voice, with his fingers soft like silk against her skin. She could get used to it. ��Sorry.” He mumbles, biting his lip after. “Want to give me your number so we can meet up some other time?”

“Okay.” She says, soon after Yangyang takes his phone out of his pocket, giving it to her after unlocking it.

“Do you need me to call a cab for you?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll walk home—”

“No way.” Yangyang denies, eyes turning to his manager. “Can we wait five minutes and call a cab for her? I can’t leave her alone here.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“I want to.” He says, taking his phone in between his hands again before pointing to a door on the left. “There are some really good crepes over there, want to eat something as my manager calls a cab for you?”

A dream man doesn’t exist, they just don’t. She knows this, has engraved it in her brain and heart with each disappointment that has met her in the shape of a lover. However, with Yangyang talking over bites of his food, films that she hasn’t even heard about going past his lips with ease, summary after summary all awfully explained, she can’t help but think that she can get used to it.

Get used to the fluttery feeling that follows her when he closes the door to her cab and waves to her until he’s out of sight.  

###

To: Group-Chat.

I’m going to Yangyang’s place today.

The meteorite that splays in colors, leaving a black hole in its wake, comes in the shape of messages, both meaning to entice her to go into this damned date…and others simply for the sake of laughter.

From: Liying.

Ask for Alexander Wang’s newest collection.

From: Elena Wang.

He has money?

From: Liying.

Lots.

From: Yifei.

That’s it.

Girls.

We’re collectively asking for something so our babe can ask Yangyang to gift it to her.

And we do that each time they meet.

From: Elena Wang.

A ring.

From: Shishi.

The entire Dragon Ball collection.

From: Liying.

Clothes for children.

Preferably my daughter.

From: Bingbing.

Ladies, we all collectively suck.

We shouldn’t ruin her date like that.

(I say, as I lie through my teeth).

From: Angela.

We’re just joking, babe.

Go on that date!

If it didn’t work with Liying, it may work for you.

To: Group-Chat.

Thanks for making it awkward, Ange.

Important nights deserve bigger measures. An extra look in the mirror. Another movement of her hands to fix her hair and a blow of air that almost leaves her breathless, opening one more button of her shirt before hooking it again. She straightens her back, but with her heart thumping against her ribcage with more intensity at the action, she sighs. What is it about him? This man, whose life doesn’t fit hers at all, manages to make her curious. An itch. Thirst. Whatever this is, it palpitates with curiousness.

The mansion looks different in the daylight, but maybe she was a bit too tipsy when she had been here last. She smiles at the door, because why not practice for a while? Why not wait and ponder if this is another one of her bad decisions? Someone whose sunshine smile radiates on her eyes, blinds her, then takes her to a million trips towards the fields of heartbreak. He’ll know everything of her before she will even know what his favorite color is.

She had grown with only women in her life. No man in sight. Women gave out their empathy while men casted sympathy. Love is such a wicked game that it never gave her a moment to think better, to think about the words that had always been told to her:

Find a man who’d stop himself from kissing you if that meant hearing your voice.

But that never happens, so why is she here? Why does her finger come forward and press on the doorbell? Legs shaking, hands twirling against one another, she stops herself from running away when she hears Yangyang’s voice coming from the microphone at the entrance, telling her to hold up for a second.

She doesn’t need a man.

Then, why does she want one?

Why does she want him?

Diamonds have never been her thing, for the brightest thing she has seen is a smile. Convertibles can’t mean a thing when she can move in a cab and get the company of someone else while she writes some songs on the way home. Yangyang believes in the opposite of the world she has built for herself—the truest her, but that doesn’t seem to cross her head when he’s in front of her, in a white t-shirt and the air of a fucking nightmare.

Because falling for Yangyang is going to be a nightmare, much more when he calls her name as if it’s the melody of his favorite song that he had forgotten about in the twists of life, and when it comes up in the radio, he just knows about it. The lyrics, the tune, he appreciates it, loves it to bits for the three minutes and some seconds that it lasts.

Yangyang is three minutes and some seconds.

Yangyang is a nice feeling, nothing more, nothing less.

“You look pretty.” The glance-over he gives to her body is imperceptible, had it not been for his compliment, she would have never noticed that Yangyang spared one of the rushed seconds of his day by looking at her. “Wanna get inside?”

“It’s not like I came here to stand by the door.” She jokes around, making sure to smile just to avoid any misunderstandings. Yangyang closes the door behind them when she does get inside, one arm coming up to rest on her shoulder as he moves her forward.

“You know, I really thought you were, like, the sweet kind when I met you.”

“I am the sweet kind.” She wishes she could pay more attention to the living room around her, much more spacious when there are not hundreds of people scattered to make a place for themselves in this world of social rules. “You just…” Her words cut off when she looks at him, for his lips tell her—in silence, something she would never connect with Yangyang—that she’ll probably get in trouble with this one. “You don’t make it easy to be sweet to you.”

His lips move with such precision in her line of sight that she almost snaps out of it. Looking into his eyes would be less of a clear sign of her interest, but when he throws himself on top of his couch, legs sprawled like his arms to call out for her attention, she realizes something…

She’s really interested in Liu Yangyang.

“I’m going to earn it, I’m sure.” How in the world Liying called him insecure? She’s not sure. Instead, Yangyang leans his weight forward, taking a big bag of Doritos from the coffee table before opening it in one swift motion. A remote rests on his other hand, leaning back on the couch with the bag placed on his lap and his left arm extended for her to lay on it. “I have some films for us to watch…and I bought different snacks because I wasn’t sure which one you liked the most.”

“We can share.” She says, taking the spot beside him before slowly descending into the pits of Hell, letting her cheek rest on the side of his slim arm. “Do I get to pick what film to watch?”

Yangyang’s hand practically snatches eight pieces of Doritos to throw them inside his mouth, nodding in the process. “That was the initial plan.”

“Okay.” Taking the remote from his hands, she skims through the unreleased films he had talked about. “How do you even have these films?”

“My family owns a film production company. They all come from there.” Yangyang says as if it’s the most casual thing in the world, and she tries not to make a big deal out of it.

“Then, how did you end up in a reality show?”

“It’s a reality show to, well, like, show the lives of rich people and their children. I’m not always there, like, I’m not a regular.”

“Ah, I see…” She replies. “Does your family appear more regularly on the show?”

“What?” Yangyang asks incredulously, smiling.

“You said rich people and their children…”

“Yeah, but my family didn’t want to tag along.” His voice doesn’t become distant, fingers resting on her shoulder to play a bit with the fabric of her shirt. “Mom said if I was crazy for putting a portion of my life out there—for basically looking for the wrong kind of, like, of…” He looks up for a second, finding the right words. “Publicity, but I didn’t care at the time. I thought it was just going to be like recordings of my friends and I when we went out partying.”

“And what is it like?” She questions, cheek squished against his skin, movies momentarily forgotten for a moment, for her eyes are absolutely connected to this portion of him—the real behind the blinding smile.

“They give you a script and they make you sign a contract that says you have to, like, always be involved in drama, I want to say?” Yangyang chuckles in the process. “Basically, if I stayed quiet for too long, my manager would have to make me do something. Like, I don’t know, create a dating rumor or something…and that would have people talking for a while and boom,” He claps his hands together, right over her body, making her chuckle in the process. “We have a new season.” Though, the position makes him be a bit closer to her, enough for her to count his eyelashes, see the small blemishes on his delicate skin.

“Do you do that right now?”

“Nope, I stopped being a regular because of that.” Yangyang drags his voice, a groan coming soon after. “It was tiring. I’m just there for the fun…and for acting experience, I guess. It’s fun to see the drama go on when I’m not in the drama.”

“Huh, interesting.”

“What about you?”

“Pardon?”

“What do you do?” His back comes in contact with the couch once again, leaving her with the time to breathe in oxygen and not his pure cologne. Somehow, she misses it.

“I’m a singer.” Though, she corrects herself when Yangyang parts his lips in surprise. “Well, I am trying to be a singer—let’s just say I am unemployed as of now. I have a manager, just haven’t had my big break, that’s all.”

“You are not part of a record label?” Yangyang asks, only to have her shaking her head. “Well, I have some contacts. I think one of my cousins owns a record label, so I could call him up—”

“Yangyang, you haven’t even heard me sing.” She tells him…because Yangyang lives his life with a blindfold, stepping forward without seeing if there’s an abyss just two steps away. “Are you always like this with strangers? You can’t offer me opportunities like that—”

For the first time in a while, Yangyang stays silent—he never does, much less does he look like he’s deep in thought, as if there is a portion of him that questions the reason behind his smiles, his humongous parties, his social presence that seems to follow him everywhere he goes. “Isn’t it better to trust too much than not trust anyone at all?”

“No.” She says, fingers coming up to interlock with his on her shoulder. “Yangyang, you’re going to end up hurt. Not by me, I can reassure you that, but by someone else…”

“It’s not like it hasn’t happened.” Yangyang says, and the seriousness in his voice is masked by a cramped smile. “It, like, it doesn’t matter. I’m a savage. I have money. It doesn’t matter, really. I can get over anything.”

“…Yeah, but you should be careful about what you give out to people.”

“A record deal isn’t that big of a—”

“Yangyang, I have spent years trying to find a record deal, of course it’s difficult—”

“Then, let me help you.”

“No.” She adds. “The beauty of reaching your dream is knowing you went through Hell and back for it, and you never gave up.”

One hand rests over her head, moving her from side to side. “That’s such a big brain person saying. I don’t even know what, like, to tell you.” Laughter bubbles from her, staring at his brown eyes that twinkle under the sunlight that peaks through the windows. “Okay, I’ll let it be.”

“Okay. Thank you, anyways.”

“Anytime.” This time around, she does turn her attention back to the TV screen, humming a song to herself as she looks through the options. “Oh shit, I forgot the drinks.”

Yet, she’s too comfortable in his arms to really care about that at this moment. “We can go search for them after the movie.”

“Are you really going to have Doritos without some soda on the side?”

“…Yes. It’s the healthier option, actually.”

“It’s not the—” Yangyang cuts himself short, sighing deeply. “It’s not the funniest option, darling. Life is about having fun.”

“Are we really having this conversation over soda?”

“Yes.” Yangyang throws his head back, neck in full display for her to see when he calls out a name she doesn’t know: “Lai Fang!” Silence. “Lai Fang, can you get me some soda, please?”

It must be one of his workers, now that she thinks about it, but much to Yangyang’s surprise, more than one person get out of the kitchen. Each of them dressed to utmost perfection—all in black uniforms, but sporting something similar other than that…the luggage that they carry, some bags, some simply display their disappointment on their faces.

The woman in the front, with short hair and lively nature, lets the wrinkles on her face speak about her years of hard work when she lowers her voice the slightest. “Yangyang, I’m sorry to say that I am not going to be working here anymore. None of us are.”

Maybe, since this is a date, she had expected Yangyang to act remotely cool. However, his arm slips away from the back of her head as he stands up, rushing to whom she supposes is Lai Fang. “What? No, no, no, no, no.” He repeats, waving his hands in the air as panic overtakes him. “I’ve paid you all. My chefs, my cleaners, my valets, my guards. What? Why are you leaving?”

Lai Fang sighs deeply, taking Yangyang’s hands in between hers before rubbing soft circles on top of the skin. “Yang, your family asked for some time-out. We will no longer be working here for you because they want you to learn how to fend for yourself. Something about being too spoiled—”

“Guys!” Yangyang says, a smile on his face as he tries to mend things. She rests her chin on the backrest of the couch, staring at the scene unfolding in front of her. His world is crumbling down at his feet at that mere moment. “Guys, we don’t have to tell them! I’m perfectly fine with doing my stuff, but you know how it is…nothing will ever be the same without all of you guys here!”

“We have to leave, Yangyang.” Lai Fang lets go of his hands, and what seems to be tears gather at her eyes as she pulls away from him.

“No, Lai Fang! You can’t leave—!” Almost like a kid watching his mother go to work in the morning as he stayed home on a Saturday, Yangyang tries to rush for the entrance door, stopping anyone from leaving. Had it not been for one of the other workers winning over him in speed and opening the door, no one would have been able to leave. “What am I going to do now?”

“Be a normal young adult and live your own life.” Lai Fang says, rubbing her eyes before waving her hand at Yangyang one last time. “You can always text me if you need help, but this is the last day I’m working for you, Yangyang.”

“But—” His words are cut off with the staff leaving one by one, not hearing his pleas when the door closes in front of him before he could say anything else.

Silence fills the air. Seconds in which his eyes seem to be trained to that door, as if he just had a nightmare and he’ll wake up at any second. The screen still blinks and calls for their attention, so she does what would be best in that moment—

“Let’s watch a movie and calm down for a second, okay?”

Yangyang cuts himself out of whatever trance he had put himself in, clearing his throat before nodding. “Yeah, I’ll go look for the soda.”

“Sure. I’ll wait for you here.”

The sound of pans clashing against each other, plates clanking obnoxiously and Yangyang cursing under his breath continuously tells her that this won’t be easy for him. Liu Yangyang has been left to be a normal adult for once, and he can’t quite fit in into the role. What a curse.

###

With soup sloshing around the container that she holds in between her hands, she doesn’t know how to ring Yangyang’s doorbell. She could scream, of course, but she doubts he will hear her from the depths of his mansion. Not that there are a lot of people there to start with, considering that all his staff left only days ago, but with how saddened he has been about the loneliness in his own home, she can imagine he’s buried deep in his bed, earphones taking him to a whole new world where he doesn’t actually have to prepare lunch.

Her foot must do.

She brings her foot up until it graces the doorbell, but it falls down before she could ring it. Fuck. She repeats the action and digs the tip of her Converse shoes into the doorbell, creating a prolonged sound that should call out for Yangyang’s attention. In the far distance, she hears an unintelligible scream that she connects to his presence, followed by the sprinting that she knows he always does when going through his house.

Out of the many things she has done for someone she is interested in—cursive in interested, there’s nothing more there—, making them the healing soup she had perfected from an online recipe and bringing it to them wasn’t an option. Sure, maybe she just feels a tad guilty for what happened to Yangyang, it wasn’t his fault to live in a world of fantasies and for him to be dropped into reality in the blink of an eye. That doesn’t happen to a lot of people.

But, why is she helping him?

The door opens to welcome the sight of Yangyang looking like the most beautiful mess she has ever met. For the first time in her life, she believes it when people say the best of attractions come when you’re attracted to everything, including their imperfections. His brown hair stays a mess on his head, sticking around in several portions. Eyebags cover his usually taut skin, and for utmost reference of what he is doing, his hands are bathed in soap. His shirt—once white, she can realize that much—now sprawls bits of pink in the weirdest of places, the only thing seemingly put together the gray sweatpants on his nice legs.

“Help.” Yangyang breathes out at that moment, not quite realizing that his hands are very soapy when he comes forward to wrap her up in a hug. Yangyang’s dramatic on his actions, she believes, and his parents may want to start pondering on adding him to one of their movies by the way he lifts her off her feet the slightest to hug her, bending her back a bit to be able to push his weight forward, hide his face on her hair and let out the longest sigh she has heard. “I’m trying to do laundry and all my clothes are now pink.”

…She’s helping him because of this.

The hand that is not only onto the container rests on his back, fingers threading over the fabric of his shirt to rub against his scapula. “Oh, baby, that’s no good…”

“I’ve been doing laundry for an entire night and now all my Alexander Wang collection is gone.”

Oh, shit.

One of her friends had mentioned the Alexander Wang collection…and she doesn’t know how much it is worth, but it’s one hell of a lot.

“Yang, have you had anything to eat?”

“Cheetos count?”

She pulls away to look into his eyes, running her free hand over his locks to pat them in place, though his hands don’t let go of her waist and her eyes can’t get enough of this sight of his face that she had not seen. The pout, the helplessness, the beauty of wanting to try to be normal. “Cheetos don’t count.” She mumbles, lifting the container up to his face. “I brought you some soup. My special healing soup.”

With nimble fingers, he grasps onto the plastic container, eyes widening momentarily before he babbles out: “A—And you’re helping me learn how to do laundry?”

“How about this?” She makes herself at home when she goes past him, taking off her jacket and swathing it on the hanger at the corner. “I’ll teach you how to be a normal person. Laundry. How to use a stove. All of the like.”

Yangyang closes the door behind him, his fingers now coming in contact with the little post-it note she had placed on top of the container, and she has to look away the moment he lowers his gaze to read it in a mumble.

“You can do it, Yang.” He reads out, before a sweet giggle leaves his lips. “Okay, let’s learn how to be a normal person.”

###

“Wait, wait, wait, hold up.” Even when saying that, Yangyang’s actions don’t falter the slightest bit, squatting in front of her guitar case to open it as she prepares her electric guitar for a street performance. “You have to do this every time you run out of money?”

He doesn’t understand it, and she can’t bring herself to be mad at him, looking around in case anyone has heard the mere obvious. She still owes her landlord one month of rent and in light of not having any café or bar performances coming soon, she has to search for a way to reunite the money to be able to pay her rent. Crossing the guitar over her chest and making sure the guitar amplifier is well connected, she hums at what he says.

The city bustles on its wake this afternoon, people going from side to side, the lake behind her surrounded by tourists and people who want to have their sweet picnics. Much to their delight, she’s going to sing today…and that may be against what they would have imagined their afternoon to go like.

“Yep.” She pops the word out, lowering the volume and practicing some of her minor chords. “Yangyang, being an artist is difficult and maybe, I’m just really not that talented, and that’s why—”

Yangyang moves his hands from side to side in front of her, movements erratic and somewhat dramatic, the sleeves of his designer sweater floating around his hands comically. “We’re not saying that. You’re talented. That’s something I have already established.”

“You haven’t even heard me play or sing anything.”

This is all he needs, a challenge or a dare, something that makes him sit in front of her guitar case, dropping a few bills into it that may be a little bit too much, his whole attention trained towards her—weeks of knowing him and still, she can’t see an imperfection in him that doesn’t make her heart beat rapidly, either in annoyance or because she’s flattered by this whole new world that she has met with him. “Okay, play something.” Yangyang says, bringing his knees up his chest, his chin squishing itself against the bony surface before nodding softly. “I’ll be your biggest fan, I promise.”

She has played the guitar too many times, sang even more, when sober or when drunken, when in a party or when alone, but somehow, this feels different. His eyes on hers, studying her but never judging her, listening and truly understanding the words that escape her lips when she sings, watching her with so much intent that she feels nervousness for the first time. Her eyes close, trying to lose herself in the feeling of being there—of being supported, because Liu Yangyang oddly feels like her first fan, and she’s not quite against it.

When she opens her eyes, minutes later to start another song, she’s surprised not to see Yangyang. Not that he is too far away, blending into the groups of people as he calls them over, pointing at her widely in a way that has her laughing a bit at herself in between the words she is singing. Yangyang sprints from one place to the other, capturing people as he says:

“Do yourselves a favor and listen to her!”

It’s at that moment that she realizes there is really something more than interest, but what would be closer to love at first sight. There, with him, she can’t imagine having no one else by her side. There, with him, she wondered how in the world destiny had connected the two of them. Not a bad match, but definitely an unexpected one.

###

There’s a reason why human contact is so beautiful, and it is because the brain has the possibility of remembering far more than what we intend. Homely, it feels like, when Yangyang enters the convenience store after parking the cheapest of his convertibles outside, and decides to slot his fingers in between hers. Slim fingers, nails that come in contact with the outside of her hand, his rings scalding in coldness against her skin. There are diamonds in there, ones that left imprints each time he held her hand, but now she can’t get enough of them.

She wouldn’t say Yangyang is perfect—he isn’t. Spoiled, he seems to be, somewhat lost in his own world of seeing the good in everyone. For him, spending as much as he does is enjoying life, but he’s learning. A good listener, a copycat of what he hears and deems right, Yangyang now comes into a new phase of his life.

With her free hand, a kiss resting on her cheek in the process, she takes a cart out of its confines. Yangyang fixes the cap on his head as if not to bother her when he goes for another kiss to her cheek, the fabric of his white sweater—no longer making his clothes turn pink, thankfully—rubs against her forearm when she speaks up. “Now, Yangyang, how much should we normally spend in groceries?”

The man thinks for a moment, walking forward with her as she goes to the first hall. “I don’t know, like, seven hundred bucks?”

She turns to him with her eyebrows very raised, lips parted before breathing out the deepest of: “No. Yangyang, what the fuck? You live alone, I’m sure you can get to spend much less than that.”

“Sorry.” Yangyang speaks, laughter overtaking his body, his shoulders shaking in the process. “I spend like a thousand at minimum every time I buy something.”

This is the part of her that, sometimes, feels like Yangyang and her will never fit into the same sentence. Too different of lives can only create a mess when colliding together. A beautiful mess, she likes to call it. Losing him is not something she is thinking about as of now. “No, Yangyang, we’re not—We’re not doing that.”

“Okay, so what must I do?” Yangyang asks, and she takes this moment to dip her hand into her own pocket, taking her phone out, unlocking it and giving it to him.

“We’re going to use our trusting friend, a calculator, and try to stop ourselves from overspending.” She speaks softly, listening to the faint sound of what seems to be jazz music in the background. “And by us, I mean you.”

“In my defense, I always ‘almost failed’ math class in high school.” Yangyang replies and, as always, he makes her laugh.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey! I was a great student in, like, language class and stuff.”

Something about the smiles they both share makes her feel perfect—it shouldn’t, never has she felt quite like this, and somehow, she can’t bring herself to pull away when his lips come forward and rest on her forehead. Not that he has gotten anywhere remotely close to her lips, though, practically prolonging the stress of not knowing where they stand. Friends. Friends that like each other. Fire and water coming together. Something.

It’s comfortable, but no one knows exactly what it is.

###

The shivering feeling that comes after a sip of lemonade, sugar to the tongue, on a hot day of summer is the best feeling in this world. It reminds her of excitement—to reply to someone’s text on the early stages of dating, to get on stage for the first time after hearing a round of applause, all in one simplistic taste. Not even the laughter that surrounds her living room as her friends gather around could make her feel as great.

Her head lays on Bingbing’s lap, the fabric of the red dress Yangyang had bought for her relishing against her skin when she turns to her side, listening to the story Elena is telling through sips of her wine, the glasses ones that she hadn’t ever gotten out of her shelves but now co-exist in the hands of her friends. Life is good, for one second, she doesn’t have to think about the unknowingness of her existence in a world that is much too big.

Though, someone knocks at her door, enough to interrupt Elena as she presses her mouth in a thin line. “Who could it be? We haven’t ordered anything yet.” Elena says, and Bingbing takes the time to extend her hands after she gets off, pulling her dress down the slightest to cover more of her thighs and go over to the door.

“We should. I’m craving pizza like crazy.” Bingbing instructs, but she doesn’t pay much attention to what the woman is saying. Instead, she pulls a sweater up and down her body, covering the neckline of her dress before getting the door. Fingers threading on the doorknob, she opens it without really checking who it is, and if someone had told her this would be a sight for her to see months ago, she would’ve laughed straight at their faces.

A starry-looking button down covers his chest, but his legs are in display thanks to his ripped jeans, yet the dark color scheme is changed for something much brighter when his lips part in a smile and he points at the cardboard he has hanging from his neck thanks to some thick thread.

In red letters, much too bright, clearly in his handwriting, Yangyang has written ‘Kissing Booth’ and one dollar by its side. “Hi!” Yangyang greets, making everyone in the living room shush themselves to listen to what they’re saying—he may not see them, but all her friends had noticed him. “So, since you don’t let me help you economically and, like, you said you would only accept money that you’ve earned…I’m doing a kissing both. One dollar and I give a kiss out. So, you know, I can give you some money.”

She has to frown at his logic, or maybe, it’s the idea of Yangyang kissing anyone but her that makes the lemonade glass on her hands almost fall. “Yang, what are you even talking about?”

“All profits from the kissing booth will go directly to your bank account for your rent.” He indicates, moving his feet back and forth before looking up. “…I haven’t had any clients, though—”

“You are not having any clients.” She conquers.

“Why?”

“I’m not letting you kiss anyone.” The moment those words leave her lips, she can hear Liying snickering in the far distance, too soft for it to be heard by anyone, much more when Shishi splays her hand on top of her mouth to keep her from making any noise. “…For me. I’m not letting you kiss anyone for me.”

“Why?” Yangyang asks, leaning his weight against the doorframe before quirking an eyebrow. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“…Ah…” She clears her throat, not noticing just how close he is until she feels that damned, obnoxiously ugly cardboard sign bump against her chest. “What if I am?”

Taking his wallet out of his pocket, Yangyang gets out a lot more bills than necessary, putting them on her hand before shrugging. “You shouldn’t. Someone just paid you around a hundred kisses from the kissing booth guy. I don’t know the source, though.”

With her heart thumping like crazy, she watches as Yangyang takes her by the waist, hands fisting the fabric of her sweater before his lips descended upon hers. Fervor bleeds through his kisses, wanting and needing more of her, overtaking any rational thoughts as he makes all the worries dissipate. Her hands have a mind of their own as they thread through his hair, never getting enough of him—enough of the fantasies he likes to live just to spice up her reality.

When he pulls away, he gives a step forward, ready to take her inside until she breathes out quickly: “Yang, all my friends are here.”

“What?” The poor guy says, roses blooming on his cheeks when he turns to the left, watching the group of women raise their hands in the air.

“Surprise!” They all greet in a way that has Yangyang hiding his face on the crook of her neck, bringing a smile to her face.

She could get used to this. Not for three seconds, but for much longer.

#yangyang scenarios #yangyang #wayv scenarios #wayv #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #how to lose someone in seven steps?

[plus-size-reader]

Surprise

Percy Jackson x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1585 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Aphrodite’s youngest daughter makes friends with Percy, only for him to be shocked when he finds out who she is.

——————————————————————————————————

Sending you to bond with Percy alongside Grover made the most sense of all the demigods. You were the most gentle, the sweetest, and there wasn’t a being in all the cosmos you couldn’t charm. 

You wouldn’t be in any serious danger outside the walls of the camp, and besides, you had Grover to keep you out of too much trouble. 

It just made the most sense to surround Percy with as many allies as he could have in the mortal world, and you agreed to be a part of it without question.

If you could make the whole transition easier for him, you had to do your best. 

It was what campers did for each other, though it didn’t really seem to be a traditional sort of quest. It was more of a countermeasure than anything else, and you were okay with that. 

You had never been the hunting monsters kind anyway. 

...And of everything, that was the first thing Percy took in about you. 

Grover introduced you to him as a friend, and that was all he needed to know. In truth, Percy didn’t have all that many so he couldn’t be picky and if Grover was going to voche for you, you had to be pretty cool. 

It was simple, for a few days. 

However, as most things did in your life, it eventually came crashing down around you. In this particular instance, it was because every monster for a thousand meters thought Percy had Zeus’ lightning bolt...Something they were willing to kill for. 

Which could only mean one thing. 

It was time to take Percy Jackson to Camp Halfblood. 

“Look, it doesn’t make any sense, but you just gotta trust me” Grover assured, rushing him along the sidewalk as quickly as he could with you following close behind. 

If the fury's knew he was here, it was only a matter of time before every other horror from the depths of tartarus found its way to him. Percy’s life was in danger, and nothing could change that now. 

Not even his father. 

“Grover’s right Perc, we have to get out of here” you huffed, trying to keep up with the two of them while also dodging the oblivious civilians just on their way to a nine-to-five. 

If only they knew what else the world had to offer, and what dangers it beheld right beneath their noses. They probably would never sleep again and at this rate, you couldn’t blame them. 

Still, you kept on because it was your destiny as a demigod. You had been born to do this, and there was no choice in the matter. Percy would come to terms with that same reality soon enough. 

He had to.

“We’re gonna take you somewhere safe” 

~ 

It was safe to say that the news of Percy Jackson arriving at Camp Halfblood shocked everyone. However, by that point, all you could think about was the way he had taken out the Minotaur without any formal combat training. 

It should have been impossible. 

No one should have been able to survive that with such little preparation and it surprised you that he was still breathing. Even still, no one had visited Percy as much as you had since he’d gotten there. 

“Is he awake yet?” you wondered, peeking your head in toward where Grover was sitting, at the end of Percy’s bed. You had been checking on him constantly, but nothing had happened quite yet. 

There had been no new development in the last day, and you were getting tired of it. 

“Right on time” Grover allowed, gesturing you over to where he was, not even bothering to answer your question. He knew what you were here for, and what you had been here for. 

That wasn’t going to change. 

The secret reason for your visits wasn’t lost on your shared friend, but Grover didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, no one would be better suited for Percy anyway. 

There was no point in outing your crush right now. 

Luckily though before Grover had to worry about that, he got to inform you that Percy was waking up, you would be able to bother him in the flesh, instead of through the satyr. 

“Y/N?” Percy muttered, his words a little slurred, likely do to the multiple days he’d been asleep. He knew that it was you, of course, but there was something different about you. 

You were almost glowing in the light streaming in from the tent. 

...He must have really hit his head. 

“What do you remember, Perc?” you tried, letting your hand fall lightly on his face to brush his dark hair from where it was sticking to his forehead. He had worked up quite a bit of a sweat in all this time. 

Not that you could really blame him. 

Anyone else wouldn’t have survived what he did. 

“Just a crazy dream. There was this camp, and Grover had goat legs or something...there was this monster” he rambled on, doing his best to recall the strangest details of the odd vision. 

This was going to be good. 

“Um, Perc?” you laughed, stopping him with a glance over your shoulder at the satyr. The big, brave protector had some explaining to do if this was going to go over well. 

It was quite the transition but Percy was about to learn that nothing in the world he knew was how it seemed...least of all, you. 

All things considered though, you decided to just let Grover take over from this point, knowing he would do much better at it than you would. After all, you had only signed up for companionship, not full guardian duties. 

“So you’re telling me this is all real?” Percy repeated, thinking it over. He had only been up for a few minutes, enough to comprehend what was going on, but not long enough to start panicking.

It was the perfect time to introduce this whole new world to him. 

“Wait, so if my mom couldn’t pass through the gate, but Y/N can, that means-” he connected, looking at you with narrowed, but gentle eyes as if you were hiding something he couldn’t see. 

...But Grover was quick to pick up the slack. 

“Percy, Y/N is like you” he laughed, speaking slowly as he talked to the other male. It should have sunk in by now but Grover couldn’t blame him after the spill he’d taken. 

Anyone would be a little mixed up over that. 

“This ray of sunshine is Aphrodite's youngest daughter, and the greatest archer I’ve ever seen” Grover started, smiling at you as he spoke. 

You two had been friends for a long time, but you never got tired of being around the satyr. He respected you, and you never once felt anything but loved around him. 

There was silence in the room for a moment. 

Percy knew all about Aphrodite of course, but he hadn’t made that connection in all the time that he’d been around you. Sure, he’d always found you compelling, but he didn’t give it much thought until now. 

...Had that been the only reason? 

Perhaps the feelings he thought he had for you were just the work of some cosmic magical crap that he couldn’t hope to understand. However, a part of him hoped not. 

He wanted it to be real. 

“Wait seriously? Are you sure?” he asked, staring between the two of you with wide eyes as if he was somehow being tricked. It made sense, given everything he was taking in right now, but there was something else. 

Something about the way he asked hurt you, as if he didn’t believe that you were who you said you were. 

Perhaps it stemmed back to years and years of being told that you should have looked different than you did given your parentage, but you couldn’t hold it back. 

You felt like he was insulting you, even if maybe he wasn’t. 

“Yeah, pretty sure...why? Were you expecting something different?” you wondered, not even bothering to cover up the hurt tone in your voice. After everything you two had done together, this was really what was getting him? 

It didn’t make any sense. 

“No, I just wouldn't have guessed that is all” he shrugged, clearly missing the fact that he had seriously hurt you just now. 

Normally, you would have just let it go but you had been hearing that forever and to hear those words from Percy’s lips was too much. Maybe the others you could get over, but not him. 

Percy was important to you, and you cared about him...but he was just like everyone else. 

He was going to reject you simply because he thought you should be different, that you should be like your sisters. 

Your mother had more demigod children than nearly every other God, and every one of your sisters was a perfect, spitting image of your mother, except for you. 

It was bound to weigh on you eventually. 

“Sure, I get it” you sighed, leaving quickly before you could let either of them see you cry. Percy hadn’t meant to hurt you, but knowing that wasn’t enough to stop the hot tears leaking from your ducts. 

It stung to think that even Percy couldn’t see past your appearance, just like everyone else. 

After all, what could you expect from him? Clearly, Percy Jackson was just like every other half blood in the camp. 

#percy jackson #Percy Jackon and the Olympians #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x ps reader #percy jackson x plus size reader #the lightening thief