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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

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Hug-o-gram | Yoongi

→ summary:

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K → a/n: another commission by the lovely @jincherie because she’s epic like that!! she literally just told me to write whatever the hell i wanted and well... yoobie got me Good... anyway here’s more yoongi fluff bc apparently i’m a fluff writer now and sometimes i just want my boy to be happy... appa yip yip

Kim Seokjin makes a lot of good decisions. He also makes plenty of bad ones, but he likes to think the score is lying heavily towards the positives. Min Yoongi will be the first one to quickly disagree, but Seokjin doesn’t let it get to him. He doesn’t make it his business to listen to opinions that don’t immediately align with his, anyway; he likes to call it “selective hearing.” Yoongi calls it stupidity. Either way, the point still stands: Seokjin knows a good idea when he sees one. Case in point:

“This automatic popcorn machine is absolutely divine,” Seokjin moans, his mouth agape as he waits for the Mister Popcorn Robot to bestow him with another morsel of goodness.

“Yeah,” is Yoongi’s verbose reply. He also has his mouth agape, his prone body lying side by side with his roommate of four years in their small living room. Their roomba (another one of Seokjin’s good ideas) cleans all around them, its steady whirring serving as their only source of background music. “Lowkey though, I think our position isn’t quite… as optimized as it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, as he drapes his leg over Yoongi’s. His movement jostles the surrounding popcorn halo around them, as most of the food had missed their mouths by a couple of centimeters. At this point, the roomba has probably eaten more of the popcorn than the two of them combined.

“Nothing,” Yoongi shrugs, or whatever might be the lying down equivalent of a shrug. Some of the popcorn on his chest falls down, only to be quickly devoured by roomba-chi. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, tracing shapes out of the cracks that Seokjin had accidentally made when he tried using a pogo stick indoors. He points up, catching Seokjin’s attention. “Hey, hyung. Doesn’t that look a bit like Y/N?”

Seokjin squints. “You mean the mysterious brown stain near the lights? I think the toilet from the elderly couple upstairs might have leaked that.”

“No, you dipshit. The squiggly curve over there. It reminds me of her smile.” Yoongi says. There’s a stupid dopey grin on his face and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it off.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seokjin groans, turning over to envelop Yoongi in a sweaty half-armed hug. The buttery residue on his arms and stomach leaves something to be desired, but Yoongi doesn’t scoot away. He only continues to sigh dreamily, staring mindlessly at the image of you that only his lovelorn brain can imagine.

Seokjin slaps Yoongi in the face. “Dude, get a fucking grip,” he grouses, giving Yoongi a serious look. The younger doesn’t break out of his trance, further irritating him. “Will you stop pining in front of my popcorn? It’s seriously making roomba-chi lose her appetite!”

To his credit, roomba-chi did seem to be slowing down, though that could also be because it had overloaded with popcorn and was seconds away from exploding. Wouldn’t be the first time, but Seokjin always managed to find a way to save roomba-chi from imminent death. She was like a daughter to him.

“Hyung, you know I can’t. I just… God, I really like her, you know?”

“That’s the third time you said that within the last hour. Believe me, I know.” Seokjin groans, shoving Yoongi away. He sits up, reaching over to the popcorn machine and switching it off. He grabs a fistful of fallen popcorn from the ground and shoves it inside Yoongi’s mouth. “There. That should shut you up.”

“Aw weawwy wike hew, hwung.”

“And yet, you still haven’t done anything after four years,” Seokjin tuts, finally standing up. He stretches his limbs, his joints creaking youthfully. He grabs his phone from the coffee table, nearly dropping it from the butteriness of his fingers. The clock reads 4:32 PM, which means–

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbows. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

“Hyung, let me come with you to work today,” Yoongi decides, walking over Seokjin’s prone body to their shoe rack. He slides into a pair of sneakers, his harried movements unusual for his customary lethargicness. He grabs a coat from its hanger, stomping his feet to get Seokjin to move faster. “C’mon! We have hugs to deliver.”

“Woah woah woah! Slow down there, Simpimus Prime.” Seokjin gets back up to his feet, skipping over to him. An absolutely feral grin is stretched upon his face. “Am I hearing what you’re saying? Are you offering… to deliver hugs with yours truly? Are you finally going to take up my offer to be an employee at Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi scoffs, but his shifting eyes betray him. He fidgets in place, refusing to return Seokjin’s eager gaze. “I just… wanted to go out for once. Yeah.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You haven’t left this apartment other than to go to class in over a month. You never go out. You’re an indoor cat!”

“I’m not a fucking cat,” Yoongi hisses, like a cat. “And of course I go out! There was that one time I went outside to pick up our food delivery last week.”

Judging from Seokjin’s unimpressed stare, Yoongi’s excuse doesn’t cut it. Yoongi flaps his arms around, defeated. “Okay, fine! I rarely go out! Screw me and the bounteous crapload of assignments I have due! It’s not my fault I don’t have the time to socialize and have fun. What do you want from me?”

What Seokjin wants is to push a confession out of Yoongi, not because he needs the confirmation, but mostly because he just wants to annoy Yoongi and say “I told you so!” He’s also pretty cute when he’s all blushy and tsundere whenever he talks about you. Should he film him and sell the footage on eboys.bb? He’s certain that goth boy over here would make a pretty penny.

“You like krabby patties, don’t you Squidward?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Yoongi sniffs, nose upturned. He opens the door, not looking behind him to see Seokjin’s triumphant expression. “C’mon. Y/N’s last class of the day ends in a few minutes and we might catch her before she leaves the Science Building.”

Seokjin snorts. He is quick to slip his own coat on and he follows soon after. He locks their door shut, hopping over to Yoongi and matching his shorter-legged pace. “Yeah. Because you totally just know her schedule at the top of your head. You know, like a normal person.”

Yoongi ignores him. He trudges on, each step filled with determination as they make their way to Seokjin’s beat-up truck. Seokjin skips alongside him, observing the younger boy and placing bets inside his mind. The drive to campus isn’t that long as it only takes around 10 minutes to get there, but Seokjin guesses that Yoongi’s defenses will begin to chip away only 3 minutes into the drive.

He’ll start to realize the gravity of the situation, the cogs in his smooth and slushy excuse of a brain slowly comprehend what he’s about to witness. He’ll first think about how 1) he’s going to see you and that never helps his poor dainty grandpa heart and 2) he’s going to see you hugging Seokjin as he reads to you the short love confession from your anonymous Romeo. Seokjin bets that after 8 minutes, Yoongi will start to break out into a sweat, leaving gross perspiration marks on his good car seat leather.

After exactly 7 minutes and 34 seconds (Seokjin was keeping track of the time on his dashboard), Yoongi’s face turns an unflattering shade of green. “Dude. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Yoongi had originally offered to drive the two of them to campus, but Seokjin had the good foresight to refuse. Had Yoongi been the one on the wheel, he would’ve brought them back home in an instant due to nerves. So instead, Seokjin speeds up, ignoring Yoongi’s soft whimpers of defeat.

“Too bad, but there is no turning back now. I have six deliveries today and I am not putting my livelihood on the line just because your balls have magically shrunk in size,” Seokjin snickers. He glances at Yoongi from the corner of his eye and feels the slightest touch of pity for the pathetic fool beside him. “But if it really makes you want to shit yourself from anxiety, we could save Y/N for last. Though, on second thought… That could also prolong your misery, which I will always be up for.”

“God, shut up,” Yoongi groans, slamming his head on the dashboard. Seokjin continues undeterred as he pulls into the campus parking lot, waiting for his friend to make up his damn mind for once in his life. He supposes that he is being a little harsh on Yoongi, but there are only so many sad love songs he can listen to without going completely insane.

Aren’t you tired of being nice? The demon on his shoulder cajoles, shoving the corpse of his angel counterpart somewhere down a ditch. Don’t you just want to go apeshit?

And who is Seokjin to deny his impulsive needs anyway?

“No, let’s… just get this over with,” Yoongi decides, head still smushed against his dashboard. He doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, not even when Seokjin shuts off the engine and makes a show of “leaving” Yoongi behind.

“Okay, lover boy. You have ten seconds to get your butt into high gear before I’m leaving you behind. And you should know that I’m not above playing dirty and giving Y/N the sweetest fucking hug of her life that will make her forget anyone else exists in this world, so you better start moving before I–”

Like lightning, Yoongi scrambles out of the car faster than if it had caught on fire (and Seokjin’s car has exploded before and Yoongi certainly did not seem as bothered to escape than he does right now.) He nearly trips over himself in his haste, getting caught by the car door and nearly receiving a concrete facial to boot. He straightens up with as much dignity as he can muster (which he doesn’t have very much of, if at all.) Seokjin is kind enough not to mention anything, but the shit-eating grin on his face is enough to make Yoongi bristle.

They exit the parking lot, looking to the world like the sun and moon had turned human for the day. Min Yoongi, with his all-black attire and gaunt appearance, is heavily juxtaposed with the man who appears to have been vomited on by a rainbow. They walk side-by-side together, accustomed to the stares that often come their way when they go out in public.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this,” Yoongi moans for the umpteenth time, his movements stilted like a robot. His footsteps look heavily disjointed like his knees were beginning to rust. His arms swing like a pendulum, adding to the unnaturalness of his motions. Basically, he looks like a fucking idiot.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” Yoongi snaps. Seokjin startles a bit, realizing belatedly that he’d said that out loud. Not that he cares. Yoongi continues, “I’m not the one wearing a fucking cardboard sign that looks like a toddler made it with macaroni and glitter!”

“Hey, Taehyung told me it looked good,” Seokjin sniffs, fingering the macaroni pieces dejectedly. “I don’t need to hear an opinion from a Music major.”

“Shut up, Business major. No one likes you fucking snakes,” Yoongi retorts, crossing his arms. “Your definition of fun is going on LinkedIn and using Excel sheets.”

Distracted by their own quarrel, neither of them notice the sound of the large clock in the middle of campus that chimes every hour, signaling that it was already 5 PM. A few minutes later, hoards of students begin to leave university for the day, the walkways beginning to fill with people as they head home. Amidst the chattering and bustling of everyone trying to get out of the crowd, it is hard to notice that you are also one of the hundreds of people finishing your last class of the day.

But Yoongi notices, as he always does. Call it Y/N intuition, or whatever. “There,” Yoongi points you out over dozens of heads. Seokjin can hardly spot you, but he trusts Yoongi’s weird Y/N-dar to find you without fail. People have begun to notice the two of them, most of whom were whispering excitedly when they notice that Seokjin is in his work attire.

“Oh my god, someone’s getting a hug-o-gram! I wonder who…”

“Have you ever ordered one? I got one for my current girlfriend last month and that’s how we got together.”

“I’ve always wanted to send one, but the prices are insane! Fuck them business students and their capitalist ways.”

“Screw sending a hug to someone else! I wanna order a hug for me. Kim Seokjin is a hot piece of ass.”

(Yoongi swears the last comment had sounded eerily like Seokjin himself, but the older boy’s mouth hadn’t moved in the last minute.)

“Alright, Yoongi. Here’s the plan,” Seokjin leans closer to Yoongi, stage whispering into his ear. Everyone within a six-foot radius is eagerly eavesdropping, not even bothering to pretend that they aren’t. It’s common knowledge that Seokjin basks in their attention, anyway. Yoongi rolls his eyes, urging him to get it over with.

“Y/N is over there, right? Well, I have to send a hug to this guy named Mark Lee too, who just so happens to be over there,” Seokjin points behind them, in the opposite direction of where Y/N was heading, “so here’s my proposition. You go over to Y/N and deliver the hug for me, while I go catch up to Mark so that we can kill one bird with two stones!”

“Excuse me?” Yoongi wheezes, pushing Seokjin away from him. His eyes bug out. “Are you insane? I am not doing that. And the phrase is ‘killing two birds with one stone,’ you fucking idiot.”

“Same shit, Shakespeare! Who cares about numbers!” Seokjin exclaims, exasperated. “Listen, would you rather you hug Mark and I hug Y/N?”

“I would much rather prefer that I stick my whole fist up your anus,” Yoongi seethes.

“Interesting proposition, but maybe for a later time,” Seokjin says, not missing a beat. “Listen, dude. The longer we prolong this little bitchfest you have going on, the farther away Y/N is gonna get. You know I will stop at nothing to deliver her hug anyway, so would you rather you miss your chance right now when I am so magnanimously offering you a shot at getting closer to your crush?”

Even though Yoongi feels like his insides were slowly turning into mashed potatoes, he knows that he had already made a decision long before they left the house. Seokjin is right; this is a good opportunity for him, whether he is willing to admit it out loud. Perhaps it is just because it is Seokjin of all people who is egging him on that preprogrammed him into thinking that this was a bad idea. In all seriousness, it was just a hug, nothing fancy. It isn’t like Yoongi was going to have to kiss you––

(His heart contracts and Yoongi wonders if he’s having a stroke. The thought of your soft lips connecting with his is enough to cause the wind to knock out of his chest. God, Yoongi is so screwed.)

“Why must I always feel as though I am a snail and God is personally salting me,” Yoongi groans, stepping away from Seokjin and heading your way. Behind him, Seokjin hollers in what he assumes is friendly support, but it only further antagonizes Yoongi. The absolute buffoon waves enthusiastically from behind him, a beaming grin almost ready to split his face in two. Yoongi flips him off without looking back.

God fucking dammit. The closer that Yoongi is to approaching you, the stronger the urge to just evaporate like ice cream on hot concrete becomes. He can feel himself perspiring from every corner of his body and he just hopes that his black attire will do well to mask the slimy creature that he is underneath his clothing.

This is all Seokjin’s fault, Yoongi reminds himself. If he hadn’t started this stupid hugging service in the first place, then no one would have ordered a hug for you in the first place. Then Yoongi wouldn’t have to be in this stupid predicament either!

But you could’ve ordered a hug for her if you wanted to, says the annoying part of his brain – the same part that’s always been a little bit too hopeful for Yoongi’s liking. The whispers continue, And she wouldn’t even know it would be you! But more importantly…

“Seokjin wouldn’t know either,” Yoongi huffs irritably because he knows it’s true. The biggest thing stopping him from ever making a move on you, other than his debilitating fear of rejection and heartbreak, is the fact that he’d rather explode into spores than for Seokjin to find out that he’d used his “genius” business idea to get the girl of his dreams.

He’s afraid that one day, Seokjin would magically develop telepathic powers (a fear that Yoongi feels that the majority of the human population should also share) and find out that Yoongi doesn’t actually think his hug-o-gram service is dumb. It’s actually really cute, and Yoongi hates to admit that the success rate of his service is nearly perfect in terms of getting couples together.

But Yoongi is a strong (read: stubborn) man; he’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin the satisfaction of seeing his business work out for his seemingly hopeless case. Which brings him to the present–

You’re standing by the entrance of the Sciences building. You are dressed nicely as always; Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in anything remotely slobby, not even a pair of sweats like any regular uni student. You always look a little bit business proper: the epitome of someone who should be on the student council.

You’re speaking to someone, a younger male student by the looks of it. The hairs on Yoongi’s neck stand at attention and, God forbid, did he just fucking growl? Did he make that sound? By the looks of the students carefully navigating their way around him, Yoongi surmises that he did make that sound. Geez, is he some sort of animal? Is he going to turn into those feral stan accounts on Twitter that salivate over their K-pop boys like it’s their job? He hopes not.

But what if that’s the kid who sent the hug–

Yoongi shuts up his brain before he can let it finish. No, he can’t let himself go down that path. It’ll only cause him to self-combust right then and there, and he isn’t exactly keen on letting you see his entrails anytime soon. That would be the least cool thing to do, he decides. And so, with his brain turned off, he walks over to you, arms swinging robotically by his sides as he forces himself closer.

“Oh thank you so much, Y/N! You’ve been a real help to our club, you know?” The boy (Yoongi can’t believe they’re letting toddlers into university these days!) says, his eyes glittering with an ambition that still hasn’t been killed by the all-consuming dread that comes with university.

You laugh lightly, the sound causing butterflies to flutter excitedly in Yoongi’s chest. “No worries, Soobin. I’m glad I could be of help. If the editorial board needs any more help, don’t be shy to shoot me a message, alright?”

Soobin nods enthusiastically, his head bobbing up and down so quickly that Yoongi was afraid his neck would snap. “No worries, Y/N! Have a good rest of your week!” He waves a cheery goodbye, springing away with his numerous anime keychains on his backpack jingling softly in his wake.

“What a cute kid,” you sigh. You look incredibly fond, and Yoongi hates the bitter coil swimming in the pit of his stomach. That feeling soon fizzles out when you finally turn to face Yoongi. Your eyebrows shoot up, but your expression quickly morphs into one of pleasant surprise. Yoongi’s heart stops for just a moment, feet turning cold. “Yoongi! Oh my goodness, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you! How’s it going?”

Let’s play a game, shall we? How many of Yoongi’s nervous ticks can you spot within the next five minutes? Think of this as the easiest game of Where’s Waldo ever!

“Hnng,” Yoongi stammers, his hand immediately going to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks pinken, pupils shaking in every different direction as they try to focus on anything but you. It always feels like he’s standing way too close to the sun when he’s around you, hardly able to keep his gaze focused on you. He chooses to stare resolutely at your chin, but even your fucking chin was impossibly cute.

Seriously? Yoongi is a walking shitshow! His inner voice comes back, but this time it sounds uncannily like his roommate. Come on, buddy. Just say hi… You know, like a normal person. “H… Hey, Y/N.”

Success count: 1 point for the Yogurt Machine!

Even though Yoongi felt like he was living his worst nightmare, you still looked every bit like his favorite daydream. You are all smiles, seemingly unperturbed by Yoongi’s slow, embarrassing demise. “It’s so good to see you! Midterms haven’t been too hard on you, I hope?”

“I’ve been better,” he says. Better now that you’re here, he leaves unsaid. God, can you imagine if he said that out loud?

Your mouth drops open, soft cherry blossoms blooming across your cheeks. “Um, what did you say?” you squeak, embarrassed. But certainly not as embarrassed as the boy in front of you.

Yoongi stops breathing. He did not say that aloud, had he? Judging by the awkward silence stretching between the two of you, the signs are pointing to: yes. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo–– “Er, what I mean to say is,” Yoongi stutters through his sentence, his entire body flushing fire engine red like it’s nobody’s business. He must look like Satan’s spanked ass right now. “I… I’m here to deliver a hug!”

Confusion quickly replaces the shock on your face. You tilt your head, brows scrunching up cutely. “A hug?” you ask.

“R-right,” Yoongi says, waving his arms around because he has nothing else better to do. He gestures vaguely in the opposite direction, where Seokjin had left to find his other clients. “I’m, uhh… Helping my roommate. Have you heard of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram service?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hop excitedly in place, looking to all the world like the cutest thing in the universe. Yoongi thinks you should be classified as a public hazard, what with how you’re somehow able to give him diabetes just from standing next to him. “I totally heard about that! I’ve always wanted to send a hug, but I’ve always been a little shy.”

That piques Yoongi’s interest immediately. You wanted to send a hug? But to who? He unconsciously clenches his jaw, and he can feel a vein pop up near his neck. He forces himself to smile, but he knows it probably looks more like a grimace. “Oh really? That’s… I didn’t know you had a crush on somebody.”

Yoongi is too busy wallowing in his own self-pity puddle that he misses the way you gaze shyly up at him through your eyelashes, your hands clasped behind your back. “Y-yea… I don’t really go around telling it to just anybody,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. You clear your throat. “So, are you here to deliver a hug or something?”

Nothing gets past you, huh? Yoongi swallows thickly as he twiddles his thumbs. He still can’t bear to look at you head-on, afraid that his emotions would be too obvious if he did. (Who is he kidding… He knows he’s fucking obvious, and yet you never seem to get the picture!) “Yea, I am. I’m here to deliver one to you, actually.”

He doesn’t get to see your reaction, but he does notice the way your entire body stiffens. His mind immediately starts to run a minute, trying to guess why you’d suddenly gone stock still.

Did you know who your secret admirer was already? Or perhaps, were you just thoroughly shocked to receive one at all? That can’t be it… You’re the campus sweetheart! Surely it’s much weirder that it has taken eons for you to get your first hug… Or perhaps, are you so disgusted by the thought of him delivering the hug? Oh my god, what if you didn’t want him to hug you? Shit, this entire thing is a terrible idea! How did Seokjin ever convince him to do this stupid shit and get his heartbroken in the process? He swears he’s going to shove ten firecrackers up his ass the next time he sees him––

“Um, Yoongi?” You’re staring worriedly at him, your hand semi-raised as if you were about to wave in front of him. Did you say something? He must look like a fucking prick to you! He shakes his head, trying desperately to get his mind back into his body. Why must he be cursed with inner monologue disease? What is he, some sort of shoujo manga male protagonist?

“Sorry about that. I’ve been a little spacey these days,” he laughs, but even he can hear the panic laced in his voice. He sounds just on the edge of being hysterical. “Ahaha… What were you saying?”

“I was just… shocked?” You giggle softly, making Yoongi cry internally. You smirk, mischief glittering in your eyes. “I just never imagined you’d be the type to… I don’t know…”

“Willingly hug people for the sake of capitalism? I feel you,” Yoongi snorts, forgetting for a moment who he’s talking to. “Believe me, I’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin to use me for his stupid business venture.”

“Then why are you delivering a hug to me now?” you ask, still smiling.

“Hnng,” Yoongi’s tongue feels like it’s grown two sizes all of a sudden. He wheezes, choking on his own spit as he’s caught off guard by your question. “W-well, I––”

“Just being a good friend, I’m guessing?” You’re full-on giggling now, barely trying to hide your mirth behind your hands. Yoongi understands now; you’re teasing him. He hates how amused you are by his awkwardness, but he loves the way your entire expression lights up, like you’re enjoying yourself by being with him.

“Let’s go with that,” Yoongi mumbles, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He has his head bowed, hoping that his unruly fringe can finally come in handy and hide the disastrous blush encompassing his face. “Right… I’ll just, umm…”

“Am I getting my hug today, or am I gonna have to take a rain check?” You laugh, slapping his shoulder in an attempt to help him shake off the awkward tension. It has the opposite intended effect, as Yoongi’s breath hitches imperceptibly at your proximity. You had taken a step closer, and Yoongi could smell the sweet perfume you always seemed to be wearing. Please don’t pop a boner right now. That would be super fucking creepy.

“You’re…” Yoongi hesitates, arms uselessly immobile by his sides. He doesn’t know if he can even get them to move at this point, as he has lost all motor skills the moment you had focused all your attention on him. It’s a miracle that his heart remembers to beat every so often. “I’m just… I’m just gonna go for it, okay?”

You nod, hands tucked neatly behind your back. “No need to be scared, Yoongi. I don’t bite,” you joke.

God, if you only knew about the dreams I’ve had of you. Yoongi hopes to all the deities from up above that he had not said that aloud, but you don’t seem to be disgusted, so he can only assume that his traitorous brain had disconnected with his mouth for the time being.

He shuffles closer to you, the warmth of your body closing in as he makes the grueling effort to lift his arms up to gently wrap themselves around you, but before he can even fully hug you––

You’re quick to reciprocate. With a small laugh, you wrap your own arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest with more force than Yoongi was expecting. He lets out a soft wheeze, mouth dropping open when he is assaulted by the smell of your fruity shampoo. His hands hover awkwardly above you, still unsure of where it’s okay to touch you without weirding you out.

You tilt your face up, eyes crinkling cutely by the sheer force of your grin. Both of your faces are only centimeters away from each other, and Yoongi could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired. His breathing stills as he becomes positively mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of him. He doesn’t even hear the sound of phone camera shutters around him, as he is much too deeply focused on nothing but you, you, you.

“Hey, don’t half-ass your hug! Gimme a good ol’ bear hug!” you whine, nudging his elbows gently to get them to move. Snapped out of his reverie, Yoongi mechanically does as you say, his head completely empty of thoughts. He wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders, his wrist knocking slightly against the back of your head until you’re back to snuggling deep into his chest.

“Your laundry detergent smells nice,” you say, slightly muffled by his shirt. Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, mostly out of disbelief more than anything. He can’t even begin to process anything right now; he feels like he’s reverted back into a single-celled organism.

“Thanks?” Yoongi squeaks, but you don’t seem to mind his awkward attempts at being a Normal Person™️. You crane your neck upwards so that you’re looking him directly in the eye. There’s a twinkle of mischief there, like you’re enjoying Yoongi’s flushed face a little too much. He honestly feels like he’s seconds away from exploding into tiny bite-sized pieces, and he fears that if you snuggle deeper into his chest, he might just do exactly that.

“So… Are we just supposed to hug for another ten minutes, or am I allowed to let go?”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize how long it’s been. You could’ve been hugging him for ten hours and he wouldn’t have known. Yoongi jerks away from you, nearly vaulting himself across campus by how quickly he lets you go. Thankfully, you don’t appear offended––you were more amused than anything. Yoongi has no idea how red he is right now; he feels like he could be blowing steam out of his ears, astounding anatomists everywhere by his peculiar talent.

“I just have to–” Yoongi pats his back pockets for his phone, clumsily pulling it out and looking for his text messages, “–read this message from your, um, secret admirer and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Great.” You nod at him enthusiastically. “Whenever you’re ready, Yoonie.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches right then, caught off guard by the nickname. Only you ever called him that, and it never fails to make Yoongi’s insides feel like molten lava every time you say it. “I… Yeah, here goes,” Yoongi mutters, trying his best to remember how to speak.

He recites the message with as much enthusiasm as he can manage, which is to say, not very much. He could probably read the phonebook with more zeal, but it’s hard to give it his all when the words feel like acid in his throat. He’s unconsciously clenching his jaw as he speaks, looking like a constipated gorilla. “...so, if you’re single and ready to #mingle, then––” Yoongi stops mid-sentence, staring resolutely at his phone screen with a grimace.

You blink confusedly. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Yoongi finishes, pocketing his phone without an inch of remorse. “I don’t know what was up with that message, but somehow the letter got cut short. Sorry about that.”

“Huh, strange.” You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to question him.

Yoongi fist bumps himself mentally, though other people might disagree and say that he doesn’t deserve any type of congratulations, to which Yoongi says a big “fuck you!” to those imaginary haters. In the wise words of Kim Seokjin himself, “not everyone is worthy to receive your fucks, so it’s time to stop giving them.” (Kim, 2020)

“Well, that was fun! Thanks for delivering the hug to me, Yoonie,” you pinch Yoongi’s cheek, giggling when they turn even redder. “I’ll see you around, I guess? Don’t let those midterms kill ya!” You wave cheerily at him, walking past him and heading towards the bus stops. Yoongi stands frozen in place, the events of the last few minutes finally catching up to him and frying his brain beyond repair.

Oh my god, he fucking hugged you! Like, a good and genuine hug! You felt so warm and so soft and you smelled really good and it was more than he could ever imagine and just––

Yoongi’s brain is trying (and failing) to desperately parse the delayed barrage of information as it comes, but it’s hard for the little hamster running circles in his head when it has never had to run a day in its life. Yoongi’s body feels like it’s overheating even though the weather is nearing the start of winter, but that’s all thanks to you and the devastating effect you have on him.

In short, Yoongi machine has broken, and any sort of maintenance is going to be hard to come by at the moment.

Yoongi could have been standing in front of the Science building for an entire year and he wouldn’t have budged until a tornado in the form of Kim Seokjin arrived to knock him out of his brain dead state. Whistling lowly, the elder stops in front of the rigid mass of meat, an eyebrow quirked in exasperation. “Dude, nice rigor mortis cosplay. Like, yes girl, give us nothing!” he exclaims, slapping Yoongi back to consciousness.

Yoongi blinks rapidly, dazed like he’s woken up from a dream. “What? What’s happening?” he replies dumbly.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yoongi. Did you finish delivering Y/N’s hug or what? I finished all my deliveries in the same time you had with Y/N, so I better hope to God you aren’t planning on applying to be an employee of mine, because you certainly have a long way to go before––”

“I hugged her,” Yoongi interrupts, eyes going glassy once more. His mouth is agape, and Seokjin can see a pool of saliva forming, ready to runneth over. He could see the rusted gears turning inside his dongsaeng’s head. “Oh my god, hyung. I fucking hugged her.”

“Yeah, and I hugged Taehyung Kim and felt his gigantic dick press into my stomach. You aren’t special,” Seokjin snorts, clasping Yoongi by the bicep. He drags him away, leading them to their parked car. “C’mon, Dampé. I’m tired and I wanna eat popcorn again.”

As they walk back to the parking lot, the campus roads are a lot less populated now that most students have gone home. Yoongi only then realizes how late it truly is and he vaguely wonders how long he had been stuck standing there before Seokjin had come to drag him back home. The sun has begun its daily descent, filling the courtyard with a warm glow and causing their shadows to grow longer as they trudge quietly to their car.

The campus is quiet enough that both of them hear the quiet buzz of Seokjin’s phone, despite him putting it on silent mode before he had gone on his hugging deliveries. He stops mid-step, causing Yoongi to bump his nose into his wide back. He yelps, shoving Seokjin forward in irritation.

“Why’d you fucking stop, you asshole?” Yoongi whines, his normal annoying personality resurfacing now that he’s begun to recover from your hug. He peers over Seokjin’s behemoth shoulders, squinting at his phone screen. “What? Another hug delivery?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow since I think she’s gone home for the day,” Seokjin says, his tone sounding slightly too delighted for comfort. “In fact, I know she’s gone home already.”

Yoongi stills, changing his focus onto the elder’s expression. He looks… too eager to receive a simple hug-o-gram request. A shiver shoots through Yoongi’s spine when he realizes how nefariously bastardous Seokjin’s smile has grown, the tips of his smirk curling upwards like a villain from a classic Disney animation.

“What?” Yoongi glares acidly at Seokjin, but the elder is unaffected. In fact, he seems to grow more pleased the more aggravated Yoongi becomes. “Spit it out! What’s got your prostate tickled?”

“Oh, nothing,” Seokjin singsongs, shoving his phone down the front of his pants, exactly where he knows Yoongi would never touch. “Just got an interesting new regular customer, is all.”

“A new regular?” Yoongi’s pitch heightens, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in alarm (like a cat.) “Is it… Another request for… You know who?”

“I wasn’t aware Voldemort went to our university,” Seokjin teases, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s distress. “Though, if you’re talking about Y/N, then the answer is not not not no.”

“Two double negatives.” Anyone could hear the audible soft rattling of his two brain cells exerting themselves as Yoongi deciphers his answer. “That means…”

Yoongi stares pointedly at Seokjin’s crotch, where the outline of his phone is glaringly obvious. “Show me,” Yoongi growls, not making a move to actually touch Seokjin’s nether regions.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “No one’s stopping you from taking my phone though?”

“Hyung!”

“Buy me bubble tea first, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Yoongi acquiesces, folding his arms in annoyance. “Just tell me. Is it really the same guy who requested the hug for Y/N today as well?”

Seokjin fiddles around for his phone, digging deeper when it nearly drops down the leg of his pants. When he pulls it out and swipes to his e-mails, he confirms Yoongi’s fear. “Yep. And it seems like he saw you deliver the hug today. Says that he’d prefer that I deliver the hug next time,” Seokjin smirks, enjoying the deep-set frown on Yoongi’s face.

When Seokjin takes a closer look at the order, however, he notices something a little off. “Hold on a sec,” he scrolls to the receipt, scowling when he sees the incorrect amount. “Well, you might be in luck, Yoongi-chi. Looks like loverboy sent the wrong payment. He’s a few dollars short.”

“What?” Yoongi says, for what feels like the tenth time in this entire fic. He grabs Seokjin’s phone, no longer repulsed by where it had been only a few minutes prior. Like Seokjin said, the customer had given the wrong amount, much to both their confusion.

“That’s weird, considering he just ordered a hug today,” Seokjin murmurs, shaking his head. “Oh well. Happens to the best of us. Guess I’ll just have to refund the poor sap.”

“Wait,” Yoongi presses the phone to his chest, preventing Seokjin from taking it. His hyung raises a brow.

“What is it?”

“What if I just… pay you the remaining amount? Then I can also deliver the hug to her and, uhh...” Yoongi mumbles the remaining part, but Seokjin has trained his ears to catch every whisper and mutter for moments just like this. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t perfect his eavesdropping skills to a spy’s degree. That’s right––Seokjin is a sloppy and nosey bitch and he’s not afraid to admit it!

“Oh? Do my ears deceive me?” Seokjin guffaws, pinching Yoongi’s cheeks for good measure. He hisses in response, but Seokjin isn’t afraid of some little kitten. Seokjin is a bigger bitch with a meaner bite. “Is my little Yoongi Woongi seriously offering to deliver another hug to Miss Y/N? How magnanimous of you.”

Yoongi stares at him, stunned for a moment. A few seconds pass before he shakes his head, faux disdain coloring his expression. “That’s right,” Yoongi huffs, detaching himself from Seokjin’s meaty claws. He keeps his gaze averted, like the big stupid tsundere that he is. “I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart! I care about your profits, and I want to make your workload a little lighter! Isn’t that what you want?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Seokjin snickers, poking Yoongi in the tit. He swivels away, skipping merrily away to their parked car. “I’m expecting that cash in my Paypal by the time I get to the car, or else the deal is off. Make it snappy, loverboy!”

Yoongi had never transferred cash to someone so quickly in his life.

(Yes, not even when the food court on campus was doing a BOGO promo for churros. That’s the extent of how whipped his ass is, period.)

x x x x x

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

“Listen, I’m seriously not forcing you to do this,” Seokjin starts, even though he’s giving his utmost effort to further embarrass Yoongi by handing out flyers about Hug-o-gram’s newest employee. “Please, take one!” he cajoles, offering a flyer to a gaggle of giggling freshmen. “Make sure to reserve a hug within the week! Yoongi-chi over here is on his way to becoming employee of the month if he gets ten requests by Friday!” They all point and whisper at Yoongi, and he swears he hears one of them wolf whistle in admiration.

“That’s what makes this entire thing terrible. I’m doing this on my own volition, and I absolutely abhor myself for it,” Yoongi moans, grabbing Seokjin’s stack of flyers and smacking himself in the head with them. It probably would’ve hurt more when Seokjin still had a full-stack, but people had swarmed them the moment they entered the heart of the campus, everyone curious to see Yoongi in his interesting attire.

Seokjin might have been famous for creating the Hug-o-gram Service, but Yoongi was famous for hating the business idea, so it’s easy to understand why everyone was interested. (For good reason, he thinks darkly to himself.)

“Damn, Yoongi-chi. Looks like you’re trending on the campus Reddit page,” Seokjin laughs, wheezing even harder when Yoongi points him with a murderous glare. “What? Like you said, this was all your idea.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask to wear… whatever this is!” Yoongi whines, tugging on the string around his neck. The cardboard sign had been ready and prepared the moment they arrived home the other day, arousing Yoongi’s suspicions on Seokjin’s actual involvement in his current predicament. Those suspicions are put in the backburner for now, however, as Yoongi actually feels like he might die of embarrassment instead of the packets of MSG coursing through his veins from the ten ramen packs he ate this morning. Maybe both will kill him, if he’s lucky.

“Well, I would love to lend you my uniform, but I haven’t gotten a t-shirt printed with your face on it yet, so you’ll have to deal with the kitten ears and cardboard sign for now,” Seokjin says, patting him on the back. “Or, would you rather I have you wear a shirt with my face on it? I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’d rather swallow a Tide pod, thanks,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth. “C’mon, let’s move. We’ve been standing in the middle of campus like street clowns for long enough. We need to find Y/N because her class is about to end.”

“Street clowns, huh? I guess you are only missing the make-up to complete the look, especially since you seem adamant to keep honking your way through that sickening crush of yours.” Seokjin nearly catches a punch to the head, but his superior reaction time saves him from Yoongi’s sorely lacking physicality. He snatches Yoongi by the hand, dragging them towards your lecture hall. “C’mon, clown! Let’s honk this bread!”

As the two of them get closer to where you are, Yoongi’s heartbeat begins to accelerate. He wonders idly if he should see a doctor after all this, hoping that he hadn’t actually contracted heart disease due to all this stress. Lord forbid that he meet his end before he even gets to ask you out or something!

Even though he’s already hugged you once (and it was, by far, the most euphoric experience of his sad, miserable life), he still finds himself getting clammy hands at the thought of seeing you again. Nevermind the fact that he looked like a walking circus with his get-up… No, Yoongi refuses to think about it anymore, lest his last remaining brain wrinkle irreversibly smoothens.

The campus clock rings loudly, signaling the end of another block of classes. Students rush out of the buildings, with you being one of the first ones out for a change. When Yoongi spots your head of hair among the crowd, he doesn’t immediately notice what you’re wearing at first. In fact, it’s Seokjin who stops in his tracks for a moment, surprised by how you look.

“Woah, Y/N! Looking good,” Seokjin greets, rushing past Yoongi to envelop you in a hug. (A platonic hug, Yoongi reminds himself. Because unlike Yoongi, Seokjin is a normal human being who can give hugs to anyone he wants because he’s… fucking Seokjin! Lucky bastard that he is.)

“Woah!” You laugh, surprised by the sudden hug. You pat him on the back giddily, allowing him to swing you around a little. “What’s this all about? Am I getting a hug-o-gram again?”

“Yes, you are. But not from me,” Seokjin detaches himself from you, scooting away to point at Yoongi. When Seokjin moves away, Yoongi finally understands why his hyung had said you looked good. No, that was an understatement––you looked [redacted].

(For the sake of the author’s fragile ash-coated heart, she has chosen to redact Yoongi’s exact words to protect herself from slamming her head against a keyboard from how cheesy this fic is becoming. Let’s just say the word starts with a B and ends with an L. Make of that as you will.)

You must have come out of an interview or presentation of sorts because you were dressed more nicely than you usually do, which is a pretty big deal considering how put together you always looked. Your hair is styled nicely, obviously given much more care and effort than your regular appearance. You’re wearing a cute little black dress, long enough to be professional but short enough to give Yoongi breathing problems.

If Yoongi’s brain had a playlist, it would be nothing but the sound of him going HNNNNNNNNNG on repeat.

“Oh geez.” Yoongi curses lowly, smiling through the pain. This is fine, he thinks, even though it is clearly not fine. Yoongi has always been a terrible liar.

“Yoongi?” You sound incredulous, though that’s honestly a win in Yoongi’s book considering everything. You didn’t look disgusted, so that’s great. “You look…” You stop yourself, covering your mouth to hide your grin but your amusement is palpable. At least he made you laugh, he supposes.

“Like a fucking idiot? You said it,” Yoongi snorts, arms crossed defiantly. He’s trying to look intimidating, but with his cheeks puffed up and these abominable kitten ears on his head, he looks more like a grumpy cat throwing a tantrum. He juts a thumb at Seokjin, “Thank this himbo for the outfit. I definitely would have chosen something more… inconspicuous.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You quip, still trying to mask your giggles. On the other hand, Seokjin was wheezing like a hyena, his phone pulled out and presumably filming Yoongi to add to his cringe compilation.

“Exactly what I said!” Seokjin says through his laughter, tears of mirth streaming down his face. He walks back to Yoongi, pushing him forward until he’s face to face with you. “Go on, then! We haven’t got all day!”

“I’m assuming you’re officially part of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram business now?” you ask, opening your arms wide to accept his hug. Like the beta male that he is, Yoongi has to be the one to follow in your footsteps, meekly coming closer to wrap you in an embrace.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yoongi mutters, tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He feels you vibrate with laughter, bringing a small smile on his own face. He likes making you laugh, always has.

With the cardboard sign serving as a barrier between the two of you, he isn’t as fearful of you feeling the erratic beat of his heart, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess if you looked at him. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy your hug rather than just panic through the entire ordeal like yesterday.

Soon enough, you’re detaching yourself from him, still standing close. Your arm is just a hair’s breadth away, and if not for Seokjin enthusiastically videotaping this entire experience, Yoongi might have closed in for another hug if he could manage.

“It’s always nice to get a hug from someone you like, huh?” You say, cheeks tinted a rosy color. The true meaning of your words flies over Yoongi’s head, as his feeble mind chooses to focus on your comment a little differently.

“I––Of course I like you! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Yoongi laughs nervously, unaware that he’s slowly digging himself into a ditch. To the side, Seokjin audibly slaps a hand to his face, body shivering with secondhand embarrassment from being blasted by the full force of how idiotic his friend actually is.

Yoongi sees you deflate a little, further confusing him. “Yeah, you’re right I guess…” You sigh, taking a step backward dejectedly. Yoongi flounders a little, unsure how he managed to fuck up in just a few seconds when you had just hugged him like your life depended on it.

Choosing now to interfere before the going gets rough, Seokjin steps in between and slings an arm around both of you. Yoongi groans under the weight of his arm, glaring when he notices that Seokjin had done it on purpose, but only to him. You don’t look too bothered by his rude gesture, albeit you were more befuddled than before.

“Hey, Y/N! I don’t know if you’ve ever ordered a hug-o-gram before, but I’m doing a special this week! Now that Yoongi-chi has so kindly joined the team,” Seokjin gives him a pointed look, to which the black-haired music major sticks his tongue out petulantly, “we’re doing a little promotion for first-time customers! Would you be interested in ordering one?”

Your eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “M-me? Ordering a hug-o-gram? Well, I…” you hesitate, sending a small glance at Yoongi before looking away in embarrassment. “I would like to, but I don’t know if it’ll be well received, you see…”

Seokjin grumbles, silently cursing the stupid shithead who caused his own demise in the first place. The worst part is that he had no idea that he totally just friendzoned you! YOU! Someone who was literally leagues ahead of him. He sincerely has no idea what you see in this bumbling idiot, but everyone with a brain knows that you have been crushing on him for as long as he’s been crushing on you, so perhaps you’re a little bit of an idiot yourself for liking him back.

Being friends with the two of you makes him feel like he’s constantly wearing a sloppy wet diaper, and he hates it. He wants to wipe his ass as soon as possible!

Seokjin shoves Yoongi away roughly, ignoring his indignant squawks as he pulls you aside. He takes you by the hand, taking you a few steps away from Yoongi, far enough that he can whisper into your ear without the other boy hearing.

Yoongi fumes from the sidelines, trying to keep his emotions in check even though he’s bursting at the seams with jealousy. Not for the first time, Yoongi irritably realizes that he does act like a cat, especially in moments like this. He might make fun of Seokjin for being an attention whore, but Yoongi is the same, if only at a smaller scale. He just wants you to look at him, as selfish as that sounds.

Can someone give him a break? He’s been holding in his crush for four years now… Imagine having to take a massive shit after drinking two gallons of milk while being lactose intolerant, except every time you line up for the washroom, the line gets increasingly long no matter how long you wait. That is the extent of his suffering, he tells himself. So please, excuse his dramatics for this one instance.

(Seokjin’s Note: This fucking jackass is SO stupid. If he only knew how easy it is to ask you out, he would know that his emotional constipation could be solved if he just fucking ASKED where the next washroom is. He could have relieved himself ages ago, but NO! And he calls me the idiot! Me! The utter betrayal! I’m never agreeing to become the second lead to a rom-com ever again!)

When Seokjin finishes whispering in your ears, you appear amused by what he had said. Yoongi sweats when you turn to face him, grinning slyly at him. “Is that so…” you wonder aloud. Yoongi feels like the world has shifted on its axis somewhat, though he still doesn’t know exactly how. He has a hunch that he’s going to find out soon enough.

“Would I ever lie to you?” Seokjin laughs that annoying laugh of his, slapping his thigh in the process. He straightens up almost immediately, his expression turning deadpan in an instant. “Send me the details by tonight, and I’ll make sure to deliver it, okay?”

“Promise?” You ask, holding a pinky up towards him. Yoongi might have let out a high pitched sob when he sees the gesture, wanting nothing more than to cup your hands in his. God, if he already nearly died from hugging you, who is to say Yoongi won’t immediately disintegrate if you were ever to hold his hand?

“Promise,” Seokjin replies, linking his pinky with yours. He doesn’t forget to point a shit-eating grin at Yoongi, for good measure.

You pull away, looking happier than you did moments prior. You were absolutely glowing, filling Yoongi with a warmth that only you ever knew how to provide. He wants to make you smile like that all the time, wants nothing more than for you to live beside him, filling his walls with the sound of your tinkling laughter. You wave cheerily at the both of them, stepping away to head home. “I guess I’ll see you, then? I’ll make sure to e-mail you my request, Seokjin!” you say, winking teasingly. “Bye to you too, Yoongi! Thanks for the hug!”

Yoongi watches as you walk further and further away as the usual melancholy that follows whenever you leave soon takes its place in his soul. It might be his imagination, but Yoongi thinks the cat ears on his head might have started to droop to match his mood.

The only way he knows how to replace the sadness, however, is by redirecting those emotions on an unsuspecting victim. Lucky for him, a willing volunteer is already within punching distance.

“Ow! Stop punching me, you gremlin!” Seokjin whines, blocking Yoongi’s series of punches like a pro. He might as well put ‘professional punching bag’ on his resume at this point. “I’m trying to help you, you useless beta male!”

“How is this helping! You made me wear cat ears and whispered blasphemies into Y/N’s ears! Now she’s going to order a hug-o-gram for her crush and it’ll be the end of my chances with her! How could you!”

“I was not whispering blasphemies, you twittering tit! I was giving her advice,” Seokjin sniffs, annoyed. “Don’t say I never help you, by the way. I’ve been trying to help you for years now.”

Yoongi hits him with a steely glare. “Really? So replacing all my clothes in my closet with clown attire is your version of help? I had to wear those stupid clown shoes for a week before you told me where you hid my clothes, jackass!”

“I was only trying to help you physically express yourself! You’re already a clown on paper, might as well help you achieve your final form!” Seokjin huffs, infuriatingly haughty. “Listen, believe me. I only told Y/N something that everyone already knows anyway, so just shut your trap and let Daddy handle the rest. You’re not going to lose her, I promise.”

“Please never refer to yourself as Daddy ever again,” Yoongi seethes, stalking off towards their car. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

“No talk, Yoobie angy…” Seokjin snickers to himself, following Yoongi with a spring in his step. This bastard is going to grovel at his feet by tomorrow evening, he’s sure of it. If he doesn’t, then Seokjin will bite his own dick in half––that’s how sure he is of his plan! (Not that biting his dick in half will do anything to his length; he’d still be left with eight inches, let’s be real.) All in good time.

x x x x x

Seokjin gets an e-mail the next morning, much earlier than any sane person would choose to be awake at. He groans lowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to read the contents of the letter. When he’s satisfied by what he has read, he forwards the e-mail to Yoongi before allowing sleep to take him once more.

Sleep evades him, however, when the sound of Yoongi’s big feet pounds noisily outside his bedroom. He hits his knee loudly against the coffee table, causing their beloved popcorn machine to tumble to the floor, but that is of little consequence to Yoongi right now. No, he needs to get into Seokjin’s room right now and scream––

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Yoongi hollers, slamming Seokjin’s door open. The hinges creak, desperately hanging on despite the impact. Yoongi proceeds to slam a fist upon Seokjin’s ass, who barely flinches due to the fatness of his ass cushioning most of the damage. He blinks blearily at Yoongi, but the smirk on his face is clear as day.

“Came to claim your hug so early in the morning? Well, I usually don’t entertain clients until after I’ve taken a shower, but for you… I’ll make an exception,” he yawns, peeling back his blanket and patting the empty spot on his bed. “Come on in, Yoobie Boobie… Let’s hug like it’s the last day on earth.”

Seokjin fails to realize that once he removed his blanket, he had inadvertently left himself vulnerable. Yoongi slams the heel of his foot against Seokjin’s groin, causing him to shriek bloody murder at 7 AM. He wonders, amidst his pain, whether this might be the last straw and that their landlord will finally kick them out after years of their stupid shenanigans.

“WHAT DID THAT E-MAIL MEAN? IF IT’S WHAT I THINK IT IS…” Yoongi threatens, but it’s as empty as Seokjin’s butthole. They both know the implications of that e-mail, even a toddler can put two and two together and make sense out of it. Anonymous e-mail or not, Seokjin wouldn’t just forward any hug-o-gram request to Yoongi, unless…

What did the e-mail say? It goes something like:

Dear Mr. Kim,

Thank you for offering your special promotion for new time customers of your Hug-o-gram Service! I’ve always been a quiet fan of your business idea, but I’ve always been a little shy to submit a request of my own. Thank you so much for giving me the little push that I needed to send my first (and hopefully last) hug.

I’d like to send a hug to Mr. Min Yoongi from the Music Department. I understand that he has recently been appointed an employee at your business, but seeing as how it’d be difficult for him to hug himself (while not entirely impossible), I’d like to request that you be the one to send the hug to him.

I don’t really have a message for him, per se… I’m still a little shy, even though you already told me that there is no reason to be. I want to believe what you said was true, so I’m pushing my fear aside and putting my fate into your hands. So, to Mr. Min Yoongi… “When I told you it was nice to hug someone you like, I don’t think you understood what I meant. A hug, after all, is a two-way street. They’re often served the best when it is reciprocated, if you catch my drift. :)”

Peace! :3

Regards,

[Redacted] [Redacted]

“Have your brain synapses finished connecting? Because if even this flies over your head, I’m sorry to say buddy but… You might have smooth brain syndrome,” Seokjin pipes up. He observes Yoongi’s brow crumpling, the first signal of his impending mental breakdown. If Seokjin remembers correctly, the next signal should be when––

Yoongi drops down to his knees, his phone clattering to the floor as he stares absently at the ceiling. Seokjin cringes, worried for the state of his friend’s frail kneecaps. The poor sap has bad heart health already; surely, it isn’t too early to get him a life alert button?

Seokjin scooches over his bed, dangling half his body over the edge to appraise his friend. “So. What do you plan to do now?”

For a moment, Yoongi remains silent. Eventually, he shuffles closer to him, perching his hands around Seokjin. The business student raises a brow, confused, until Yoongi pushes Seokjin back onto the middle of the bed so that he can cram himself beside Seokjin on his small double bed. He huffs amusedly, allowing the smaller boy to snuggle into his chest, though he still refuses to wrap his arms around him. Close enough, Seokjin snorts.

“I need your help, hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is small, shy. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Seokjin immediately softens. They might act like toddlers together the majority of the time, but Seokjin truly does care about Yoongi more than anything. During early mornings like this, when the sun’s soft rays are filtering through his sheer curtains and filling the room with a gentle warmth, it’s nice to cuddle up with one another and enjoy the silence. In fact, Seokjin would never admit it to Yoongi, but he got the idea for his Hug-o-gram service from Yoongi himself, back when the younger boy would be more prone to sneaking into his bed during his bouts of loneliness and homesickness.

Above all else, Yoongi is just a boy with a lot of love to give, so who is Seokjin to say no to his pleas for help?

“You know I always got your back, Yoongi-chi. Whenever you’re ready, we can do whatever you want. Ask and you’ll receive,” he replies, caressing his soft black tresses. Yoongi hums, smiling softly into his chest.

“Thanks, dude. For being… you know.”

Seokjin’s heart pangs a little, but he ignores it. Instead, he continues combing through his hair, humming gently. “I know.”

x x x x x

It’s been a few days since you sent the e-mail to Seokjin and you haven’t heard back from him. You aren’t sure if he sends confirmation e-mails to his clients as you’d never asked for a hug-o-gram before, nor did you know anyone who has. You are forced to continue on with your days like normal, trying to ignore the unsettling anxiety from creeping up your throat and spewing all over the sidewalk.

If Seokjin hadn’t been lying to you, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. You’ve been harboring this crush on Yoongi for years now, and you never thought in your life that it would ever be reciprocated. He always seemed a little bit detached, a little too cool for you. Never mind the fact that he always seemed so jittery around you, like it was hard to talk to you or something!

Your answer comes on the last day of the week, after an especially rough day at class. Your back is bent, having finished a grueling four hour lab period where you did nothing but stand and stare at your reaction vessel spinning without any signal of change. You are just a little bit hangry from all the stress piling up on your plate, especially since you hadn’t eaten a decent meal since breakfast at 8 AM.

In short, life isn’t going as smoothly as you’d hoped for your senior year, but you can’t let the blues get to you too soon. After all, there are leftover chicken wings in your fridge with your name on it, and nothing beats your meat more than greasy poultry to end a terrible week.

You’re only inches away from sliding your keycard to open your shared dorm room when the door opens without prompting. You flinch backward, yelping loudly when your roommate Park Jimin grins slyly from the doorway––never a good sign, if you knew anything.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jimin says, leaning casually against the door like he hadn’t just scared the living shit out of you. He takes one glance at your disheveled hair and lightly sweaty clothes before grimacing in disgust. “Girl, I can’t let you meet the love your life while you’re looking like that. Come on, we have a few minutes before he arrives. Let’s get you freshened up.”

“I’m sorry?” You squeak, allowing your roommate to manhandle you into your own home. He pushes you into your room, depositing you roughly onto your unmade bed. You try to make eye contact with him, but he’s too busy raiding your closet to pay you much attention. “Excuse me? What did you say just now?”

“No time, princess! Your Prince Charming is on the way, and I’ve been ordered by Seokjin to prepare you for this life-changing moment, so get your ass into gear and change into this!” He shoves a clean pair of jeans and a nicer-looking blouse at you before proceeding to grab your hairbrush and comb your tresses with the gentleness of a mother tigress. You shriek when the brush gets tangled in an especially stubborn knot, but Jimin is relentless. He nearly tears your hair by the roots, ignoring your pained whines.

“Will you fucking stop! I have literally no idea why you’re acting like a psycho all of a sudden–” You shout when Jimin begins to undress you, having to kick him in the chest to get him away from completely eradicating your remaining traces of dignity. “Okay, fine! I’ll dress myself! Just get out of my room and fucking stay away!”

Jimin looks at you dubiously for a split second, before eventually acquiescing. “You have two minutes to get changed. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, do you?” he says, smirking knowingly. He better dread the day that you finally wipe that annoying twinkle in his eye; it’s been a long time coming.

Left alone to your own devices, you do as Jimin says even though you’re still wildly confused by everything. To think you had been so excited to feast on your chicken wings, and instead, you went through a decade’s worth of torture within the last few minutes. Patting your hands on the butt of your jeans, you meekly take a step out of your bedroom, where Jimin is already tapping his foot impatiently by the door.

He motions for you to hurry up. “Let’s go! Seokjin says they’re rounding up the corner. Hold on,” he steps closer to you, raising your arm up to take a shameless sniff of your pits. “Sorry, had to make a pit stop. You can never be too sure,” he shrugs, disregarding your squawks of indignation.

“I smell fine! Now what are we–” Your sentence is cut short as Jimin all but carries you to the elevator, your shrieks of terror causing one or two of your neighbors to peek their heads out of their doors. When they see it’s just the two of you, they simply shrug their shoulders, returning to their lives like it was normal to see Jimin carry you in a fireman’s hold.

He doesn’t put you down until you reach the lobby of your dorm complex, barely out of breath despite having held you the entire way down. Stupid buff baby, you groan internally to yourself, straightening down your clothes in a desperate attempt to look decent. “Okay, we’re here. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

In lieu of an answer, Jimin points wordlessly outside your building. A black car is parked on the other side of the road, and you can barely see a familiar head of hair poking out from the driver’s seat. “Seokjin? What the…” you trail off, before your eyes finally land on their target.

Yoongi stands outside the glass doorway, not dressed in his usual all-black attire. He’s wearing an outrageously cute pink shirt today, matching the color of his natural flush. He always looks effortlessly good, with his hair a little windswept in that boyishly cute way. Your mouth goes a little dry when you realize he’s wearing his famous leather jacket, the one that always got the girls and boys swooning when he walked past in them. You hated how whipped for him you were, not wanting to be like the weird kids in his secret fan club, but who can blame you? He’s just so…

You rip open the door, nearly tripping and falling over the short steps leading to the entrance. You grind to a halt in front of him and you’re acutely aware of how rabid you must look. Your chest is pounding, like your heart is begging you to step closer, just like when you had hugged him all those days ago. God, you were going to kill Park Jimin for this.

“Yoongi? What are you…” You take one look at him before your gaze drops to his hands folded carefully behind his back. It doesn’t hide the fact that there is an obvious bouquet of flowers behind him, though. Your face lights on fire when you notice they were your favorite flowers too.

“I’m here to deliver a hug?” Yoongi says it like he’s unsure of himself, but there’s a little coyness laced in his tone. His cheeks are painted a soft pink, and not for the first time, they remind you of freshly baked bread pulled out from the oven. Soft enough to kiss, you wonder idly to yourself.

“I mean… I did order a hug a few days ago, but I do recall not ordering one for myself?” you laugh a little hysterically, your breath cutting short when Yoongi grins softly in response. “I… Who is this hug from?”

Yoongi takes a glance back towards Seokjin. “Hey, boss. Am I allowed to reveal who the secret admirers are, or will that get me fired?”

Seokjin, despite being a few meters away, laughs loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Well, Yoongi-chi. Something tells me your resignation letter was coming in the mail eventually. Who cares about the rules at this point?”

“He’s right,” you quip, pulling Yoongi’s attention back. You’re smiling wide now, your hopes and dreams skyrocketing in your chest and blooming a garden in your heart. “Who cares, right?”

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, taking the last two steps he needs to get closer to you. He drops the bouquet somewhere behind you before finally, finally, embracing you once more. He kisses you gently on the forehead, the contact short and sweet.

You feel like you’re dying, but it’s all good because Yoongi looks just as embarrassed as you. But none of it matters, not when both your happiness is palpable in the air.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“This hug-o-gram is from me to you. Will you go out with me?”

You’ve always been a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. So when you lean in to plant your first kiss of many many more, he knows your answer well enough.

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hohoz · 3 years

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How RE Village (8) SOLVED almost every problem that I had with RE Series

Okay - a few weeks ago I made a post that was “The ones that suffer the most” where I showed and explained my main problems with Chris and Jill and the RE series in general

RE 1 is my fav game of this series and probably one of my all time favs, I player every RE there is to be played except 4 (because I dislike Leon, sry)

Recently, specially after 4, the franchise had a few problems, specially in writing/map design/lore

Resident evil 5 for example (I love this game) but it has it flaws, Chris there is only driven by anger and action - Sheva is used as a tool for lore exposition and to be Chris’s new partner

PLEASE: be aware that game at that generation didn’t have much lore - with some exceptions, like God of War 1 2 3 were a simply game with a simple lore, and the most recent GoW has evolved a little bit in the storytelling

Until we hit rock bottom in RE6 - I know a lot of people like this game, but this is only and action game, bad writing and generic stages.

Chris there is so mistreated that makes me mad (if you want to read more about this go to my other post “the ones that suffer the most”)

Until RE7 appeared, Capcom had a new engine and they wanted to do a game that was more horror like - since RE is know for being a Survival horror game.

I liked 7 - some people complained about Ethan being without emotion and others complained about the mold, a few didn’t like the FEAR vibes from Eveline.

I personally enjoyed the game, I thought RE series was going back on track, that game has it’s problems but it was really nice compared to what we had in 6.

After that game I had a conversation with my best friend and I said that I wanted a game that portrayed Umbrella’s fall since the only game that shows this is Umbrellas Chronicles (and that is most a resume of what happened)

And I said: “Bro, I wish that when they made that game, they could tie some mythological lore and human evolution before Umbrella - using Spencer, this would solve LOT OF STUFF and open new ways to handle this series”

and guess what - this happened in RE8 and kudos to the one writer that did that, i have my gratitude.

RESIDENT EVIL 8 is probably one of the BEST RE games that we had IN YEARS

And I want to address all thing that I loved in this game and do some predictions to what will happen in the next games.

“WELL WELL IF IT ISN’T ETHAN WINTERS” (The Father of the year)

My father was not a great guy... really, so I want to be the best dad ever, I really want be like Ethan - a guy who is ready to sacrifice and fight every monster in the way to save my family.

Ethan was a character that in RE7 was used to make us fell like that it was us in the Baker’s house, so that is why he didn’t had that much personality (in my opinion) but they changed that in RE8, here he has nice dialogues AND a diary

He has one of the best story line in the whole REverse, a guy that did EVERYTHING in his power to save his daughter - and you saw that playing the game, every sentence line that he delivered, he tried to save others too and even tho Chris said to him stay put ... but he couldn’t, he had to go to the altar, he had to help Chris, he had to go forward and keep going, specially after having the tools to face Heisenberg.

The plea from a father, that was his last wish, after he heard that Mia was alive he knew that someone had to stop that monster, he made a promise to his daughter “Daddy won’t let those weird fairy tale monsters get you” so he trusted Chris, to be the one that teaches his kid how to be brave and strong

I will not address Chris and Rose situation here because this is Ethans part and he deserves completely all the spotlight, his sacrifice was 100x times better than Steve (CV)/Piers(6)

My cheers to Ethan Winters - You have my respect !

Revelations -> RE8

So leaks from earlier times said that RE8 sucked and Revelations 3 was amazing

Revelations FYI is know for using old tales in RE stories

Revelations 1 - Dante’s Inferno

Revelations 2 - Frans Kafka

Revelations 3 - Dracula

But since RE8 sucked, Capcom said to the REV3 team that they could make REV3 become RE8 and they accepted

Revelations series is one of the best in the games, they handle Jill in a way that I love, Claire and even Barry - so they deserve all the spotlight for making this awesome game - you CLEARLY can see that they love this series and that they treat all the characters with the love that they deserve.

Keeping that in mind, they are the same team that made Rev 2 and in REV 2 we have this file here

So they had a plan for Jill and we can see that in RE8 - I will address that later but keep that in mind - this team cares for the old characters, they were the ones that brought Barry back to the games :V

Chris Redfield

This is a hard one, because he is my fav character and I usually have the most critics regard him, since I’ve expect a lot from Capcom

In the latest games they made him kind dumb, only muscles type of guy and an alcoholic that let all the people in his surroundings die (RE5,RE6,Vendetta)

RE6 treats him the WORST

But in RE8 he had an amazing part in the storyline, it was obvious that he wasn’t evil and they FIXED HIS EYE COLOR - FINALLY

I still don’t like the model face that much but it’s way better than 7 - so I believe Capcom, I still feel that he need more jawline

But let’s go to the most important thing - here he really feels like a squad leader and a veteran, he has his team but he is the one in the front line, he covers and ask for help when he needs, everything about his line delivery makes you feel like “Woah, this guy is a badass, he is not some stupid guy only driven by emotions”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FINALLY GETTING THIS RIGHT

If you remember my post about the ones that suffer the most / Jill is also in that list and I will talk about her a little bit later but if my guess is right RE8 saved her character aswell

Another thing that I enjoyed here is the fact that he is kind of a mercenary / Neo Umbrella kind of guy, even tho he is one of the founders of the BSAA

So I will give you all my score to this game:

9/10

I won’t give 10/10 because of some technical issues, the cursor lock didn’t work and mouse sensitivity was i dunno, not the best.

RE8 and the future (PREDICTIONS) - Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield, BSAA, Neo Umbrella, Ada Wong and Rosemary

First let’s look Rose

The first time I saw Rose all grown up - I thought to myself : She has the same problem as Eveline (age a lot faster than normal)

But she also absorbed Miranda’s power since the metalicite (something like this) thought that she was a better host. - so maybe she will live longer or something because I doubt that they will do a 14 years time skip.

This is not the same as Terra Save logo (Claire’s job) but it kind reminds me of it - her shoes appeared at least 3 times in this cut scene so maybe they are trying to show some hints with this

She really reminds me of Jodie (Beyond two souls, a game where a girl has a lot of power and the gov uses her in missions and stuff, but she also is learning how to be her own person)

Another thing here is that they don’t have a logo in this car, it really reminds me the car that Chris as using in RE8

This supports the theory that Chris’s organization is dealing with her instead of the BSAA, the she is a hot headed girl and that she had a lot of powers.

So here you can say that she is just a kid because she is a teenager, but what if she actually grows older really fast (like Eveline) maybe this is just 1 year later / 2 yrs later. (after RE8)

So this is the tricky part, this is Chris’s guard/soldier, someone that Chris trust to stand by her side, in my mind I do believe that Chris is kind of a father figure to her, so when this guys says this he is thinking about hot head Chris but she replies “Yeah” thinking about Ethan - (she has the mold memories, so she can actually remember Ethan’s memories)

Now let’s look at this

BSAA

So in REV1 is hinted that BSAA is not the best organization in the world, but since our heroes work there we think that they are the good guys right ?

In REV 2 (it’s important to remember that the team that created RE8 is the same from the REVELATIONS and they had this file here in REV2)

This email is from Jill and what does Jill have ? T-Virus

Wesker is a different case since he was a project and she had the vaccine but this would make a lot of sense if they had this tests with Jill to get the T-Virus

If that is the case, they explained Jill’s absence in the main games, could even explain why Chris left BSAA and opened a new window to a lot of possibilities

My Predictions:

- Chris had trouble dealing with BSAA and Jill’s case, he wanted to get her out of there, maybe he removed her from there but that resulted in him being expelled from the force

-Jill may or may not know what they are doing with her blood, but she will have a huge part in the BOW used by BSAA

-Chris is married to Jill (sorry- I had to place this here, in a perfect world he has two kids with her and they all love aunt Rose)

-Chris will hopefully be a father figure to Rose and they will be in a game together since in the end they came to get her

-Rebecca is still involved in BSAA activities (leak from new REV3) if you consider Vendetta canon, she maybe the one that used Jill’s sample of blood to create the virus soldiers

-Barry maybe retired

-I don’t think Leon will be in this game, but he will get his RE4 Rmk

- I do believe RE9 will be release after Code veronica rmk and MAYBE they will do a game about Umbrella’s Fall (Chris and Jill in Europe against Red Queen and BOWs)

But that is it, you can see a lot of elements from old RE games in RE8, they tried to do something really smart and the game felt amazing to play, that was something else and it’s been a while since a player a RE game that made me feel that way <3

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Gavin’s R&S - Minor’s Memos

🍒This R&S (韩野的备忘录) is part of the Dream Heart Lake event which has not been released in EN🍒

More r&s from the event:

> minor’s memos ♡

> tilted time

> little bro’s self-cultivatiion

> ashes

[ Chapter 1 ]

The First Memo

I was beaten up.

This morning, I was especially courageous and pasted a "Evil Spirit Begone" challenge letter on the school bully’s lunchbox. But I didn’t stop myself and pasted too many. The other party brought five people and cornered me in a small alley. I straightened my back, but felt a chill. What happened in the end were the four words I started off with... I was beaten up. With a bloody nose and a swollen face, I suddenly felt that there truly weren’t any heroes in this era... Even an ardent youth like me had to face such tribulation...

Suddenly, a pair of white sneakers stood before my eyes. Lifting my red and swollen eyes with difficulty, all I saw was an icy outline. He reached out to grab the neck of one of the school bullies, and had a sharp look in his eyes!

Oh my... It was actually Se! Nior! Ga! Vin!

Today, I finally witnessed what was a true 1 v 5 looked like. Gavin blew the dust off his hands, lowering his eyes and giving me a glance before leaving. Quick-wittedly, I tugged on the bottom of his trouser leg.

Senior turned out to be just as cold and indifferent as the legends said. During the entire process, he only said one word - “Scram”.

He’s such a MAN!

Hence, there’s a small goal in my heart. I want to learn the supreme feat of Senior’s 1 v 5!

The Second Memo

I looked for Senior many times, but was mercilessly ignored by him... He was either wholly absorbed in drinking water, or wholly absorbed in sleeping... I decided that I had to take the initiative! So, I came up with a plan to perfectly understand Senior.

Cough cough.

With this, I started embarking on the dull and dry life of “tracking” Senior. At 7.30am, Senior would appear at the school gate punctually, carrying a flat schoolbag. I don’t know if there are any books in it... Forget it, is that the main point? Nope!

After Senior reaches school, the first thing he does is head to the small kiosk in the north to! Buy! Breakfast! Does he actually lead such an ordinary life too? I even thought an existence like Senior’s should be above worldly affairs, and that he wouldn’t eat the food of common mortals! Hey hey hey! It seems that Senior really likes to eat fishballs? He’s been eating them for three consecutive days!!! Isn’t it good to change it to something else?!!!

During class, I deliberately went around the upper levels where the Year 3 seniors were, pretentiously passing by Senior’s window. Of course, Senior typically wouldn’t appear in the classroom at all. But!!! He was here today!!!!

As expected, he was assigned to sit in the last row, and was sleeping without restraint...

Did nobody care?! Wait, why am I feeling envious?

After school, Senior walked around, and I had no idea where he was headed to. Finally, he walked into the library. I couldn’t help but think - Senior really lives life as he pleases...

Huh? Hang on! Why would the Underworld Senior go to the library?!

He not only went to the library, but the thing which startled me even more till my jaw dropped was - I saw Senior helping the prettiest girl in class retrieve a book from the shelf!

He even... s-smiled...

Had my vision gone blurry? This was the Underworld Senior who’s said to be cold, unruly, and scares girls away?!

[ Chapter 2 ]

The Third Memo

I was beaten up again... Writing these words is truly lamentable... Why did I have to rescue that stupid, unsophisticated and immoral four-eyed boy? But isn’t that what a hero does? What this era needs is a hero like me!

...this era might also not need such a weak hero like me...

That’s what I thought when I was pressed against the ground and punched by a school bully. My conviction was about to collapse. All of a sudden, I recalled the sharp look in Senior Gavin’s eyes. It’d have been nice if he were around...

Perhaps God happened to hear my wish, and Senior descended from the sky! With a dashing left uppercut, the other party lay on the ground, and I was moved to tears.

Senior asked, why do you keep causing trouble for yourself? I very righteously said that it’s because I wanted to be a hero, and couldn’t stand to see school bullies targeting the weak. Senior then said, don’t you know that they call me a school bully?

In my heart, I responded that I knew. But I shook my head very firmly. The look he was giving me suddenly had a hint of bewilderment added to it... like he was looking at a... hm? An idiot? ...

Senior is very difficult to understand. He even told me about what true heroism was, which went beyond the words I recognised from Senior. He actually said two sentences! I’ll note them down, I’ll note them down...

Who cares about him! From what I see, heroism is about rushing to the rescue when one sees injustice!

The Fourth Memo

Today, I! Was! A! Hero!

I was following Senior around secretly today, though I don’t know how many days it’s been, and encountered Senior being ambushed! Those guys were the school bullies who beat me up the last time! A total of ten people were there! Terrible! Tyranny of the majority! How could I, Minor, allow such a situation to happen!

Without much thought, I rushed forward to help Senior! Of course, I was beaten up yet again... but I discovered one of Senior’s nuclear abilities-

1 v 10! Too dashing, too dashing. I don’t think Superman, X-Men or Iron Man are as dashing! Senior is a god in my eyes!

But Senior was very cold. He said two words to me which left me utterly heartbroken: courting death.

Feeling wronged, I told him that I wasn’t courting death. This was what heroism meant to me.

Senior scoffed, then told me not to follow him around sneakily in the future, because it was annoying.

What what what? Was my perfect “Understanding Plan” exposed since a long time ago?!

For some reason, I spoke up at this moment. “Senior, I saw you handing a book to the prettiest girl in class... Are you...”

Senior coughed, then covered his mouth with a hand... W-was he actually blushing!!!!? Oh my goodness - did I discover something disgraceful? Senior actually blushed! If I say it out loud, would I get silenced?!!

[ Chapter 3 ]

The Fifth Memo

On the first day of becoming Senior’s, oh wait - Bro Gavin’s little brother, hehe, made me feel like I was suddenly floating. Today, I finally walked beside him in broad daylight, and felt as if a gust of wind was blowing past while walking hahahaha! I saw people looking me with that gaze! That~ Gaze~

But I never expected Bro Gavin to be so strict... All I did was mention casually that someone gave the prettiest girl in class a love letter again, and Bro Gavin suddenly got angry, and asked me to grab those people over.

Catching people is really tiring. I had to run to several classrooms, and it was really annoying to move personnel. In the future, I definitely wouldn’t do such work.

Bro Gavin glanced at them and didn’t say anything. Was I supposed to save the show?? After recalling how teachers typically lecture me, I copied them wholesale and gave them a lecture: At this young age, they should concentrate on their studies instead of fooling around.

[Note] I translated “copied them wholesale” from “原封不动”, which literally translated to “not touching the original envelope”. This is a beautiful choice of idiom because that’s exactly what Minor did later on LOL T^T

Seeing the fear and trepidation in their eyes, I became even more excited.

While I was lecturing them happily, Bro Gavin walked over and only said one thing: Get the love letters back. If you scare her, don’t blame me for being difficult.

Wow, Bro Gavin is so cool! Come to think of it, did I discover a little secret that I shouldn’t be aware of? For example, that Bro Gavin’s feelings towards the prettiest girl in class are actually..

The Sixth Memo

I think Bro Gavin is most likely, indeed, and definitely in love. Recently, I became Bro Gavin’s private detective, specialising in focusing on the prettiest girl in class. Maybe next time, I should change the way I address the prettiest girl in class to “Sis-in-law”... Well, since the ancient times, heroes have always loved beauties!

As of now, Bro Gavin isn’t really Bro Gavin anymore -

He hangs out in the library every day. If you want to know where Bro Gavin is, all you have to do is ask where the prettiest girl in class is... He no longer fights, no longer goes to the sports field, and no longer plays ball games anymore. He’s like a salted fish which has lost its dreams. And he actually started reading “5 Years of College Examinations and 3 Years of Sample Questions”... I just want to cry.

[Note] “5 Years of College Examinations and 3 Years of Sample Questions” (”5年高考3年模拟”) is a supplementary book for college entrance examinations used in China!

At noon, we had a PE class together, and I excitedly told Bro Gavin that Sis-in-law had chosen basketball! I initially thought Bro Gavin would snatch up a territory to play basketball. In the end, Bro Gavin hauled me over to the nearby volleyball court...

He said that it was a good place.

Good? What’s good about it? My basketball... I still wanted to display my coolness!

Afterwards, I found out that, tsk tsk, Bro Gavin was truly very sly...

The volleyball court was actually even closer to Sis-in-law’s location as compared to other basketball courts!

When I almost accidentally smashed the ball on Sis-in-law’s head, it was blocked by Bro Gavin, who was far away... How did Bro Gavin do it?!

He actually ran diagonally across the volleyball court so quickly?!!! Does he have some special ability? Will it appear!

But Bro Gavin isn’t attuned to flirtatious expressions at all...

[Note] I translated “flirtatious expressions” from the term “风情”, which literally translates to “information about the wind”

When Sis-in-law thanked him, his face was even colder than when he’s facing me... And when I “accidentally” pushed Sis-in-law onto Bro Gavin! He actually gave me a merciless killer glare. Just thinking about it makes my heart feel pained...

He didn’t recognise my good intentions, sob sob sob sob.

[ Chapter 4 ]

The Seventh Memo

Today, I saw another side of Bro Gavin! That is - the Bro Gavin at the sports meet! He’s such a MAN!!!

In the ten-lap long-distance race in the sports field, Bro Gavin won the first place, leaving the second place runner far behind him by three laps. He didn’t even pant!

What kind of supreme feat is this? Before, I used to think that he was only super capable in fighting. Looks like there are many other things I have to learn from Bro Gavin!

It was only today when I realised that although Bro Gavin is so fierce and is always called an Underworld Senior, he seems to be really popular, based on how the female students looked as if they were about to glue their eyes onto Bro Gavin’s body -

Ah, I just want to “tsk tsk”.

Bro Gavin seemed to be in a good mood, but when I asked him to teach me 1 v 10, he assigned me to work as a private detective again...

He was very concerned about Sis-in-law’s sprint. Perhaps he’s a tsundere or something, so he didn’t go himself, and insisted that I went instead. He even tossed his phone to me.

What’s that supposed to mean? His phone? Did he mean that I should sneak pictures? Am I, Minor, such a person?

I called out to Sis-in-law. She turned her head, and I managed to secretly photograph an utterly beautiful side profile. It looked really good. This time, Bro Gavin would definitely teach me 1 v 10, right?

In the end, he! Did! Not!

Bro Gavin is someone who values a lover more than his little bro!

What can I say? I had no choice but to squat at the side and watch Bro Gavin staring at the picture on his phone, occasionally revealing an unusual smile...

Oh my, Bro Gavin smiled again!!!! It makes me feel frightened!!!!

Love makes people lose their minds!!!

[ Chapter 5 ]

The Eighth Memo

Bro Gavin looks very low-spirited recently. If he was a salted fish with no dreams before, then I reckon that right now, he’s not even a salted fish... He seems to have fallen in love with being in a daze lately.

After being in a daze in the piano room, he’d be in a daze in the library, continuously staring at the empty seat where Sis-in-law used to sit, and I have no idea what he’s thinking about.

But I really didn't expect a person who sleeps in class to be in a daze in the library for an entire afternoon... Did Bro Gavin and Sis-in-law have a fight recently?

Very curious, I asked around, and found out that for some reason, Sis-in-law has been hurrying off after school, and no longer goes to the library nor the piano room. I also heard that she’s been doing her revision for exams at home... Could it be that she’s hiding from Bro Gavin?

Oh my god, why don’t I write an eight o'clock soap opera with such an imagination? It might even become popular!

Returning to the original topic... should I tell Bro Gavin about this? If Bro Gavin also thinks that Sis-in-law is hiding from him, he might be heartbroken.

I’m worried...

The Ninth Memo

Bro Gavin disappeared for quite a long time, and finally returned today! But he brought with him a body full of injuries, and it’s very worrying because I didn’t know what happened! He also stuffed a letter to me, saying that it was for Sis-in-law. Even though the envelope was flat and smooth, it had a lot of blood stains.

Did Bro Gavin do something dangerous? He bled so much! I asked him to go to the hospital but he refused... Bro Gavin is truly too wilful!

But he is really different today. Why do I feel like I’m handling funeral arrangements? Touch wood!

He also said that he’d teach me 1 v 10 when he we meet again... Wow! If Bro Gavin wasn’t hurt, I’d have wanted to pounce on him and give him a peck! Bro Gavin is the most dashing! Bro Gavin is the coolest!

Come to think of it, Bro Gavin is about to take the college entrance examinations, and the seniors from the graduating classes have been pretty sad recently. The next meeting Bro Gavin mentioned was probably summer vacation? Hehe, I’m looking forward to it a little!

In that case, while Bro Gavin isn’t around, I’ll be the one to help Sis-in-law block off all the rotten apples!

Other men, don’t even think of approaching my Sis-in-law!

She! Is! Bro! Gavin’s!

The Final Memo

During the entire summer vacation... I didn't see Bro Gavin...

More from the Dream Heart Lake event: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc minor #mlqc gavin #I mistakenly thought the other translator who did this deactivated their account so I did my own version of this #BUT TURNS OUT THEY DIDN'T LOL #(ಥ﹏ಥ)

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drethanramslay · 4 years

Text

A funny thing called Fate: Chapter 1

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Aisha Khurrana)

Word count: 2.6K words

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Warning: None really, just some cursing

Author's note: Hello!! I am back with the first chapter of "A funny thing called Fate" and this time this is in Bryce's POV

Like I said last time, there would be time jumps so you will be seeing both- 16 year old Bryce and present day Bryce

Just a word of caution, 16 year old Bryce (according to me) is your typical bad boy who is a jerk and upholds his reputation and prestige as the most important priorities

I decided to take part in @choicesseptemberchallenge20 the prompt being- LOST

Also decided to take part in @choicesweeklychallenge the prompt being "I just... don't know. Honestly."

Both of them will be in bold

TERMS THAT YOU NEED TO KNOW:

-> kanilehua: Motherfucker (I literally googled curse words in Hawaiian language so please forgive me if they are wrong 🤧)

-> okole: Butt/ Ass

-> budhiya: old woman in Hindi

Forgive me if I make any mistakes

10 years ago- Bryce's POV

"Aloha!!" Bryce's cheerful voice ran clear through the hallways as he approached his teammates, instantly capturing the attention of the people.

"Hey Bryce, my man." Jason, his best friend stepped forward and did a complicated handshake with him before patting his back.

"How was the summer?" Kai, his other best friend spoke up as he leaned against the lockers, his dark hair falling on his eyes.

"You know the usual. Practice and stuff. My parents did take us to Australia. The waves there are sweet." Bryce whistled lowly, remembering how he spent numerous days surfing at sea.

"What a lucky bastard. Do you think your parents would adopt me?" Jason asked causing Kai to chuckle.

At this point, they would want anyone but me as their son. A dark look passed on his face but he hid it behind the over cheerful and happy go lucky mask.

"So, what's up with you guys?!" He asked, smoothly changing the topic.

Jason began. "Well I for one, had a fun summer hanging out at the beach, enjoying the sun-"

"-having flings left, right, centre." Kai completed the sentence, snickering.

"As if you weren't the one who fooled around more. You broke so many hearts, Kai!!" Jason rolled his eyes.

"But I finally settled down, unlike your unsettled ass." Kai exclaimed.

"50 bucks you will break up with him in ten days." Kai narrowed his green eyes and smacked the back of Jason’s head.

"Wow, seems like I have some catching up to do." Bryce smirked.

Kai turned towards Bryce, suddenly serious. "Glad you brought it up. We have a proposition for you."

Bryce incredulously raised his eyebrow.

"Your two o'clock. Short brunette with glasses. Don't be too obvious."

Bryce ran his hand through his long hair and his amber eyes fell on the girl.

He leaned against the locker near Jason.

"What's her deal?"

"Apparently, she joined the school last year and has been on the low. Keeps to herself, certified nerd, teacher's pet and super uptight."

Bryce eyed her and he recognized that she was in his chemistry class last year.

Aisha Khurrana.

"Wait... That's Aisha. She was in my chemistry class last year. Introverted and quiet."

Jason did a double-take. "Wait really? Well, that makes it easier for us."

"Good. I will make y'all talk to her-"

Kai stopped him midway. "Woah, woah, woah. We don't want to interact with her. You are the one doing this."

"Will one of you kanilehua tell me what the fuck is going on?" Bryce asked, getting annoyed.

"After the legendary prank Ano pulled last year, it's time we step up. So while you were tanning your okole in Australia, Jason and I were brainstorming to come up with a better idea."

Jason continued. "So we decided that you could get her fall in love with you before the finals and boom! We could pull the prank on prom."

Bryce's eyed widened. "Woah, don't you think that's extreme?"

Kai rolled his eyes. "Please, Ano humiliated a teacher and exposed that he was having an affair with a junior. I don't think it's that extreme."

"What is this prank you have planned on prom?"

Jason waved his hand. "We haven't worked out the details but we have the entire year to do that. You on the other hand... Are running out of time."

Bryce's eyebrows furrowed. "And why can't either of you take this up?"

"Because Kai here is surprisingly getting cosy with Kaeo the jock from Sunset High while I am on the principal's radar for the shit I did last year. I am this close to getting expelled." Jason enunciated his point by touching his pointer finger and thumb.

"Jas... you're touching your fingers."

"Exactly."

"So will you take one for the team?”

Bryce sighed. "I just... don't know. Honestly."

“Bro, this could literally make or break our popularity bro. You don't want to be the laughing stock of the school, do you?" They asked with puppy eyes.

The peer pressure and the need to uphold his reputation as the golden boy made him raise his hands in defeat. His eyes glanced at the losers down the hall, who people were blatantly ignoring.

Definitely don't want to fall in that category.

"Fine. I will do it. But you will owe me."

"That's our boy." The boys whooped as they clapped his back.

Bryce's eyes wandered to his new target, finding her brown eyes staring right back at him. The flecks of hazel shone with curiosity but her face was impassive as if she didn't want to let anyone in.

Well, this is going to be an interesting year, Aisha Khurrana. Bryce thought to himself.

PRESENT

When Bryce woke up this morning, he didn't think his day would turn out this way.

Who would have fucking thought that the one girl you could never get over shows up at the hospital you are a surgical intern at?

Not me.

He was looking forward to this fresh start. A new city where no one knew who he was and he hoped it stayed that way. To hone his craft and become one of the best surgeons in the country. Anything to get rid of the stains on his name.

After Aisha left at the beginning of Junior year of high school, things were hard. Not that anyone was going to believe him but he actually loved her and no matter how many people he hooked up with, no matter how much he drank himself to oblivion, there was just no getting over her.

He often wondered- no believed that he had lost his one shot at love.

You only get one great love and of course, I had to blow it up, and for what? Popularity? Reputation? That already went down the drain because of my beloved dad.

When he finally got his head in the game and things were bearable, the scandal happened towards the end of the Senior year. Sure, he could hide face during the summers, lounging in his gaudy compound. But he could hear the occasional shouts and protests out of the gates of his home, reminding him that he couldn't escape the truth.

To distract himself from his dad going to trial, his mom selling out to the feds and his baby sister crying from the stress, he dove right into his studies, hoping to score well in his SATs so that he could get away from Maui.

But there was still one year of high school left, and that was fucking awful. He was relentlessly bullied at every turn of the corridor, got the stink eye from the teachers and people jumped away from him as if he was a social pariah.

Technically, I was.

Though his parents were very tight-lipped about the details of the case, it wasn't that hard to get to know more from the internet. And the fact that the people in his school always made it a point to remind him.

Aisha's dad was one of the people who worked for the company that got screwed over by his dad.

Bryce had given up after all these years that he will ever find her again. He often wondered what would he do if he were to meet her again. The apologies he would say and the monologue on how ‘he was never the same after she left’ had been practised over and over again.

But right there she was, half-naked in front of him, completely at the loss of words. His eyes wandered, making sure if it was the same girl from tenth grade. There was a nose piercing and he saw a little ink near a hip.

"Aisha?" He repeated, completely shocked, his jaw dropped. Never in his entire life has he felt the loss of words.

They stared into each other's eyes, chocolate brown eyes meeting his amber ones, completely lost.

But that moment didn't last for long because Jackie shutting the locker made them realize that this was indeed reality.

Aisha managed to snap out of her reverie. "Oh my fucking god, I don't have time for this shit." She rapidly threw on her fresh sets of scrubs and slammed her locker before making a move.

Bryce stepped in her path, blocking her. "What are you doing here?!"

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, the familiar fire and hatred flooding in those brown orbs. "Well, I could ask you the same thing Mr. I-will-become-a-lawyer. Now out of my way, I'm getting late for the orientation." Though she was short (5 feet 3 inches to be precise), she still managed to slam her shoulder against his chest and walk away.

"Oh My God!!" Jackie's voice resounded after a few quiet moments.

"Put a cap on it nose wipe." He muttered as he rubbed the area where Aisha slammed against him.

"I didn't say anything."

"Yeah but that expression says it all." He rolled his eyes as put his stethoscope into his breast pocket.

"But, for real. Who is she?" Jackie asked, inquisitiveness laced in her voice.

Bryce flicked her nose. "I found your nose in my business, why don't you take it right out?"

"Ugh. Fine. Keep your secrets. C'mon, let us get to the orientation before it gets over."

"Yap. Right behind you." The duo headed towards the main atrium and made their way towards the front so that they could hear the hospital chief. The rest of the interns were already gathered in front of the stairs upon which an impressive, statuesque woman stood and spoke.

That is Dr Harper Emery!! Bryce thought to himself, as the very thought of standing in the very same room as his inspiration made him giddy. He turned to talk but the excitement instantly vanished because thanks to his amazing luck, he ended up standing right next to Aisha.

The universe, what games are you playing against me? Bryce let out a sigh which caught Aisha's attention. She just gave an annoying glance and stared up, as if to ask why was this happening to her.

Both of them turned away from each other and focused on what Dr Emery was saying. "... because as of today, you are no longer students, You are doctors."

Aisha turned towards Jackie and whispered. "Psst. Who is that?"

Jackie whipped her head towards Aisha's short build. "I don't know if you are joking or are serious."

Aisha's ears getting red was the only confirmation Jackie needed. Her jaw dropped and she was physically incapacitated, unable to speak before she finally managed to string together words.

"Seriously? Did you learn medicine in the woods or something?"

Aisha's eyes narrowed and Bryce just knew that if he didn't intervene Aisha would absolutely roast Jackie and her lineage.

So, in a low voice, he spoke up. "That's Harper Emery, the hospital's new chief." A smile made his way on his face as he continued to talk about her. "She's a total badass! World-famous head of neurosurgery before she got promoted."

He turned towards Jackie, smirking. "Guess she's just a scalpel jockey too, huh?"

Giving a Cheshire grin she responded. "She's the only scalpel jockey who deserves rights."

Aisha gave a stiff nod before turning back towards the Chief.

Someone is definitely a ray of sunshine. Bryce thought to himself. His conscience promptly snarked. Bold of you to assume that this isn't your fault.

Brain... Stop. as he shook his head to shake off the guilt that slowly swirled in his chest.

"More will be demanded of you that you've ever experienced. Some of you will buckle under the pressure. Some of you will quit. But some... some of you will thrive."

"Damn... She is so inspiring... I feel like I can do anything." Aisha whispered, her brown eyes sparkling with admiration.

"Well then, can I inspire you to pipe down? I'm trying to listen."

"Can I inspire you to get your ears checked, budhiya?" Jackie looked offended but you could see the glint of amusement and respect in her eyes.

"Girls, can this fight wait until after the speech?" Bryce muttered.

"This is not fighting. This is us bonding scalpel jockey. Get on the same page." Jackie whispered causing Aisha to smirk.

"I give up. But please for the love of everything good can we keep it on the low." He shot a pleading look and they managed to shut up.

"You've been entrusted with a sacred duty: the care and wellbeing of every man, woman and child who enters this hospital. Are you ready?"

The interns promptly burst into applause and they look around, sharing excited smiles with their new colleagues.

Harper Emery raised her hand, to silence the applause. "You'll be introduced to your senior residents tomorrow but for now, you'll be partnering up for your first patients. Your assignments are posted on the board. Good luck, doctors!!"

Bryce swaggered up to his board and searched for his name and found out that he was paired with a Samantha.

Wait for a second... that name sounds fami-

"You?" He swirled around towards the feminine sound and as soon as his eyes landed on her, the memories hit him.

Him running his hands through her hair whilst they kissed passionately against the door of her apartment. Her running her hands down his abs and pulling him by the loops of his belt. Both of them lost in the sensation of each other and Bryce still had the scratch marks on his back to remind him of the amazing night they had the previous day.

"Sam? I didn't know you worked here!!"

"Well fate is a funny thing, isn't it? So apparently we are partners?"

"Yap and we need to take our cases from the residents and be on our way. Are you ready?" Bryce asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I was born ready baby." Sam winked as she started pushing her way through the throng of interns and Bryce followed suit.

When they finally were free, Jackie showed up next to him followed by Aisha and another girl who had a striking resemblance to Chief Emery.

"See you later meathead."

"Try not to miss me too much." He winked before glancing towards Aisha. Their eyes met and she immediately looked the other way, chatting with her partner.

"It's a beautiful day to save lives. Let's have some fun, shall we?" Sam asked her eyes twinkling which just made Bryce smile.

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

It was going good so far. He had been allotted two cases that day. One with a routine appendectomy and the second one being a benign tumour removal from the right lung. With a cool, calm collected mind, the two of them diagnosed the patients, raising eyebrows.

"Dr Lahela, what is the treatment plan?" Dr Tanaka, the head of cardiovascular surgery asked.

"Well we are administering her with tumour shrinking drugs like bromocriptine so that we could decrease the size and then after a couple of days we will take her for surgery."

Dr Tanaka gave a nod of appreciation. Sam turned and held the young patient's hand. "Miss, you are in good hands and if you have any more questions you can always ask for us."

"Thank you so much, Dr Anderson."

They stepped out of the room and Bryce shut the door behind them.

"Keep an eye on her and do checks every four hours. Good job." Dr Tanaka turned on his heels and only when he was out of earshot Sam fist-bumped Bryce.

"The surgical society is back at it again."

"God Sam that was awful." He groaned as he pulled his pen out to sign the charts.

"Well, that just means I need to keep thinking of names for the dynamic duo. See you later byeee."

He shook his head and gave the charts to the nurses' station before whistling down the confusing corridors of Edenbrook when suddenly he heard a thud sound from the nearby supply closet.

Must be a doctor who is not having a good day.

He stopped before the door, contemplating whether he should enter or leave but his instinct to help overpowered and he cracked open the door to see Aisha leaning heavily against the racks, her back towards him. Her shoulders were shaking and he could hear her heavy breathing.

He was about to leave unnoticed when Aisha’s voice wafted over to him. “get in or get out. Don’t hold it open.” She glanced towards the door and Bryce knew that he could kiss his unnoticed exit goodbye.

Oh boy.

Oh? so we have a new character 👀 And um that really wasn't the reunion Bryce was looking forward to lol

And now the supply closet yikes yikes yikes okay now i will shut up heheheh

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reeesea · 3 years

Text

Something Sweet: Part Seven

~sweet home~

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

pairing: minsung, han jisung/lee minho

warning: mild language

words: 4.7k

summary: Home is where your bros at right? right.

a/n: I actually like this chapter, shocker. i hope you enjoy

ao3

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

Minho stared at the video file sitting on his computer, on the familiar application site that had been haunting his mind for the past couple years. The debate he found himself in with himself on whether or not to submit another application, had become his default subject of thought for much of the past few weeks. All building up to right now. Something had tipped the scale though. Something that reminded him if he didn't submit an entry this year, that he might as well have given up on his one dream. His one goal. The only thing that had been keeping him motivated through university. So once again he found himself rationalizing, and knew that if anything he had to try, at least just one last time.

Upload complete, Thank you for your entry!

Minho sighed loudly. He had sent it in. The first part of the application. It was just a basic dance routine supplied by the academy. He had practice and recorded it all within one sitting. Having been a part of a dance crew for much of the past year had allowed him to quickly pick up choreography and perfect it. The other reason being that he wanted more than anything to get the overbearing presence of the audition tape out of his head space as soon as possible. A heavy sigh left his lips as he laid back down on the studio floor, not too long after a ping of his phone revived just enough for him to check his messages.

[Rich Boy Han Jisung]

2:50 pm

Minho-hyung!

I hope your day has been going well~

Sadly, no updates on when ill be free :/

They’re working us hard for the debut

It’s alright Ji, work hard!

You better be taking care of yourself tho...

4:03 pm (new)

Have you heard this song? Made me think of you :)

{link attached}

I hope you like it!!!!

Oh, no i havent

I’ll give it a listen ^-^

As of late it wasn’t uncommon for Jisung to send the older songs he thought he would like. Always saying some cheesy line that was so blatantly sweet it made Minho flustered everytime. This time of course was no exception.

Ping.

HYUNG THAT EMOJI

Asjdnjsfma

I knew I was rubbin goffon you

Kkkkk

Dont get too ahead of yourself

atleast I can still type coherent sentences

~goffon~

Boo :p

Why Jisung was so persistent about sending him songs was lost on the older, but it was a sweet reminder that someone was thinking about him. It had been a while since Minho had even imagined that someone took a few minutes of their day to actually consider how he was doing. It didn't quite make sense to him that suddenly out of nowhere, there was his boy, man, person, who purposefully took the time to dedicate brain cells to his existence. Wild.

Minho hurriedly clicked the link to the song that Jisung had sent. It was an upbeat song, with a strong but subtle strumming of a guitar to keep the song’s pace just quick enough to be comfortable. “There's no one else that could ever hold me like you do.” The lyrics were in the realm of positive longing and companionship, but the dips into minor chords and tone of the singer created a mood of desperation. More than anything, the song brought forth a story to Minho. One that he could see with his eyes close and feel his body wanting to move to.

A smile stretched across his face, as he rose from his spot on the floor, dusting off the dull ache and pressure in his shoulders from having just finished a routine not even 10 minutes ago.

“But I know that I'd be crazy, Not to wanna be the one to keep you up all night”

Woah there Jisung, at least take me out to dinner first. He made a mental note to tease the younger later about his “Made me think of you :)” line later. Already stretching and drawing a plan in his head, Minho took his phone and saved the song, pressing the repeat button twice, to allow the guitar chords and chorus harmonies to carry on endlessly. A smirk stretched into an excited smile. Not wanting to jinx himself, a shy “finally” was whispered in the back of Minho’s mind at the surge of inspiration, but not spoken aloud just yet.

---

Flashing lights, heavy makeup, hot clothing, and too much fog from the smoke machine is all Jisung had thought about for the last couple hours. 3RAHCHA was in their last photo shoot for their debut. The concept photos would be released later through the week, slowly revealing the three members and their group as officially signed with JJP ent.

The multicolor lights had been running through his vision for so long that as soon as he walked into their Green Room, he had almost forgotten what color everything actually was. Looking in the mirror he saw the blonde highlighted streaks in his hair had settled nicely, slightly slicked back. The stylist had surely done their jobs well. Painting the three rappers up to look less like the nightcrawlers they were, and into something that leather and fishnet clad superstars might look like was definitely a challenge. Jisung had his makeup done just enough to give his eyes a smoky look to them, and grey contacts to emphasize his gaze. The ensemble he had on looked like something that had come straight from a catwalk. Fishnets crawling up his arms from his gloved hands and an asymmetrical shit he for sure would not have been able to put on without the help of his stylist-noona. All that plus some leather pants and combat boots, he definitely looked more like his persona J.One than the notorious hoodie clad couch potato named Jisung he usually found himself as.

Having just finished his own solo shoot, he signaled Changbin to head on to the set as he returned. The older nodded from his chair in front of the makeup station, as the artist finished the final touches to his eyeliner. Jisung watched as the shorter rapper walked out to the set in a white puffer jacket that he somehow pulled off, even with the bright red pants he wore. A part of Jisung was thankful his stylist hadn’t taken that many liberties with his outfit, but the makeup and outfit Changbin wore really only emphasized his intimidating stare and the wideness of his shoulders. It was undeniable that their concept photos would come out well.

Chan, who was seated on a couch, eating some of the provided sandwiches, was already hunched over his computer and mixing equipment again, airpods in. Probably working on tracks for their third comeback knowing him. Not wanting to jump right back into work Jisung snagged a few snacks from the buffet and found a chair he could lay on. Listening to music that wasn't work had become a rarity for Jisung in the years he had been with 3RACHA. Of course he always tried to stay on top of the recent pop and hip hop trends, but straying any farther than his trusty morning and workout playlists was more than unlikely.

Lately though, Jisung found himself looking through a lot of random indie, alternative, “western” pop, and especially dance music. The versatility of the genres was comforting to Jisung in the rather turbulent state his emotions and mental state have been in, as the debut approached. Also Minho. Meeting Minho definitely had introduced a whole new set of feelings Jisung was still working on navigating. As he listened to the different songs that populated this radio, he told himself he was just looking for some inspiration for his lyrics and 3RACHA’s new music, but even he knew that was mostly a lie.

Ever since that night at the bar with Minho he found himself always considering the older and what he would think of a song or how he would dance to it, or if he would even like it. After pointing out that he liked a particularly upbeat pop song with melancholic lyrics, during their impromptu karaoke session, Jisung had been delvinging into all related categories to find songs he thought the older might enjoy. He wanted more than anything to inspire his older companion? Partner? (that was a later Jisung question.) but he wanted to repay the man who had allowed him to get out of his creative slump. That night, as soon as the youngest rapper had returned to the 3RACHA “house” he felt the start of at least 5 separate tracks and choruses appear in his brain. His two hyungs jumped into action along with him as Jisung desperately tried to write and record everything that was jumping out of his brain at once.

Jisung remembered Chan’s smile and encouraging words as he fitted a few of his new verses to songs they had previously put on the shelf. After finding a particularly emotional but upbeat song he immediately wanted to send it to Minho. He always got hung up on what to say with the link. Other than the thought vomit that occurred every time he chooses to send him a potentially good song: “Found this song? U Like???” No Jisung, what are you five?? “I think you will enjoy this song. Please give it a listen? :0” No that just sounds desperate.

“You doing alright there Ji, I can hear you sighing through my earbuds?” Chan peeked out from under his styled bangs with a raised eyebrow, sending Jisung into a red embarrassed mess that he had been caught. He hoped his layers of foundation would cover it up.

“Yeah fine fine, don't worry. I’m FINE.” Attempting to hide Jisung curled up tighter into his arm chair. Just be casual Jisung it's a song not a marriage proposal dear god. “Have you heard this song? Made me think of you :)” Good, yes fine. Send.

Minho responded immediately and cutely with an emoji that made his heart jump a little. Minho would respond always with a variation of a “Thanks! I’ll go listen”, but Jisung had yet to receive any confirmation that the older actually enjoyed the links he sent, much less had found some inspiration in them. At this point the only thing he could do was hope. He wanted nothing more than Minho to be smiling because of him.

Officially exhausted, it wasn’t until late when the 3RACHA boys had finally made it back to their apartment. The day Jisung had, had been anything but short. Almost collapsing immediately on the couch. Sana notified them that she had already ordered food to be delivered for dinner and that they should go to bed as soon as they had finished eating. Chan looked like he was about to pass out on the couch before the food even arrived, which was more than likely at this point. After their shoot they were immediately sent to a few other meetings laying out their marketing and schedule plans for the upcoming weeks. Although glad they were able to part with their artistic and career decisions with their company, it did add a lot of work and responsibilities to the trio.

Jisung’s phone had died somewhere after meeting 3 of 5 and he had submitted to having to carry the lifeless brick with him anyway. Not ideal for his wandering mind and anxiety that comes with a few too many stressful meetings. Once finally arriving home he went and plugged his phone in at the charger on the kitchen counter. Lighting up with notification buzzes as it rebooted back to life.

[ 5 new messages from Lee Minho hyungie]

Immediately cursing himself internally for not bringing his charger with him, he opened his messages from Minho ignoring all others.

[Lee Minho hyungie]

5:45 pm

Hey Jisungie, just finished up practice!

Actually may or may not have danced to the song u sent…

Maybe I’ll show you some day hehehehehehehehe ;)

7:21 pm

Han Jisung, did you forget your charger again >:/

Well I’m off to my late shift, I hope you have a good night~

Jisung always found himself smiling at Minho’s before work texts. They were always so cute. Either some sort of sweet well wishing or some other Minho-esque goodbye, along the lines of “don’t die mysteriously while i'm gone ;p” or “Have a good night, try not to miss my WONDERFUL company too much <3”. (The hearts always made Jisung grin hard, even if they were sarcastic)

This night though, Jisung found him almost jumping in victory at Minho’s text.

[Lee Minho hyungie]

12:35 am

YOU DANCED TO THE SONG

Really?!?!?!

What did you like about it?

When can I see????

You better not leave me on read after work!

Jisung tried to imagine what kind of dance Minho would do to the track he sent,and suddenly found himself flush at the thought of watching the other dance. Somehow, watching Minho dance, felt more intimate than any other situation that they’ve shared. Thankfully Minho seemed to want to hold off, so at least of the time being Jisung’s heart was safe. The exhaustion and stress from the day faded ever so slightly as soon as he thought of Minho with coordinating blush to match.

Jisung you lovestruck fool.

“Jisung! Food’s here!!! If you don't hurry Chan’ll eat your portion again.”

“HEY! It was one time.” Laughter filled the apartment gently as they all respectively fought gravity to get up and make their way to collect the food from the delivery man.

---

Minho tore up the stairs and through their apartment door as quickly as he could without spilling the carry out food he had in his arms. The clock was ticking a little past midnight and fear set in that the older would miss their planned celebrations.

Bursting through the door, “Did I beat him?!” The oldest was frazzled from rushing in order to beat their third roommate home from work.

“Barely! I was afraid you wouldn’t make it, with having to bring the carry out.” Hyunjin’s sigh of relief was visible throughout the boy's now relaxed body. He had spent the last ten minutes hoping that they would still be able to pull off their surprise party for the youngest. Pacing around and failing to come up with any backup plans if Minho had been later than Felix. Thankfully for them both, Minho had a way of always being on time.

“Hey all that matters is I made it. Is everything else ready?” Looking around Minho could see that Hyunjin’s bed was transitioned back into the couch setting and that the floors had been tidied up. A couple stray balloons littered the floor as well as a home made “happy birthday felix” sign hung from their living room screen divider.

“Yep, I've just been waiting anxiously for you to get home for the past half hour.”

The door handle of their apartment began to jiggle, signaling the two boys to spring into action. Minho setting down the carry out, and Hyunjin frantically lights candles on the small cake on the coffee table. The door swung open, revealing a disheveled after-work Felix wandering through the door. As soon as the boy turned toward their living room, he was accosted with shouts and the flailing limbs of his hyungs.

“Surprise!!!” “Happy Birthday!!!”

Felix’s smile erased any of the signs of exhaustion off his face immediately as soon as he spotted his hyungs excited expressions. The cake, the streamers, the balloons, and sign all sparked some joyful tearing of his eyes as he set down his things and made his way to the small cake with a few random lit candles on top. The clock had crossed over into the next day as Felix had made his way home, that he had almost forgotten that it was now technically the early morning hours of his birthday. Coming home to joyful cheers instead of their usual exhausted silence had given him a certain happiness that he hadn’t realized he was missing.

For all of three of the roommates this was their first time having a celebration in their small home together. By now the sense of home was undeniable and without realizing it all of them had begun to consider each other and their shared 3 room apartment, home.

The disjointed singing of happy birthday followed by the laughter and conversation surrounded their coffee table as the three enjoyed their small carryout feast and cake. The warmth that their company gave each other lasted well into the night.

“Hyung! It's my birthday, stop eating all the cake!!!”

“I have no idea what youre talking about Lixie.” Minho says while actively taking another bite of their 2 person sized cake.

“Hyung!” The laughter of the oldest filled the room followed by the other two’s not too long after.

“Happy Birthday Lixie~” The smile hadn’t left the freckled boys faces since he had sat down, and remained as he pulled his two roommates into a forceful hug. It was his birthday so the boys both submitted to the clingy nature of their third roommate, as always.

---

It was late into the early morning by the time Minho had checked his phone.

[ 5 new messages from Rich Boy Han Jisung]

A soft pang of guilt hits his chest after reading the younger’s texts and realizing that he did in fact leave the other on read for the better part of the last two hours.

2:43 am

I’m so sorry Sungie!

We were celebrating Felix’s birthday, and I didnt check my phone….

Look at the cute cake we got him!

{photo attached}

Minho sent the selfie of the three of them with Felix’s cake, if anything just to lessen the guilt in his chest. Hoping that the cuteness of Felix’s smile would be enough to forgive him for low key ghosting him for a few hours. Minho knows that on the days Jisung has the most schedules are the hardest for him mentally, and he always tries his best to be there for him and send him a message or two to lessen the load on those nights. The fact that he hadn’t been there tonight filled him with some worry. A part of him hoped that the younger would’ve been asleep by now but their late night track record did not exactly support that.

---

Jisung had been lying painfully awake in his bed for an hour when he heard the buzz of his phone. Slightly upset with his body for not giving into the exhaustion he had gathered from the day, and just letting him sleep, he turned to the side table to check the messages. Awake fully ,but only mentally half conscious, he read through his messages:

Minho. Oh, yay, it's Minho.

Felix’s Birthday. Oh right he had mentioned that coming up.

Cute cake. Aw that cake is really cute… wait.

Birthday.

I have one of those, around this time to-

I missed my birthday. I forgot my birthday. Everyone forgot.

The cute picture Minho had sent was so filled with happiness that Jisung almost let the pain slide and pass the moment by. But something just didn't feel right in letting himself forget his own birthday. The fact that the others hadn’t remembered didn’t bother him too much. Chan, Changbin, they were all busy with schedules and he can't blame them. Especially since he, himself had forgotten. No birthday text from his family either. Unsurprising though since he rarely got in contact with them since moving to Korea in high school. He forgot though.

He wasn’t quite sure why this was bothering him so much. Some people don't even celebrate their birthday, or remember how old they are, but Jisung had always prided himself on never letting his work take over entirely who he was. To exhausted-Jisung, he couldn’t help but feel like this was one step toward losing the grip on who he was, and that was in itself, terrifying.

The coldness of his bed and the dark expanse of his room seemed to only perpetuate the way Jisung felt. Floating, alone, lost. His insecurity was starting to come into focus, and no wonder it had been keeping him up. He had been spiraling for days probably, without even knowing it. The buzz of his phone lit up his face, snapping him out of his own thoughts for a moment.

[Lee Minho hyungie]

2:50 pm

You okay Jisung?

I hope I didn't wake you

Jisung noticed that the app had revealed that he had read the messages and was indeed awake. Unfortunately, exhausted-and--spirling-Jisung was the only one present enough to send a response. Hopefully Minho wouldn’t mind him too much.

You didn’t wake me, was already up :/

It looks really fun hyung

I just realized something too

My birthday was yesterday

I forgot it

Jisung found himself fighting the watering of his eyes as he sent those messages. Why was he crying? He just forgot, he was busy. It was okay. Right? The tears seemed to only cloud his vision more, blocking him from reading the messages from Minho that were buzzing and populating the screen. Not bothering to wipe his eyes, he let them blurr.

Wh- do you- mea- ???

Jis--ng ar- y-- ok--?

I-- sorry i- di-nt -----

---- wa-t --- ca-l?

--sung?

A few moments passed, without him realizing it, as his phone buzzed some more, screen changing to the incoming call screen. Sucking up his tears and drying his damp screen, it took a few tries before answering the call.

---

“Jisung!?” Jisung nearly flinched, just nearly.

“Hi hyung, How was work?” hoping to cover up his tears by changing the subject. Jisung thought it was a pretty good attempt.

“How wa- what, no. Jisung are you okay?” There it was again. The undeniable worry in Minho’s voice. Ow.

“Yeah I’m okay.” Despite Jisung’s efforts it was obvious to Minho that the other had in fact been crying. Not wanting to push the younger though, he allowed him to change the subject

“.... okay, I just want to check in on you. I worry you know, Sung!”

“About me? that's silly hyung.” The distance in his tone replaced Jisung’s usual brightness, and it hurt Minho to hear it.

“I don't think so. How am I to know what my favorite customer is up to? You may be a soon to be rap star but that doesn’t keep you from ignoring your hyung.” Even though Jisung giggled at that, the irony of the statement wasn’t lost on Minho. A wave of guilt washed over his chest as soon as he said it.

“I am sorry though. For not answering sooner and everything.”

And for reminding you of your birthday, and making you cry, and not being there to make you smile.

“No don’t be sorry! That’ll only make me feel worse for bothering you… I think the exhaustion was just making me delirious, I haven't been sleeping well these past few nights.” Minho had to fight his initial protective instincts that told him to scold the younger for not taking care of himself, because a part of him knew that the younger was certainly trying his best to do so.

“Well if you can’t sleep ever, just call me okay? I’m usually up from my shifts anyway. Plus if I'm not up surely one of my roommates is. Felix will probably never let go of you once he finds your birthday brothers." Hearing Minho's laugh lightened the tight pressure that Jisung hadn't realized had been settled in his chest.

"Okay hyung, i'd like that I think."

"You better. My time rarely comes free, and this is a limited time offer." Jisung’s laugh is a little bit more enthusiastic this time.

“Of course hyung.” A silence came over them for a moment. Not an awkward one, more of a point of realization and relief. Like the feeling after having a good cry, in Jisung’s case.

“Happy belated birthday Jisung.”

“Thanks hyung… Did you have a fun time with Felix?”

“Yeah! It was actually a lot of fun. Just some carry out and cake after work, but it was good to relax with them. We don't always have free time together, and haven’t had the chance to celebrate anything until now. Hyunnie luckily found a cake on sale at the mart today, sparking this whole thing.”

Minho remembered the frantic call from the younger as he delved into his plans for giving Felix the “perfect surprise birthday celebration” because he had “found the perfect cake to match Felix’s cuteness.” It was on sale. Also because “Come on Min-hyung Felix would absolutely do the same for us.” Explaining the situation to Jisung really did solidify the fact that Minho knew Felix, would in fact, plan some adorable birthday celebration for the older two if given the opportunity.

“What would you guys have done if he hadn't found the cake?”

“I’m not sure maybe it would’ve just been a carry-out celebration.”

“Still sounds really nice hyungie. You and your roommates seem so close.”

“I suppose shared rent does that to people.” Minho laughed it off but he had begun to cherish the brotherly bond that had grown between his roommates.

Not having ever considered it before, the fact that the roommates were only able to buy a cake because it happened to be on sale, revealed to Jisung that their financial situations may have been farther apart than he realized. Money had never been a barrier that Jisung had to face, always having family (or honestly Changbin) help pay for his living and pursuit of his dreams. Sure he’s had part time jobs in the past but he never found himself worrying about not making enough each month. Not going to university definitely was a large factor in maintaining his “affordable” lifestyle.

“It's nice you do things for each other. I can't remember the last time my hyungs and I have done something together that didn't have to do with our music.” Jisung started to feel some sort of jealousy at the closeness that Minho and his roommate had found in each other. Financial guilt and emotional jealousy are a strange combination for a half conscious Jisung to say the least.

“Are those fools not taking care of my Sung properly? Illegal, tell them to call me I have to yell at them too. They better not be working you too hard.”

‘My Sung’ Jisung almost choked. Almost.

“Nonono Hyung! They take care of me fine, we're all just exhausted with work.”

“Hmmmm okay they get a pass this time, but please relay my threat.”

“Okay okay I will.”

“You should probably get some rest soon. You're busy tomorrow right?”

Jisung yawned in response, which was enough convincing for Minho that he needed to rest.

“Okay looks like it's sleepy time for hardworking Jisung~”

“Wait hyung!” Jisung wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet, even though his body was actively fighting him.

“Yes belated birthday boy?”

“Thank you for not letting me be a sad gremlin all night. It would've been nice to have spent my birthday with you, but you still made me feel better.”

The musings of sleepy Jisung were just about enough to let the fondness burst from Minho’s chest. As much as he continues to hide it, the fondness still seeps into his voice, “Of course, Jisung we always have next year.” A promise he wasn’t sure he could keep but Jisung always made him want to try new things.

“Next year?” The sleepiness had definitely taken over, making his voice much softer than his usual bright edge.

“Yes next year... Goodnight Sungie, call me back if you can't sleep okay.”

“Mmkay, G’night hyungie.” Already half asleep by the time he hung up, Minho was glad that the younger was finally able to rest. Glancing at his roommates huddled together on the couch already drifting off, Minho accepted that it was his turn to finally rest knowing that all his younger companions were all safely sleeping. Hyung instincts he supposes.

-----

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

#skz au #skz fic #stray kids au #stray kids fic #lee minho #han jisung #minsung #leeknow #skz lee know #skz han #stray kids #lee felix #hwang hyunjin

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followyoursecretsmutblog · 4 years

Text

the lies you tell II.

Summary: You and Henry dated for 2 very happy years, when it all came crumbling down. Protection was the only thing on your mind. And now, 3 years later, on a lunch with a common friend, you are hit with the lies you told.

the lies you tell.

This can’t be happening, how is it possible? Out of all the places to eat, he had to choose this place?

Is nothing sacred anymore?!

He stares at me, eyes searching mine. But I can’t say anything, my brain is making dial up noises and I think my heart has stopped.

“Do you two know each other?” Chris asks, looking between the two of you, confused.

“Hey.” I give a weak smile, and an even weaker wave.

What the hell was that? What is wrong with me?

Henry’s eyebrows pull together, confusion settling on his features. He takes a deep breath, looking to Chris and back to me. “Are you two...?”

“No!” I shout, a little too loudly and a little too quickly. Clearing my throat, I try again, “No, Chris and I are only friends. He is like a brother to me.”

“Words hurt, Ava.” Chris jokes, but still watching Henry, who is watching me. “So...”

“Ava and I used to date.” Henry says, his eyes leave mine, looking at Chris.

Chris’ face looks like a child in a candy shop. The excitement and pure wonder in his features made him look 10 years younger. “Wow, you guys dated? I would have never guessed. No wonder she won’t go for me, you already ruined her taste in real men.” Chris laughs as Henry just gives a sad smile.

“Can we talk?” Henry asks, his voice so low, I almost didn’t hear it.

“I promised Chris I’d babysit him today. You know him, he can’t be by himself for long of else he is bound to do something stupid.” I force a laugh, pushing my lack of wanting confrontation onto the man-child at the table.

“What? Of course, you guys can talk. Hell, we can all talk. Henry, join us for lunch.” Chris, the nicest man you will ever meet. But sometimes, he is so damn dense.

My eyes nearly pop out of my head. I don’t want to have this conversation in public or with Chris. And I also don’t think I can stay this close to Henry without crying much longer.

“I appreciate the offer, but I will have to decline. I just come to pick up some food, I have to get going.” Henry smiles at Chris, giving him that bro hug thing. He looks back down at me, a sad smile in place, “My number hasn’t changed, please call me. We need to talk.”

I just nod, looking down, twisting my ring around my finger, trying to breathe.

In and out.

“I can’t believe you used to date him. What happened?” Chris asks, popping a fry in his mouth.

“I made the biggest mistake of my life.”

“How could I be so stupid! I can’t believe it, it has been 3 years and I couldn’t form a fucking sentence!” I tug my hair from the roots, groaning like a mad woman.

“But, damnit! He looked so good!” I drop my hands, looking up at my ceiling, “I need to move again.”

I walk into my small kitchen and pour a glass of wine. A small smile playing at my lips, remembering what Henry was like when we first met. I thought he was a man then. But holy shit, he is a God now.

Picking my glass up, I take one sip when my phone rings.

Swiping at the screen, I put it to my ear. “For the last time Chris, I am fine. I promise not to do anything to get myself arrested.” I sigh, bringing my glass to my lips again.

“I’m glad you’re fine, because I’m not.” I choke on my wine, slamming the glass down.

“Shit! Henry?” I gasp for air, my voice coming out in wheezes.

“Are you okay? You don’t sound too good.” He asks, concern laced in his voice.

I can’t help but laugh, “Only you would be worried about me, right after you just said you weren’t fine because of me.” I take another sip of wine, letting it soothe my throat.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you. Or that I don’t still think about you.” I can hear rustling on his end, as if he was moving around. And then a car door slammed.

Where are you going?

“Don’t say those things, Henry. You can’t say that. Not after everything.” Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath.

“Why? You don’t want to know how I feel anymore? You used to always want to know what was on my mind, how my day was.” He says, an engine starting and a gear being shifted. “What changed?”

“Everything.” I whisper.

“I don’t believe that for one moment. Something happened all those years ago, and I want you to tell me what it was.” He says roughly.

“I already told you.” I choke, but take another drink. “I don’t lo-” I stop, hearing him growl.

“I don’t want that bullshit lie you gave me. I want the truth! How hard is it to tell me that!?” Henry shouts. I can hear him hit the steering wheel.

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” I shout back, holding back tears.

“I want you to tell me the truth!” The passion in his voice, the conviction in it, it startled me. He has never been so angry with me before. Never had a reason to raise his voice.

“I picked the lesser evil.” I say softly, draining the rest of my glass. “I have to go. I have things I have to do.”

“No! Don’t hang-up! We aren’t finished talking!” Henry shouts.

“Goodbye.” Click.

My love.

I step into the shower, ready to let the steam take me away and make me feel brand new.

Letting the water cascade down my body, feeling like millions of tiny arms are wrapping around my body, holding me together.

Running my fingers through my hair, my mind turns to a particularly steamy memory...

****

The pipes creak as water rushes out of the shower head, the lukewarm water starting to fill the bathtub. Once the water got warm enough, tipping a bottle of bubbles into it.

“Oh, this is going to feel so good.” I say as I slip into the water, letting the water and bubbles engulf me. I close my eyes, letting my body and mind drift away.

“Move up darling.” A soft voice calls, nudging my shoulder a touch.

Opening my eyes, I see my boyfriend of a year, Henry, in all his naked glory. Looking him up and down, I smirk.

Lord, if my mother could see the thoughts going in my head, she’d make me go to a nunnery!

I scoot forward, letting him slip in behind me, caging me in between his legs and arms.

I lean back, resting my head against his chest, playing with his fingers. “I always feel the safest, in your arms.” I whisper, turning my head up to kiss his chin.

“I will always do my best to make you feel safe when you are with me.” He whispers back, kissing my lips softly.

When we pull away, I lay back down on his chest, his fingers playing with the ring on my finger that he gave me just a month earlier for our anniversary.

“I love you, Ava.” I take a deep breath, and push myself off his chest and turn around, facing him. “What’s wrong?” Henry tilts his head, using his thumb to trace my lips.

“How could anything be wrong when I have you?” I smile, straddling his thighs, my hands running up and down his chest, my fingers memorizing the details of his body.

I move closer, my breasts pushed up against his chest, our lips grazing each other’s with every movement, eyes locked, wanting to see the others face as he pushes himself into me.

“Henry...” I gasp as he slowly moves inside me. His hands on my hips, pushing me down farther, taking him to the hilt. “Fuck, you feel so good.” I moan.

“That’s my line.” He chuckles, sliding one hand up my body, and wrapping around the back of my neck. “But I need you to start moving, or I’m going to embarrass myself.”

Placing my hands on the tub walls, I start to push up. Inch by slow inch, loving the way he feels inside me. When just the very tip of him is left, I drop, taking him all in, causing water to spill out of the tub.

My pace increases. My hands move to his shoulders, wanting to touch him and only him. Both of his hands back on my hips, holding me in place as he fucks into me.

“Fuck, I love your cock.” I moan, twining my fingers into his hair, nipping at his jaw. “So fucking big. Fills me right up.” I clench around him, sucking on a particularly sweet spot of his, the spot where his neck meets his shoulder.

“Do that again.” Henry grunts, his hips jerking with the need to release. But ever the gentleman, he waits for my release.

“I’ll do anything for you.” I do it again, my legs shaking, my orgasm right at the edge.

He picks up speed, thrusts harder into me, water gushing out like waves.

“Fuck, I’m going to come. Don’t stop Henry, don’t you fucking stop!” I meet his thrusts with my own, my orgasm making me come undone. My lips crushing his, taking all his moans and dirty words.

“Ava!” He calls, his own release taking him.

We take a minute to collect ourselves, him still inside me.

I pull myself off him, but fall back onto his lap, laying my head against his chest, kissing his chest and neck.

His arms wrap around me, kissing the top of my head.

The water was lukewarm again, but I am warm all over.

“You do love me more than just my cock, right?” He asks, chuckling.

“Of course, I love you, but your cock is, other worldly.” I smile, looking up at him. “And so is your tongue.”

Henry smacks my ass, making the remaining water ripple around us.

“Yes, I love you, Henry.” You kiss his lips, “With all my heart.”

I will do whatever I can for you, my love.

****

Getting out of the shower, I wrap a silk robe around my body, combing the knots out of my hair with my fingers. The last bits of my memory just at the surface of my mind. I look into the mirror, swiping the fog away, “With all my heart.” I whisper to myself.

With a sigh, I walk out of the bathroom, only to find a body sitting on my bed.

I gasp, clutching my robe tightly across my chest.

The invader picks their head up, bright blue eyes stare back at me.

“We need to talk. And I’m not leaving until we do.”

Henry.

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill smut #your local human disaster here #yoursecretsmutblog #the lies you tell

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certainglitterhologram · 4 years

Text

Lysander Scamander and Lily Potter II

I have a feeling that growing up, Lily and Lysander were best friends. Lorcan was super, super, SUPER close friends with Lily, and obviously Lysander, since they are twins, (trust me on this,), but Lily and Lysander just shared a bond the tiniest bit stronger.

Lily being an adventure seeking, adrenaline junky, while was Lysander, also adventure loving, but with limits. He knew his boundries and where to draw the line, but struggled to show that line to Lily, who would just jumped into every tree, every river, wanting to ride the hippogriff that she found in the woods behind the Scamander’s house.

Lysander putting his head into his hands each time, saying “Lily. It’s dangerous. It could bite you, you could fall off, it could have rabies, fleas or something even worse. “

Lily rolling her eyes and attempting to do it anyway, running up to the hippogriff and almost getting trampled to death. Like Scorpius’ dad, but actually life threatening.

After getting her out of there, Lysander smirked at her and said, “Don’t really wanna say I told you so, but....... *Pause* Oh who am I kidding, of course I do. Never tell me I’m wrong Lily, and expect to succeed in whatever dumb thing you’re doing. Lily just scoffing and said “I’m Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley’s daughter. The only reason I almost got trampled was obviously because the hippogriff sensed you behind that tree.”

Lysander, used to these egotistical comments, says “Oh yes, how could I be so stupid. It’s not like I’m the great-grandson of Newt Scamander, or anything. And the situation we are talking about involves a damn hippogriff. “

On the Hogwarts Express, Lily, Hugo, Lysander and Lorcan in the same compartment and a tall, lanky dark haired boy comes in. He introduced himself as Matthew Corner, and Lysander, being the best with people, gets up and politely introduces himself, and introduced the others.

Matt is immediately liked by everyone in the compartment, and they form their own little quintet, bonding over candy and pranks in the compartment.

When Albus and James come in to check on Lily, she just giggles and waves, before redirecting her attention to Lorcan, who had eaten one of those cool sweets that make you grow features of an animal, that Hugo had brought on the train.

The Sorting Ceremony went as expected, really.

Matthew, was one of the first, and had barely sat on the stool, before the hat shouted “RAVENCLAW”

Hugo went next. He was on the stool for a long time with that hat on his head. Not enough to be a hat stall, but just enough to be notably long, before the hat yelled “HU-GRYFFINDOR!”

When Lily was called, she sashayed up to the stool, with an overwhelming amount of confidence, and James yelled “YES, LILS! WHOO!”. The hat suprisingly sat there for a while, debating between Slytherin and Gryffindor, before ultimately deciding on Gryffindor.

Lysander had a feeling of dread at that moment. He did have seperation anxiety from Lorcan, just a mild case, but enough to make him dread the thought of them being in different houses. He hadn’t thought of it until that moment, becuase Lorcan and him were so alike. He ruled out that thought, and focused on relaxing himself

Lorcan jumped on the stool and only had a couple seconds of deliberation, before “HUFFLEPUFF!”

Lysander knew even before going up there, that there was no way he would be in Hufflepuff. He wasn’t exactly the definition of hardworking. Not that he wasn’t, no, he just had a tendency to quit things that no longer interested him, rather than working throught it.

When his name was called, he was immediately sorted into Ravenclaw. He knew he should feel proud, as he was taking after his mother, and had one of his closest friends with him, Matthew, but being away from his twin, best friend and other close friend, was paining him. But Lysander was known to almost always be happy, so shut these feelings down, sucked it up and got used to it. Eventually, he found that it wasn’t that bad, and that Lily and him were still best friends, and Lorcan was still his right hand man. And vice versa.

In their second year, Lily tried out for the Gryffindor quidditch team, and made it, as their Seeker. A few weeks into the season, it was Lily’s third match, Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff and literal miliseconds after Lily caught the snitch and secured the win for Gryffindor, in a rage, one of the Hufflepuff beaters bat a bludger straight at the back of her head, knocking her out.

Lysander, Lorcan, Hugo and Matt sprinted down the stands, running over towards her. She was crumpled on the grass and being levitated onto a stretcher by Headmistress McGonagall.

The culprit of the injury had jumped on his broom and flew towards the castle, and Lysander was trembling with rage. He snapped at the other boys (Hugo, Matt and Lorcan,) to follow him to see if they could find the boy. They found him trying to run into the castle without being seen, but Lysander jumped on him, and pinned him down, so he couldn’t get away, while Lorcan and Hugo sent red sparks to the teachers, letting them know the found him.

Then, of course, Lysander did the unexpected. Just when the teacher and the student were coming into view, he let go of the boy and punch him straight in the nose, breaking it, as soon as the first met the boy’s face. A single punch before Lysander pulled him close and whispered in a deadly calm tone

“Never. NEVER touch my Lily, EVER again.” Dropping the boy on the ground, before walking over to a shocked twin and Matthew. Leaning against the wall behind them and wiping the blood from the boy’s broken nose in the white-blond hair, not even caring at the streak of red in his hair.

Consequently, he recived three weeks of detention. Could have been worse, I suppose, was his attitude. For the next month, he recived fist bumps from James in the hallways and tiny smirks from Albus, telling him, they were proud.

Three years later, in fifth year, Lysander was noticing that he was catching feelings for Lily, but then, Matt had shyly asked her out, and she replied with “Why not?”.

Everytime they held hands, hugged, kissed or did anything of the sort, Lysander felt a rage build up inside of him. But for Lily’s sake, he tried to be happy. For Lily.

Lorcan noticed immediately, and after teasing that Albus owed him 12 Galleons, comforted him and said that he was sure that Lily felt the same way, but just hadn’t noticed it yet, and told Ly to just play along and calm down.

Hugo noticed it in History of Magic, his first class after breakfast, where after seeing Lily and Matthew snog right in front of him, Lysander had crushed a goblet with his hands. After giving him some kind of twin telepathic look that Hugo couldn’t interpret, Lorcan sighed and muttered “Reparo”.

Hugo thought it was weird, but thought not much of it until he realized in the middle of HOM. (He is Ron Weasley’s kid. Ofc he wouldn’t fucking notice.)

Hugo sent a note to the table where Ly and Matt were sitting, across the room, in a oragami swan (^-^) that read on the outside

Matt, if you’re reading this, just give it straight to Ly. Nothing really that interesting here,

In it, read

Lysander, mate...I realized you like Lily. Or Matt. I’m not sure, mate, i’m not going to make any assumptions. If it is Matt though, good for you. If it’s Lily, It was kinda obvious, so maybe, don’t crush a goblet next time they snog... just trying to help, but just know, that if Lily doesn’t choose you or doesn’t feel the same way, (Which she does.) the whole Potter-Weasley-Granger-Johnson-Delacour clan is on your side.

If you need anyone to talk to, I’m always here, mate. Just say the word.

-Hugo

and Hugo got a paper dragon back, saying

Well, I shouldn’t really suprised, but it’s Lily. I’m not fucking gay. But thanks for being supportive. Love you, bro.

~Ly

Lysander walked out of that class feeling a lot better, while Hugo felt smug. Hugo ran up to Fred II saying how he was about to have won his little bet with Rose. But they walked into the middle of the hallway to see Lily and Matthew, both looking solemn, (which was a first for Lily, who was almost always happy.)

They were speaking in hushed tones, Matt nodded and hugged Lily in an almost friendly manner, before walking away, with a smile on his face.

“What happened?” Lysander asked Lily, plainly curious.

“Oh, Matt and I both agreed that this relationship wasn’t working. We did like eachother.. but we agreed that being friends was more benefical for both of us.

Lysander tried very hard not to break out into a grin, while saying “Aw.. You two were cute together. “

Lily snorted and just walked into the Transfiguration classroom and plopped down in her chair.

During the passing period after the next class, Lysander quickly told Lorcan the news, who encouraged him to ask her out at dinner. And Lysander agreed

Lysander worked up his courage to ask her out and was about to walk over to the Gryffindor table, went she walked into the Great Hall, smirking.

“YOU!” she yelled, pointing at Lysander. The hall went silent.

“ME!” Lysander yelled back, sticking his toungue out at her.

“GO ON A DATE WITH ME ON THE NEXT HOGSMEADE TRIP?” Lily shouted, across the hall and out of nowhere.

“ANYTHING FOR YOU LILS!” The sentence slipped out of Lysander’s mouth before he could stop it, but he was glad he did.

Lily ran over to them, while Lorcan and Matt nudged Lysander, but Lily ignored them, pulling Lysander into a kiss that lasted a good forty five seconds.

The Great Hall cheered, and Lily whispered “I saw you crush that goblet at breakfast today, Ly. I didn’t even remember it until an hour ago. I knew you felt the same as me, so I did something so you wouldn’t have to ask me out. Carriages to Hogsmeade at 10 sound good?”

Lysander couldn’t say anything, so he nodded.

“Perfect! “ And Lysander watched Lily walk to her awed girl friends and a particularly smug Hugo.

Let’s just say a lot of money was exchanged that day.

#Hp #harry potter #harry potter next generation #hp next gen #hp next gen headcanon #Love #first kiss #harry potter oc #Lily Luna Potter #Lysander scamander

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 5 years

Text

Friends

*Not My Gif*

Request: Omggg number 4 & 10 from prompt list #2. With Remus Lupin please!!

Requested by: @roslea

Post Date: 9-13-19

Paring: Remus Lupin x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

~Master Lists~

~Favorites~

“Do you try to be stupid or does it just come naturally?” Remus laughed when James cocked a brow at your question.

“What’s going on with you two?” He asked, nodding in between you and Remus who took a seat on the couch with his arms crossed, next to Sirius.

You scowled at him before giving James your whole attention. “Remus thinks he’s a better flirt than I am.”

“Not again.” Sirius mutters as he shoves his face into his hands, hiding the eye roll and annoying groans coming from him.

Unfortunately Remus didn’t miss his incoherent words. “What?” He pressed, hoping Sirius would spill but he just plastered a fake smile across his face.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“So how do you decide who’s better?” You looked at James, smirking and raising your brow and he seemed to catch on when he let out a loud groan.

“What? What are they going to do?” Peter asked as Sirius let out a bark of a laugh.

“She’s going to flirt with James.” He informed Peter and smirked at you, earning a wink in return.

“No. Y/N you can’t bring us into every squabble between you and Moony. There’s something new every week!” James complained as you put your hands up, telling him there really isn’t any other option. You turned to Remus, trying to figure out his part before Lily took the seat next to you. No one said anything as you caught Remus’ attention, nodding towards Lily herself. His eyes widened as he shook his head but you stood your ground, giving him your best smirk until he sighed. Sirius and Peter caught onto your silent exchange as Peter snickered, gaining Lily and James’ attention.

“Lily,” Remus began as he glared at you before devoting his attention to the red head. She took a glance between you and him, furrowing her brows. “You look beautiful today.” He complimented as you held back a laugh. That was all he got? James’ mouth dropped as he realized that Remus needed to flirt with Lily for this stupid contest.

“No. No, no, nope.” He stood up, planting himself between Lily and Remus causing you, Sirius, and Peter to squeak out laughing. Lily, the poor girl, just sat there confused, seeing her best friends all laughing at James’ reaction.

“What’s going on?” She asked with a slight uncomfortable chuckle and you took pity on her, explaining to her the argument you and Remus had before she nodded her head. “Why don’t you just flirt with each other?”

The room went silent as you all took in her words. Never in a million years did you think you’d end up flirting with Remus but everyone thought that was an excellent idea.

“Yes, that way you don’t need to drag all of us down with you.” Sirius pointed out as you bit your lip, trying to find any way this could end up wrong. Remus seemed to be having the same problem as you because soon he turned to you with shrugging shoulders.

“First one to give in loses?” He offered as you stuck your hand out to shake.

“Wait!” Lily yelled as she slapped your hand away, making you frown. “Why not make it more interesting?” She rolled her eyes when everyone continued to stare at her, waiting for her to continue. She pulled you to her as she whispered in your ear. “Seduce him.”

If you were drinking at that moment, your drink would’ve been spit all over your friends. But instead you settled with just freezing in your place. Sirius moves in front of you, waving a hand in front of your face but you didn’t move.

“I think you broke her.” He mused before grabbing you by the arms and shaking you.

“Stop.” You pleaded as Sirius stopped his violent shakes and you tried to calm your dizziness. You looked at Lily who was smirking before turning to Remus. You sighed as you pulled your hair out of its pony, letting it fall in front of your face as you ran a hand through it to fluff it a little. James, Sirius, and Peter were completely silent as they watched you lean forward onto your knees, thanking the fact that your shirt was low enough to show a little cleavage but not enough where you were showing everything. Remus gulped as he tried to keep himself from looking down at your chest.

“Look, we’re friends but if you want I would be totally down for sex if you are.” You heard a small gasp leave Remus’ lips as you gave yours a lick, pulling your bottom one between your teeth. Sirius was going crazy next to Remus as James and Peter endlessly questioned Lily as to what she whispered to you. She didn’t say anything, instead focusing on the fact you and Remus hadn’t lost eye contact. Lily had her suspicions between you and Remus. After the way you two act there is no possible way you don’t like each other. Remus’ cheeks grew a bright red as he tried to think of any way to respond to that.

“Yeah? Well...” he began before stopping himself, completely distracted by the glint in your eye as you pushed more hair out of your face, missing a few dangling pieces that tickled your cheek. Remus found himself physically holding back from pouncing on you right then. The boy was lost, you were Y/N and Remus, Gryffindors most famous non-couple. Why had he all of a sudden want that to change based on one sentence.

“I think I won.” You joked as you pretended to count some sort of score on your fingers before smiling at him. Everyone was quiet as they watched the interaction, not able to look away from the train wreck that was your relationship.

“That’s not fair. Moony didn’t even get to try!” Sirius yelled as he hid the smile on his face, wanting to look upset but he didn’t know if he had it in him.

“Nice shirt. Though it would look better on my floor.” He attempted as you scrunched your face together, letting him know it wasn’t any good but he didn’t care, in fact he already knew that, he was completely fine with that. “Ok, you win. You’re the better flirt.” Remus agreed as he copied your stance, bringing your bodies a lot closer than they were a few seconds ago. Lily was the first to break your way to comfortable silence.

“Y/N, You came up with that answer really fast. Could it be perhaps you had really mea-“

“Okay!” You almost yelled to interrupt Lily and stood up. Remus stared at Lily, trying to contemplate her words as you refused to look at him. “I’m going to head to the library really fast to grab a book for... potions.” You winced at your obvious pause and picked up your robes, shrugging them on and practically sprinting out of the room.

The library was quiet as you entered and immediately took the first seat you found. Lily was gonna expose you. Sure the bet with Remus was all fun and you couldn’t help but feel a little lightheaded when Remus and you just admired each other, but Lily was right. You came up with that line WAY to quickly. Did you... did you want Remus? Nope, no way. Yours and Remus relationship isn’t anything besides a constant competition. A new one everyday that people are getting tired of but you didn’t care because seeing the way Remus’ face would redden when you bested him or the way he would smirk and laugh so enthusiastically when you’d take the loss, it made everyone else’s opinion not matter. In fact Remus seemed to be the only one who could get under your skin or make you feel like the happiest person in the world. He’d put the competition aside when ever he needed to make sure you were okay and you’d do the same. You didn’t want or even liked- oh shit maybe you did.

A hand smacked down in the table in front of you as you jumped right out of the seat, landing in the floor before hearing shushes around you from your squeal. You ignored them, only looking up to see the shaggy brown haired boy you were literally just thinking about.

“What do you want Rem?” You questioned, playing off the bright blush in your face as he pulled you up. He didn’t say anything as you spun towards the book shelf, running your eyes across the spines. Remus’ breath seemed to be taken from him as he saw you, knowing that his next actions could change anything.

“Lily told me.” He muttered as you squinted glancing over your shoulder to him.

“And what did she tell you?”

“She said she thinks we fancy each other.” Yeah, you were screwed. Remus had expected you to deny it or mess with him or something but you not saying anything, not even looking at him made him believe your feelings weren’t exactly platonic either. He waited, waiting for you to talk to him or make a sassy remark or something, but you finally turned to him and he saw the conflict in your eyes.

“Look, we’re friends-“ You didn’t get to finish your sentence before Remus locked his lips with yours, causing all the breath to be knocked right out of you. It was honestly better than you could’ve imagined and by the time he pulled away you couldn’t even open your eyes because of how dizzy you were.

“Would friends do that?” He whispered as his mouth ghosted over yours, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand straight. His eyes never left your face, trying to memorize all the little happy things about it in case you yell at him or smack him. But you didn’t yell, actually you did smack him, in a way. You smacked your lips with his, a quick gesture that if he hadn’t felt it, he wouldn’t have known it happened. You looked like a puppy, staring up at him with these adorable eyes that all he could do was fall into.

And fall he did.

Thoughts?

All Taglists Open

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Harry Potter: @accio-rogers

Remus Lupin: @serenefreakgeek

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incarnateirony · 4 years

Text

My mother learned something about me today. Something very complex.

For those who don’t know, I’m ASD. Verbalization isn’t impossible, but difficult to sort together. Keyboards are a very safe space to organize my thoughts in, and here is where I have opinions. I have opinions in real life, but rarely can formulate a sentence enough to speak them. My wife and I even discuss our differences and disagreements or outright arguments, as all relationships have, over discord, because I can actually talk rather than just spew half formed sentences.

Atop that, I’m a former street rat. I rolled through waves of homelessness and child labor from my mother’s declining health and resulting oxy addiction in a single parent home with no siblings, I was hustling whatever I could get my hands on to make bills and working whatever jobs I could to keep us floating. Why yes, I DID swindle other kids even, because I had traded up my Pokemon cards and the highschooler totally thought he was getting one-up on me for “only” paying 100 for my holographic shiny charizard, good luck getting the 120 at a shop. Beanie babies--princess diana bear; pogs. And... sometimes less kid oriented things for less kid-like clientelle. I got on my feet, established my life, even fell into production, and even THAT kept me bumping around. I’ve lived in almost every continental state for some period of time and those I haven’t, I’ve traveled through, basically. Sometimes with a bag on my back and a thumb out on the road.

My wife is fallen upper class -- to the point I had to explain to her that families losing, oh, 5-10 million dollars over a few years is not, in fact, middle class, which she was convinced she was. And once they fell into middle class they didn’t know how to operate in normalpeopleuniverse and kept making bad decisions that has started pitching them towards bottom class. (this debate came up over “Obama’s death tax screwing the middle class”, which she was convinced she was before a few inheritances got boned at the same time a bad business decision lost several other millions.) They maintain the image of middle class life, while hundreds of thousands of dollars and several dangerous deals in debt, but the reality is, they aren’t. But they play it. So I’ve had to learn to play it.

My wife has had a very abrupt introduction to learning this way of life and I’m happy to see her through it. On the other hand, when it comes to the airs of privileged society, the fine trims, the table settings, the functions and appearances, I am an alien to this world. I am Castiel-headtilting often. I follow their lead. I vocalize poorly. I am often, in the real world, absurdly quiet and compliant.

Until I know I’m needed, and I need to take charge, and I’m the one that knows what to do. At which point, I am the same kind of bulldozer personality you see online.

I’ve recently been caught in a disaster of a life situation my mother in law kept making worse for a long list of excuses that boiled down to not wanting her daughter to leave the state, despite my wife’s desperate wishes to. That’s it in the end. Any good faith was long since gone.

She screwed up a fix-it a few days ago -- which was what caused my post about “don’t slam the cage in my face” -- and even sent my wife into paranoid spirals about it all.

But those thoughts? Those things I turned over? After days of her nonsense, capped in 3 specific hours of her nonsense today, and one final attempt at manipulative power move on her part, she realized something.

And that’s to stay out of my way.

Those poorly structured thoughts? That difficulty to frame things? Came out as a tidal wave, a torrent of information shutting down every argument past or present or possible future she could ever think of. She pulled us aside, knowing we needed the extra vehicle, into a parking lot to try to stall us and argue again a few inches from the proverbial finish line.

And I went off in what was basically a 800 word rant at her.

That quiet person? That person who seems “not home” to her? I’m here. I’m thinking. I’m thinking past anything you’ve even thought you smartly thought and I’ve analyzed it and I’m just trying to get to where we need to be to get shit done.

Her entire excuse to even pull over was blown out of the water. It was something like,

“But what if he’s there?”

“Good.”

“What do you mean good?!”

“Then we call the cops and he gets served. Good.”

“Okay but if he’s NOT there and the cameras see us-”

“It doesn't matter if they see us on the cameras because it’s our own damn property and even if he could bring us to court the complaint would be dead the moment the letter of demand from two months past was shown and he won't even have the balls to step into a court to file on us because he has 4-5 lawsuits chasing him and he'd be served all of them the second he tried but even minding that he doesn't even have an address to service us at which leaves his only option to pursue us letting the serve be completed on our own suit and hoping it's ours and not the others so he can countersue and we'll gladly see him in court but the second it’s off the lot the mechanic lien vanishes and I know you're going to say what the cops said but you only heard half of it because they advised doing either but legally could not overtly tell us to drive it off with the lien and thus endorsed with just about airquotes what the MOST legal version was of this and they aren't going to come after us and nothing's going to happen and when we talked to the lawyer yesterday he said we fucked up not taking it the day before the exact way i told you to do it and had completely in our control until you decided to be noncompliant at the last second so if we could get this over with instead of stopping to eat after you chose not to get a snack like me and shea did the last several times you kept stopping the car to not get here- “

just one endless torrent without breathing.

bitch i swindled swindlers in the middle of learning my ABCs

Summarily I flayed my mother in law in a taco bell parking lot. And you know what, suddenly, she isn’t hungry. And frankly, is like a dog that you scolded that can’t look at you anymore when you ask who tore up the couch.

Y’all don’t underestimate the autistic folks around you. We’re thinking, we’re watching. And god help you if we have to start talking.

She mentioned to Shea, “You’re braver than I am,” to which my wife said, “No, that’s all her. You got in my head pretty good.” And like the quiet soul I am in the real world, I said nothing, I just looked at her. I think she gets it now, maybe. Just because I’m quiet, or compliant in their wheelhouse of a universe does not mean I am someone to be pushed around.

And that’s my takeaway on today.

That, and my wife realizing, I WILL teach her how to play hard-and-fast. Everything has worked out exactly like I said it would. Sometimes, you can’t wait for paper to solve everything. Play it legal, sure. But laws aren’t the exact lines you have to walk, knowing how to play in the grey space between it is how conmen work, and is often the only way to win against them. Eat my shit dude.

Play straight with me, I play straight with you. Play dirty with me and my god, once I can stop herding the discombobulated cats around me that have no idea what the fuck they’re doing and stop going against all the plans in place, son, look out.

There are two major cities I don’t even live in anymore I could order a street sweep on to this day. Did it once before last time a girl went missing in one. She was found alive 2 hours later exactly where I territory-gridded out within a block of error from 2600 miles away. Bro don’t fuck with me. This may not be my city but I know your game. I’ve had to deal with fuckbags like you my whole life.

Update: We had an inside line and let’s just say I know full and well exactly as I said, he accepted defeat, because that’s what it is, defeat. He saw some women dressed up as middle/upper class suburbia he thought he could take advantage of and you know what, one of those women was a chameleon who knew his part of the jungle.

#not spn #me

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sweetdejun · 5 years

Text

coterie: the mini rubik’s cube (2/2)

gang!x1 x fem!reader

synopsis: you’re an ordinary girl, with an ordinary life. but what happens when you catch the gang that is famous for keeping their deeds under the table, in action?

coterie’s masterlist can be found here

pairing: kim wooseok and y/n

a/n: brief mentions of bullying, cursing, and an overall emotional rollercoaster. it’s good to be back :))

so within the next few weeks, wooseok got a new desktop mailed in along with a second swivel chair. you distinctly remember wooseok calling you over to the room, and when you stood at the doorway, he sent a broad smile your way before pushing a cardboard box over to you. “what’s this?” “oh, it’s your swivel chair that you’re going to put together.” you scoffed, “what, you’re just gonna watch me?” “not really,” he motioned his head towards the desktop. “I'm gonna set this up for you, so have fun doing that!” he handed you the toolbox and gave you one last thumbs-up before turning around to your computer. huffing, a strand of hair flew in front of your face as you sat cross-legged in front of the box and eventually assembled your new chair. the only sounds that were heard in the room were wooseok’s fast typing and your small sighs as you’d exhale after putting together one piece at a time. so naturally, to get rid of the silent and awkward air surrounding the two of you, you started the conversation. “so, I was wondering, how did you get all that information on me? like where I went to school, and what my schedule and stuff were like?” wooseok’s typing speed didn’t seize but he continued, “I’m a hacker, that’s what I do.” you snorted at his comment, and this caused him to turn his head around fully to face you. “what’s so funny?” “you sound like the guy from agent cody banks, bro,” you guffawed and shook your head. wooseok just blinked back at you. “who?” this caused you to put down the wheel and screwdriver. you looked up at him, your jaw dropped. “what? you’ve never seen that movie before? alright, wooseok, the first assignment from me to you: we have to have you watch agent cody banks. it’s a classic movie.” you started telling wooseok all about your love for movies, and how you grew up watching some of the films your parents found to be iconic and then movies that were iconic in your generation. you seemed to be so lost in your own little world, that you didn’t notice wooseok was now finished setting up what he needed to and was not diligently listening to you, watching the small twinge in your eyes only grow brighter as you progressed further. “oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you or anything. movies just get me so riled up,” “no, I didn’t mind it or anything.” you were caught off guard by the tone in his voice. “you know, you’re different now than what you were two weeks ago. I was scared to even talk to you,” you mumbled the last part to yourself, hoping he wouldn’t hear but alas, a bitter smile made its way onto wooseok’s face, “yeah, well I haven’t had the best experiences with people, in general.” you did get him to watch cody banks later that night though, which he enjoyed (you thought you saw him smile).

that was one of the few non-work-related conversations you’d had with him. well, if you count work as wooseok walking you through the programs, and file systems, then yeah. but you hadn’t gotten your first real assignment until a few days later. it was three in the morning and you were sleeping soundly when you heard rapping against your door. you groggily opened your eyes, sight still blurry from sleep and you staggered out of bed, the corner of the bed bumping you just above the knee. “ah, fuck,” you mutter, rubbing the inflicted area as you continue to the door. you open the door, and squint, making out wooseok standing there, chest heaving. “what in the world?” wooseok enters your room, pushing you to the side. “may I ask what you’re doing in here, at 3 AM?” “I’ve got your first assignment, and we need this done as soon as possible.” it took you some time to comprehend his words. “wait,” you start, “you want us to start on this now?” wooseok nodded as if it was obvious. if your eyes didn’t shoot open before, they were now. “so hurry up, come out and into the computer room, I’ll give you the details there.” “can I at least bring a coffee with me?” for a second, wooseok squinted, then grunted, “fine,” before walking out of your room, leaving the door ajar. “uh, thanks for closing the door,” you grumbled, before changing out of your pajamas and fixing your appearance a bit. you went into the kitchen and began making your coffee (you only got around halfway through, though, because soonja came into the kitchen, helping you make your coffee. you thanked her and insisted she go back to sleep, but she refused until the coffee mug was in your hands.) slowly, you walked to the room with steady steps, and knocked with your other hand. seconds later, the door gently swung open and you made your way to your chair, silently praying that it wouldn’t fall apart then and there (it didn’t). after taking a swig of your coffee, you set it down and pivot your seat to face wooseok, and before you can ask him anything, he starts, “seungwoo needs some details on the military leaders, because he’s about to send dongpyo to one of their bases and we need all the information we can possibly get.” then he jotted down a list of things he needed you to get. you scanned the note and it seemed like you only needed to find who this guy was affiliated with, in terms of his friend circles. not bad, you think, before getting to work. so from three to almost five-thirty, you’re hopeless, and although wooseok offered to help, a part of you wanted to do this by yourself. so you refused, to which wooseok nodded, then said, “I’ll be heading to bed, let me know when you’re done.” you mumbled a ‘yep’, then kept going. it’s not like you didn’t know what you were doing, you thought, it’s just slightly more difficult than you perceived it to be. luckily, wooseok left you something similar to a cheat sheet, and you quickly were able to get the information.

at this point, you were about seventy-five percent done, and just finished research on the military leader’s favorite bar’s owner, when something striked you as interesting. the bar owner was from the same high school as jinhyuk. lee jinhyuk; the guy who got you into this whole thing. after jotting that information down, you couldn’t help but let your curiosity get the best of you, as you clicked on the high school name. loads of records popped up on your screen, from student yearbooks to records on all the staff from the past 10 years and the student incidents and records. you set out to look for jinhyuk’s stuff, again, out of sheer curiosity. only then were you surprised with what you saw on the screen. a picture of jinhyuk, tall and lanky as he still was with his arm hooked around wooseok. he still looks the same, albeit his features have definitely sharpened since and dare you say, he looks much more attractive now. you don’t know if it was from the lack of sleep or the caffeine, but you pieced some things together: jinhyuk did mention to you that he was close with one of the x1 members, and you did ask wooseok how he got the information on you, it’s clear that jinhyuk and wooseok are still quite close and they probably share everything with each other. your curiosity sunk into you further, and then you went back to the database before searching up wooseok’s name under the high school. the first thing you saw made your heart stop; it was an article labeled, “student runs away from school after severe bullying”, and reading it, you learned that around five or six years ago, wooseok had transferred midway through his senior year to this high school, for “personal reasons”, and people had called him a freak and had bullied him, pulling all sorts of stunts on him. one day he just ran away from school. as you read the finishing sentence of the article, your eyes started to sting and you couldn’t look at it anymore. you quickly closed the tab, gathered all your information and sent it right away to wooseok, shaky hands hovering over the keyboard. you press enter, clear your throat and whisper ‘going to bed’ because you can’t trust your voice right now, and you hurry on back to your room, where after some difficulty, you’re able to find your languor once more and fall back into a deep slumber.

when wooseok and you began opening up towards one another, he showed you a different side of himself. he was no longer the asshole you made him out to be when you first met him; rather, he made a complete 360 of his original impression. but now, you understand why that may have been hard for him. your mind wanders off into these thoughts and you don’t notice that wooseok has been calling you for some time. it’s only when he barges into your room, finding you on your bed, eyeing the blank phone screen in front of you. “y/n,” you flinch, and look up to meet wooseok’s concerned gaze. “what’s going on? I’ve been calling you for a while,” you clear your throat and snap your eyes away from his, before saying, “sorry, I was thinking about something, did you need something?” wooseok’s eyebrows furrowed at your sudden movements. why did it seem like you were avoiding him? had he done something wrong? maybe he upset you? these questions began to hiss at his anxious state, that he was holding together in front of you. “uh, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any problems last night, looking for the information,” he starts, but you stop him, reassuring him with a smile too wide and a nod too positive, but it’s convincing enough as he nods quietly, before muttering that he’s gonna go, then gently closes your door as he leaves the room. you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding and push your hair back with your hands. it’s hard to avoid wooseok ever since you learned of his past; you see him every day, now, because you kinda have to. not that you don’t want to see him because of course, that’s not the case. in fact, you’d say you were growing quite fond of the man for some time now. which is why avoiding him has grown to be such a difficult task for you. but seeing him will only remind you of what he’s been through. you felt guilty for learning all this information without his being aware of it, and it felt like you violated his privacy. and you did, and so whenever you saw him, that guilt went off in your head like an alarm, a reminder.

you were paying the price for your curiosity, so much so that one night, you couldn’t sleep. it was like the guilt was eating you away, so much so that it was now in the way if your everyday life. you kept your conversations with wooseok minimal and silently did as you were told because you were afraid that it would be a matter of sentences before you burst. you grunted, burying your face in your hands as you paced back and forth in your room before you decided to put on your robe and slippers, then headed out to the backyard. the sounds of the cicadas and the stars shining in the sky managed to calm your jittery state, and your breathing relaxed a bit until you heard, “y/n? what are you doing out here?” you turn and lo and behold, by the back door leaned a relaxed wooseok, hands stuffed in his pockets. “couldn’t sleep. I had to clear my head,” you tell him, turning your head back to the sky. his footsteps are approaching closer and the sound of your heartbeat starts to reach your ears. then, his hand rests on your shoulder and you turn slowly to face him. “what’s going on? you’ve been distant for some time, you never talk to me anymore... did I say something?” you shake your head instantly, reassuring him that he didn’t do anything wrong, but then his voice grows louder, “well, why have you not been talking to me then? you’re avoiding me and I don’t even know why!” shocked by the sudden outburst, you don’t realize that tears are welling up in your eyes and wooseok’s widen. “I-I’m sorry, oh no, no, please don’t cry,” and wooseok, panicked, begins walking backward. enough is enough you think, and you wipe your eyes violently and whisper, “wooseok, sit, I’ll tell you everything.” and so you do. as you tell him the story, you notice the changes on wooseok’s face, this being one of the only times he’s expressed emotions as vividly as he ever did with you. “I didn’t want to say anything because I felt guilty. I felt like I did something I shouldn’t have, and I’m really sorry,” but he cuts you off, emotion thick in his voice, “no, I’m sorry. I get it, you were only curious. I transferred midway through the year because my family was breaking apart. my dad used to gamble, and he gambled away our home. my mom was fed up, so she took me and my younger brother and we ran away from him. I don’t talk about this a lot; in fact, I only told seungwoo about it, but, the reason I left was... was because it was suffocating living like that. wake up in the morning and go to school, only for people to push you around, take your stuff, and then the whole cycle repeats itself. I wasn’t alone, though, because I had jinhyuk. I spoke to him before I left and I told him I would leave, of course; he’s more than a friend, he’s like a brother to me. that’s why he and I are still as close as we were. but anyway, that’s why I have problems when there are circumstances in which my personal space gets violated. I don’t like it when people touch my things, I don’t like it when things aren’t a certain way and seungwoo knew this before he offered me this position.

“I get it, you were only curious, that’s why you made the decisions that you did. thank you for telling me, I thought I had done something to make you upset, and so I felt .” wooseok finished, looking up to see you silently crying. his hands reach up and wipe your tears, and you choke back a sob. “why are you crying?” “because you didn’t deserve any of that, you have such a good heart, wooseok. you are such a good person and it’s upsetting to know what you went through.” then you wrapped your arms around him, tucking your face into his neck. at first, wooseok doesn’t know what to do, body freezing at your sudden action, but then he slowly melts into your embrace and reciprocates it. after you calm down a bit, you push away from his embrace, bashfully gazing to the ground. “I’m sorry about that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything,” and wooseok smiles at your cute form. “y/n,” you look up at him through your lashes and see the grin on his mouth and wow, you didn’t think he could get more attractive. “I like you.” and although a pink hue settles on his ears, he continues, “at first I was upset you picked me. I thought I would teach you stuff, and you would just mess things up all the time, and I would have to correct your mistakes, but you proved me wrong. you’re one smart and kind young woman and I’ve had the honor and privilege to work with you. but with time, your quirks and habits grew on me, and well, so did you. so tell me, will you go out with me?” your heartbeat picks up its pace again and leaning in, you plant a small peck on his lips, and before you can pull away, wooseok’s arms wrap around your frame, pulling you in and deepening the kiss. then wooseok pulls back, cupping your face in his palm to lock his eyes with your own. “yes, kim wooseok, I’d like that very much.” and it is safe to say that since that night, you’ve experienced nothing but beautiful, radiant days, and peaceful, serene nights.

a/n: ahhh that’s over! thanks for waiting, I hope you guys liked it! this was written after my midterms so some parts of the storyline may seem a bit wonky, just fyi, but that’s all for wooseok. now, who do we want to see next? did you think it was going to be wooseok? if not, who did you associate with the mini rubik’s cube? comment down below <3

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brujas2 · 4 years

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Título original: Roald Dahl’s The Witches

Lanzamiento: 2020-10-23

Duración: 106 minutos

Género: Fantasía, Familia, Aventura, Comedia, Terror

Estrellas: Anne Hathaway, Octavia Spencer, Stanley Tucci, Jahzir Bruno, Chris Rock

Director: Alan Silvestri, Robert Zemeckis, Robert Zemeckis, Don Burgess, Roald Dahl

SINOPSIS

Basada en el libro clásico de Roald Dahl ‘Las brujas’, la historia cuenta la aterradora, divertida e imaginativa historia de un niño de siete años que se encuentra con una congregación de brujas liderada por la Gran Bruja. A pesar de que su abuela se lo llevó a un centro turístico, llegan al mismo tiempo que ella y sus amigos llegan para comenzar sus rituales

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THE STORY

After graduating from Harvard, Bryan Stevenson (Michael B. Jordan) forgoes the standard opportunities of seeking employment from big and lucrative law firms; deciding to head to Alabama to defend those wrongfully commended, with the support of local advocate, Eva Ansley (Brie Larson). One of his first, and most poignant, case is that of Walter McMillian (Jamie Foxx, who, in 62, was sentenced to die for the notorious murder of an 2-year-old girl in the community, despite a preponderance of evidence proving his innocence and one singular testimony against him by an individual that doesn’t quite seem to add up. Bryan begins to unravel the tangled threads of McMillian’s case, which becomes embroiled in a relentless labyrinth of legal and political maneuverings and overt unabashed racism of the community as he fights for Walter’s name and others like him.

THE GOOD / THE BAD

Throughout my years of watching movies and experiencing the wide variety of cinematic storytelling, legal drama movies have certainly cemented themselves in dramatic productions. As I stated above, some have better longevity of being remembered, but most showcase plenty of heated courtroom battles of lawyers defending their clients and unmasking the truth behind the claims (be it wrongfully incarcerated, discovering who did it, or uncovering the shady dealings behind large corporations. Perhaps my first one legal drama was 624’s The Client (I was little young to get all the legality in the movie, but was still managed to get the gist of it all). My second one, which I loved, was probably Primal Fear, with Norton delivering my favorite character role. Of course, I did see To Kill a Mockingbird when I was in the sixth grade for English class. Definitely quite a powerful film. And, of course, let’s not forget Philadelphia and want it meant / stand for. Plus, Hanks and Washington were great in the film. All in all, while not the most popular genre out there, legal drama films still provide a plethora of dramatic storytelling to capture the attention of moviegoers of truth and lies within a dubious justice.

Just Mercy is the latest legal crime drama feature and the whole purpose of this movie review. To be honest, I really didn’t much “buzz” about this movie when it was first announced (circa 206) when Broad Green Productions hired the film’s director (Cretton) and actor Michael B. Jordan in the lead role. It was then eventually bought by Warner Bros (the films rights) when Broad Green Productions went Bankrupt. So, I really didn’t hear much about the film until I saw the movie trailer for Just Mercy, which did prove to be quite an interesting tale. Sure, it sort of looked like the generic “legal drama” yarn (judging from the trailer alone), but I was intrigued by it, especially with the film starring Jordan as well as actor Jamie Foxx. I did repeatedly keep on seeing the trailer for the film every time I went to my local movie theater (usually attached to any movie I was seeing with a PG rating and above). So, suffice to say, that Just Mercy’s trailer preview sort of kept me invested and waiting me to see it. Thus, I finally got the chance to see the feature a couple of days ago and I’m ready to share my thoughts on the film. And what are they? Well, good ones….to say the least. While the movie does struggle within the standard framework of similar projects, Just Mercy is a solid legal drama that has plenty of fine cinematic nuances and great performances from its leads. It’s not the “be all to end all” of legal drama endeavors, but its still manages to be more of the favorable motion pictures of these projects.

Just Mercy is directed by Destin Daniel Cretton, whose previous directorial works includes such movies like Short Term 6, I Am Not a Hipster, and Glass Castle. Given his past projects (consisting of shorts, documentaries, and a few theatrical motion pictures), Cretton makes Just Mercy is most ambitious endeavor, with the director getting the chance to flex his directorial muscles on a legal drama film, which (like I said above) can manage to evoke plenty of human emotions within its undertaking. Thankfully, Cretton is up to the task and never feels overwhelmed with the movie; approaching (and shaping) the film with respect and a touch of sincerity by speaking to the humanity within its characters, especially within lead characters of Stevenson and McMillian. Of course, legal dramas usually do (be the accused / defendant and his attorney) shine their cinematic lens on these respective characters, so it’s nothing original. However, Cretton does make for a compelling drama within the feature; speaking to some great character drama within its two main lead characters; staging plenty of moments of these twos individuals that ultimately work, including some of the heated courtroom sequences.

Like other recent movies (i.e. Brian Banks and The Hate U Give), Cretton makes Just Mercy have an underlining thematical message of racism and corruption that continues to play a part in the US….to this day (incredibly sad, but true). So, of course, the correlation and overall relatively between the movie’s narrative and today’s world is quite crystal-clear right from the get-go, but Cretton never gets overzealous / preachy within its context; allowing the feature to present the subject matter in a timely manner and doesn’t feel like unnecessary or intentionally a “sign of the times” motif. Additionally, the movie also highlights the frustration (almost harsh) injustice of the underprivileged face on a regular basis (most notable those looking to overturn their cases on death row due to negligence and wrongfully accused). Naturally, as somewhat expected (yet still palpable), Just Mercy is a movie about seeking the truth and uncovering corruption in the face of a broken system and ignorant prejudice, with Cretton never shying away from some of the ugly truths that Stevenson faced during the film’s story.

Plus, as a side-note, it’s quite admirable for what Bryan Stevenson (the real-life individual) did for his career, with him as well as others that have supported him (and the Equal Justice Initiative) over the years and how he fought for and freed many wrongfully incarcerated individuals that our justice system has failed (again, the poignancy behind the film’s themes / message). It’s great to see humanity being shined and showcased to seek the rights of the wronged and to dispel a flawed system. Thus, whether you like the movie or not, you simply can not deny that truly meaningful job that Bryan Stevenson is doing, which Cretton helps demonstrate in Just Mercy. From the bottom of my heart…. thank you, Mr. Stevenson.

In terms of presentation, Just Mercy is a solidly made feature film. Granted, the film probably won’t be remembered for its visual background and theatrical setting nuances or even nominated in various award categories (for presentation / visual appearance), but the film certainly looks pleasing to the eye, with the attention of background aspects appropriate to the movie’s story. Thus, all the usual areas that I mention in this section (i.e. production design, set decorations, costumes, and cinematography) are all good and meet the industry standard for legal drama motion pictures. That being said, the film’s score, which was done by Joel P. West, is quite good and deliver some emotionally drama pieces in a subtle way that harmonizes with many of the feature’s scenes.

There are a few problems that I noticed with Just Mercy that, while not completely derailing, just seem to hold the feature back from reaching its full creative cinematic potential. Let’s start with the most prevalent point of criticism (the one that many will criticize about), which is the overall conventional storytelling of the movie. What do I mean? Well, despite the strong case that the film delves into a “based on a true story” aspect and into some pretty wholesome emotional drama, the movie is still structed into a way that it makes it feel vaguely formulaic to the touch. That’s not to say that Just Mercy is a generic tale to be told as the film’s narrative is still quite engaging (with some great acting), but the story being told follows quite a predictable path from start to finish. Granted, I never really read Stevenson’s memoir nor read anything about McMillian’s case, but then I still could easily figure out how the movie was presumably gonna end…. even if the there were narrative problems / setbacks along the way. Basically, if you’ve seeing any legal drama endeavor out there, you’ll get that same formulaic touch with this movie. I kind of wanted see something a little bit different from the film’s structure, but the movie just ends up following the standard narrative beats (and progressions) of the genre. That being said, I still think that this movie is definitely probably one of the better legal dramas out there.

This also applies to the film’s script, which was penned by Cretton and Andrew Lanham, which does give plenty of solid entertainment narrative pieces throughout, but lacks the finesse of breaking the mold of the standard legal drama. There are also a couple parts of the movie’s script handling where you can tell that what was true and what fictional. Of course, this is somewhat a customary point of criticism with cinematic tales taking a certain “poetic license” when adapting a “based on a true story” narrative, so it’s not super heavily critical point with me as I expect this to happen. However, there were a few times I could certainly tell what actually happen and what was a tad bit fabricated for the movie. Plus, they were certain parts of the narrative that could’ve easily fleshed out, including what Morrison’s parents felt (and actually show them) during this whole process. Again, not a big deal-breaker, but it did take me out of the movie a few times. Lastly, the film’s script also focuses its light on a supporting character in the movie and, while this made with well-intention to flesh out the character, the camera spotlight on this character sort of goes off on a slight tangent during the feature’s second act. Basically, this storyline could’ve been removed from Just Mercy and still achieve the same palpability in the emotional department. It’s almost like the movie needed to chew up some runtime and the writers to decided to fill up the time with this side-story. Again, it’s good, but a bit slightly unnecessary.

What does help overlook (and elevate) some of these criticisms is the film’s cast, which are really good and definitely helps bring these various characters to life in a theatrical /dramatic way. Leading the charge in Just Mercy is actor Michael B. Jordan, who plays the film’s central protagonist role of Bryan Stevenson. Known for his roles in Creed, Fruitvale Station, and Black Panther, Jordan has certain prove himself to be quite a capable actor, with the actor rising to stardom over the past few years. This is most apparent in this movie, with Jordan making a strong characteristically portrayal as Bryan; showcasing plenty of underlining determination and compelling humanity in his character as he (as Bryan Stevenson) fights for the injustice of those who’s voices have been silenced or dismissed because of the circumstances. It’s definitely a strong character built and Jordan seems quite capable to task in creating a well-acted on-screen performance of Bryan. Behind Jordan is actor Jamie Foxx, who plays the other main lead in the role, Walter McMillian. Foxx, known for his roles in Baby Driver, Django Unchained, and Ray, has certainly been recognized as a talented actor, with plenty of credible roles under his belt. His participation in Just Mercy is another well-acted performance that deserve much praise as its getting (even receiving an Oscar nod for it), with Foxx portraying Walter with enough remorseful grit and humility that makes the character quite compelling to watch. Plus, seeing him and Jordan together in a scene is quite palpable and a joy to watch.

The last of the three marquee main leads of the movie is the character of Eva Ansley, the director of operations for EJI (i.e. Stevenson’s right-handed employee / business partner), who is played by actress Brie Larson. Up against the characters of Stevenson and McMillian, Ansley is the weaker of the three main lead; presented as supporting player in the movie, which is perfectly fine as the characters gets the job done (sort of speak) throughout the film’s narrative. However, Larson, known for her roles in Room, 6 Jump Street, and Captain Marvel, makes less of an impact in the role. Her acting is fine and everything works in her portrayal of Eva, but nothing really stands in her performance (again, considering Jordan and Foxx’s performances) and really could’ve been played by another actress and achieved the same goal.

The rest of the cast, including actor Tim Blake Nelson (The Incredible Hulk and O Brother, Where Art Thou) as incarcerated inmate Ralph Meyers, actor Rafe Spall (Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom and The Big Short) as legal attorney Tommy Champan, actress Karan Kendrick (The Hate U Give and Family) as Minnie McMillan, Walter’s wife, actor C.J. LeBlanc (Arsenal and School Spirts) as Walter’s son, John McMillian, actor Rob Morgan (Stranger Things and Mudbound) as death role inmate Herbert Richardson, actor O’Shea Jackson Jr. (Long Shot and Straight Outta Compton) as death role inmate Anthony “Ray” Hinton, actor Michael Harding (Triple 2 and The Young and the Restless) as Sheriff Tate, and actor Hayes Mercure (The Red Road and Mercy Street) as a prison guard named Jeremy, are in the small supporting cast variety. Of course, some have bigger roles than others, but all of these players, which are all acted well, bolster the film’s story within the performances and involvement in Just Mercy’s narrative.

FINAL THOUGHTS

It’s never too late to fight for justice as Bryan Stevenson fights for the injustice of Walter McMillian’s cast against a legal system that is flawed in the movie Just Mercy. Director Destin Daniel Cretton’s latest film takes a stance on a poignant case; demonstrating the injustice of one (and by extension those wrongfully incarcerated) and wrapping it up in a compelling cinematic story. While the movie does struggle within its standard structure framework (a sort of usual problem with “based on a true story” narrations) as well as some formulaic beats, the movie still manages to rise above those challenges (for the most part), especially thanks to Cretton’s direction (shaping and storytelling) and some great performances all around (most notable in Jordan and Foxx). Personally, I liked this movie. Sure, it definitely had its problem, but those didn’t distract me much from thoroughly enjoying this legal drama feature. Thus, my recommendation for the film is a solid “recommended”, especially those who liked the cast and poignant narratives of legality struggles and the injustice of a failed system / racism. In the end, while the movie isn’t the quintessential legal drama motion picture and doesn’t push the envelope in cinematic innovation, Just Mercy still is able to manage to be a compelling drama that’s powerful in its story, meaningful in its journey, and strong within its statement. Just like Bryan Stevenson says in the movie….” If we could look at ourselves closely…. we can change this world for the better”. Amen to that!

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gagosiangallery · 4 years

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Richard Prince at Gagosian Beverly Hills

January 15, 2020

RICHARD PRINCE New Portraits Opening reception: Thursday, February 6, 6–8pm February 6–March 21, 2020 456 North Camden Drive, Beverly Hills __________ In 1984 I took some portraits. The way I did it was different. The way had nothing to do with the tradition of portraiture. If you wanted me to do your portrait, you would give me at least five photographs that had already been taken of yourself, that were in your possession (you owned them, they were yours), and more importantly . . . that you were already happy with. You would give me the five you liked and I would pick the one I liked. I would rephotograph the one I liked and that would be your portrait. Simple. Direct. To the point . . . Foolproof. I started off doing friends. Peter Nadin. Anne Kennedy. Jeff Koons. Cookie Mueller. Gary Indiana. Colin de Land.

They didn’t have to sit for their portraits. They didn’t have to make an appointment and come over and sit in front of some cyclone or in front of a neutral background or on an artist’s stool. They didn’t have to show up at all. And they wouldn’t be disappointed with the result. How could they? It wasn’t like they were giving me photos of themselves that were embarrassing.

Social Science Fiction.

Another advantage was the “time line.” If you were in your sixties and you gave me a photograph that had been taken thirty years earlier, and that’s the one I chose, your portrait ended up in a kind of time machine. I couldn’t go forward, but I could go backward. Vanity. Most of the people I did liked the younger version of themselves. So the future didn’t really matter. Half of H. G. Wells was better than no half at all.

Who knew?

After friends, I did people I didn’t know.

I had access to Warner Bros. Records and their publicity files. The files were filled with 8 × 10 glossies of recording stars that they had under contract. How I had access is beside the point. It was a long time ago. Let’s just say an A&R guy gave me access, “permission.”

I spent time in their LA headquarters, in Burbank, and went thru the metal cabinets and took the “publicities” I wanted, took them home, put them in front of my camera, and made a new photograph. The first one I did was Dee Dee Ramone.

I did Tina Weymouth, Tom Verlaine, Jonathan Richman, Laurie Anderson. I did the two girls from the B-52s.

Not knowing these people, having never met them, or talked to them, but still being able to do their portraits, excited me. Satisfaction. I spent weeks in the basement of Warner Bros. I thought I had an advantage. My method, if you could call it that, was far more flexible than the regular way portraits were taken. I didn’t need a studio. A darkroom. A receptionist. A calendar. Makeup. Stylists. I didn’t have to deal with agents or the “personality,” good or bad, of the sitter. My overhead was minimal and I could do the portrait all by myself.

By myself. That was the best.

Why I Go To The Movies Alone.

At first I thought this could be a business.

Up till then none of the art that I was making sold . . . or sold enough to make a living. I had just quit my job at Time Life the year before and was trying to make a go of it living near Venice Beach in LA . . . sharing a house with three roommates and living off the occasional sales that Hudson, my friend from Chicago, would make selling my “cartoon” drawings.

This idea of a “portrait business” made sense to me. Who wouldn’t want their portrait done this way?

I continued to do friends. Paula Greif. Dike Blair. Meyer Vaisman. I did everybody’s portraits for Wild History, a book that I put together for Tanam Press of downtown writing. The author’s portrait accompanied their contribution. Wharton Tiers. Spalding Gray. Tina L’Hotsky.

By the end of ’84 it was over.

I’m not sure if it was the lack of interest in me, or in others. (My energy evaporated.) Maybe it was the inability to convince people to commit to a commission. It was a good idea, but after doing about forty of them, I put them in a drawer and moved on. Bored? Restless? I don’t know. Let’s just say it didn’t take off.

Leave it at that.

My cartoon drawings turned into jokes and the jokes started taking up everything. In the end, I think most people would rather have their portrait done by Robert Mapplethorpe.

Thirty years. Time passes.

The social network.

I looked over my daughter’s shoulder and saw that she was scrolling thru pictures on her phone. I asked her what she was looking at. “It’s my Tumblr.” “What’s a tumbler?” I asked.

That was . . . four years ago?

About three years ago I bought an iPhone. Someone had shown me the photographs you could take with the phone. I had given up taking pictures after they got rid of color slide film. I tried digital, but couldn’t make the adjustment. I never liked carrying a camera and was pretty much inkjetting and painting anyway . . . so the idea of using a big boxy camera with all its new whistles and bows wasn’t for me.

Enter the sandman.

The iPhone was just what I needed. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to point and shoot. You didn’t have to focus. You didn’t have to load film. You didn’t have to ASA. You didn’t have to set a speed. The clarity . . .

I could see for miles.

The photos you took were stored in the phone. And when you wanted to see them, they appeared on a grid. The best part: you could send a photo immediately to a friend, to an e-mail, to a printer . . . or, you could organize your photos, like my daughter had, and post them publicly or privately.

When worlds collide.

I asked my daughter more about Tumblr. Are those your photos? Where did you get that one? Did you need permission? How did you get that kind of crop? You can delete them? Really? What about these “followers?” Who are they? Are they people you know? What if you don’t want to share? How many of your friends have Tumblrs?

What’s yours is mine.

My daughter’s “grid” on Tumblr reminded me of my Gangs I did back in ’85 . . . where I organized a set of nine images on a single piece of photo paper and blew the paper up to 86 × 48. The gangs were a way to deal with marginal or subsets of lifestyles that I needed to see on a wall but not a whole wall. Each gang was its own exhibition. Girlfriends, Heavy Metal Bands, Giant Waves, Bigfoot Trucks, Sex, War, Cartoons, Lyrics . . . were all rephotographed with slide film, and when the slides returned, they were “deejayed” and moved around on a custom-made light box until the best nine made the cut. The “cut” was then taped together (the edges of the slide mounts were pushed up against each other and Scotch-taped), the nine taped slides were sent to a lab where an 8 × 10 internegative was made, and from the internegative the final photo was blown up. I’ve probably lost you. Technical stuff . . . application and technique. Sometimes it’s better to leave the “background” out of it. Better to “take it for granted.” Why should I care how a photograph is made?

Only sometimes.

How was it called back then? Sampling?

Primitive now, but back then . . . 50-inch photo drums were few and far between. The paper was 50 inches wide and came in a huge roll. If you wanted to, you could take a roll and roll it down the street, roll it down the sidewalk, roll it all the way down the West Side Highway.

Shakespeare’s in the alley?

No. Philip Roth is in the alley.

Joan Didion is in the alley.

Don DeLillo is in the alley.

What’s up, pussycat?

There’s a lot of cats on Instagram. Food too.

And there’s tons of photos of people who take photographs of themselves. (Yes, I know the word.)

On the gram. I was just asked why I like Instagram. I said, “Because there’s rules. And if you break the rules, you get kicked off.”

I got to Instagram thru Twitter.

Twitter first.

I’m not sure when I first started tweeting, but I liked trying to fit a whole story into 140 characters.

I call it Birdtalk.

I used to bird in the early ’90s for Purple magazine and birded in my first catalogue for Barbara Gladstone in ’87.

Short sentences that were funny, sweet, dumb, profound, absurd, stupid, jokey, Finnegans Wake meets MAD magazine meets ad copy for Calvin Klein. Think Dylan’s Tarantula. Then think some more and think Kathy Acker’s Tarantula.

Or, don’t think at all. I know I don’t.

Sometimes.

Sometimes I write down the first sentence that starts off my favorite novel.

Relative. I’m not much of a theory guy. But sometimes I think there was a reason why Einstein was a technical assistant in the Swiss patent office.

Let me fill your cup.

Twitter accepts photos, but is mainly text-based. I like to combine the two and tweet both photo and text.

I called the photo/text tweets I was posting . . . “The Family.”

I posted photos of my extended family . . . mother, brother, sister, nieces, cousins, uncles, aunts, in-laws, stepchildren, boy- and girlfriends. I would caption the photos with a short description of who, what, why . . . measuring my words so that they fit into the guidelines of the platform.

After posting the photo/text, I sent the information to my printer and inkjetted an 11 × 14 print of the marriage. I made thirty-eight “Family” tweets.

Distribution.

I placed each “Family” tweet in a plastic sleeve and pushpinned the sleeve to the wall. The wall was at Karma. I put all thirty-eight up. Salon style. It was Saturday. The doors opened at 12 pm. By 12:15 pm all thirty-seven were gone. One to a customer. I kept the one that had my father, mother, and sister in it. (My father and mother were naked, and my sister was sitting in between. My family wasn’t like yours. Hobnob doesn’t begin to describe them.) I sold the “Family Tweets” for $12 each. First come, first served.

Well, well, well . . .

In ma ma ma my wheeeeeeeel house.

I used to stutter. By the ninth grade, the sparkle was in my eye. It got so bad, the impediment turned me into a clam. I slept all day, every day. I wouldn’t get up until Sunday. I waited for Bonanza to come on the TV. I loved the cowboy father and his three sons.

Two summers ago, my niece was working for me out on Long Island and she showed me how to screen save. I didn’t know about the option. What other options don’t I know about?

Screen Save.

This might be one of the best applications in an apparatus that I’ve ever encountered. All-time. Hall of fame. First place. Just what I need. MORE photographs.

Hey kids . . . what time is it?

Now I have a theory.

I was beside myself.

Congratulations.

This past spring, and half the summer, the iPhone became my studio. I signed up for Instagram. I pushed things aside. I made room. It was easy. I ignored Tumblr, and Facebook had never interested me. But Instagram . . .

I started off being RichardPrince4.

I quickly recognized the device was a way to get the lead out. If Twitter was editorial . . . then Instagram was advertising.

A gazillion people.

Besides cats, dogs, and food, people put out photos of themselves and their friends all the time, every day, and, yes, some people put themselves out twice on Mondays. I started “following” people I knew, people I didn’t know, and people who knew each other. It was innocent. I was on the phone talking to Jessica Hart and had just looked at her “gram” feed before picking up the phone. I asked about a picture she posted of herself standing in front of a fireplace wearing what looked to be ski clothes and big fur boots. The post was in black and white, head to toe, full figure, and behind her, above the mantel, there was a portrait of Brigitte Bardot. I told her someone should make a portrait out of this photo. She said, “Why don’t you?”

Come to think of it.

I’m not sure if she knew about my Family Tweets. She might have. I think we even talked about them after she came to my studio for a visit. After I got off the phone, I thought about her suggestion: “Why don’t you?”

I went back to her feed and screen saved her “winter” photo. I sent the save to my computer, pressed “empty subject,” pressed “actual size,” and waited for it to appear in a doc, checked the margins and crop, clicked on the doc, and sent it to my printer. My inkjet printer printed out an 11 × 14-inch photo on paper . . . I took the photo out of the tray and put it on my desk.

Looking at Jessica’s feed reminded me of 1984. Except this time I had more than five photos to choose from. I went back to her feed a second time. I scrolled thru maybe a hundred photos she had posted and looked at all the ones that included her. The one in front of the fireplace was still the best.

Walk on.

Jessica had tons of followers. Thousands. And a lot of them had “commented” on what she posted. I read all the comments that had been posted under her fireplace photo. There was one comment I wish I could have gotten in my original screen save. When you screen save an Instagram image, you can get maybe three, four comments in the save if you include the person’s “profile” icon that appears on the upper left of the page. I decided early on I wanted the person’s icon to be part of the save. But what else could I save?

I went back to my desk and kept staring at the printout of Jessica. What do I do now?

I didn’t want to paint it.

I didn’t want to mark it.

I didn’t want to add a sticker.

Whatever I did, I wanted it to happen INSIDE and before the save. I wanted my contribution to be part of the “gram.” I didn’t want to do anything physical to the photograph after it was printed.

Five cents.

I went back to the comment.

I commented on Jessica’s photo in front of the fireplace, but my comment was one of hundreds and showed up outside, way down at the bottom . . . out of the frame.

If I wanted my comment to show up near her picture . . . how?

I got lucky.

I’m terrible when it comes to the tech side of technology. But somehow I figured out how to hack into Jessica’s feed and swipe away all her comments and add my own so that it would appear under her post. The hack is pretty simple and anyone can do it. You hit the gray comment bar and pick a comment you don’t want and swipe with your finger to the left, and a red exclamation mark appears. You press on the exclamation mark and four things come onto the bottom of your screen.

1. Why are you reporting this comment?

2. Spam or Scam

3. Abusive Content

4. Cancel

To get rid of the comment, you click on Spam or Scam. It’s gone. Just like that I could control other people’s comments and Jessica’s own comments. And the comment that I added could now be near enough to Jessica’s photo that when I screen saved it, my comment would “show up.” Make sense? It’s about as good as I can do. What can I say? Einstein and cuckoo . . .

So now . . .

So now I was in.

Waiting to follow.

Richardprince4 would appear at the bottom of Jessica’s final portrait. My comment, whatever it would be, would always be the last comment. The last say so. Say so. That��s good. That could work. My “in” was what I ended up saying. And what I would say would be everything I ever knew . . . what I knew now and what I would know in the future.

Tell Me Everything.

Finnegans Wake meets MAD magazine.

Zoot Horn Rollo. You seem to be where I belong (emoji).

The first three portraits I did were of women I knew. Or almost knew. Jessica, I knew. Pam Anderson, I knew. Sky Ferreira? I didn’t know, but was following her and had been reading about her new album and seeing posters of her album broadsided on sheets of ply on the Bowery and on Lafayette near Bond. I wasn’t sure what I was doing or why I chose these three. I just had lunch with Pam and had seen Jessica in LA. Sky, I was following because she seemed interesting. There was nothing more. No attraction. No fan. No desire. No date. No wanting anything from her. And the pictures she posted were candid, boozy, and seemed to be letting the viewer in on some kind of backstage diary. She also had thousands of people following her, and I could tap into her followers and follow them. I can do that? I didn’t even know I could follow the followers. Like I said, the hardware was all new . . . and I was just getting started.

The shoreline is never the same. (Like it should be.)

When I first started getting rid of comments, I thought the person whose comments I was getting rid of might get pissed. “What happened to all my comments?” I found out quickly that “the getting rid of” only affected my feed. The deleted comments didn’t affect the followers’ feeds. Their comments were still there even though they were gone from mine. All that happened is that MY comment showed up below their photo. Was I allowed? Yes. I guess so. It’s hard to explain. But the process is open, and at the moment, it’s the way it works and anyone and everyone can do it.

The language I started using to make “comments” was based on Birdtalk. Non sequitur. Gobbledygook. Jokes. Oxymorons. “Psychic Jujitsu.”

Some of the language came directly from TV. If I’m selecting a photo of someone and adding a comment to their gram and an advertisement comes on . . . I use the language that I hear in the ad. Inferior language. It works. It sounds like it means something. What’s it mean? I don’t know. Does it have to mean anything at all? I think about James Joyce confessing to Nora Barnacle. I think about opening up to page 323 of Finnegans Wake. Then I think about notes and lyricism. Policy. Whisper. Murmurs. Mantra. Quotation. Advice.

Chamber Music.

Didn’t Duke Ellington say, “If it sounds good, it is good”? He did say that, didn’t he?

Who are these people?

Larry Clark, Diane Arbus, Robert Mapplethorpe take great portraits. I’ve watched Larry take photos and I don’t know how he does it. I wouldn’t know where to begin. I could never go up to a stranger and ask them if I could take their picture. I’ve done it maybe two or three times and didn’t enjoy it. That part of art is in Larry. It isn’t in me. I feel more comfortable in my bedroom looking thru Easyriders and poring over pictures of “girlfriends” that are right there on the page. Page after page. Looking. Wondering. Anticipating. Hoping. What will be on the next page? Will I find a girlfriend that I really like? That’s my relationship with what’s out there. It’s as close as I want to get. That’s what’s in me.

IG is a bedroom magazine.

I can start out with someone I know and then check out who they follow or who’s following them, and the rabbit hole takes on an out-of-body experience where you suddenly look at the clock and it’s three in the morning. I end up on people’s grids that are so far removed from where I began, it feels psychedelic. Further. I’m on the bus. I feel like I’m part of Kesey’s merry tribe. I’m reminded of Timothy Leary’s journals, which I purchased years ago from John McWhinnie, and the concentration that came over me when I discovered his hand-drawn map of his escape from jail. How he literally shimmied on a wire that had been strung up from an outer utility building to the perimeter prison wall . . . and how I would trace with my finger his overland express to Tangier, where he hooked up with Black Panther Eldridge Cleaver and spent the next year seeking asylum in different parts of North Africa, ultimately ending up in Switzerland where his ex-wife ratted him out, and how fighting extradition took up the rest of his life. Wow, now it’s four in the morning.

Tune In, Turn On, Come Out.

“Trolling.”

If you say so.

I never thought about it that way. The word has been used to describe part of the process of making my new portraits. I guess so. It’s not like I’m on the back of a boat throwing out chum.

“We’re going to need a bigger boat.”

Included.

Everyone is fair.

Game.

An even playing field.

“Outside my cabin door. Said the girl from the red river shore.”

Men. Women. Men and women. Men and men. Women and women. Blacks Whites Latinos Asian Arabs Jews Straights Gays Transgender. Tattoos and scars. Hairy.

I don’t really know the score.

The ones I adore.

I just know where I belong.

“Oh, there I go. From a man to a memory.”

How do I tell you who or why I pick? I can’t. It would be like telling you why I pick that joke. WHY THAT ONE? There’s thousands of jokes. I read them all. It takes days to read just one joke book. 101 of the World’s Funniest Jokes. Days. If I get one, find one, like one, out of the 101, it’s a good day.

People on IG lead me to other people. I spend hours surfing, saving, and deleting. Sometimes I look for photos that are straightforward portraits (or at least look straightforward). Other times I look for photos that would only appear, or better still . . . exist on IG. Photos that look the way they do because they’re on the gram. Selfies? Not really. Self-portraits. I’m not interested in abbreviation. I look for portraits that are upside down, sideways, at arm’s length, taken within the space that a body can hold a camera phone. What did de Kooning say? “When I spread my arms out, it’s all the space I need.”

At first I wasn’t sure how to print the portrait. I tried different surfaces, different papers. Presentation? Frame? Matt? Shadowbox? I tried them all. Finally this past spring my lab introduced me to a new canvas, one that was tightly wound, a surface with hardly any tooth. Smooth to the touch. Almost as if the canvas were photo paper. It was also brilliantly white. I don’t think it could be any whiter. And . . . the way the ink jetted into the canvas was a surprise. It fused in a way that made the image slightly out of focus. Just enough. The ink was IN and ON the canvas at the same time. When I first saw the final result, I didn’t really know what I was looking at. A photographic work or a work on canvas? The surprise was perfect. Perfect doesn’t come along very often. The color that had been transferred from the file of the computer to the jet, from jet to canvas, was intense, saturated, rich. If someone I followed had blue hair, their hair looked like it had been dyed directly onto the canvas. Dye job. Rinsed. Beauty salon. It was brilliant, great color. You might call it “vibrant.” The vibe between the image and the process was “sent away for,” seamless, effortless . . . all descriptions I used to use when I tried describing my early “pens, watches, and cowboys.” (Has it really been forty years?) The ingredients, the recipe, “the manufacture,” whatever you want to call it . . . was familiar but had changed into something I had never seen before. I wasn’t sure it even looked like art. And that was the best part. Not looking like art. The new portraits were in that gray area. Undefined. In-between. They had no history, no past, no name. A life of their own. They’ll learn. They’ll find their own way. I have no responsibility. They do. Friendly monsters.

Speak for yourself.

To fit in the world takes time.

For now, all I can say is . . . they’re the only thing I’ve ever done that has made me happy.

http://www.richardprince.com/writings/bird-talk

#Richard Prince #Gagosian

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