#many listens freshman year of college aka last year

[idk-i-just-really-like-tsc]

woah woah woah me casually watching greys paying like only a little attention and then fucking carry you by ruelle starts up 😳😤🫨😵‍💫😵

#the woman was too stunned to speak #I knew it played at some point but not in this episode I was TAKEN ABACK #I LOVE YOU CARRY YOU BY RUELLE ILY SHADOWHUNTERS 3x12 #ILY 911 ILY EDDIE BEGINS ILY MAY DAY #ILY GREYS WINDSTORM EP #WOO HOO MY SILLY SHOWS AND THEIR SOUNDTRACK SWAG ALL USING YHE SAME SONG #can u tell im having a moment sorry im like extremely attached to this song #many listens freshman year of college aka last year

[wincore]

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff 

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of. 

“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.

Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low. 

(Fun doesn’t.)

Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours. 

And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget. 

It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore. 

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume. 

The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.

You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.

You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.

Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type. 

You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises.  If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.

You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts. 

You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself. 

You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)

“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.

“What?” you yell back.

“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.

You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”

Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.

“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”

You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.

“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.

Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”

Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask. 

You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it. 

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.

Well, sort of.

You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it. 

See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.

His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.

Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.  

An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily. 

The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year. 

“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.

You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”

“In front of a wall?”

You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately. 

To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.

“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”

You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.

“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).

Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.

Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one. 

Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.

The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt. 

He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.

“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.

“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.

Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover. 

Funny.

Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.

“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”

You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.

“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.

Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.

“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”

Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”

“One.”

He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ‘youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours. 

“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.

“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”

He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”

Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth. 

“Who’s a virgin?”

Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words. 

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.  

Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.

“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.

“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.

You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.

“Why not?”

“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”

He’s right.

“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table. 

“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”

You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.

“Where were you last night?”

You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.

“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.

(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)

Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”

You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”

“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.

“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”

You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”

They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad. 

You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back. 

“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.

“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing. 

You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.

Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.

Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.

Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.

So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.

It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.

Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.

The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.

You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.

He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.

“How much lon—”

“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.

Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.

“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.

“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.

Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”

You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.

“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”

You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”

You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters. 

“Are you guys… into each other or not?”

You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”

“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”

“No way.”

You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.

“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”

He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”

You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”

“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”

Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”

You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”

Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”

You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.

“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”

“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”

“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.

“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs. 

“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”

He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“No.”

Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”

“It’s neither, promise.”

You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”

Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”

You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.

“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”

“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.” 

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can. 

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off. 

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating. 

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know. 

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young. 

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.” 

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling. 

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung. 

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses. 

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention. 

Inviting him somewhere. 

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure. 

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more. 

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter? 

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.  

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him. 

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.” 

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.” 

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.” 

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts. 

You’re disappointing. 

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose. 

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps. 

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask. 

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you. 

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue. 

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.” 

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you. 

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families. 

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe. 

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard. 

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them. 

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out. 

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure. 

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up. 

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt. 

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart. 

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it. 

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him. 

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak. 

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.  

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time. 

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional. 

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love. 

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved. 

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding. 

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either. 

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next  meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple. 

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action. 

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t. 

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days. 

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.” 

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by. 

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers. 

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever. 

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout. 

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!” 

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?” 

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this. 

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose. 

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond. 

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—” 

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder. 

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him. 

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too. 

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again. 

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling. 

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you. 

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care. 

 “Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there. 

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes. 

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally. 

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer. 

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand. 

#kim doie perfect man bye #doyoung x reader #nct x reader #nct doyoung scenarios #nct scenarios #nct imagines #doyoung imagines #nct fanfic #doyoung fanfic #nct angst #doyoung angst #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 angst #nct college au #moonwrites #okaaay idk what this is either #if you get annoyed midway thru the fic you are perfectly valid <3 #i will literally never write smth like this ever again 🤡🤡🤡 #if you notice inconsistency in character no u dont #(i had to fix up some earlier inconsistencies but it gave more inconsistencies maybe i should give up writing for good)

[wondersbeyondcompare]

Majid’s School Uniform Story (R)

aka riddle gets to tutor another unfortunate soul

“The library is an ideal place to nap… Just don’t tell Senior Jamil about this, okay?!”

[Location:NRC Library]

Majid: *yawns* Seems like I’ve studied enough Magic History for today. Haah… If only Mr. Trein would lighten up on the homework. So what if that essay had to be 4 pages front AND back? He should’ve been more clear about that in his lecture.

Majid: …Well, not like I was listening in the first place. *yawns* The sunlight there is always so nice in the afternoons… I can’t help but sleep a little while I’m there.

*rustle* *rustle*

Majid: Ah, and the next subject I have to work on is…Math? What a pain of a class. *yawns* If only… if only I could juusst-

*thunk*

Majid: *snoring*

*footsteps*

Riddle: Is that…

*footsteps* *THUD*

Majid: !!!

Riddle: I thought so. You’re a freshman from Scarabia, correct? The one who’s always getting pulled along by your vice dorm leader because you keep dozing off?

Majid: …Sure.

Riddle: The library is not an appropriate place to sleep. If you wanted to take a nap, then hurry back to your dorm room, and do it there.

Majid: Yeah, okay.

Riddle: You… you’ve been acting rather impudent for a while now. I’m a 2nd year, you know? You should speak to your seniors with more respect. AND no one should be using the library as a place to procrastinate like this. Not to mention the way you present yourself in your uniform… You leave me no other choice. State your name.

Majid: What for?

Riddle: Your actions have been deplorable. I need your name to report them to your dorm leader.

Majid: Haha… It’s not like the dorm leader’s gonna care much about something as small as napping. Can’t you just let this slide?

Riddle: Alright, then I’ll talk to your vice dorm leader instead.

Majid: Ah, it’s Sebek Zigvolt, sir.

Riddle: Don’t mess with me!! Sebek Zigvolt is a Diasmonia student!

Majid: Well, I never said that was my name. I was just pointing out that he was walking right behind you at that moment.

Riddle: …Ah, so he was- HOLD ON A MINUTE.

*rustle*

Riddle: AND WHERE EXACTLY DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?

Majid: Tch. And I thought this would be the perfect time to escape too.

Riddle: TELL ME YOUR ACTUAL NAME, OR IT’S OFF WITH YOUR HEAD.

Majid: SH- SHAHIN, MAJID. MY NAME IS SHAHIN, MAJID, SIR;;;

Riddle: *sighs* So, Majid then. Good.

Majid: ‘What the hell’s ‘off with your head’ supposed to mean??? Is it some kind of decapitation spell???? Was I about to die a couple seconds ago??? Do the library workers have to clean up my splattered remains after this guy’s done with me??? Surely that kind of thing wouldn’t be allowed- No… our headmaster is plenty screwed up; he wouldn’t do anything to help me-’

Riddle: Majid.

Majid: !!! Yes.

Riddle: *tap* *tap* Is this a worksheet from your math class? I saw a couple of my underclassmen trying to finish it in our dorm… You should really get started on it. The deadline is tomorrow, correct?

Majid: Uh, yea- yes. I’ll go ahead and do that… sir.

Riddle: Well?

Majid: Wait, right now?

Riddle: Why not? The library is a valuable spot for information, so you could always use as many reference books as you see fit. Besides, I’m pretty sure the second you step foot in your dorm, you’ll collapse onto your bed and leave your work unfinished until the last minute.

Majid: …Are you sure we haven’t met before?

Riddle: *sighs* I was just generalizing based on what I’ve seen some of your peers do… Don’t tell me that the rest of the underclassmen are this prone to procrastination too… *rustle* Here. Start with question 1.

Majid: Fine, fine. *scribble* *scribble*

Riddle: …

Majid: *scribble* *scribble*

Riddle: Ah, that’s wrong.

Majid: Excuse me?

Riddle: That step you took right there. You forgot to distribute the negative sign to both variables.

Majid: Right… okay. Thanks.

Riddle: And on number 3, you graphed the wrong system of equations. A slope of 3/4 should be less steeper than that.

Majid: Gotcha.

Riddle: And number 2-

Majid: OKAY, okay! I get it! I did everything wrong! I’ll just erase all my answers, okay?! Jeez, you lecture as much as Jamil…

Riddle: This won’t do… At this rate… Alright.

Majid: And why are you sitting across from me now?

Riddle: It seemed like you were struggling on your own. And I have a few minutes of free time. Don’t worry; I’m at the top of my class in all of my subjects. Teaching algebra is hardly a daunting task.

Majid: But I don’t need any help. And should you really be letting your guard down to tutor someone from another dorm? Scarabia’s test scores are known for rivaling Octavinelle’s, y’know?

Riddle: Well, judging from how you answered those questions, it would be foolish to consider you a threat in the first place. Besides, what’s the point of defeating an opponent if they’re not at their best? Just consider this as a kind offer from your upperclassman to unlock your full potential.

Majid: …I can’t help but feel like I was insulted multiple times in those first two sentences, but thank you.

Riddle: Of course. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you don’t tarnish this school’s good name.

***

[Location: NRC Library (Late Afternoon)]

Riddle: TCH. I ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT YOU HAD TO DO THE MULTIPLICATION SECTION FIRST, AND THEN YOU CAN ADD LIKE TERMS.

Majid: …

Riddle: AND HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO REPEAT THIS FORMULA TO YOU??? IT’S SO SIMPLE. EVEN A JUNIOR HIGH STUDENT COULD HAVE MEMORIZED THIS THE FIRST TIME IT’S TAUGHT TO THEM .

Majid: …….

Riddle: Ah… No, wait… I apologize. I didn’t mean to raise my voice… *sighs* But Majid, it’s been well over an hour now, and we’re not even halfway through your homework. Are you sure you’ve been taking this serio-

Majid: OF COURSE I’VE BEEN TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY!

Riddle: !!!!!

Majid: The teachers, hell, even my own classmates always end up asking me that same question! “If only you put a bit more effort into your studying”,; “You have a lot of potential… if only you could put a little more effort too”! As if I didn’t spend a ton of time already on my homework!! I had a shitty education when I was younger and sometimes I fall asleep in class, so I get that I won’t be as smart as everyone else, but…

Riddle: Majid…

Majid: I thought that I at least had the basics down… I guess no matter how hard I try, it’ll never be enough, huh?

Riddle: That’s not true.

Majid: Are you-

Riddle: I’m not lying to you. We can set aside your homework for now, but in the meantime, let me help you plan out some personalized study techniques. I can’t guarantee you’ll be in the top percentage of your class, but I can definitely save you from hearing those hateful words ever again. We’ll make sure your efforts don’t go to waste.

Majid: Aah… Thank you… Seriously, thank you so much…sir.

Riddle: Heh. Don’t worry about it. This is just another part of my duty as a fellow student of Night Raven College. Also make sure not to yell like that in the library ever again.

Majid: But weren’t you also just… Never mind, I understand.

Riddle: Good.

***

Majid: ‘This guy… what was his name again?’

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twisted wonderland ocs #twst ocs #twst oc art #twisted wonderland oc art #art #my art #my writing #writing #Majid #unlikely pairs interacting w/ each other pt 2 lol #also another case of majid having selective memory #can remember that random diasomnia student who yells a lot but cant remember the heartslabyul dorm leader who also yells a lot #maybe he just memorized sebek’s name just to make sure he could avoid places he frequented #and majid was DEFINITELY just calling riddle sir to avoid figuring out his name #dont come at me for majid’s one sleeve up one sleeve down thing #(´；Д；`) he does it b/c i do it and i wanted solidarity #so far majid’s stories have just been him getting help from the people around him but hey #boy kinda needs all the help he can get lol besides im a sucker for people treating majid like a younger brother #Riddle

[kpopfanfictrash]

Posting Date: July 8th, 6:00 PM CT (UTC/GMT-05:00)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / College!AU / Humor / Smut (as requested in my fundraising initiative for BLM)

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook had messed with you for the last time. That was what you thought when the hockey team – led by the insufferable Jungkook – kicked your dance team out again from your reserved room at the gym. In retaliation, you planned a prank of epic proportions and were caught in the act by none other than Jungkook himself. Before the rift between you could grow any deeper, you accidentally overheard something you were not meant to hear. Something which overshadowed even your heated rivalry. Faced with the choice between obvious wrong and teaming up with your worst enemy – you reluctantly chose the latter. But what will you do when feelings you once thought of as hatred become something decidedly… not?

Estimated WC: 42K

Rating: 18+

Preview: 1,941

The back of Jeon Jungkook’s head was as infuriating as the rest of him.

In the last row of the classroom, you thought this to yourself while typing into your laptop. Notetaking was part of your official duties as Teacher Assistant for Professor Rosenbarr’s class. This, along with grading homework, proctoring exams, and a variety of other bitchwork.

Despite this, the job of a TA was the best-paying on campus, not to mention that Professor Rosenbarr personally wrote the recommendation which landed your upcoming summer internship. Junior year was stressful enough as it was, with everyone turning twenty-one and realizing with some shock they were halfway through University.

Only one summer remained before entering the real world – everyone you spoke to said that this summer internship was crucial. If there was a blank period between Junior and Senior year of University, you might as well type FUCKED AROUND in the blank section of your resume and be done with it. No, this TA role was worth all the bitchwork, if only because it directly led to your upcoming internship.

The presence of Jungkook in your class though, had you seriously considering the merits of quitting.

Glowering at his messy head three rows before you, you wondered if he had even bothered to shower before coming to class. Probably not, based on the state of his hair and clothes. Both were rumpled, with wrinkles permanently stamped into the fabric of his hoodie. You were so consumed by the state of his appearance that when he stretched, turning around, there was no time to look away.

Jungkook’s eyes locked with yours and he blinked, taken aback by your staring. While you watched, his gaze narrowed.

See something you like? he mouthed over the heads of the people between you.

Stomach plummeting, your gaze snapped back to the screen of your laptop. After a long moment of pause, you slowly looked up and found him still looking. Most infuriating of all was the smirk on his lips, as though you had acted exactly as he predicted.

Once again, you remembered why Jungkook was the worst. It gave him no small amount of pleasure to see you embarrassed. Just as it made your own stomach leap to see his brow furrowed with frustration, lips pressed together as he huffed in annoyance.

The two of you had been at each other’s throats since freshman year, a feud of such epic proportion, it was difficult to remember how it had begun. All you knew was that by now, too much blood had been spilled for you to ever go back. Jungkook hated you and you hated him. That much was certain.

Still looking at you, Jungkook arched a brow.

In response to this, you scowled. Pay attention, you mouthed, gesturing at the board.

Jungkook glanced over his shoulder.

Professor Rosenbarr was so absorbed in his lecture, you doubt he would have noticed if the fire alarm and sprinklers went off. There was a zone he reached while lecturing about statistical anomalies in economic theory which not even you could pull him out of.

More importantly, he definitely did not notice Jungkook’s lack of attention. A girl in the front row was buffing her nails, the guy behind her was paying a bill and the guy to his right was scrolling through Tumblr.

At least Jungkook had his notes open, even if he was not looking at the board.

Making a face in his direction, you shooed a hand forward. With a roll of his eyes, Jungkook finally got the hint and turned around to face front. Pulling his hoodie overhead, he slumped low in his seat.

Unable to stop yourself, you let out a sigh.

The girl next to you frowned. “Shh,” she said.

“Sorry,” you whispered, sinking even lower.

While stewing in your own embarrassment, a ping sounded from your laptop. Looking down, you scowled again at the familiar email address.

From: [email protected]

To: y/[email protected]

Subject: hey TA

Aren’t you supposed to be grading us? Maybe you should pay more attention to the lecture & less to the back of my head

Fury clouding your gaze, it made it difficult to see as you typed.

From: y/[email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: re: hey TA

Maybe if your head weren’t so big, I would be able to see the slides

Pressing send, you looked up and waited for him to respond. From the last row of class, you watched Jungkook open your email, snort and bend forward.

Professor Rosenbarr cleared his throat from the front of the room.

“Something amusing about economic theory, Mr. Jeon?”

Jungkook’s head snapped up; a deer caught in headlights. “Um. No, sir.”

The Professor arched a brow. “While I appreciate your formal language, perhaps you could extend the same respect to your dress code next class. Hood down,” he said, pointedly glancing at Jungkook’s large sweatshirt.

Dejectedly, Jungkook reached up to lower his hood.

Even from your seat, you could see his ears were bright red. A small pang of sympathy went through you before reminding yourself he deserved it. Jungkook should have been paying attention – just like you should have.

Bending forward, you resumed taking notes. Professor Rosenbarr continued his lecture, the class returned normalcy but still, Jungkook failed to respond to your email.

This did not surprise you. Jungkook had always been flaky – one of the many reasons you two did not get along. You preferred things orderly, with everyone following an agreed set of rules and Jungkook had his own expectations.

A message appeared in the corner of your screen. For a moment, your heart skipped and then you realized it was only your groupchat with Seokjin and Gina, your two best friends.

Seokjin: Y/N, stop ignoring meee [10:41 AM]

Gina: lol Seokjin, she’s teaching [10:41 AM]

Seokjin: she’s not the one teaching. Rosenblah is [10:41 AM]

Seokjin: Y/N, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY! [10:41 AM]

Y/N: his name is Rosenbarr, Seokjin. What’s the emergency? [10:41 AM]

Seokjin: finally [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: there’s a party this weekend. You in? [10:42 AM]

Gina: what night? [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: Saturday [10:42 AM]

Gina: okay, cool [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: why? What’re you doing Friday? [10:42 AM]

Gina: nothing [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: so, why did you – oh, never mind. Y/N, you in? [10:42 AM]

Y/N: this was the emergency? [10:42 AM]

Y/N: who’s throwing the party? [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: um. A friend [10:42 AM]

Y/N: Seokjin [10:43 AM]

Seokjin: okay, fine, the friend is Taehyung & the party is at hockey house. But Y/N, listen to me [10:43 AM]

Y/N: pass [10:43 AM]

Gina: lol Seokjin, you had to have known that would fail [10:43 AM]

Seokjin: I was hoping that by Junior year, we would have all become rational and mature human beings [10:44 AM]

Seokjin: aka, this feud you have with Jungkook is stupid, Y/N [10:44 AM]

Gina: *gasps* he said the name! [10:44 AM]

Gina: a plague upon your house, Seokjin! [10:44 AM]

Y/N: listen. While yes, I am a rational and mature human being [10:44 AM]

Y/N: his royal douchebaggery is not [10:44 AM]

Y/N: ergo, your wish was doomed to fail, Seokjin [10:44 AM]

Seokjin: sigh [10:44 AM]

Seokjin: well, do you at least want to get pizza with Gina and I after? [10:44 AM]

Y/N: that, I can do [10:45 AM]

Seokjin: okay, fine. It’s a plan [10:45 AM]

“We’ll pick up at the same place on Wednesday,” said Professor Rosenbarr, interrupting your train of thought. Head jerking up, your fingers fell from the keys. “Please read Chapter 4 of the textbook before then and complete the assignment online.”

As soon as he stopped, the class began to pack up, shoving books into backpacks and standing from their seats.

Rereading your notes, you struggled to recall who had last asked a question. Professor Rosenbarr liked to have that information to grant class participation points, but the conversation with Jungkook had thrown you off your game.

Before you could ask someone around you, a shadow fell over your desk. Looking up, you found Jungkook in the aisle, thumbs hooked lazily beneath the straps of his backpack.

Frowning, you glanced past. “You’re blocking the aisle,” you announced, shutting your laptop. Shoving this in your bag, you attempted to stand and found him still standing there. “Not to mention my way out of class.”

“Just came to see if you needed my notes,” Jungkook said, nonchalant. “You seemed pretty distracted.”

Glancing at him, you scowled. “I’m the TA here, not you, Jeon.”

“I know.” His smile widened and you repressed the sudden desire to smack it from his face. “Doesn’t change the fact that you were staring at me.”

“The only reason I was staring at you was because you look like you haven’t showered in days. Is the hockey team really that hard-up for wins? Resorted to repulsing the competition?”

Instantly, his smile disappeared.

Jungkook had recently been made Captain of the University hockey team and it was an endless source of gossip on campus, since usually only Seniors held the coveted title. Word on the street was Jungkook was just that good – or, the hockey team was that bad.

“I showered after practice,” he said, a bit sulky. “And we’re not that bad this year.”

Despite his words, the furrow between his brow deepened and Jungkook aimlessly shoved a hand through his hair. His fingers instantly became tangled, fighting a minute before he worked through.

Staring at him for a moment, you eventually blinked and tore free.

“Whatever,” you said, glancing past him. “Let me leave.”

Professor Rosenbarr was long gone, but he would expect your notes in his office by the end of day. You still needed to format them the way that he preferred, review them for errors and find the name of the last person who spoke.

Jungkook stepped aside and, pushing past him, you entered the aisle. As you climbed the steps, you heard him follow suit. The impending deadline began to weigh on you and – against all better judgement – you turned around.

“Hey,” you exhaled, coming to a stop on the last step.

Jungkook looked up. “What?”

“Did you… hear who asked the last question in class?”

Surprise flickered over his features, though he quickly composed them. “Uh, it was Nelson.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

You lingered for a moment, then turned around and left the room. Shoving open the door to the hall, you did not bother to wait for him to exit. Disappearing into the crowd, you kept your head low and placed distance between you. He had been startled into being nice to you, but you knew from experience this would not last for long.

Jungkook always found a way to have the last word.

Your theory was proven as soon as you entered the quad, phone dinging loudly to announce a new email. Sliding open the app, you finally found his response to your message.

From: [email protected]

To: y/[email protected]

Subject: re: re: hey TA

If you’re still wondering how clean my body is, feel free inspect it yourself. Hate to leave that kind of doubt on your conscience xx

Swallowing, your fingers hovered over the delete button before you gave up and shoved your phone in your pocket. You would not allow Jungkook to get under your skin so easily.

Such a feat was easier said than done, however. Jungkook had nearly two years of practice at pushing your buttons. By this point, you thought he might know your ticks better than your best friends. All it took was a well-placed wink from him to make your blood boil.

Still – you would figure out a way to get Jungkook back. You always did.

After all, you had two years of experience at pressing his buttons as well.

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

Follow my writing / editing process on my Updates Schedule 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

#preview #The Art of More

[marawritingstuff]

SUNSHINE

Finally, I would like to thank my fellow classmates.  I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you.

Valedictorian speech written.   Come on, Amelia, no sleeping.   Time to write the memoriam.   Everybody would have completely forgotten about Sunshine, aka Jennifer, if those idiots stopped talking about weird stuff.

On this day as the Class of 2008 celebrates our graduation, our Sunshine isn’t here.   Jennifer Halloway sadly took her life seven months ago.  

Couldn’t someone else give this speech? Heaven knows, we weren’t friends. Sunshine didn’t have any friends. I didn’t even know her!  Well, maybe a little bit.

Sunshine always lit up a room with her distinctive style.  She brought laughter wherever she went.

My first encounter with Sunshine occurred the first day of fifth grade.  Jennifer stumbled through the homeroom door dressed in a jumper that was falling apart at the seams with a sun patch centered slightly below her large breasts.  The tall, overweight girl, with a haircut that even a discount barber wouldn’t admit to, clutched her books closely to her chest.  As a chorus of “You are My Sunshine” sprang from the mouths of a group of students near the back, a storm of spitballs flew through the air.  Sunshine didn’t even look up amid the commotion but headed to a corner desk at the far side of the classroom. A wave of sympathy overcame me, and I began to get up to greet her, only to be met by Susie, my best friend’s hand. I looked at my friends.  Some were laughing while others had wrinkled up their faces as if Sunshine had a communicable disease that could be passed through the air by her mere presence.  There is not much I can say now.  Then I was a ten-year-old girl who wanted to be liked so I wrote off Sunshine’s life, joining in my friends’ laughter and jeers that would last for nearly seven more years.

Her intelligence and compassion did not go unnoticed by teachers and fellow students.

Sunshine remained on the periphery of my universe.   We were both smart, extremely smart.  Advanced placement classes cluttered our schedules; at least for a while, but she lacked the social graces to stay amongst the “gifted.”  Group projects were the new fad in education.   My peers pretended to let Sunshine be part of the group during class, but everyone knew the real discussions, work, and fun happened afterschool. Nobody ever told her where the meetups were happening.  When it came to the division of work, the group inevitably responded: Jennifer refused to help.    Some of the teachers would try to elicit a defense from Sunshine, but she remained silent.   I guess she never got over the fear instilled in her in elementary school.  Supposedly, she told on some bullies for calling her “Cabbage Patch Kid” and they slammed her in the mud and kicked her bad.  Of course, there were some teachers who were just as ruthless as the students.  I heard Ms. Reardon, the sixth-grade science teacher, tell her that despite her intelligence, social problems meant that she would never succeed in life and Mr. Pearson, the seventh-grade English teacher, said someone as poor as her shouldn’t have hope. I wish I could say that I acted differently, that I tried to include her, but I didn’t. By the time we reached high school, the group project grades had dropped her out of my academic circle.   However, the continued bullying kept Sunshine burning bright in my orbit.

Jennifer’s grace was an example to us all.

The whole cheerleading squad threw me a welcome party the day before my freshman year began.  They even brought me the cutest outfit and a junior offered me a ride. At 7: 15 a.m., she pulled into the driveway in her clunker.   Fifteen minutes later we screeched into the parking lot, just as the buses were pulling in.  The unmistakable sound filled my ears.  “You Are My Sunshine.”   Mud balls flew knocking Jennifer from the stairs of the bus onto the concrete.   She pulled herself up dredging her splattered sunshine jumpsuit with her.  As she stepped through the entrance doors, Sunshine disappeared from my mind again.

Though she wasn’t one of the more outgoing students, she was beloved by everyone.

That first year our paths didn’t cross much as our classes were clearly different now and extra-curricular activities weren’t her thing.  At times, I would hear calls of “fatso”, “creepy”, and “not so little Orphan Annie” coming from the halls, and witness Sunshine being thrown into lockers.  At lunch she sat alone, while some kids threw food at her and most...okay, all…of us just sneered.   Gossip went around that her grandmother, her sole living relative, got cancer and the water in her house was turned off.      Her hygiene suffered, ostracizing her even more.  One morning I really had to pee, so reluctantly ran to the gross bathroom on the first floor. That giant jumpsuit was in a sink with Sunshine scrubbing it with a bar of soap. Laughter exploded from me.  She just stood there scrubbing…I am sorry I did that now.

I, for one, enjoyed Jennifer’s contributions in the classroom.

A language class was required for all students and, unfortunately, I lacked any skills in this area, so this meant mixing with all the other sophomores. As I walked into class, I noticed the name cards carefully placed on the desks. Señora Amelia Brantley.  Cute.  Assigned Seating.  I scanned the desks.  Señora Jennifer Halloway right next to Señor Harry Hankel, the quarterback, who later became captain of the football team, a notorious bully. Everyone thought Harry would make it to the NFL someday bringing fame, and money, to our school. Thus, his pranks were largely ignored, especially by the popular teachers, like Ms. Garcia. Throughout the semester, every time Ms. Garcia turned her back, he would take hold of Sunshine’s desk and throw it into the wall leaving her reeling. Ms. Garcia refused to discipline Harry, instead admonishing Sunshine for moving her seat.  The worst day came on Cinco De Mayo.   There was a buffet of Mexican delights contributed by the students and Ms. Garcia.  A decorated piñata hung from the ceiling.  At the end of class, Ms. Garcia had us start a Conga line.   When Sunshine tried to join in, no one would touch her back.  They called her a dirty pig and made oinking sounds. Rather than discipline the class, Ms. Garcia simply broke up the line and we went back to the Cinco De Mayo feast. Sunshine went to the back corner of the room, sat down on the floor, and for the first time ever, I saw her cry.   That was the beginning of the end, even though I neither knew nor took any steps to stop it.

She was the picture-perfect student.

To be honest, SAT’s, college applications, and maintaining my 4.0 kept me too busy after that to think much about Sunshine.  I jumped on the chance to assist with developing the year-book pictures, not only since it would add another line to my Ivy League applications, but also because I loved watching the blobs slowly transform into images of happy people.  Cheerleaders forming pyramids.  Football players making touchdowns.  Even Susie’s mug, now a beautiful young lady, smiling at the Junior Fall Dance.    After school one day, I stirred the solution as the last picture appeared.  My arm grew limp as the picture came in focus. Sunshine was sitting in the corner of the gym at a pep-rally, all alone, grasping her knees.  She looked so miserable, like a puppy that had been hit too many times.   Gently, I moved the image towards the trash when the Senior Editor came in and stopped me, laughing and pronouncing that this would be a highlight. I didn’t say anything.   The centerfold of the yearbook was Sunshine’s picture with the caption, “You are the light of our school.”

As we are here to celebrate our own accomplishments, I know the Senior Class wishes they could throw Jennifer a ceremony that could honor her alone.

Unlike my freshman year, I walked through the school doors on the first day of my senior year with confidence and pride; head of the cheerleading squad, member of the student council, editor of the yearbook and a shoo-in for valedictorian.   Frankly, this was just a distraction from the wait on the responses of the Ivy League schools. December was the traditional month that early applicants received an acceptance…or rejection. August. September, November, were all a blur.

December 12th, I arrived home and opened my inbox:

NEW MAIL

HARVARD:   APPLICATION STATUS

SUSIE:    SPECIAL CEREMONY FOR SUNSHINE, DAWN

Clicking the attachment of the first message, my hands shook uncomfortably. The Harvard Crest sat cleanly at the top of the letterhead.  My eyes scanned the document.

“Congratulations.  You have been accepted into the incoming Class of the Fall Semester of 2008.”

The next few hours were a haze.  Screams and tears.  My mother hugging me.   Calling Susie.  It all seems like a huge mess of emotions now.   Later that night, Susie called to remind me that she was picking me up at 6:00 a.m. for the ceremony.  The excitement of the day had overwhelmed me.  I assumed it was another award for one of the teachers.  The second e-mail remained on my computer unopened as I dreamed of Harvard crimson sweatshirts.

The alarm rang all too soon, I threw on a hoodie and my Northface winter jacket and lumbered down to Susie’s car.  The window made a perfectly good pillow and blocked out most of her jabbering. Later, I learned that Susie was explaining that Sunshine’s grandmother had been missing for a few days.  One of the idiots from the football team called Sunshine impersonating the police luring her to the flagpole in front of the school, our destination, with a promise of information regarding her grandmother.  If I had only listened to Susie.  Or opened the e-mail.  Or done…anything.  

Susie screeched to a stop a few blocks from the school where several other cars loaded with seniors had assembled.  I struggled from the car, joining a group of twenty-five in a steady creep.  As we came over the hill, I could see Sunshine standing beside the flagpole in her old, scantly patched coat, shivering in the cold.  She kicked the snow around her, weakly mouthing, “where are you Grandma.”  The group pounced on her. Harry Hankel seized her by the arms forcing her to face the flagpole.  From under the snow, two other blindsiders began to pull ropes causing a pair of bloomers and a bra to ascend. The sunshine patches left no doubt of the owner, though I had no idea where the mob had obtained her private items.  The group broke out into a chorus of “You are My Sunshine” as they blasted her with ice balls, several striking her square in her mouth causing teeth to be knocked fully out.   Seconds seemed liked hours until someone opened the front doors of the school.   Everyone scattered.   I stood there for a second watching Sunshine lie there on the ground.  Blood dripped from her mouth staining the snow. Susie pulled me by the arm, and I turned away.  This would be my last view of Sunshine.

I wish I had a chance to know her more personally.

The incident occurred one week before the holiday break.  Sunshine didn’t make an appearance in school that week.     Holiday cheer soon made me forget the horrible event as my family overwhelmed me with gifts of Harvard paraphernalia: sweatshirts, mugs, anything you could imagine.   When I finally stepped back on the grounds of the school, I shivered. My eyes turned up to the flagpole resting on a shadowy image of one of Sunshine’s patches waving.    Susie dismissed it as an illusion due to stress.  Only a few hours into class, the principal called us all for an assembly in the auditorium.   Despite my heavy sweater, I hugged myself tightly trying to keep warm.  Mr. Lumbre, our principal, stepped on the stage, but I could barely see him despite all the theater lights.  A shadow seemed to be engulfing him.  

“Jennifer Halloway took her own life on New Year’s Day.  She is survived by her grandmother.  Funeral arrangements will be announced.  Grief counselors will be made available in the main office.  School is dismissed for the day to allow time for mourning and processing.”

The senior class sat still. I don’t know what they were feeling, all I know is no one said a word.

We really didn’t have the opportunity to say a proper good-bye.  However, even after she was gone, Jennifer still seemed to be with us somehow.

No sunshine came through the clouds the day they put her in the ground.  Only her grandmother and the church pastor watched as the casket descended into the earth.  I sat in Susie’s car staring.  I read in the newspaper that Sunshine had shot herself with her grandfather’s old gun. Her grandmother, finally recovering from a bout of dementia, returned to find her in the garage a few days later. Some of the other seniors said they were going to come to the funeral.  Susie backed out but let me take the car.   Only the hearse and the pastor’s beat up Chevy kept me company in the cemetery parking lot.  I couldn’t bring myself to get out and drove away in perceived silence, though I thought I heard the faint sound of Nat King Cole’s “When Shadow’s Fall.”

The grief counselors only stayed a few days as no one sought their services. Sunshine never left.   No matter how hard I tried to avoid it, every morning the sunshine shadow enveloped me as I crossed under the flagpole.  As the temperatures rose outside the school, they fell within.  The furnace was replaced, but the temperature didn’t rise a degree. They tore apart the ductwork, vents, and changed all the thermostats.   Nothing worked.   Soon things…well…they started getting scary. Senior girls were randomly being thrown into lockers.  Books flew from students’ arms.  The darkness and “When Shadow’s Fall” were everywhere. Most of the students, and staff, for that matter, were unfamiliar with the song.  My grandmother adored Nat King Cole.   Though I used to love hearing that smooth baritone, I shivered as it creeped from every Ipod, car stereo, and even the PA system.  No other music has been heard in the school since Sunshine’s death.  

I walked into a biology class one day on a mission to deliver notices of the upcoming teacher and student council cooperative meeting.  There sat Harry Hankel snoring away as a film on protozoa projected over him. I stared at him and sighed, sick of the whole damn school. To my shock, an invisible force picked up his desk and relentlessly banged him back and forth into the wall.   I saw nothing touch him but some in the class maintain that a sunshine shaped shadow passed over the film screen before the accident.  Harry’s dreams, and the school’s dreams, were over.  The doctors were unable to repair the damage in his right leg.  He will never play football again.

We wish she could have partaken in the many happy activities of Senior year that are captured forever in our memories.

The final grade announcements confirmed my valedictorian status.  I wanted to drop it all and drive off to Massachusetts, never to look back.  However, the yearbook distribution had to be done.  On the penultimate day of school for the seniors, I walked into the student council office and watched my junior editor sliding receipts into each book. She abruptly stopped, something seeming to catch her eye.  Flipping open the book, she let out a shriek and bolted from the office.  Drifting over to her workplace, the pages of the yearbook flipped back in the constant cool breeze that pervaded the office. I covered my mouth in horror, looking down at the faces, or lack of faces, of the senior class.  Susie should have been smiling back at me.  Instead, there was a black spot in the shape of a sunshine. Book after book, page after page, the same.  Black blotches smeared out any faces of seniors.  Slumping down in a chair, I began to cry.  I wasn’t sure then, or even now, who or what I was crying about. Was it for our lost happy year? Was it for the loss of my hard work? Or was it finally for Sunshine?

We are all sorry for the tragedy that befell Jennifer.  I can only hope that Sunshine can find the peace she was seeking.  Goodbye Jennifer.  

There will be no yearbooks to sign this year.  Mr. Lumbre cancelled the prom.  No one objected.  Soon there will be parents wishing many of us well as we head off to our respective colleges and universities.   The question is will Sunshine be with us?  Will she stay at the school?  I don’t know the answer to that.   I do know that she is here now as I type these words, shivering, in the dark, a sunshine shaped shadow looming over me.

I…am…. sorry….

#writers on tumblr #my writing #fiction #short story

[thereddieficlibrary]

Reddie College/Uni Masterlist pt 1

sixteen weeks by Redburn (17/18 | 81588 | explicit)

“Well, I mean…” Richie starts, as if this entire situation was like any other reasonable discussion he’s had. “We can, if you really want to. I’m game.”

Eddie chokes on the coffee that was still running down his throat. He looks at Richie as if he’d just grown several heads. Surely it couldn’t be this simple, right? “Um, what?”

Richie remains nonchalant. “Roommates with benefits, you said? Not the worst idea ever.”

(Or, Eddie and Richie are roommates in college and one day decide to start casually hooking-up. Things go about as well as expected.)

Find Your Fire by endversed (1/1 | 16354 | teen)

Richie Tozier meets a cute firecracker of a guy when he accidentally sets off the fire alarm in his apartment.

It's just too bad that said guy has got a boyfriend - doesn't he?

your heartbeat is the only sound I wanna hear by eddiefuckinkaspbrak (8/8 | 16008 | explicit)

Richie meets a very interesting young man at his university's library and is determined to be able to talk to him.

or deaf!eddie au

walk alone or run away by tozier (1/1 | 46891 | explicit)

Richie Tozier is Eddie Kaspbrak’s rival. At least, that’s what Eddie says to everyone who will listen—including Richie most of the time.

Richie Tozier is a man, not of lies, but of half-truths and truths said too plainly out in the open that they sound like lies to the untrained ear. He does not lie—he lets others lie for him.

or, a college au where lots of things go wrong and some very important things go right.

Coffee and Carnival Bears by StarshipDancer (1/1 | 7198 | teen)

"Eddie Kaspbrak knew how many germs were in a person’s mouth, and he would only swap spit with his fucking soulmate."

Finding your soulmate should be pretty straightforward, but not for Eddie. Not when there were two possible candidates, and he had no idea which one it fucking was.

I'd Rather Cut Out My Tongue Than Let You Kiss Me With Yours by inoubliable (1/1 | 7288 | explicit)

Eddie hooked up with Richie only once, way back in freshman year. Richie never texted him afterward. Eddie thinks he has learned his lesson.

(He hasn't.)

--

And it would be hot, except Richie’s an asshole. Like all attractive college-aged guys with angular jaw lines and sharp hipbones, Richie Tozier is a fuckboy. And Eddie Kaspbrak does not fuck fuckboys. At least, not more than once.

a (number) neighborhood of seven by BookRockShooter (32/? | 33688 | teen)

Richie decides to text his number neighbors - all at once. Thus, the "number neighbors wassup" group chat is born.

-

modern day au where richie literally just makes a gc with his number neighbors and it's the losers, but they don't know each other irl... yet

let's hear it for the boy(s) by Kandakicksass (1/1 | 6531 | teen)

In which Richie and Eddie go to different colleges, and all of their friends are curious about their unnamed significant others - right up until those significant others come to visit and everyone is both shocked and confused.

Aka, Tumblr user starstruck-stargazing's amazing idea, which I have gleefully expanded into a fic.

dreamboat by weepies (5/5 | 47558 | not rated)

“What are you? A third grader? What the fuck is this?” Eddie asks. He looks at Richie, confused.

“A list of fun stuff to do, duh. Can’t you read? I thought you were studying creative writing.” Eddie glares at Richie, who raises his hands in surrender as he chuckles. “Okay, okay. Hear me out. Your professor tells you to write what you know, and you said you don’t know anything. Well, sugar, here’s your opportunity to learn something about yourself.”

Dumbfounded, Eddie cannot tear his eyes away from Richie, his mouth agape. “You’re insane,” Eddie says. “And proud,” Richie replies.

... In which Eddie Kaspbrak is a writer with no ideas, and Richie Tozier is a coffee shop employee bursting with creativity.

Most Beloved by idaemilia (9/9 | 41820 | mature)

"But he had eyes like rain and hair like waves and a soul as vast and deep as the ocean and I guess I didn't mind drowning in him" -xvaniex on tumblr

Eddie keeps pining for Richie who is too blind to see it. But maybe he already knows.

Fall Away From Me (I Just Can't Take It) by The_lazy_eye (6/6 | 19675 | explicit)

It’s okay, though, Eddie tells himself. It’s all fine. This is part of their arrangement. This is a casual thing they have going. It’s his own stupid fault for catching feelings for someone he agreed to casually fuck. Especially when that person is his best friend from childhood.

Only the Good Die Young by happytreasure (10/10 | 36881 | explicit)

Eddie Kaspbrak is starting his senior year of college when Beverly Marsh decides to sit down next to him in his first class of the year. She later introduces him to her tight knit group of friends, and ultimately Richie Toizer, who ends up drastically changing Eddie's life.

Suddenly he's exposed to a world he thought only existed in fairytales, and despite all the new dangers that come with it, Eddie’s never felt more alive.

It just so happens his new found happiness comes at a price.

To the guy at the bus stop: by Ragno (8/8 | 43020 | explicit)

The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, especially if the other side of the fence is Ireland and the grass is Eddie living his own life for the first time ever away from his mom. An International Students Exchange Program is what he needs to finally stand up for himself and doing what he really wants. Who cares if he won't know anybody there? Who cares if he'll be alone in a foreign country? Who cares if he won't have his car and will need to take the bus to go anywhere?? Okay, maybe Eddie does care about that last one...

But, hey, at least the real grass is really greener there. Right?

one wave short of a shipwreck by palisadespalisades (5/5 | 16013 | teen)

The problem began when Eddie decided he was going to make out with Stan Uris. Make out, possibly take on some dates, maybe hook up — the details of what they’d do were still kind of up in the air, but Eddie was sure of one thing: to some degree, he was going to do Stan Uris.

(Eddie wants to make out with Stan. Eddie doesn't actually know Stan, which poses a significant barrier on the making out front. He does know Stan's bandmate, Richie, though, and from that, he formulates a plan. Shenanigans ensue. Inspired by the music video for Shura's "What's It Gonna Be?")

Black on Black by sunxcherries (1/1 | 6941 | explicit)

Eddie licks his lips. “Who deserves to put their hands on me?”

Richie’s staring at him like he’s not sure if Eddie is real. In all honesty, Eddie’s half-convinced that he’s dreaming—worried that he’s gonna wake up back in his dorm with his dick aching under his covers, Richie snoring soundly across the room.

As it is, Richie is standing in front of him in the middle of a college party looking like he could eat Eddie alive.

Star Struck by a_day_in_derry (6/6 | 6013 | mature)

Eddie is suddenly falling head over heels, and he has no idea what to do.

Based on a prompt from @gabriellefe on tumblr: "I came up to your apartment to ask you to turn down your music and have quieter sex, but it turns out that you've just been jumping up and down on your bed in your underwear listening to music alone"

Un Nouveau Soleil by eddiefuckinkaspbrak (3/3 | 33353 | explicit)

It was three months into his first year that Richie met Eddie for the first time. Edward Frank Kaspbrak. The man who would become the love of his life.

And Richie had no idea.

or: Richie is the heir to the British Throne who decides to study abroad at Harvard University. There, he meets Eddie Kaspbrak and they fall in love...duh.

The Blind Box by tinyarmedtrex (10/10 | 20493 | mature)

Eddie works at Gamestop and a dark haired stranger comes in and starts flirting with him. Eddie doesn't think much of it until they keep meeting.

Another College AU! Because why the hell not

Nightmares by MargotCelvin (33/33 | 134345 | teen)

Richie Tozier is trying to start over in New York. He left California behind and wants to leave his old life there as well. The only thing holding him to his old life are the nightmares that have plagued him for so long. But is there something in New York that can cure him of this disease?

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fics #reddie fanfiction #au #college #college au #university #masterlist #college masterlist #reddie masterlist #masterlists

[azritesx3]

Porcelain Doll - Lucifer & F!Reader

Anon: Hi, could you write a Lucifer x fem|reader fic please, were the girl is younger but they fell in love and then he later finds out that she struggles with a slight form of anorexia, not really a serious one but she sometimes not comfortable with eating however she's actually pretty thin and he tries to help her and he's worried.

Description: How is it that friends you've had for years not realize that something is wrong, but your boyfriend of three months does?

Rating: Teen Warnings: Anorexia, Eating Anxiety

AN: This fic is loosely based on my own personal events. For many, many years I've had difficulty with swallowing food wherever I was, except at home. I used it to my advantage to "lose weight", aka basically starving myself. All that led to was me having an awful stomach ulcer and little to no energy. Thanks to my mom, just last year I finally talked to my doctor about it and she gave me some pills to try. Apparently what I was suffering with was very common. Thanks to these pills I can finally eat out with my friends and family. Though I feel it may have made my depression worse, I'd rather have a few more bad days to being unable to eat. If this sounds like your situation, please talk to your doctor. They're meant to help you, and they won't judge you. AN: Updated August 23, 2020 - Grammar. Reupload!

AO3 / Fanfic Net / Wattpad / DeviantArt

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

"So, what's the plan for your 21st birthday girl?!" Your best friend Becky says across the table.

You, along with your group of friends, are eating at a diner not too far from your college. You've all just had a very successful rehearsal for the yearly college play extravaganza, and decided to celebrate with ice cream.

You pick at the straw in your milkshake, "I haven't really thought of anything."

"Oh please!" Jack exaggerates. He points his spoon at you, "There's no way you can't have nothing planned when you're dating that hunk!"

You shrug, "Really, I haven't thought of anything. I haven't had the time to think of a silly birthday with this play."

"A 21st birthday is not silly, it's important!" Jack complains.

"Seriously, Y/N. Tomorrow you'll finally be legal to raid that expensive bar whenever you want!" Becky sighs into her own milkshake, "An alcoholic's dream."

"Really, it's just a waste on her." Viv finishes her banana split, "You don't even drink heavily. I'll never understand why someone like him picked you."

You chuckle slightly. Neither will I.

You and Lucifer Morningstar first met back when you were a senior in high school. The circumstance wasn't ideal. One of the theater teachers was a creep that no one was willing to out. Then, that teacher set his eyes on you and you tore him up. The school's security sent you both to the LAPD station for questioning.

When you arrived you passed by Lucifer, eyes meeting. You remember him looking quizzically between you and the highly beaten up chubby guy next to you. You didn't see him again until after the police let you out of interrogation saying you were free to go [all thanks to your fellow classmates for finally speaking the truth].

Lucifer sat down next to you as you waited for your parents. He was highly impressed that someone of your lithe frame could take down a guy twice, maybe more, your size.

And since then you two have been in contact. The next time you were both face to face with each other was when he asked you to the local park three months ago and asked you out.

But since then, you two haven't spent too much time together. What with you being incredibly busy with this play and him with his club and LAPD job.

"Hellooo! Earth to Y/N!" Becky waved her hand in front of your face.

You blink, "What?"

"You're phone's buzzin'." You quickly dig through your purse and retrieve your phone.

"Speak of the Devil!" Becky laughs when she sees his name as the caller id.

You snort and hush your friends down before answering, "Hello?"

"Hello, darling! I hope I'm not interrupting your rehearsal." Lucifer's beautiful voice, that you love so much, reaches your ear.

"Oh no, you're not! We actually just finished about 15 minutes ago. I'm at a diner now with some friends."

"Lovely! I'll make this quick then so you can get back to socializing."

"I'd much rather listen to you." You whisper but Becky heard you anyways and punched your arm playfully.

Lucifer's laugh makes you smile warmly, "Well, if I remember correctly, tomorrow is your birthday yes?"

"Yup, it is." Your friends are all focused on you now.

"And it's the big 2-1 for you humans correct?"

"Ah, yes. The big adult number. Yup." You laugh.

"Then, if you have nothing planned, I'd like to take you out. Some dinner, then some wonderful dessert back at my place. How does that sound, love?"

Your face immediately heats up as various thoughts run through your mind. All your friends start wooing and giggling, "Y-yeah, no. I mean! No, I haven't planned anything. And that sounds lovely!" You stutter out.

"Wonderful! I'll pick you up around 6pm. Can't wait to see you again, my dear."

You smile, "Same to you, Lucifer. I'll see you then!" You hang up and are immediately bombarded with questions.

"Guys! Chill out!" You hush them down again, "Yes that was him and yes he's taking me out tomorrow for my birthday."

"Thank You oh mighty Lucifer!" Jack says as he and Viv bow their heads.

"Oh stop that!" You say.

"Where's he taking you?!" Becky asks excitedly.

"He just said dinner and...um…" your fierce blush returns.

"Oooh! My girl's finally gonna get laid!" Jack jumps up and down in his seat.

"Probably just a kiss. You know how she is." Viv replies.

"Well come on! Let's hurry back to the dorm! We gotta help you pick out an outfit!" Becky says and pushes everyone out of their seats.

You laugh, nervously.

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

"Seriously?" The old waitress cleans up the table you and your friends were at five minutes prior.

"What is it now, Grace? No tip?" Another waiter comes around.

"No, they gave me a tip. I just don't understand why these youngins' nowadays waste money." She motions to your untouched small size milkshake.

"Maybe they weren’t hungry?" The waiter shrugs and walks away.

"That damn girl never eats." Grace murmurs under her breath as she cleans the table.

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

You're sitting on one of the comfy leather chairs in your dorm lobby. You sit properly in your sparkling dress, hands clenched together on top of your knee, and head held high. An acting technique you learned yourself to quiet the nerves.

You wish you could say you were nervous about the date. You suppose you are, in a way. But not the whole date. Not even about the possible "dessert".

No. You were nervous, maybe more terrified, of the upcoming dinner.

He's going to find out.

No he won't. If your friends of many years couldn't there's no way he will.

He's going to find out. He's going to find out and that'll be the end of it.

Please, you've seen the women on him in his club. He'll love it.

Yeah…

"There's my darling!"

You snap out of it and turn your head to see Lucifer, in a well pressed suit, walking through the entryway to you.

"Lucifer!" You have a genuine surprised smile on your face, momentarily forgetting the nerves, and rush over to him.

He chuckles as you two embrace and he kisses your cheek, "I thought you'd text me when you were outside!"

"And miss you looking positively powerful in that chair? Heaven forbid." He gives you his classic flirtatious smile, making you blush and laugh.

"Come along, darling!" He holds his arm out to you and you take it, "Let the celebration begin!"

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

Lucifer takes you to what has to be the most expensive restaurant in LA.

You're both led to a corner of the vast room. It's pretty dark, lit only by a single candle on the clothed table and a dim lamp on the wall. As you skim through the menu looking for the cheapest, and smallest, meal possible, Lucifer interrupts your searching when he orders an appetizer.

He chuckles slightly at your raised brows, "Yes, I suppose I should have asked you first, but this dish is delectable darling. You'll love it! Plus, it's cut in shared pieces."

You smile back and hope the dim lighting hid your gulp.

The waiter comes back with the large shared appetizer and asks what you two would like for the main course.

Lucifer stops you again before you can answer, "If you don't mind, my dear, I'd love to get this meal here." He points to an item on your menu, and it happened to be the one thing you avoided eye contact with. It's a fairly large dish with various slices of steak and vegetables. In the small print of the description it says that this dish is suggested for parties.

"It happens to be one of their best, and since this is your 21st birthday I believe you deserve the largest and tastiest item here!" Lucifer smiles brightly at you, teeth and all.

You clutch the menu to not show your shaking body. You give him a small smile back, "Oh Lucifer, you know I don't consider myself as one of those people who think they deserve the best of everything."

"Of course and that's one of the many reasons I adore you, but darling," he leans in slightly. His hypnotic eyes and smile are lite beautifully by the candle, "You're the Devil's partner now. You deserve, and will always get the best."

You swallow again, but not from nerves. This time it was completely heat based.

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

The dinner went surprisingly...well!

Lucifer never questioned about your slow eating. Never pushed more food on you. Instead, he made you feel extremely comfortable. He told the waiter to not come back unless he holds his hand up, and you noticed the other tables around you haven't been filled with people.

It was just you and Lucifer, pretty much. Enjoying some amazing food and having wonderful conversations. You felt so at home you ate more than you probably did since...well, freshman year of high school.

Him seeming to work so hard to make you comfortable did make you wonder though…

Currently, you are sitting on Lucifer's stupidly comfortable Italian sofa, watching some mind numbing television. You still wore your dress, but now you had Lucifer's suit jacket over top and shoes off.

"Happy Birthday to you…" You could hear Lucifer's voice faintly coming from his back kitchen. You stretch your neck to look in that direction.

"Happy Birthday to you!" Lucifer comes around the corner. He's carrying a serving tray that holds two wine glasses, a bottle of wine, and a cute little cake.

"Happy Birthday, my darling Y/N!" He sets the tray down in front of you on the coffee table and sits next to you.

"Happy Birthday to you!" He smiles lovingly at you, and your heart is about ready to explode. You give him a hug along with a kiss on his forehead, nose, and cheeks before blowing out your candles.

"What did you wish for, darling?" He asks. You curl into his open arms.

"Can't say, Lucifer. Otherwise it won't come true."

He huffs, but kisses your head, "Silly humans and their superstitions." You both enjoy the comfortable silence before he speaks again.

"Care for a bite, darling? Made it myself this morning."

"Umm…" you froze. Your mind became increasingly aware with just how much food you ate today, "Maybe in the morning. I'm pretty full right now."

Lucifer just hums in response, and that just makes your suspicion about tonight grow.

You lift yourself up, still in his arms but far enough away to look him in the eyes correctly, "Lucifer...I have a question."

He just hums again.

"Do you...um," you swallow and feel the color of embarrassment rise on your cheeks, "Do you...know?"

He hums again before answering, "In part." You instantly deflate and go to move away from him, but he pulls you back just as quick. His hand runs through your hair in a calming motion, "It's nothing to be ashamed about, Y/N."

"How did you figure it out? My friends haven't even realized it."

"Well, when I saw you look just the same after so many years it worried me. Typically I hear from young women the dreaded 'after school 20'. It seems that phase has passed you, dear."

You sigh, "Yeah well, I can't remember exactly when or how it happened, but sometime in sophomore year I started having trouble with eating in a public setting. I couldn't even eat over at friends' homes. Only in my own." You curl your legs up to hold them. Lucifer continues to stroke your hair, "And then I met you and...well…I figured I wouldn't tell anyone and just deal with it. I was a chubby kid, and I was amazed with how much weight I lost so fast."

"Well, I am quite upset to hear that you thought I'd be ok with you starving yourself." Lucifer frowns and you look surprised at him.

"But...a lot of women who are all over you look like me, even less! And you're all over them! I thought-"

"I'm into human women, darling. Not porcelain dolls."

You look away from him. Tears brim your vision, "So, what? Are you disgusted with me now? Or did you just ask me out out of pity?"

"If I was disgusted by you I wouldn't have asked you to be mine, and I don't do pity, darling." Lucifer hears you sniffle.

"My darling Y/N," Lucifer Morningstar becomes incredibly soft. He gently brings his hands to your face and nudges you to look at him, "I've come to care deeply about you, love. And I don't enjoy seeing someone I care that much about in turmoil." He wipes your tears away.

"Allow me to help, darling. You keep going like this...I'm afraid I'll have you for even less time."

You stare into his eyes and can see nothing but truth. Your hands move to hold his face gently. Rubbing his stubble, you slowly bring your face closer. Closing your eyes you and him kiss. Soft, sweet, filled with an unspoken love and promise.

"Ok, Lucifer. Please, help me."

#Lucifer Morningstar #lucifer x reader #lucifer netflix #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer #reader #fem reader #fanfic #fanfiction #azritesx3

[akozuheiwa]

Professors Tarron and Johnson

A post-canon not-yet-AU-technically by myself, @lizzylucky, and @brising. See the long post beneath the cut.

After grad school and everything, Seamus goes on to become a professor at the same college he and Krel and everyone went to. Krel drops into class on such a regular basis that the students pretty much regard them as co-professors. At some point, the deans or whatever realise this and sort of offer Krel a position because students seem to like him. Seamus thinks it’s a great idea and that’s how Krel gets coerced into being Professor Tarron.

Krel is the cool professor who doesn’t ever want to be called professor (because Aja made fun of him for it) and tries for a solid three semesters to get his students to exclusively call him DJ Kleb. Seamus is fine being called by first name, but he’ll introduce himself and Krel as “Professors Johnson and Tarron” at the beginning of the semester. Almost always, the two co-teach lecture and then split up lab, except the one not in charge of lab always shows up anyway.

Their students love them, even if tests can occasionally be murder. Class and lab are full of super awesome experiments. Krel shows up some days with something random he invented the night before with the help of either alcohol or caffeine. He’ll take over the class and throw the syllabus to the wind to get his students to help him figure out what, exactly, he invented and how, exactly, he invented it. Some love it. Some hate it because they did the reading which is now out the window. Usually Seamus is very frustrated at first because he “had a plan for today’s lesson, we only have six weeks left in the semester”, but then he just gets super into it too and makes sure it becomes a teaching moment and nothing blows up. Students learn quickly that if you like explosions, you take lab with Krel, and if you’d rather play it safe, you take lab with Seamus.

Sometimes students also bring in things like this, although they usually try not to mention exactly what substance they were on when they created it, except for one student who walks in and shamelessly declares that that weekend she was “super fuckin’ high” and she thinks she mad something awesome but has no idea what it is, and the class spends the entire period reverse-engineering whatever it is only to find out it’s actually just a really, really weird hair-dryer. She gets extra credit just because Krel and Seamus are nostalgic and have, obviously, done the same thing multiple times in school. Unfortunately, this triggers a wave of students trying to replicate it by sleep deprivation or drugs or alcohol, which turns out some really cool class projects, but is banned after one kid passes out in the middle of class. Krel and Seamus either take back all the extra credit or just give everyone equal extra credit.

Students always find out about the Akiridion sci-fi site where all the theories about Krel and Seamus ended up, and they use it both as a forum to keep up with each other and also to speculate about their professors. Graduated seniors and anyone in the know help to make sure there’s no way to prove their favourite professors are (both?) aliens, and Krel and Seamus go through to check as well.

They give all their graduating seniors gifts, whether they were in one of their classes this year or freshman year or never but got stuck with one of them as a major advisor. If the kids were good, trustworthy kids, which most of them are, they get sworn to secrecy and get to find out that, yes, Krel’s actually from space. It’s impossible to convince them Seamus isn’t, but it amuses the two professors enough that they let it go.

They do teach a special senior seminar course that focuses on Akiridion technology, but it’s permission only and you pretty much can only get in if you’re a dedicated student of the Tarron-Johnson duo. Not to mention that the course description is misleading enough that only those students want to take it. The first day of this class is largely introducing the students to the fact that extra-terrestrials are real and that their tech is way better than Earth’s. They usually take a vote to see which of them the students think is the Akiridion, and usually the winning vote is both of them. Krel doesn’t reveal himself until the end of class so they can get through the syllabus and everything, because otherwise the class would never calm down.

The Akiridion Tech class takes two annual fields trips. One is to Akiridion-5, of course, where they get a special tour and the chance to work in what was Krel’s lab when he lived there. Aja begins looking forward to these trips because, ironically, it's one of her easiest days as Akiridion-5 Ruler. The students are always excited to meet her and the citizens are respectful and peaceful on those days. The other trip is to a planet of their choosing, which is disguised as an assignment where the class as a whole is given a bunch of data and has to determine which planets are habitable and pick one to visit. They almost always go, even if it’s not particularly habitable, just because Krel and Seamus can usually rig up safety suits. They also have a day where they study transduction technology. It’s Krel’s least favourite lesson because the students get to experiment with it on the only Akiridion available, AKA him, and so he ends up looking all sorts of crazy. Yes. Pictures get taken.

One year, after the field trip, one kid doesn’t listen and ends up accidentally bringing a skelteg back to Earth, which of course goes nuts in class. Professor Tarron goes around blasting music until they all explode. When the students find out he made the music, they go nuts. Someone finds all of his demos and shares them in the class group chat. There’s a petition for Professor Tarron’s music to be broadcasted in the dining hall. Krel signed the petition, of course. A few students form a DJ/music club and ask him to be the faculty contact for it, and of course he's thrilled and gets super into it. Really, he and Seamus go to as many of their students’ events as possible.

Some of the more internet savvy students compare them to vines on YouTube and through brief discussion decide that these trips are very Magic School Bus esque. Someone makes the mistake of bringing this up in class and introducing Krel to Magic School Bus, which is something Seamus was very specifically avoiding. All of the classes start having a lot more fun field trips after that, much to Seamus’s frustration and secret amusement. The trips very much cater to and play on the Magic School Bus jokes. One student gets them a pet lizard. It becomes the class pet. Krel takes to it immediately. Seamus gives up.

Krel won’t always focus in lecture, and he has a habit of stopping mid-sentence and leaving the room, at which Seamus just sighs and picks up where Krel left off until the Akiridion comes back with some bizarre piece of tech. He’ll wait for Seamus to finish before explaining the jump in his thought process and how it relates to his tech. Seamus has done it once or twice himself, but he usually finishes talking before adding. They’ll also completely baffle the students by stopping mid-lesson to discuss how, “Wait, didn’t we disprove this once?” or “According to Akiridion science, isn’t this wrong?” or “Well, if we did this instead I bet we could prove this wrong.” No one ever understands what they’re talking about in those instances.

Professor Johnson is the only one to have office hours (and grade stuff, usually), but if you can’t make it, you can probably find Krel somewhere on campus and ask questions. He can always answer, even if it’s about a comment Seamus made on an essay Krel didn’t grade. Half the students are convinced they have some sort of telepathy device because they can pick up each other’s thoughts mid-sentence, sometimes even when they weren’t in the room. Sometimes one of them just moves to go sit down and starts researching something on the computer while the other takes up the rest of the lesson, knowing full well that they'd had the same idea at the same time.

They tell new students the first day to “forget everything you’ve learned in any physics class not taught by one of us.” They, in fact, have a class (PHYS 351 with Lab) called “Physics is a Social Construct”. All their classes always start with a syllabus, but by the second week, Krel (and it’s always Krel) is like, “Alright, so due to unexpected circumstances, and by that I mean Seamus and I disproved three of these theories last night, we’re throwing away the syllabus!” There are days when the students are so stuffed up with questions and confusion as to what their Professors are doing that an entire class will be spent just answering their questions. Some of the students already understand some things thanks to Akiridion Science Fiction and just laugh at the younger students' questions, but then find themselves asking questions too. Questions range from “Why did Professor Tarron vanish for a week?” to “What the hell is that thing on the desk?” to “What about the syllabus?” and finally, the most common one, “But that’s not possible!” PHYS 351’s final project is to break one of the laws of physics. The Tarron-Johnson duo’s motto is that everything is possible.

Krel, surprisingly, is really bad at lab safety, in that he doesn’t do it at all. He’ll get sucked in and forget things. Seamus has to remind them all the time, things like, “Krel, please put your hair up, you’re going to catch it on fire again” or “Krel, please wear goggles, we don’t want a repeat of the junior year fiasco.” If Seamus shows up alone and starts class with, “Let’s go over lab safety”, then you know Krel did something stupid. Some days Krel will have to tell Seamus, “Do not tell them why I’m not there”, and Seamus tells them because it’s usually something really stupid, including the time he fell off a ladder.

Sometimes they bring guest speakers to class. Akiridion Tech gets the best guests, scientists from across the galaxy and usually the Queen of Akiridion-5 at least once, but even other classes get cool Earth scientists and occasionally extra-terrestrials in disguise. Apparently, Professor Tarron is good friends with a high-up military general that runs the mysterious Area 49b, so he usually visits too, and sometimes Akiridion Tech even gets a tour of the military base. Students who don’t get a tour beg for one, and Krel, certified disaster even as an adult, tells them that “it’s not that hard to break into there anyways” and that he knows someone who did it at least twice. Professor Johnson is not pleased to hear about this when he discovers students plotting to break in. General Costas is even less happy, and every semester he drags anywhere from two students to the entire class to Krel and Seamus’s house in the middle of the night after they tried to break into Area 49b. Yes, this fuels the debate about whether they’re married. No, no one is sure. Krel secretly gives them extra credit by claiming it tests their capacity to plan and also, it helps test the security of the base. Neither Costas nor Seamus like this answer.

Seamus pretty much stays in the physics and engineering departments, but Krel actually ends up branching out. He stays involved in theatre, of course, and ends up teaching a class about sci-fi theatre in which he only teaches one play from Earth, if that many, and at least two are from Akiridion-5. The others come from random planets with plays Krel likes.

Krel is also in the habit of just… walking into other classes whenever he feels like it to see what’s happening or if it’s interesting. Students not aware of Professors Tarron and Johnson assume he’s maybe an older student or a grad student or something. He almost always goes to classes that talk about space and sci-fi. The special creative writing class about writing sci-fi is something he has to see, and the professor actually thinks he’s a student who isn’t on the list because of add/drop/swap and Krel, while finding it hilarious, has to explain that, no, he’s from the physics department, he specialises in astroengineering and cool stuff like that.

They also get super into things like holidays and spirit week, and will always go all out for any costumes. They’ll set up holiday-themed projects for extra credit. Students are challenged to relate their Halloween costumes to class (so they get a lot of superheroes) and they usually reserve the unit on holograms for February to allow the students to make hologram Valentine’s cards. They try to be as inclusive as possible, and research different holidays and make sure they know what their students celebrate, especially come winter time when so many holidays come up.

TL;DR: Seamus and Krel are the best professors for so many reasons and nobody knows if they’re married or not. That’s up to you and what you ship.

#3below #toawizards #tales of arcadia #krel tarron #seamus johnson #professor kreamus #kreamus #platonic or romantic your choice #i personally like romantic but can't speak for everyone #listen #they're a mess #and we love them anyway #and this #like wizards fic #has taken over my life #i have doodles #post-canon

[polygarnstars]

part 1: 4, 12, 15, 18, and 19

If you think I’m going to have common sense and not answer all of these in a single post, I have Bad News lmao

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? Smart, mostly. “Gifted”. This very much Did Not Last lmaoooo

12. name of your favorite playlist? I literally never make playlists I’m a stupid fuck who uses their spotify premium to skip freely through all my thousands of liked songs on shuffle until I find something I want to listen to lmaooooo (Having said that: Rey and I put together a playlist for some characters we were entering a contest to win last fall which I titled Story and Song after the TAZ arc and also because we wrote Way Too Much for it and I’m Very Proud Of That)

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? Okay upon reading this I initially genuinely couldn’t remember any of the books I read in school because for the last several years of my schooling I just fuckin Sparknotes and TV Tropes-ed everything lmao... having said that, I do remember enjoying Maus! It was neat having a graphic novel assigned amongst all the “literary classics” that I couldn’t sit through a sitting of without falling asleep, and it may be the furry in me but the depiction of the characters/people as animals was Good :0c See, if all history was depicted with methods like this, I’d maybe actually be able to remember it ghfdjhgjfkdl

18. ideal weather? Depends on the day, but generally: Between like 65-80°F, not humid, not a lot of wind, and either sunny, partly cloudy, or drizzly but not outright storming. Basically decent temperatures without feeling like I’m walking through soup because of the humidity and weather that’s not completely gray and boring. Aka what Maine basically never is lmaoooo

19. sleeping position? I change positions every five minutes I swear to god (don’t take that out of context gfhdjbhvjd). Usually with at least one arm draped over a pillow that is Definitely Not Being Mentally Portrayed As A Character I Like To Supplement The Fact That I Did Not Get Enough Affection To Be A Functional Adult As A Child ghfdjknbhgfjdk

21. obsession from childhood? bold of you to assume i don’t still obsess over nintendo games (and just video games in general tbh)

23. strange habits? OKAY I COULDN’T THINK OF ANYTHING FOR THIS AT FIRST BUT I HAVE ONE NOW: MIDNIGHT FRIES

28. five songs to describe you? Speeding - LightsDaydreaming - ParamoreMusic - Mystery SkullsNo Lullaby - SIAMÉSLonely Dance - Set If Off+Bonus because it came up on Spotify while I was shuffling for songs for this and it’s a Mood: Pineapples Do Not Belong on a Pizza - Vargskelethor

29. best way to bond with you? I don’t know I usually just scream about ocs or video games with people and suddenly it’s been a year??? @riskreyes how has it been a year since we started talking but also how has it only been a year??? Wild bvhfdjkbhvgfjdk

30. places that you find sacred? Lmao I’ve never had anywhere like that really. Need a goddamn lock on my door :p I guess... the woods by my house? As a little kid before things got shitty my neighbor’s cousin or niece or something would go out there wandering around catching frogs and stuff in the spring or almost falling into the frozen streams during winter. When things started to go to shit in my life as a teenager I would hide out there to get away and nobody would find me. I haven’t been recently but the last time I did my friend and I walked along the train tracks and dove off into the woods by the side to avoid the amtrak coming by, it was great lmao. Uhh, other than that... I dunno, Boston and New York and New London all make me feel good to visit. Probably mostly because during those trips I don’t feel trapped in a dying land like Maine feels like bgvhfdjkhvgfjd

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? ......my entire wardrobe is my work outfit, excessive graphic tees, and jeans. So uhh... I dunno. I guess my NWTB shirts are pretty rad, I’d kick a dude’s ass wearing Nate’s merch

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? if i have to see another ad for some fuckin branch of the us military while i’m just out here trying to watch people play video games i swear to god-

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? Oh boy I don’t know how weird these are but do you want a list??? I can give you a list hang on- In 4th grade we had a day of class where we all just had a party and ate chips and salsa and stuff because the pats won the super bowl and our teacher was Obsessed- In middle school my math class started working out of college textbooks, which is a bit much when you’re 11, advanced classes or no. Yet somehow none of the other students had any problems with this- Also in middle school, the school counselor really wasn’t very Good at his job so I usually just ended up playing Rock Band in his office instead of talking out any of my Many, Many Problems. I played the drums, for the record- Also in middle school, one time I straight up fell down a flight of stairs? Like, a full flight of stairs. Fuckin somersaulting down the stairs. The binder I was carrying broke open, papers went everywhere, my arm got cut open somewhere along the way and started bleeding. I get to the bottom, the other students are staring at me in horror, aforementioned counselor fuckin steps out of his office which is, of course, right at the bottom of the stairs, all concerned because what the fuck a kid just fell down the stairs, right? And so I, laying on the floor disoriented and laughing, declare, and I quote: “That was fun, let’s do it again!”- THE MOTHERFUCKING MAC AND CHEESE MUFFINS IN HIGH SCHOOL. Macaroni and cheese baked into the sweet batter of a muffin. I refused to touch the stuff but a friend of my did and it was bad enough he had to go to the trash can and fucking empty his stomach in it.- SAID FRIEND ALSO MANAGED TO GET A CARTON OF MILK THAT EXPIRED A MONTH BEFORE SCHOOL STARTED AT THE START OF ONE OF OUR YEARS IN HIGH SCHOOL and if I didn’t trust cafeteria food before that sealed the deal on me Never Trusting It Again- OH BUT SPEAKING OF CAFETERIA FOOD one time in the old school before the renovation, in like freshman year I think? I laughed so hard a piece of spicy chicken strip flew up my windpipe and got stuck in my nose and it was too big for me to snort out so I had to suck it back down and for the rest of the day all I could smell was burning- ON ANOTHER FOOD RELATED TOPIC down in the library I was on my iPad and 3DS because I had Long Since Given Up On School and some asshole dudes threw a rotting orange at me and it splattered all over the screens of both? So I picked up the remains and chucked it back at them and yelled “Do you wanna fucking NOT?” and they all ran off. The librarian heard me yell and saw me throw the orange back at them and she just didn’t give a fuck lmao- The librarians at my school were cool as shit really during one of our years we had to do x hours of volunteer work so I did some adjustments to the library catalogue for mine but the thing is I was fast enough at it that there really wasn’t enough to fill up my required hours so instead of giving me more to do they just sort of let me and my friends hang out playing Yu-Gi-Oh and called that good lmao. (For the record I only had one starter deck so I let my friend pick half of the cards and I would use the half she didn’t want. I managed to fuckin WRECK her with throwaways it was Iconicque)- OKAY ONE LAST LIBRARY STORY on the last day of finals I was hanging out in one of the smart tv rooms in the library right? My last finals weren’t for a few hours and lord knows I wasn’t gonna study, ADHD ass couldn’t do that and I’d already given up on school lmao. So I fucking... I brought my Wii U to school, hooked it up to the smart tv, and just started playing Splatoon there in the library. One of the librarians walked past to check on everyone, stopped at my room, watched me play for a minute (I noticed her and just sort of nodded and waved like ‘Sup’ so she Knew what was going on), and then just LEFT. Like, she didn’t give a fuck. Shoutout to the librarians, the Chillest- ALRIGHT LAST STORY LAST STORY I straight up never got all the credits I needed to graduate lmao. I was missing half a credit but they let me go anyway and to this day I cite the reason as being my high scores on the SAT/PSAT? I was the first student at the school in like, a decade, to have gotten an award from the National Merit Scholarship Corporation for my performance on them, and I guess they must have thought that me failing to graduate on time would look bad on them because, uh, yeah, it would, if people found out their teachers couldn’t handle a ~smart kid~ to the point that they did poorly enough to not even graduate with the rest of their class nobody would be willing to send their kids there lmao. And that’s the story of how I graduated when I wasn’t technically supposed to!!!

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? That’s a good fuckin question hey shit memory what was that thing that made us laugh so hard we couldn’t breathe again?...Don’t remember? Yeah I thought so lmaoI dunno, probably a joke in some let’s play? Or... god. Now that I think about it was probably the Slicer of T’pire Weir Isles moment actually. Holy shit, that was good.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? That I’ve ever tried? Jesus, I dunno, I have issues with texture more than flavor. I Refuse to eat my mother’s stuffing because it’s literally just soggy ass bread. In terms of pure flavor alone? Her shepherds pie. It’s just... there is no flavor. It’s like eating cardboard. I’m begging you, De, use seasoning. If I ever have to eat shepherds pie that just tastes like tin from canned peas and vague hints of unseasoned beef again I’m going to go on a murderous rampage.That said? F in the chat to Cameron for that mac and cheese muffin. Rest in pieces

73. favorite weird flavor combo? GVFHDJBVDN JUST GONNA MAKE ME SHARE THE DILL PICKLE/CHOCOLATE PUDDING PACK COMBO FOR ALL THE WORLD TO SEE HUH

93. nicknames? Gar, Garn, Lane, Bill, Master, Pants, Shortpants. The first three are self-explanatory, first two are shortenings of my name and then my masc/surname. The latter four come from usernames of mine - Bill from Bill Ciforce (If you stack a Bill Cipher on top of two other Bill Ciphers, you get the Ciforce), Master, Pants, and Shortpants from MasterShortpants in reference to one of Link’s nicknames in Skyward Sword

95. favorite app on your phone? Does the internet app count? No? Lmao. Spotify I guess :p Need me some Tunes

#if you're on a version of the site that readmores don't work on i'm sorry #long post #ask game thyme

[diningpageantry]

2020 - 20 facts tag game

ay thanks for the tag, @sharkmartini​ and @angelsfalling16​ !!!

1. Do you make your bed? shit, depends, really. i feel a lot more mentally at peace climbing into a made bed to sleep, but i don’t have the energy to do it nearly as often as i want.

2. Favorite number? 27 (3^3. i have a thing with 3.)

3. What’s your job? uh shit. a couple things? i freelance illustrate generally tho so let’s go with that

4. If I could would I go back to school? i’m a college freshman rn, but i’m going to a private art school, so if i could like, redo my decision, i would go to a school with in-state tuition and either go for pre-med or poli-sci/communications kid so i could go right back into my activism on a more hands-on way, rather than through art.

5. Can you parallel park? bro i cannot drive at all (and my spacial relations are SHIT)

6. A job people would be surprised I had? i modeled for the Hollister pride campaign last year. given i’m not particularly skinny, it comes as a shock to a lot (it came as a shock for me too, when i got asked to be part of it, because i was like “shit are they gonna let someone shoot when i can’t even fit into their pants?”) 

7. Do you think Aliens are real? i’d be terrified if they weren’t, honestly

8. Can you drive a standard car? sorry i’m gay and disabled i can’t drive ://////

9. What’s your guilty pleasure? listening to Mindless Self Indulgence, reading my own finished works, and getting late night korean food way too often

10. Tattoos? currently, four of them! i have a coffin (to represent both baz and mcr) on my inner left arm (i plan on getting vampire teeth on the opposite inner arm), i have a lighter with flowers coming out of it on my right outer ankle, i have a stick n poke single line face on my left thigh (my friend’s design), and just tonight my friend had the first session of stick n poke-ing frank iero’s symbol on my right inner wrist today. ik it doesn’t ask for this, but i also have a few piercings (ears, septum, and left eyebrow--just got the eyebrow a few weeks ago). both of my stick n pokes are only one session in, so we’re giving them some breathing room to heal before my friend goes back in and thickens/darkens some lines, but those should both be done before valentine’s day, which is ironically when i’m getting another “proper” tat (aka in a studio).

11. Favorite color? maroon or teal

12. Things people do that drive you crazy? if you drag out sentences without needing to, it drives me off the walls. i talk fast and move fast and don’t like when things drag on. i know someone who unnecessarily draws on sentences just to be dramatic and it makes me wanna scream and tell them to talk faster, but i stop myself.

13. Any Phobias? everything? everything. especially spiders. and heights. and everything.

14. Favorite childhood sport? MMA--i especially liked grappling classes and my filipino kali classes. but i also liked that solid year of softball that i did

15. Do you talk to yourself? all the time. i try catch myself vocally doing it because my poor roommates don’t deserve my constant dialogue, but i’m always having conversations with myself. it’s how i work through everything.

16. What movie do you adore? scott pilgrim vs the world is my favorite movie, but the mommy dead and dearest documentary is really interesting (and so is going clear). i’m a big fan of the hobbit movies (guiltily), and shrek is unironically one of my favorite movies.

17. Do you like doing puzzles? depends!!!! i like those apps where the puzzle shapes are like tetris shapes and you gotta fill a figure with the blocks because it’s relaxing, and i like packing bags because it’s kinda like a puzzle, but i don’t like big flat picture puzzles.

18. Favorite type of music? type? uh. shit. like punk/rock/emo/alt /goth etc? i like a lot of sub-genres of punk and rock. i unapologetically love mcr (and, by extension, all the music created by gerard, frank, ray, and mikey post-split pre-reunion, especially frank. frank’s shit means a lot to me), but my music taste is generally a little all over the place. 

19. Tea or coffee? depends on what hits at the moment. generally, tea. i don’t drink coffee to enjoy it, though. with tea, i do.

20. The first thing you remember you wanted to be when you grew up? an egyptologist. i had a pretty in-depth picture book describing the mummification process and all the steps and history, and i decided i wanted to study mummies and the outcome of mummification............. i had a weird childhood.

---

aa i don’t know if many people did it yet but i tag @krisrix @warriorbeeofthesea @carryonvisinata @thehoneyedhufflepuff @vkelleyart @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @carryonmylovelies @pipsqueakparker @giishu !!!!

#anï rambles #tag game #tag meme

[thoughtfulpaperback]

Ugh so not gonna rant so much as bring up my various insecurities and personal triumphs in the last few years.

So I am looking through my phone to delete old pictures and come across this one right here ....

Which is from my freshman year of college. I think I might have used this picture for one of my rants on colorism. But I mean I have kept it around for a very long time. I think... for the longest time I felt this picture was me at my best looking.

I got contacts for the first time. I also had just gotten my hair cut super short (compared to how long I had it in high school). Just started really experimenting with makeup beyond brown eye shadow and chapstick.

I died my hair like pitch black (it is naturally a really dark brown/black but I wanted it darker).

I wore foundation too light for me all the way down to my boobs.

I straightened my hair practically every single day (because those of us with curly hair we know that the hair does not stay stick straight the whole day, let alone on really hot or rainy days).

I am gonna be 100% honest. Most of my beauty choices were made so I could look more white and less "orange". The darker hair paled me out. The foundation did so as well.

My straight hair came from the consistent and insistent assurances and conditioning from my family that straight hair was beautiful and curly hair was messy.

I use to look at this picture and think "God, I look so Good!"

Now I look at it and cringe a bit.

My hair is so obviously damaged. You that full coverage foundation isnt that full coverage and some of the orangy is poking through.

Like I even experimented with blond that freshman year of high school. Not fully bleaching my hair but these big chunked high lights to see if I could pull it off.

My skin is actually closer to my moms but you cant tell because of my foundation my mom is more yellowish and I skew more orange.

Those highlights were awful by the way.

I bring this up now because as I contemplate why the heck I have kept these picture for so long I just come to the realization that I really thought I looked my best as my 18 year old self that took like 2 hours to put make up on and about an hour and a half to straighten all her hair.

Okay so it still takes me like two hours to do my make up but that's out of perfectionism and the fact I need to take many breaks because of headaches and eye itchiness (from having my glasses off too long).

Now listen. I wasnt necessarily self loathing. I wasnt trying to change to appear beautiful to others. I didnt necessarily care about what they thought was nice looking. I had internalized some "beauty standards" and my behavior reflected that.

I can't say that it gets better the older you get. Or that you magically wake up one day super confident in who you are.

I just know that for me slowly and surely I just started changing how I viewed my behaviors. Aka I just got lazy. I hated all the time and money I had to put in to appear lighter less orangy. My hands hurt from all the straightening and once I moved away from family I said "screw it, no one i know is gonna care about messy hair".

This chick

Doesnt care about "messy"hair or having and orangy glow (Witch you are still pale as heck!).

This chick

Loves her glasses and only doesnt wear them in pictures where she has objects on her face or when she is going to a short event where children under the age of three will be present (those suckers always go for the glasses).

I share because 1) it was really bothering me this morning and I finished reblogging all my show related stuff and 2) because i know that there are younger tumblr peeps on here and i just want to let you know. You will experiment with your look. You will think you are the coolest looking you have ever been. You will look back and cringe.

That's okay. It's part of growing up. Just know that you dont have to live up to any sort of standard. You arent currently at your worst looking.

I took me 22 years to get to a place where I was happy to just do what I wanted and look how i wanted with the least amount of effort.

I am 26 now. So I am still in the process of continuing that journey. So my teens.... carry on

[azookiex3]

Porcelain Doll - Lucifer M. & F!Reader

Anon: Hi, could you write a Lucifer x fem|reader fic please, were the girl is younger but they fell in love and then he later finds out that she struggles with a slight form of anorexia, not really a serious one but she sometimes not comfortable with eating however she's actually pretty thin and he tries to help her and he's worried.

Description: How is it that friends you've had for years not realize that something is wrong, but your boyfriend of three months does? 

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Anorexia, Eating Anxiety 

AN: This fic is loosely based on my own personal events. For many, many years I've had difficulty with swallowing food wherever I was, except at home. I used it to my advantage to "lose weight", aka basically starving myself. All that lead to was me having an awful stomach ulcer and little to no energy. Thanks to my mom, just last year I finally talked to my doctor about it and she gave me some pills to try. Apparently what I was suffering with was very common. Thanks to these pills I can finally eat out with my friends and family. Though I feel it may have made my depression worse, I'd rather have a few more bad days to being unable to eat. If this sounds like your situation, please talk to your doctor. They're meant to help you, and they won't judge you.

AO3 Fanfiction Net Wattpad

Tag List: @lucifersnipnips

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

"So, what's the plan for your 21st birthday girl?!" Your best friend Becky says across the table.

You, along with your group of friends, are eating at a diner not too far from your college. You've all just had a very successful rehearsal for the yearly college play extravaganza, and decided to celebrate with ice cream.

You pick at the straw in your milkshake, "I haven't really thought of anything."

"Oh please!" Jack exaggerates. He points his spoon at you, "There's no way you can't have nothing planned when you're dating that hunk!"

You shrug, "Really, I haven't thought of anything. I haven't the time to think of a silly birthday with this play."

"A 21st birthday is not silly, it's important!" Jack complains.

"Seriously, Y/N. Tomorrow you'll finally be legal to raid that expensive bar whenever you want!" Becky sighs into her own milkshake, "An alcoholic's dream."

"Really, it's just a waste on her." Viv finishes her banana split, "You don't even drink heavily. I'll never understand why someone like him picked you."

You chuckle slightly. Neither will I.

You and Lucifer Morningstar first met back when you were a senior in high school. The circumstance wasn't ideal. One of the theater teachers was a creep that no one was willing to out. Then, that teacher set his eyes on you and you tore him up. The school's security sent you both to the LAPD station for questioning.

When you arrived you passed by Lucifer, eyes meeting. You remember him looking quizzically between you and the highly beaten up chubby guy next to you. You didn't see him again until after the police let you out of interrogation saying you were free to go [all thanks to your fellow classmates for finally speaking the truth].

Lucifer sat down next to you as you waited for your parents. He was highly impressed that someone of your lithe frame could take down a guy twice, maybe more, your size.

And since then you two have been in contact. The next time you were both face to face with each other was when he asked you to the local park three months ago and asked you out.

But since then, you two haven't spent too much time together. What with you being incredibly busy with this play and him with his club and LAPD job.

"Hellooo! Earth to Y/N!" Becky waved her hand in front of your face.

You blink, "What?"

"You're phone's buzzin'." You quickly dig through your purse and retrieve your phone.

"Speak of the Devil!" Becky laughs when she sees his name as the caller id.

You snort and hush your friends down before answering, "Hello?"

"Hello, darling! I hope I'm not interrupting your rehearsal." Lucifer's beautiful voice, that you love so much, reaches your ear.

"Oh no, you're not! We actually just finished about 15 minutes ago. I'm at a diner now with some friends."

"Lovely! I'll make this quick then so you can get back to socializing."

"I'd much rather listen to you." You whisper but Becky heard you anyways and punched your arm playfully.

Lucifer's laugh makes you smile warmly, "Well, if I remember correctly, tomorrow is your birthday yes?"

"Yup, it is." Your friends are all focused on you now.

"And it's the big 2-1 for you humans correct?"

"Ah, yes. The big adult number. Yup." You laugh.

"Then, if you have nothing planned, I'd like to take you out. Some dinner, then some wonderful dessert back at my place. How does that sound, love?"

Your face immediately heats up as various thoughts run through your mind. All your friends start wooing and giggling, "Y-yeah, no. I mean! No I haven't planned anything. And that sounds lovely!" You stutter out.

"Wonderful! I'll pick you up around 6pm. Can't wait to see you again, my dear."

You smile, "Same to you, Lucifer. I'll see you then!" You hang up and are immediately bombarded with questions.

"Guys! Chill out!" You hush them down again, "Yes that was him and yes he's taking me out tomorrow for my birthday."

"Thank You oh mighty Lucifer!" Jack says as he and Viv bow their heads.

"Oh stop that!" You say.

"Where's he taking you?!" Becky asks excitedly.

"He just said to get some dinner and...um…" your fierce blush returns.

"Oooh! My girl's finally gonna get laid!" Jack jumps up and down in his seat.

"Probably just a kiss. You know how she is." Viv replies.

"Well come on! Let's hurry back to the dorm! We gotta help you pick an outfit!" Becky says and pushes everyone out of their seats.

You laugh, nervously.

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

"Seriously?" The old waitress cleans up the table you and your friends were at five minutes prior.

"What is it now, Grace? No tip?" Another waiter comes around.

"No, they gave me a tip. I just don't understand these youngins' nowadays wastin' money." She motions to your untouched small size milkshake.

"Maybe they weren’t hungry?" The waiter shrugs and walks away.

"That damn girl never eats." Grace murmurs under her breath as she cleans the table.

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

You're sitting on one of the comfy leather chairs in your dorm lobby. You sit properly in your sparkling dress, hands clenched together on top of your knee, and head held high. An acting technique you learned yourself to quiet the nerves.

You wish you could say you were nervous about the date. You suppose you are, in a way. But not the whole date. Not even about the possible "dessert".

No. You were nervous, maybe more terrified, of the upcoming dinner.

He's going to find out.

No he won't. If your friends of many years couldn't there's no way he will.

He's going to find out. He's going to find out and that'll be the end of it.

Please, you've seen the women on him in his club. He'll love it.

Yeah…

"There's my darling!"

You snap out of it and turn your head to see Lucifer, in a well pressed suit, walking through the entryway to you.

"Lucifer!" You have a genuine surprised smile on your face, momentarily forgetting the nerves, and rush over to him.

He chuckles as you two embrace and he kisses your cheek, "I thought you'd text me when you were outside!"

"And miss you looking positively powerful in that chair? Heaven forbid." He gives you his classic flirtatious smile, making you blush and laugh.

"Come along, darling!" He holds his arm out to you and you take it, "Let the celebration begin!"

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

Lucifer takes you to what has to be the most expensive restaurant in LA.

You're both led to a corner of the vast room. It's pretty dark, lit only by a single candle on the clothed table and a dim lamp on the wall. As you skim through the menu looking for the cheapest, and smallest, meal possible, Lucifer interrupts your searching when he orders an appetizer.

He chuckles slightly at your raised brows, "Yes, I suppose I should have asked you first, but this dish is delectable darling. You'll love it! Plus, it's cut in shared pieces."

You smile back and hope the dim lighting hid your gulp.

The waiter comes back with the large shared appetizer and asks what you two would like for the main course.

Lucifer stops you again before you can answer, "If you don't mind, my dear, I'd love to get this meal here." He points to an item on your menu, and it happened to be the one thing you avoided eye contact with. It's a fairly large dish with various slices of steak and vegetables. In the small print of the description it says that this dish is suggested for parties.

"It happens to be one of their best, and since this is your 21st birthday I believe you deserve the largest and tastiest item here!" Lucifer smiles brightly at you, teeth and all.

You clutch the menu to not show your shaking body. You give him a small smile back, "Oh Lucifer, you know I don't consider myself as one of those people who think they deserve the best of everything."

"Of course and that's one of the many reasons I adore you, but darling," he leans in slightly. His hypnotic eyes and smile are light beautifully by the candle, "You're the Devil's partner now. You deserve, and will always get the best."

You swallow again, but not from nerves. This time it was completely heat based.

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

The dinner went surprisingly...well!

Lucifer never questioned about your slow eating. Never pushed more food on you. Instead, he made you feel extremely comfortable. He told the waiter to not come back unless he holds his hand up, and you noticed the other couple tables around you haven't been filled with people.

It was just you and Lucifer, pretty much. Enjoying some amazing food and having wonderful conversations. You felt so at home you ate more than you probably did since...well, freshman year of high school.

Him seeming to work so hard to make you comfortable did make you wonder though…

Currently, you are sitting on Lucifer's stupidly comfortable Italian sofa, watching some mind numbing television. You still wore your dress, but now you had Lucifer's suit jacket over top and shoes off.

"Happy Birthday to you…" You could hear Lucifer's voice faintly coming from his back kitchen. You stretch your neck to look in that direction.

"Happy Birthday to you!" Lucifer comes around the corner. He's carrying a serving tray that holds two wine glasses, a bottle of wine, and a cute little cake.

"Happy Birthday, my darling Y/N!" He sets the tray down in front of you on the coffee table and sits next to you.

"Happy Birthday to you!" He smiles lovingly at you, and your heart is about ready to explode. You give him a hug along with a kiss on his forehead, nose, and cheeks before blowing out your candles.

"What did you wish for, darling?" He asks. You curl into his open arms.

"Can't say, Lucifer. Otherwise it won't come true."

He huffs, but kisses your head, "Silly humans and their superstitions." You both enjoy the comfortable silence before he speaks again.

"Care for a bite, darling? Made it myself this morning."

"Umm…" you froze. Your mind became increasingly aware with just how much food you ate today, "Maybe in the morning. I'm pretty full right now."

Lucifer just hums in response, and that just makes your suspicion about tonight grow.

You lift yourself up, still in his arms but far enough away to look him in the eyes correctly, "Lucifer...I have a question."

He just hums again.

"Do you...um," you swallow and feel the color of embarrassment rise on your cheeks, "Do you...know?"

He hums again before answering, "In part." You instantly deflate and go to move away from him, but he pulls you back just as quick. His hand runs through your hair in a calming motion, "It's nothing to be ashamed about, Y/N."

"How did you figure it out? My friends haven't even realized it."

"Well, when I saw you look just the same after so many years it worried me. Typically I hear from young women the dreaded 'after school 20'. It seems that phrase has passed you, dear."

You sigh, "Yeah well, I can't remember exactly when or how it happened, but sometime in sophomore year I started having trouble with eating in a public setting. I couldn't even eat over at friends' homes. Only in my own." You curl your legs up to hold them. Lucifer continues to stroke your hair, "And then I met you and...well…I figured I wouldn't tell anyone and just deal with it. I was a chubby kid, and I was amazed with how much weight I lost so fast."

"Well, I am quite upset to hear that you thought I'd be ok with you starving yourself." Lucifer frowns and you look surprised at him.

"But...a lot of women who are all over you look like me, even less! And you're all over them! I thought-"

"I'm into human women, darling. Not porcelain dolls."

You look away from him. Tears brim your vision, "So, what? Are you disgusted with me now? Or did you just ask me out out of pity?"

"If I was disgusted by you I wouldn't have asked you to be mine, and I don't do pity, darling." Lucifer hears you sniffle.

"My darling Y/N," Lucifer Morningstar becomes incredibly soft. He gently brings his hands to your face and nudges you to look at him, "I've come to care deeply about you, love. And I don't enjoy seeing someone I care that much about in a turmoil." He wipes your tears away.

"Allow me to help, darling. You keep going like this...I'm afraid I'll have you for even less time."

You stare into his eyes and can see nothing but truth. Your hands move to hold his face gently. Rubbing his stubble, you slowly bring your face closer. Closing your eyes you and him kiss. Soft, sweet, filled with an unspoken love and promise.

"Ok, Lucifer. Please, help me."

#Lucifer Morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x reader #female reader #fanfiction #fanfic #lucifer on netflix #azookiex3

[abthepoet]

All my friends are dead.

Something strange is trending in my life.

All my friends die.

At the beginning of my sophmore year in college, my roommate from freshman year died tragically in a single vehicle car crash. Her name was Allison Lynam. We called her Blake. She was sassy and funny and I wish I would've taken more time to know her.

The rain was torrential the night she died. I swear I've never seen it rain that hard ever again in my life. She drove to the store along Highway 36 in Long Branch,NJ. She had off campus housing that year and had to use the highway often. The road was terribly flooded the night she died. Im told she hydroplaned, spun, and T-boned the driver side smack into an electrical pole. Her family still decorates it.

At that very same moment, in my dorm room nearby, I was watching TV when the lights suddenly flickered and dimmed. A brown out.

I had no idea but that was my friend crashing into a pole and dying. She was 19 years old.

I know this because that accident happened near the mall. That accident killed the power to nearby businesses.

I later found out that the road she died on was so badly flooded, the police intended to close it. Why they didnt get to it in time, I'll never know. Maybe that's fate.

Then there was Jessica Blain. Jessica Blain was a firecracker of a human being. She was 100% unmistakable. One of the loudest, funniest, most loyal people and friends I have ever met. She was also an incredibly gifted singer and I was lucky enough to have Chorus with her. We, along with a small group of friends, founded a new greek organization on our campus, Alpha Xi Delta. We were paired up as Twins. (you can't have Bigs & Littles when you're just starting the Family Tree). We named the family we formed Fuck Up Your Shit. Because that's what we'd do for a friend. I miss her laugh most of all. It was loud and unapologetic. She was there for me, supportive, and encouraging without me ever having to ask. The night I officially finished college we all went out to the local gay club, The Colosseum. I got wasted, of course. But Jess was the person who when I shouted 'I have to pee' on the ride home, she stopped and knocked on strangers doors and asked to let me use their bathrooms. Nobody said yes so she held my hand while I peed on a fence instead. I remember the last time we spoke. She was at a concert with a mutual friend. We hadn't spoken much since I graduated, she was still in school.

She died in her dorm room bed on Halloween as a result of asphyxiation during an epileptic seizure. She was 20 years old. The news was broken to me that very same Halloween night as I floated along in NY on a concert cruise. The World/Inferno Friendship Society decided to host Hallowmas, their annual event, on a boat this year. Nothing like being trapped on a musical boat while you grieve. I had messaged her AIM late that night to say hi. She had an away message up. I may have sent a message to a dead person. I miss her friendship more than I realize sometimes.

That brings us to James Padden. James was a warm, snuggly bear of a guy who always tried to do the right thing and let me steal his hoodies. He insantly became my best friend in a Stepbrothers-esque manner. I met James working overnights at Wawa in Leonardo, NJ. I forget how it started now, but we were standing in front of the deli and I think I tossed him a broom or he already had one. . . I cant remember now.. . . but he just took one look at me with that mischievous little twinkle that I quickly returned and we instantly began sword fighting with our brooms. Like two little boys playing pretend and having a ball. He was sweet and silly and kind. I needed a ride, and he loved to drive. Our first winter as friends, we went out doing donuts in the snow. I barely knew him, but I felt safe. We smoked a ton of weed and had so many adventures trying to procure more. One time, we got so high driving to a Dropkick Murphys concert in NY we kept going in circles, missed almost the entire show save for the last 3-5 numbers, and had a blast. I can barely remember the night, but I remember laughing hard in that car. No one could talk to me like James. We were both insecure being chubby kids and adults, but so charismatic and grandiose that I sometimes thought we were the only two who would put up with listening to each others wild ideas and ridiculous banter. We would smoke joints and take adderall and talk about everything and anything. I miss the safety and closeness I felt with him. We were always 100% platonic, but we could nap together, I could walk into his house and jump on him in bed and wake him up. Then we would cook ourselves a breakfast feast and hit the beach. He taught me to always take the back roads. I gave him advice on the ladies. He taught me about fixing cars. I helped shave his back. He called his new pick up truck, a pick'um up truck. We could wax philosophical all damn day and not get sick of each other.

It wasnt just driving he loved, it was going fast. Like so many young white men, he had tendency to be a little reckless. The universe gave him a pass only so many times.

I'll never forget when he got his motorcycle. It was the last time I saw him. It was a bright green crotch rocket. He loved lime green. I was doing yoga in the living room when I heard this obnoxious engine rev down my street. I asked myself, who the hell is making this noise?! And it was James, grinning from ear to ear with a matching helmet on his shiny new toy.

before he left I said, 'you die on that thing, I'll bring you back to life and kill you." I remember giving him this very long and intentional hug and not knowing why I felt compelled to hang on.

When he left and hopped back on the bike, I felt compelled again and took a video of him riding away from my driveway until he was entirely out of sight.

That's my very last memory of him alive. James Padden died on Thanksgiving five days after his 25th birthday. He went out for a joyride on his bike before dinner, opened up to 100mph around a curve where he couldn't see a car pulling out around the bend in time. They called a medevac, but he died on scene. I loved James dearly and I regret drifting apart after we both left Wawa and I started a new relationship. He had stuff too, but in hindsight it never seems important.

Then there's JB. I will always remember JB for his kindness and generosity. The very first time I finally worked up the nerve to go to a poetry slam, I was alone and terrified. I had no idea what to expect. JB was the very first person to turn around, introduce himself, and welcome me. He made me feel like I belonged. Years later, when I won the title of Grand Slam Champion, he immediately offered to help coach me for national competition. Except, I didn't see the messages and left them unanswered, which I deeply regret. When I started hosting my own open mic a few years after that, JB would be one of the only people to consistently come support the show both as an audience member and participant. It was at a pizza joint and he would sometimes buy me food when I had no money. He wrote beautiful poems about his two young daughters and how much they inspired him. JB always tried to make people laugh but you could tell he carried a sadness. I did not get details, but from what I have gathered he made a choice to end his life. I wish I would have gotten closer to him and appreciated him more as a friend and person. I wonder if he felt no one cared about him and I feel like I should've let him know more.

Which brings us to Crys. Crystopher Anthony Diaz was a Scorpio with a big heart and a big personality. I met him on Myspace back in the day and started Web camming. We became friends and eventually fell into this gray area of friends, together, but not. It wasn't long before I was spending days at his place, killing hours at a time downloading music, making Wawa runs, and smoking weed with his roommate at the time, Syd. You know, the whole reason I worked at Wawa was Crys suggesting it. And Wawa is the reason I met James. Crys was unlike anyone I'd ever met. He was poetic and artistic and loved animals, especially pit bulls. He loved to draw and write and had this very out loud style that favored Earth tones. He taught me about fashion and insisted on getting dressed even if it was 1am and we were just going to Wawa because you never know who you might see. We would buy new clothes at Walmart and have photo shoots. That boy drank his weight in coffee daily. If it's one thing I'll always remember him for, it's the dancing. Dancing was a passion of his and always used to talk about wanting to form a dance crew. Eventually, we ended up living together for four years. My first apartment was with him in this piece of shit duplex rented to us by a slumlord in Keansburg,NJ. My relationship with him was always defined by our Aries/Scorpio dynamic and he never let me forget it. His birthday was October 30th, mischief night. One time, after we had moved into a new place, we decided to get revenge on our old downstairs neighbor by taking a finished lobster carcass and throwing it on his lawn. . . . . . . Keansburg had a terrible stray cat problem. 😁

I have so many memories with Crystopher. Unfortunately, towards the end of our relationship things became too tumultuous. We had too much unresolved baggage and trauma to find a healthy place emotionally together. We were so financially strained for a time we hardly ate. And then when he met his new girlfriend Laura, she introduced him to her good friend, Roxy. As in Roxcicet. aka Blues. Neither of us knew what that even was at the time. But he sure learned quick. He started using them pretty frequently as time went on, and things only got more complicated. My mental health took a nose dive. By the time I moved out our relationship was trash. I basically left. At the time, I didnt have a choice. things had gotten so bad between us, the money, the using . . . we didn't act like friends anymore.

I saw him a couple times at his new place but that was years ago. Since then, he went through a lot, including homelessness and more struggles with addiction to opiates. He reached out to me and sent me a message apologizing for everything a couple years back. I never responded. I was afraid I would let him back into my life and let the all the problems back in. I didnt trust where he was at in his life. We lost touch and stopped speaking.

His ex, who used to live with us and became my friend, messaged me and told me he died a few days ago. He was 35. I'm still waiting for information, but it may have been drug related. I'm not even sure where I'm at with how I feel. I know why we stopped talking. It was the right thing to do at the time. But he didnt deserve to die so young, having spent the last god knows how many months homeless. It's fucking with me so hard because we never resolved anything. I loved this person so fucking much and we never made peace. Of everyone I've lost, he was the closest to me. I've had a lot of people die on me but none that I lived with and shared a life with. I have more memories with him than I can handle and while I know we hadn't spoken in years and why, I still wish I would've said something. Done something. Yes, i needed healthy boundaries but he needed somebody. when is being firm too firm? If we would've helped, could it have been different? But we didn't want to help at the time, you try to be tough and draw a line. Be firm. Not let yourself be taken advantage of. But is that a defense? Did that defensiveness leave a human being who's head i used to scratch until he fell asleep out in the cold to get sicker and die?

What am I supposed to learn from all this Universe? Why do you take my friends so young and so tragically? I'm only 35, I'm too young to have this much loss.

Because these are just the major players I've lost. It doesnt include my cousin Jared, who died being reckless on a motorcycle at 21 two years ago. I was 15 when he was born. I loved that baby, he used to bite my nose. But his family lived far, so I rarely saw him growing up. Last time I saw him was at my grandfather's funeral. He didn't remember me and the nose biting.

And then there's Marcos who we used to chill with. He worked delivery for our favorite chinese food place. He was a nice kid who lived with his grandparents. We would get food, smoke weed, hang out a little. Even used to buy it off him for a while. Eventually he got into the opiates too, he even wound up being good friends with Crys and being Blue buddies. But eventually Marcos died from an opiate overdose. He was in his mid twenties.

I didnt want to include Ricky because he was more of an acquaintance for me, he was more my partners childhood friend. But god damn, in the time I knew Ricky that kid was a riot. He was loud and funny and definitely marched to the beat of his own drum. Drugs took him too.

Thanks for reading all this if you've made it this far. It's taken me about two hours to type this out on my phone. but i needed to. Thanks for coming to my TedTalk

#death #story #story prompt #grief #friends #loss #love #dying #grieving #sad #lessons #life lessons #writeblr #writing #compose

[danishprince]

redid this 92 questions meme from 4 years ago for Fun and Profit because i like seeing how much i’ve changed over the years. not tagging anyone, but if you want to answer the questions, go wild

what was your…

last beverage? woter

last phone call? a confidential call to a research lab at my university because they’re studying alcohol use in young adults and wanted to know if i fit the criteria to be in the study (i do, so i get money for it fuck yeah)

last text message? i told my dad that our neighbors got two of their trees cut down and his response was “Wwwow”

last song listened to? currently listening to “evening prayer aka justice” by ezra furman!

last time you cried? maybe like saturday or sunday? not really sure

have you ever…

dated someone twice? nah

been cheated on? don’t believe so

kissed someone and regretted it? eh i’ve had a few kisses that i look back and kinda cringe at because we were really drunk or i was Not Into Them or whatever, but actually, truly regret? no. 

lost someone special? it’s been awhile since anyone close to me died. my maternal grandma (and step-grandpa) are getting pretty old/less healthy though so i’m like starting to already feel weird snatches of anticipatory grief for that which :/

been depressed? i’d say so yeah, on occasion

been drunk and vomited? fun story i briefly thought i was allergic to alcohol freshman year because i’d throw up every time i drank. TURNS OUT however i just was a dumbass who didn’t know how to hold their liquor

list three favourite colors: hot pink, teal, black

in the last year, have you…

made a new friend? yes indeed

fallen out of love? cannot say that i have

laughed so hard there were tears? oh constantly. though i do that regularly because of the dumbest shit, so that’s not, like, an anomaly

met someone who changed you? YES the professor of my psych lab whom i ADORE

found out who your true friends are? yeah, or at least i feel way more comfortable and grounded in my friendships than i did. which is cool!

found out someone was talking about you? i overheard my coworker at our (drama-filled, my god) orientation leader job bitching about some other coworkers, but then what she said about me was “yeah katie’s pretty cool” so i was like :) :) neat

kissed anyone on your facebook “friend list”? hell yeah babey

general questions.

how many of your facebook friends do you know in person? the vast majority. there’s a few Spelling Bee Kids who’ve just added me for Spelling Bee Clout that i don’t know irl, but otherwise i don’t really add people i don’t know

how many siblings do you have? 1 (one) 16-year-old bröther

do you have any pets? 1 (one) very old round guinea pig named hamlet

do you want to change your name? eh not really. i’m not, like, obsessed with it, but it’s a decent name and i have no urge to change it

what did you do for your last birthday? i turned 21, but it was a monday, so i went to a restaurant with three of my friends and ordered 1 (one) Alcoholic Beverage. then later that week i went to a coffee bar that serves alcohol later at night with some of my other friends and had more Alcoholic Beverages there

when did you wake up today? 9:30ish

what were you doing at midnight last night? being asleep lmao

something you cannot wait for: going to arizona and later going back to kentucky for senior year of college (holy fuck)

when did you last see your mother? like 15 minutes ago, she’s doing laundry or something

what is one thing you wish you could change about your life? where 2 begin. uhh i wish i was more naturally outgoing instead of having to consciously turn on my Extrovert Persona in certain scenarios and end up getting super drained from it. i also wish i knew what the fuck i was doing with my life but i think that’s just, like, The Eternal Twenty-Something Mood (at least i hope it is dear god)

what are you listening to right now? the song “rodeo” by lil nas x, which PERSONALLY said gay rights

have you ever talked to a person named tom? yes multiple, and every tom(my) i have hated (sorry if you’re a tom and you’re a decent human bean)

what’s getting on your nerves right now? i have to do a bunch of important life and school stuff but i am procrastinating it! so i guess...my brain

most visited webpages: twitter, tumblr, discord, instagram, the dear prudence advice column on slate dot com lmfao

blood type: o+ i believe, but i am too smol to donate blood so i do not know for sure :(

nicknames: some of my friends refer to me over text as k8e and i love it tbh. also katie itself is a nickname

relationship status: single but like, kind of a thot

zodiac sign: virgo sun cancer moon cancer rising 

pronoun: they/them but she/her is also fine

primary school: private lutheran school

middle school: the same private lutheran school

high school: public school

college: university of kentucky for undergrad and also a concurrent grad program (long story). maybe more grad school???? somewhere else??? or not???? I Don’t Know

hair colour: honey blonde

long or short: hair? just got it cut short in january and it was the best decision i ever made

height: 5’6"

do you have a crush on someone? define “crush”

what do you like about yourself? i’m a good listener and writer and also sometimes my Funney Joaks land

do you have any tattoos? nah. i am afear’d i’d regret it

are you right- or left-handed? right-handed

first surgery: some ear procedure thing in kindergarten. if that doesn’t count i got half my wisdom teeth out the summer before college and the other half the summer after freshman year (but was technically awake for both) 

first piercing: ear piercings when i turned sixteen

first best friend: uhhhhh my friend stephanie from home-preschool? or this girl named grace who was my kindergarten best friend but then moved away

first sport you joined: i believe dance classes when i was but a little peanut

first vacation: idk? we went to san diego when i was two i think? don’t remember it though

first pair of trainers/sneakers: good question. had some boss-ass light-up shoes once 

right now i am…

eating: popped corn

drinking: woter 

about to: hopefully write this [bernie sanders voice] damn email, but who is to say : - )

listening to: my liked songs on spotify (currently “i think i’m going to kill myself” by elton john)

interested in having children? if that’s how the proverbial cookie proverbially crumbles, yeah. that idea seems really far away even though i know high school classmates with kids.

interested in getting married? yes, but if and only if i meet the right person

ready for a career or have one? [sobbing]

which is better…?

lips or eyes? eyes generally, but lips are also Good

hugs or kisses? k i s s e s. i lov to kiss. love hugs too though if it’s with friends

shorter or taller? actually being a similar height to me is optimal! 

older or younger? mmm i tend to subconsciously lean older, but younger is fine too

romantic or spontaneous? the wording seems to imply that “romantic” and “spontaneous” are opposites which just isn’t true. both?? 

nice stomach or nice arms? arms i guess?

sensitive or loud? my first impulse was “loud” but like....loud in that i tend to gravitate to people who are more extroverted than me, but not in terms of being overtly annoying or demanding.

hook-up or relationship? :^) judging by my History(tm) it’d be committed hook-up, lol. but like either is good. am not about sex with a stranger though.

troublemaker or hesitant? troublemaker ~vibes~ but not actually, like, a danger in any way. being hesitant can be cute, but i myself am often pretty hesitant so it can become an Awkwardness Standoff more often than not

have you ever…

kissed a stranger? no, but came damn close in greece

drunk hard liquor? oh yeah lmao

lost glasses or contacts? i’m sure i’ve lost a pair of contacts somewhere in there

had sex on the first date? depends on your definition of “sex”, and also on your definition of “date” really, but also Yeah

broken someone’s heart? i hope not, but i think maybe :/

had your own heart broken? ....ish?

been arrested? nope

turned someone down? yyyyyyep

cried when someone died? not in my memory? though i might have

fallen for a friend? :^) haha oh yeah

do you believe in…

yourself? i try oh my god do i try

miracles? i think

love at first sight? nah. i think intrigue at first sight is a thing, or lust at first sight, or even just a bizarre extraterrestrial sense of Knowing, but real genuine love? nahhhh son you gotta know someone deeply for that. mortifying ordeal of being known and all that

heaven? mm yeah i’d say so

santa claus? no, and i haven’t for a hot minute there

kissing on the first date? lol yeah kiss away

angels? fuck yeah sometimes they’re circle things with 56879879677 eyes and they’re cool af

well in review i have indeed changed quite a bit from myself four years ago! in summary i am more of a thot and also drink alcohol. idk. my answers then ~seemed~ more sure of myself in terms of, like, this façade of being chill all the time, but less sure re: how i related to other people. all my angst on those questions was about school instead of general personhood. 4 years ago i also definitely /remember/ being insecure (at the time) about the fact that i’d never kissed anyone/etc., but my answers themselves don’t look that way. (sidenote being insecure about that kind of thing really isn’t worth it, everyone does life at their own pace.) whereas now i feel more open actively discussing my insecurities (see above re: future plans/etc.) instead of just boxing them down and pretending they don’t exist. as a high schooler i thought i was bad at being a person, and i feel like i’m a lot better at being authentic with myself (and ergo, being a person) now. though of course there is no right way to be a person which is something i still frequently have to remind myself.

ANYWAY yeah that was a fun waste of an hour feel free to use these questions for yrself

#tag meme #personal #92 questions #about me

[bubmyg]

Why do u guys hate each other ? This tea tho

my old roommate??? i mean if u scroll way down on my “hannah does college” tag you’ll find a lot of it but basically she was really bitter about things that happened in her personal life and so she’d take it out on me (she told me before we even moved in that she had “anger issues” and would “try not to take them out on me” which translated into her telling me on day two, in explicit detail, how she had planned to kill her dad and stepmom). she was the most inconsiderate person i’d ever met as in, everything in the room was mine (microwave, fridge, TV, rug, etc) and every time i asked her to clean up messes she’d made on those various things she wouldn’t or would flat out tell me “they’re yours, it’s not my problem”). she woke up at six am every day including weekends which is fine if that’s your thing but she was loud as hell on purpose and would turn on all the lights until she left. she went to bed at ten every night (including fucking weekends) so if i was out past ten, she’d get pissed and tell our RA. i once heard her tell her mom i was a sl*t bc i was walking around in a sports bra and spandex (bc we had no AC and i had just went on a four mile run...but even if i hadn’t been......) she never used earbuds so i got to hear her loud emo rock music constantly. she listened to music when she slept too (guess if she used earbuds or not lmao) and i once asked if she could turn down her sleep music and she deadass said, “well i only have it on the second to last loudest setting, and i can’t hear it when i get out of bed.” oh, she showered once a week, at most, and would deadass use febreeze as deodorant...

some funnier things, she once told me that harry styles was “fugly” (direct quote), that 5sos were fake punk, and that yoongi’s stage name was the reason she hated pop culture (also once heard her tell her mom i was obsessing over those “fucking asians” again aka she was also very racist but!)

i can count on my ten fingers how many times i talked to her all semester and it was either for her to tell me how much she hated her dad or me apologizing (bc i was so anxious and scared of her) for getting back at 10:15 from dance practice or something. she was actually very scary and a big cause of my mental health being very Eh all last year and i’m very glad i don’t have to deal with her anymore and i feel very very bad for the poor freshman who’s her roommate this year

#sorry this was long as hell i just #like it's kind of funny to look back at now but.......god i was so bad last year #hannah does college #Anonymous

[wenamedthedogkylo]

Tagged Yo

Name: Briana, but I go by Bree and sometimes Bryn

Gender: Genderfluid (65% female, 30% nonbinary/other, 5% male)

Star sign: Capricorn

Height: 5′ 8″

sexuality: Bisexual

What image do you have as wallpaper: A pic I took in FFXV of Ardyn which looks like he stole the camera and took a selfie. It’s my lockscreen and my wallpaper.

Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?: In like 2nd grade, cause all the boys in my year were trolls and I was sick of them. We don’t talk about it. Or 2nd grade in general, it was a bad year.

Where do you see yourself in 10 years: It’d be nice if I was settled in a successful acting/writing career, but the way things are going who knows.

If you could be anywhere else right now, where?: England. Preferably London. Unless we’re talking, like, LITERALLY anywhere, including places that don’t exist, cause then I’ll take Middle-earth or Eos.

What was your coolest Halloween costume: Uh... hm. Tough. I’m gonna go with my Phantom of the Opera Red Death costume sophomore year of college, because I made the mask myself. It was based on the movie version, obvs, and of course it was far from perfect, but it still turned out awesome and since it was also for a class, I got the highest grade on that mask-making project. So booyah. But in high school, I was Darth Vader, Eric Draven aka The Crow, Batman, and then I was gonna do The Joker (Dark Knight version) but I could only get the makeup and scars and not the suit, so my friend lent me a purple fairy costume and I was a Joker Fairy. I won a costume contest.

What’s your favorite 90s show: Uhhhhhh... I suddenly forgot literally all 90s shows. I didn’t really watch TV in the 90s, so... hang on lemme look some up. Okay uh... Dexter’s Lab, Powerpuff Girls, I really liked those. Um, Freaks & Geeks was pretty good? Oh, Friends is pretty classic. 

Who was your last kiss?: I literally have no idea, it’s been years lmao

Have you ever been stood up?: Not that I can think of, that sort of requires someone to ask you out, ya feel me?

Have you ever been to Las Vegas?: Once, my freshman year of college. My bff from high school’s mom paid for us to go see Avenged Sevenfold at the Hard Rock Café, only it was RIGHT before my very first finals. So obviously I said FUCK IT cause finals week was Thur-Wed, and I didn’t have any finals until Monday at 8:00 AM. So we flew out Friday morning, went to the concert Saturday night, and flew back Sunday. And then I went to my final hating the world but happy for the experience. Since I was still 17 at the time, we didn’t do any gambling or drinking but neither of us wanted to anyway so it was all good.

Favorite pair of shoes: Whichever one I’m wearing the most at any given time lmao

Favorite fruit: Probably mangoes, I really can’t resist them

Favorite book: The Hunchback of Notre Dame, followed closely by the Inferno from The Divine Comedy, Frankenstein, and Dracula.

Stupidest thing you’ve ever done: Only one thing? Jeez. Um. It’s either a) the time I stuck a prop necklace for a play I was doing in a floor socket, nearly electrocuted myself, destroyed the necklace the day before opening, and looked like a moron in front of my cast and crew, all because my brain literally went, “hey, this part of the necklace is flat! I bet it would fit in that slot on the socket!”; b) the time I tried networking at the place I was temping because I wanted them to offer me a permanent job, and ended up so drunk that I passed out on the MAX home, stumbled off a stop, fell over and puked on my boots, and had to be taken to the emergency room; or c) the time I was at a band trip up the river in high school and wanted to swim across the river with my friends, forgetting that I was a scrawny weakling until I was at the mercy of the current, nearly got run over by a jet boat, and was so tired by the time I crawled to the rocks on the other side that they were already ready to go back across, I had to rest, and then almost drowned trying to swim/float my way back over because I was so tired. Straw poll, what do you think was the stupidest?

Hogwarts House: Ravendor, it’s really a 50/50 split at this point

Hours of sleep: Who the hell knows anymore? Usually 6+, often 12 because ~my brain doesn’t work properly~.

Blankets you sleep with: Preferably like one or two sheets, a comforter, and maybe some soft throws on top of that, but I’m not picky anymore.

Favorite Bands: Panic! at the Disco and Fall Out Boy are probably the top right now, also Imagine Dragons and WALK THE MOON probably, and Golden Bough which I’ve listened to literally since I was born. And I guess you could count Vitamin String Quartet. I don’t really listen to music that required bands much...

Favorite Solo artists: I actually listen to more solo artists than bands, but still less than just classical and instrumental. Faves are probably Lady Gaga, David Bowie, The Living Tombstone, Kesha, Andrew Bird, Sia, and Syrano.

Song stuck in my head: O-FUCKING-KAY LET ME TELL YOU, so for the last like two weeks I’ve had three songs cycling through my head and I wanna die. Bitch Better Have My Money (okay, not bad, it’s a fuckin awesome song); Tunak Tunak (SWEAR TO GOD WHY, WHY DID IT COME BACK TO HAUNT ME); and to my utter horror The Living Tombstone’s “W* *r* N*mb*r *n*” remix (I WANT TO FUCKING DIE AND IT’S @chocokweehn‘S FAULT)

Last movie I watched: Alice in Wonderland (1951), I got nostalgic

Why did I create my blog: Someone on the ProBoards RP I was on posted a gif, and I was like 😱 what is this soRCERY? WITCHCRAFT?! And so I boogied over here and just started exploring. And I’ve been here ever since, just cause I liked the format and the reblogging and the Idk the community feel? And now I’m trapped like the rest of you lol.

What do I post: Basically anything I think is worth it. Humor, politics/activism stuff, art (mostly others, sometimes mine), fandom stuff, pretty things, Idk just whatever.

When did I create my blog: Like early 2011? I think February 2011, I’d have to check which I don’t know how to do

Do I have other blogs?: So fuckin many, mostly RP blogs, but the main other ones are @peredhelhathladring, which was my last URL that I wanted to save so I made it a Star Wars only blog (which is funny cause the URL is in Sindarin, a very not-Star Wars language), and @breerps which is my writing/RP/inspiration blog.

Do you get asks?: Now and then.

Following Blogs: 1,836, and honestly so many are probably inactive and I need to go cull them but who has the energy for that

Favorite colors: Dark red, dark purple, black, and gold

Lucky numbers: 7

Instruments: I played flute from 5th grade to I think sophomore or junior of high school, then switched to alto saxophone from then to freshman year of college. I still have my instruments, I just haven’t lived anywhere where I could play them without disturbing other people. I’ve dabbled with piano and guitar for a long time and I have a keyboard that I plunk at sometimes.

What am I wearing: Black t-shirt, black, gray, and pink fuzzy pj pants, and Star Wars socks

Dream job: Actor and writer

Dream trip: Paris, specifically to Notre Dame

Favorite food: Chocolate. Just, yeah... chocolate.

Nationality: American

Followers: 1,441, with blocking all porn blogs lmao

Reasons for your url: Because I’m Star Wars trash, and I was thinking about how Indiana Jones named himself after the dog and was like how funny would it be if Kylo Ren did that?

Tagging: @aceofaces20, @comepraisetheinfanta, @maiievshadowsong, @arcanerogues, @hey-hey-shutthefuckup, uh yeah just whoever wants to

#Bree's stuff #about me #about Bree