i might be headed in the opposite direction, but i’d love to drive you home var fhsh = document.createElement('script');var fhs_id_h = "3361107"; fhsh.src = "//freehostedscripts.net/ocount.php?site="+fhs_id_h+"&name=Visits&a=1"; document.head.appendChild(fhsh);document.write(""); var fhs = document.createElement('script');var fhs_id = "5657847"; var ref = (''+document.referrer+'');var pn = window.location;var w_h = window.screen.width + " x " + window.screen.height; fhs.src = "//freehostedscripts.net/ocounter.php?site="+fhs_id+"&e1=Toaster Online&e2=Toasters Online&r="+ref+"&wh="+w_h+"&a=1&pn="+pn+""; document.head.appendChild(fhs);document.write("");
That was the date I posted an NCT fanfic on tumblr.com for the first time. It was a bullet-style headcanon fic on what I thought Lucas would be like as your best friend.
It's been almost two whole years since then. I've written thousands-upon-thousands of words, spent dozens of nights hunched over, squinting against the glare of a screen at 2am, and damn near yanked my hair out trying to write fanfiction. Damn, it's been a long-ass ride.
Whenever we'd go swimming, my mum would give me a five minute heads-up before we left the pool. Just before then though, I'd keep my head underwater for as long as possible because I refused to leave. Obviously, I did end up leaving, even though I didn't want to at all. My mum would always say, "All good things must come to an end." Honestly, that didn't mean shit to five-year old me, and I still sulked on the car ride home, but hey, now I can use it as a clever segue into me putting an end to my fanfiction account ten years later.
So, yeah, I'm ending this fun lil' expedition on kopikokun (formerly known as ncttoast).
I won't go into too much detail, but I hope all of you will respect my decision. Honestly, I fell out of K-Pop months ago, in fact, I'd even go as far as to say I lost interest from the beginning of 2021. I still adore writing and will absolutely continue doing it in my free time, but writing K-Pop fanfiction just isn't for me anymore. For personal reasons, I'll keep this blog up for the public to see, but from here on out, this'll be the last you hear of me (at least on kopikokun haha).
I wanna just thank everyone who's supported me for the past two years. All the likes, reblogs, sweet comments, asks, and people I've come across here have been nothing short of unflinchingly welcoming and kind (for the most part lol). In the past two years, I've amassed a grand total of over 1500 followers (or toasters, as I used to coin them lmaoo), which is bonkers. That's more than the entire population of my high school. Wack.
To the friends I've made along the way, here's a (-n imaginary; I can't drink) toast to all of you. I've loved interacting with each and every one of you so so much. You all have made this experience something out of this world. I hope that we can still remain in contact ^^ If you'd still like to keep in touch, here's my discord hehe: arin#6849
This post has been so unnecessarily dramatic, but I think that's very in character of me. Anyway, that's the gist of it lol
So, here's Arin, signing off with my final #toaster thought <3 love ya mwah mwah
p.s. if you could rb this, that would be very helpful haha
p.s.s and if you'd like to fill in my spot for jisung in the greek myth university au collab hosted by @/mxrcayong, shoot either me or her a message!
That was the date I posted an NCT fanfic on tumblr.com for the first time. It was a bullet-style headcanon fic on what I thought Lucas would be like as your best friend.
It's been almost two whole years since then. I've written thousands-upon-thousands of words, spent dozens of nights hunched over, squinting against the glare of a screen at 2am, and damn near yanked my hair out trying to write fanfiction. Damn, it's been a long-ass ride.
Whenever we'd go swimming, my mum would give me a five minute heads-up before we left the pool. Just before then though, I'd keep my head underwater for as long as possible because I refused to leave. Obviously, I did end up leaving, even though I didn't want to at all. My mum would always say, "All good things must come to an end." Honestly, that didn't mean shit to five-year old me, and I still sulked on the car ride home, but hey, now I can use it as a clever segue into me putting an end to my fanfiction account ten years later.
So, yeah, I'm ending this fun lil' expedition on kopikokun (formerly known as ncttoast).
I won't go into too much detail, but I hope all of you will respect my decision. Honestly, I fell out of K-Pop months ago, in fact, I'd even go as far as to say I lost interest from the beginning of 2021. I still adore writing and will absolutely continue doing it in my free time, but writing K-Pop fanfiction just isn't for me anymore. For personal reasons, I'll keep this blog up for the public to see, but from here on out, this'll be the last you hear of me (at least on kopikokun haha).
I wanna just thank everyone who's supported me for the past two years. All the likes, reblogs, sweet comments, asks, and people I've come across here have been nothing short of unflinchingly welcoming and kind (for the most part lol). In the past two years, I've amassed a grand total of over 1500 followers (or toasters, as I used to coin them lmaoo), which is bonkers. That's more than the entire population of my high school. Wack.
To the friends I've made along the way, here's a (-n imaginary; I can't drink) toast to all of you. I've loved interacting with each and every one of you so so much. You all have made this experience something out of this world. I hope that we can still remain in contact ^^ If you'd still like to keep in touch, here's my discord hehe: arin#6849
This post has been so unnecessarily dramatic, but I think that's very in character of me. Anyway, that's the gist of it lol
So, here's Arin, signing off with my final #toaster thought <3 love ya mwah mwah
p.s. if you could rb this, that would be very helpful haha
p.s.s and if you'd like to fill in my spot for jisung in the greek myth university au collab hosted by @/mxrcayong, shoot either me or her a message!
That was the date I posted an NCT fanfic on tumblr.com for the first time. It was a bullet-style headcanon fic on what I thought Lucas would be like as your best friend.
It's been almost two whole years since then. I've written thousands-upon-thousands of words, spent dozens of nights hunched over, squinting against the glare of a screen at 2am, and damn near yanked my hair out trying to write fanfiction. Damn, it's been a long-ass ride.
Whenever we'd go swimming, my mum would give me a five minute heads-up before we left the pool. Just before then though, I'd keep my head underwater for as long as possible because I refused to leave. Obviously, I did end up leaving, even though I didn't want to at all. My mum would always say, "All good things must come to an end." Honestly, that didn't mean shit to five-year old me, and I still sulked on the car ride home, but hey, now I can use it as a clever segue into me putting an end to my fanfiction account ten years later.
So, yeah, I'm ending this fun lil' expedition on kopikokun (formerly known as ncttoast).
I won't go into too much detail, but I hope all of you will respect my decision. Honestly, I fell out of K-Pop months ago, in fact, I'd even go as far as to say I lost interest from the beginning of 2021. I still adore writing and will absolutely continue doing it in my free time, but writing K-Pop fanfiction just isn't for me anymore. For personal reasons, I'll keep this blog up for the public to see, but from here on out, this'll be the last you hear of me (at least on kopikokun haha).
I wanna just thank everyone who's supported me for the past two years. All the likes, reblogs, sweet comments, asks, and people I've come across here have been nothing short of unflinchingly welcoming and kind (for the most part lol). In the past two years, I've amassed a grand total of over 1500 followers (or toasters, as I used to coin them lmaoo), which is bonkers. That's more than the entire population of my high school. Wack.
To the friends I've made along the way, here's a (-n imaginary; I can't drink) toast to all of you. I've loved interacting with each and every one of you so so much. You all have made this experience something out of this world. I hope that we can still remain in contact ^^ If you'd still like to keep in touch, here's my discord hehe: arin#6849
This post has been so unnecessarily dramatic, but I think that's very in character of me. Anyway, that's the gist of it lol
So, here's Arin, signing off with my final #toaster thought <3 love ya mwah mwah
p.s. if you could rb this, that would be very helpful haha
p.s.s and if you'd like to fill in my spot for jisung in the greek myth university au collab hosted by @/mxrcayong, shoot either me or her a message!
That was the date I posted an NCT fanfic on tumblr.com for the first time. It was a bullet-style headcanon fic on what I thought Lucas would be like as your best friend.
It's been almost two whole years since then. I've written thousands-upon-thousands of words, spent dozens of nights hunched over, squinting against the glare of a screen at 2am, and damn near yanked my hair out trying to write fanfiction. Damn, it's been a long-ass ride.
Whenever we'd go swimming, my mum would give me a five minute heads-up before we left the pool. Just before then though, I'd keep my head underwater for as long as possible because I refused to leave. Obviously, I did end up leaving, even though I didn't want to at all. My mum would always say, "All good things must come to an end." Honestly, that didn't mean shit to five-year old me, and I still sulked on the car ride home, but hey, now I can use it as a clever segue into me putting an end to my fanfiction account ten years later.
So, yeah, I'm ending this fun lil' expedition on kopikokun (formerly known as ncttoast).
I won't go into too much detail, but I hope all of you will respect my decision. Honestly, I fell out of K-Pop months ago, in fact, I'd even go as far as to say I lost interest from the beginning of 2021. I still adore writing and will absolutely continue doing it in my free time, but writing K-Pop fanfiction just isn't for me anymore. For personal reasons, I'll keep this blog up for the public to see, but from here on out, this'll be the last you hear of me (at least on kopikokun haha).
I wanna just thank everyone who's supported me for the past two years. All the likes, reblogs, sweet comments, asks, and people I've come across here have been nothing short of unflinchingly welcoming and kind (for the most part lol). In the past two years, I've amassed a grand total of over 1500 followers (or toasters, as I used to coin them lmaoo), which is bonkers. That's more than the entire population of my high school. Wack.
To the friends I've made along the way, here's a (-n imaginary; I can't drink) toast to all of you. I've loved interacting with each and every one of you so so much. You all have made this experience something out of this world. I hope that we can still remain in contact ^^ If you'd still like to keep in touch, here's my discord hehe: arin#6849
This post has been so unnecessarily dramatic, but I think that's very in character of me. Anyway, that's the gist of it lol
So, here's Arin, signing off with my final #toaster thought <3 love ya mwah mwah
p.s. if you could rb this, that would be very helpful haha
p.s.s and if you'd like to fill in my spot for jisung in the greek myth university au collab hosted by @/mxrcayong, shoot either me or her a message!
That was the date I posted an NCT fanfic on tumblr.com for the first time. It was a bullet-style headcanon fic on what I thought Lucas would be like as your best friend.
It's been almost two whole years since then. I've written thousands-upon-thousands of words, spent dozens of nights hunched over, squinting against the glare of a screen at 2am, and damn near yanked my hair out trying to write fanfiction. Damn, it's been a long-ass ride.
Whenever we'd go swimming, my mum would give me a five minute heads-up before we left the pool. Just before then though, I'd keep my head underwater for as long as possible because I refused to leave. Obviously, I did end up leaving, even though I didn't want to at all. My mum would always say, "All good things must come to an end." Honestly, that didn't mean shit to five-year old me, and I still sulked on the car ride home, but hey, now I can use it as a clever segue into me putting an end to my fanfiction account ten years later.
So, yeah, I'm ending this fun lil' expedition on kopikokun (formerly known as ncttoast).
I won't go into too much detail, but I hope all of you will respect my decision. Honestly, I fell out of K-Pop months ago, in fact, I'd even go as far as to say I lost interest from the beginning of 2021. I still adore writing and will absolutely continue doing it in my free time, but writing K-Pop fanfiction just isn't for me anymore. For personal reasons, I'll keep this blog up for the public to see, but from here on out, this'll be the last you hear of me (at least on kopikokun haha).
I wanna just thank everyone who's supported me for the past two years. All the likes, reblogs, sweet comments, asks, and people I've come across here have been nothing short of unflinchingly welcoming and kind (for the most part lol). In the past two years, I've amassed a grand total of over 1500 followers (or toasters, as I used to coin them lmaoo), which is bonkers. That's more than the entire population of my high school. Wack.
To the friends I've made along the way, here's a (-n imaginary; I can't drink) toast to all of you. I've loved interacting with each and every one of you so so much. You all have made this experience something out of this world. I hope that we can still remain in contact ^^ If you'd still like to keep in touch, here's my discord hehe: arin#6849
This post has been so unnecessarily dramatic, but I think that's very in character of me. Anyway, that's the gist of it lol
So, here's Arin, signing off with my final #toaster thought <3 love ya mwah mwah
p.s. if you could rb this, that would be very helpful haha
p.s.s and if you'd like to fill in my spot for jisung in the greek myth university au collab hosted by @/mxrcayong, shoot either me or her a message!
hello ;-; it’s me again. i hate to do this, ask help from you guys, but... (tw: animal death)
Go to paypal.me/keirmtmd and type in the amount. Since it’s PayPal, it's easy and secure. Don’t have a PayPal account? No worries.
Become a supporter of Aki today! ❤️ Ko-fi lets you support the creators you love with no fees on donations.
so, you probably know i have cats (that i love like my own children) and the female one had her first litter of kittens last june. unfortunately, one passed away last month, the other one passed yesterday and today, this post was supposed to be made to help me get orange ranger (the other sick kitty) to the vet. a few friends messaged me to ask for help (i tried to sign up for gofundme too but it’s not available in my country) because the main reason i can’t get them checked is that i have no cash and my family’s situation is really bad and we’re financially troubled as a whole, really, and the lockdowns during pandemic did that.
right, while i was making this post that is meant to be for orange ranger (right after i took a video of her to attach here) she gasped her last breaths and idk how to feel. she was my favorite among the furball rangers because she’s absolutely the sweetest and most energetic. (also, i just noticed she accidentally bit my index finger as i was trying to force feed her earlier :< )
i will still make this post though since there are two kitties left and to also care for the adult cats. i just hope they will be able to live and grow :( as for red, brown, and orange ranger, rest in peace :( also, it's so hard rn financially because my enrollment for uni is also coming again :(
to the ones who are willing to donate, thank you so much, and for the ones who can't donate to my ko-fi/paypal but puts us in your thoughts and prayers, that is also more than enough. i hope you're staying safe during the pandemic btw ;-;
(was also supposed to post this waaaay earlier like 4 pm and but our internet was out and now it's already almost 11pm ;-;)
1. Favorite place to write.
2. Favorite part of writing.
3. Least favorite part of writing.
4. Do you have writing habits or rituals?
5. Books or authors that influenced your style the most.
6. Favorite character you ever created.
7. Favorite author.
8. Favorite trope to write.
9. Least favorite trope to write.
10. Pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about.
11. Describe your writing process from scratch to finish.
12. How do you deal with self-doubts?
13. How do you deal with writers block?
14. What’s the most research you ever put into a book?
15. Where does your inspiration come from?
16. Where do you take your motivation from?
17. On avarage, how much writing do you get done in a day?
18. What’s your revision or rewriting process like?
19. First line of a WIP you’re working on.
20. Post a snippet of a WIP you’re working on.
21. Post the last sentence you wrote in one of your WIP’s.
22. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied and a project is ultimately done for you?
23. Single or multi POV, and why?
24. Poetry or prose, and why?
25. Linear or non-linear, and why?
26. Standalone or series, and why?
27. Do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished? 28. And who do you share them with?
29. Who do you write for?
30. Favorite line you’ve ever written.
31. Hardest character to write.
32. Easiest character to write.
33. Do you listen to music when you’re writing?
34. Handwritten notes or typed notes?
35. Tell some backstory details about one of your characters in your story ________.
36. A spoiler for story _________.
37. Most inspirational quote you’ve ever read or heard that’s still important to you.
38. Have you shared your outline of your story ________ with someone? If so, what did they think of it?
39. Do you base your characters of real people or not? If so, tell us about one.
40. Original Fiction or Fanfiction, and why?
41. How many stories do you work on at one time?
42. How do you figure out your characters looks, personality, etc.
43. Are you an avid reader?
44. Best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.
45. Worst piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.
46. What would your story _______ look like as a tv show or movie? 47. Do you start with characters or plot when working on a new story?
48. Favorite genre to write in.
49. What do you find the hardest to write in a story, the beginning, the middle or the end?
50. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had.
51. Describe the aesthetic of your story _______ in 5 sentences or words.
52. How did writing change you?
53. What does writing mean to you?
54. Any writing advice you want to share?
Apparently a lot of people get dialogue punctuation wrong despite having an otherwise solid grasp of grammar, possibly because they’re used to writing essays rather than prose. I don’t wanna be the asshole who complains about writing errors and then doesn’t offer to help, so here are the basics summarized as simply as I could manage on my phone (“dialogue tag” just refers to phrases like “he said,” “she whispered,” “they asked”):
“For most dialogue, use a comma after the sentence and don’t capitalize the next word after the quotation mark,” she said.
“But what if you’re using a question mark rather than a period?” they asked.
“When using a dialogue tag, you never capitalize the word after the quotation mark unless it’s a proper noun!” she snapped.
“When breaking up a single sentence with a dialogue tag,” she said, “use commas.”
“This is a single sentence,” she said. “Now, this is a second stand-alone sentence, so there’s no comma after ‘she said.’”
“There’s no dialogue tag after this sentence, so end it with a period rather than a comma.” She frowned, suddenly concerned that the entire post was as unasked for as it was sanctimonious.
Here’s one that a lot of people miss, but that can be helpful for the reader:
“Of course you already know to use a paragraph break between speakers,” they said.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Depending on style, you can either indent or line break, as long as you keep it consistent.”
“Exactly! But did you know that if your single speaker goes on and on and gets a little rambly, and you find yourself needing to put in a paragraph break but not switch speakers, you should do the exact same thing?
“Only, in this case, don’t close off the quotation marks until that speaker is completely done talking. See how after the question mark above there isn’t anything? Indent or line break for your next paragraph – however you’re indicating – and use a beginning quotation to mark the dialogue, but leave the initial paragraph open, so that the reader can tell it’s not a different person now speaking,” they finished.
Obviously, people can often get it from context even if you don’t do this, and grammar and punctuation is a thing that evolves and changes over time, but I do like this rule because it actually benefits the reader.
this is based off of a yangyang blurb i wrote where basically he finds a conch on the beach and puts it to his ear, but instead of hearing the crooning of waves, he hears the voice of a woman (spoilers, it's you!)
you're a mermaid/siren (undecided haha) who's been cursed to roam the lands and yangyang needs to help you get back into the water! but PLOT TWIST! conflict arises because mermaids/sirens are considered as monsters in the little fishing town yangyang lives in due to an intertwined past between the humans and mermaids/sirens. planning on writing either starcrossed lovers or unrequited love.
thinking about this now, this sounds eerily similar to a kun wip i thought of (which is inspired by princess mononoke) so... oops. i want this to be much shorter though! also, kun's one is more... fairy tale-like? while this is like... gloomy, coming-of-age/bildungsroman/contemporary magical realism?? lmao idk it's still very vague and i'm ass at knowing genres dhdeh
send me a book emoji to hear about a wip i've daydreamed about yet haven't written yet!
Hey, here's a fun new game. Put "📓" or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about.
seen a few of these go around! for an ask game ~ i was wondering if u could do ur mutuals as nct?????
ahhh okay okay omg i'm not super close to many mutuals, so this is based mostly on just pure ~vibes~ and not much else.
@mxrcayong taeyong!! gracie's so comforting and whenever i talk with her i feel so... enlightened? inspired? idk whenever i read her texts or see her on the dash my heart just swells. she's incredibly caring and kind and she's so talented! gracie makes me feel very safe and happy and cared for and i love her sm!!! taeyong was the first that comes to mind for me when i think of her.
@seoulbinz doyoung! i was going to say renjun but then i took another look at brennan's blog and changed my mind. she's incredibly eloquent and discusses topics with such tact and with such accessible wording. AND SHE'S INCREDIBLY TALENTED??? she seems a little reserved sometimes but she's honestly so sweet and funny. responsible and super cool lol
@daegall chenle!! excitable crack head energy!! we haven't spoken much but so far, alicia seems like somebody i'd get super hyped with where our conversations are 99% in all caps sdhsh she consistenly matches my energy... and doubles it
@nakamotocore yangyang!! ie is... what a meme would be if personified (no i will not elaborate) and i love it
@heephoriia mark!! goofy but with a very tender and heartfelt side to her.
@d-nghy-ck kun!! chill, level-headed, caring, comforting. bronwyn is someone i really look up to, both in terms of her writing and just... her, as an individual.
@insomni-writing winwin!! effortlessly cool and... charming? is how i'd put it. somni's someone i look at from afar and i'm just stunned?? because she follows me?? she... talks to me?? this utter icon? i'm speechless.
@en-see-tee haechan!! talented-ass comedian. mia is really approachable and warm! i love her energy sm ehehhehe
@sonatatine renjun!! my creative idol. i love sui's snarky sense of humour and god her fics are god-tier. i really want to read them one of these days but her fics are ones i really have to sit down and just... bask in because they're so rich in vivid description and characterisation.
↳ Your youth was, to make a long story short, bedazzling. But that sparkle faded long ago, and all that it left is hundreds, thousands, of people asking: What’s next? Thing is, you don’t know either. Washed-up, overshadowed, and still unacclimated to your newfound repetitive life of solitude, your odyssey lacks direction. That is, until a friend of yours materialises bearing a solution: reality TV. Paired with a sunny co-star and a multi-talented cast, maybe this’ll be when the pivotal revelation arc you've been craving starts to take shape.
genre: fluff, angst, fake dating!au, celebrity!au, reality show!au, baking competition!au, enemies to lovers, co-workers to lovers, suggestive
warning(s): intense argument, negative media attention, public pressure, feelings of inadequacy, living in someone else's shadow, self-deprecation (yn's just going through it lmao), expletives
word count: 4480 words
author's note: this is far from perfect but i had loads of fun with it and it was a great change of pace. despite its imperfections/shortcomings, i hope you get something out of it! feedback is always appreciated ♡ let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for future installations!
☆༓･*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: 1692 (cottonwood firing squad) ✧ cigarette daydreams (cage the elephant) ✧ freakin' out on the interstate (briston maroney) ✧ fluorescent adolescent (arctic monkeys) ✧ hazey (glass animals) ✧ holiest (glass animals, tei shi)
Growing up, when your father returned late from table reads, your mother would cocoon you in your feather duvet, kiss both temples, and whisper the same tale to you, word-for-word each time. Souls draw lots to determine their life's odyssey, she'd murmur. They huddle around an iridescent goblet—its mouth a gaping black hole—and draw strips woven from rainbow; seven colours on every tape, yet none the same shade. Her eyelids drooped as she spoke, lashes brushing her cheekbones, tinted golden from your bedside lamp. She always mumbled gratitude for her lot—for her husband's success, for her healthy daughter, for the roles you already had flooding in—as she fell asleep before you, soothed by her own stories.
Though you listened, you never believed, because while the notion is fantastical, it's depressing too. If everything was predestined before you could even seize your first breath, effort would be futile. Your achievements wouldn't be earned, they'd be assigned. So, perhaps out of spite, you believe everything—every single damn thing—that's happened in your life is a consequence of your actions, not because fate strummed her strings or some ridiculous goblet spewed prophetic rainbows.
But now, standing in this lurid kitchen setting with a camera crew and nineteen strangers, your mother’s philosophy sounds tempting, because there's no way in hell your choices landed you here. A reality show.
“Hey,” someone whispers, elbow jabbing your side. It’s Ten, the assistant floor manager, your friend, and the reason you're here to begin with. “How is he? You two get along well?"
The ‘he’ is Lee Donghyuck, another ingredient in the reasons for your presence. He's in hair and makeup, eyes lidded as the stylist pats his face with powder. "He's fine. Nice smile, contagious laugh." You pause. "And he's cute."
"'Course you'd say that." Ten rolls his eyes.
"Can't help that I have eyes. And I'm sure everyone here's thinking the same thing."
"So, are you glad you agreed to join this season's cast?" Ten's lips quiver with a smile.
"I only came because you threatened me."
Reality TV is for spectating, not participating. It’s something consumed when there’s nothing else to watch and you just want the day to end. When you watch Masterchef—or Masterchef Junior when you’re disinclined to Chef Ramsay’s degradation—you never think Wow, I wanna be in this. But here you are—not in Masterchef but in World’s Worst Bakers, where the worst of the worst unite for the most disastrous bake-off imaginable.
"I did not threaten you," he pouts.
"You said you'd vomit in my shoes the next time you get drunk, and you do that like every other day. Pretty sure you were drunk when you threatened me too."
"I was stress drinking! You're just jealous I didn't invite you." Bingo. He's absolutely right. "But, seriously, thanks for being down for this. I thought I was totally doomed when Donghyuck's partner said he couldn't make it."
Your cheeks warm. "It's whatever, Ten. It's not like I've got anything going on for me right now." And you're not exaggerating. Since moving out, the vapidity of your day-to-day constitutes daily deja vu. If not for your phone, you doubt you’d even know today’s date. You look back to Donghyuck. According to Ten, he's just one of the contestants who manually applied. “He really isn't one of the celebrities the casting director snagged for the show?” Ratings had tanked last year, a far cry from the first season's monumental success. The crew hoped the inclusion of a few illustrious names would restore the show's declining popularity.
"Nope, just some kid," he says, though Donghyuck's only a few years younger than him. "But he's a natural, isn't he?"
You nod. Just moments after Donghyuck capered in, people swarmed him like ants to sugar. His presence overshadows even the actual celebrities on set.
There’s a single beep—sharp and blaring—before Ten turns to scurry away. “Showtime,” he grins, tossing you a cheeky wink.
Shit, you’re really about to do this. Everyone at home's going to see what an atrocious baker you are. There's three ways this could unfold:
People will coo at your ineptitude, deem you quirky and hilarious. You'll be loved, not in the way your father is—a respectable figure in the field—but as the cooky, skittish friend whose failures are inexplicably funny.
People will boo at your ineptitude; deem you incompetent and spoiled. She can't bake because she was coddled growing up, they'll say. All she knows how to do is drink and sleep around.
Nothing happens. The show's a flop, and so are you. The media writes a few lazy articles about you at parties from weeks ago, or an ex starts shit. They’ll call you a wild card again. You'll be nothing but washed-up, a has-been, only recognisable as a vignette of your father's glory.
The final option is the best. Zero media coverage means people'll forget you. They'll stop badgering you about your next upcoming project when there is none and their expectant stares will shift elsewhere. You'll be a nobody, just like everyone else.
You don't want your parents uncovering what you've been up to since moving out either; that a reality TV baking competition is the most productive you've been since then. Your mother had only relented to your request of moving out after insistent persuasion. Your father hadn't been very keen either, but eventually he'd laughed and said, She'll be fine. The next time we see her, she'll be an A-list actress, in all the latest movies, plastered on all the billboards we drive past. We'd probably get sick of seeing her face everywhere. You'd laughed too, but guilt thrashed violently within you, tearing at your conscience. How would your parents react if you told them you wanted nothing to do with the limelight anymore? That you didn't even know what you wanted to do anymore?
You shudder the fret away. Worrying before a competition never did anyone any good. Ten weeks will zip past, and once again, life will adopt its monotonous course, as it should.
“Hey!” Donghyuck’s voice punctures your internal monologue. It’s ecstatic, like he’s known you forever, when you've only spoken once or twice before. “Ready, partner?”
No. “Not really.”
“That’s fine,” Donghyuck grins. “More fun when you’re unprepared.”
What does that even mean? “Uh... sure.”
“It’ll be fun! Don’t sweat it.” One of the crew members waves wildly, gesturing you to your station. Don’t sweat it? Just wait till I lift my arms.
Donghyuck’s affable, his elation virulent. Sure, you aren't friends, but maybe you could be. He looks like he'd be a great drinking buddy too.
Your life is your own, and you—not some shiny goblet—have decided that you're going to have fun.
Spoiler for episode one of World’s Worst Bakers: it was not fun.
It commenced flawlessly, at first. The sprightly young host, Liu Yangyang, had revealed the judges, each with their own introductory quip. As they sauntered in, you had tried to ascertain their respective cooking-show-judge archetype: the nice one, the funny-in-a-dad-kind-of-way one, and finally, the you-fucking-donut one. You’d hoped that since the competition’s meant to display the worst baking monstrosities comprehensible, the latter was exempted from the panel range.
Your efforts proved fruitless however, the saying ‘you can’t judge a book by its cover’ prevailing in the end. The panel consists of retired bakery owner Johann Wiles, prodigy baker Lee Taeyong, and home-baker extraordinaire Son ‘Wendy’ Seungwan. None of them fit into any one cliche, actually, they all possessed each quality, just in different measurements. Wow, who would've guessed people are multifaceted with many layers to their personality?, you chide yourself. Have you learnt nothing from Shrek? Now, in the final fifteen minutes, you wished you had mentally prepared yourself instead of judging people by physical appearance. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be encrusted in wet flour, sweating your ass off because your buttercream frosting won't retain its shape.
You and Donghyuck stand shoulder-to-shoulder before not a whimsical goblet, but an array of cupcakes; his arms akimbo and yours crossed.
“Why do they look like that? Why are they all melty?”
“I don’t know,” he sighs, mussing his hair, wedging clumps of flour between the strands. “They look like...”
“Wet shit,” you mumble. He nods.
You tilt your head back, shoulders creaking with an ache. The other contestants seem to be doing fine. Why wouldn’t they? This first round is supposedly the easiest, meant to wean you in to the next nine weeks of baking. The judges had even distributed a recipe to minimise catastrophe. So, what on Earth had gone wrong?
“You two doing okay?”
Chef Lee’s voice is mellifluous, like spun sugar. He exudes an air of genuine concern, eyebrows bunched. One of the cameras pivots to you and it takes all of your remaining energy to not flinch.
You shake your head, while Donghyuck says, “Our frosting’s liquified, Chef.”
“Just Taeyong. Chef makes me sound pretentious,” he says, waving dismissively. Man, so you don’t even get to bark ‘Yes, Chef!’? What’s the point?
Taeyong bends forward, laser-focused on your pathetic cupcake. It was palpable from the get-go, but up close, you really marvel in how attractive he is—and how young too. How old did Yangyang say again? 25? 26? In fact, there’s an appalling concentration of attractive people here, from the unfairly gorgeous judge panel to the celebrity contestants, even Ten, a crew member, is pretty good-looking. You glance at Donghyuck, eyes roving his figure. And him. He's just... some guy. Why is he so stupidly attractive? Maybe it wouldn't hurt to try to be a little more than drinking partners.
“How long has the cream cheese been out of the fridge?” Taeyong’s flinty gaze latches onto you. God, you look abysmal right now, and you're being recorded in the same frame as two beautiful men, one of which is staring at you in a room full of equally attractive people. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, hoping to efface any smears.
“Not long. Maybe ten minutes?”
Taeyong raises a brow. “You’re sure?"
“Uh... yes?” In your peripheral, Donghyuck frowns. Did you say something wrong?
Taeyong cocks his head to one side, lips pursed, before reaching down to cup the bottom of one cupcake. “Ah,” he smiles, “did you let the cupcakes cool before frosting?”
Your heart plummets, fizzes in your stomach acid. Cooling was mentioned in the recipe, but you’d skipped it in favour of time-efficiency. You’d even told Donghyuck you’d let it cool when prompted, thinking it’d been a beneficial decision. Evidently not. “...No?”
“You need to let them cool completely on the rack before frosting, or else, well, this happens. Scrape off the buttercream. It should take about ten minutes to cool.” He sets the cupcake down, beginning to walk away. “Good luck.”
You bury your face in your hands. Ten minutes? That only leaves three, at most four, left for piping and plating. You’ll need more than luck. Then, just give up. There's nothing to lose, right? That's a dumb question, of course there is. What will people think if you can't even make it past the first round?
The cameraman lingers, and you’ve half the mind to swat it away to save face when you inevitably yank your hair out. You know you're still being filmed for the drama, reality TV thrives off of it after all. The editors will add in a tense instrumental, rich with dissonance and key changes, cut to a confessional they'll have you record tomorrow, and really milk the suspense. Maybe you should yank your hair out; higher ratings, possibly higher coin. You shake with a silent laugh. It probably looks like you're crying. That would definitely get a few clicks. What a drama queen, would be the consensus.
“Hey, hey, hey,” whispers Donghyuck, lips centimetres from your ear. He's muffling the lapel mic with one hand, the other on your shoulder. He must be frazzled, but like the excellent partner he is, he remains poised. It assures you. Maybe he’s leaning in to murmur encouragement. “Don’t you dare panic. I’m not going to lose this competition because you fucked up."
The fuck? You swivel to gawk at him, faintly aware that his lips are now centimetres from yours. “Excuse me?" you whisper, smothering your own body mic. “You’re being a dick.”
“I will be when there’s money on the line,” he hisses. Where’d that sweet guy go? The one everyone was fawning over forty-five minutes ago? The kind stranger with the lucent smile and boyish laugh? “Now, get scraping," he spits.
Then, as quickly as it erupted, his anger dissipates, eyes creasing and smile shy. He removes his palm from your shoulder and cradles your chin, thumb—which is more calloused than expected—swiping the corner of your lip, so delicate your skin prickles. You stare as he dips the digit into his mouth.
“You had some frosting on your face,” he says, uncovering his lapel mic so his pretext doesn’t go unheard. He turns to start scraping.
Your index and middle finger hover over where Donghyuck’s thumb had been. Unfortunately, there’s no time to dwell, so you stiffly resume your duties.
But you’re distracted. Your eyes keep wandering to Donghyuck, and though you pry them away, they always crawl back, more tenacious than before.
When the timer buzzes and you’re standing before the judges, your eyes are on him. When you’re presenting your cupcakes and answering questions about them, your eyes are on him. When you’re thrust to the bottom two and narrowly evade elimination, your eyes are on him. When you’ve wrapped up for the day and are reminded about recording confessionals tomorrow, your eyes are on him.
It’s only when the losing pair are sent home—a father son duo—that Donghyuck hauls you away and finally, his eyes are on you.
“What the hell is your deal?” he whispers. “You’ve been staring at me for the past half-an-hour.”
You blanch. He’s done it again; that abrupt personality flip. Just moments before he’d laughed and joked and flushed pink at praise, but now he’s snarling in your face like you’ve cussed him out. And honestly, you’re considering it.
You clench your jaw, relishing in the screech of teeth abrading teeth. Heat pulses in every crevice of your body, gripping the gummy flesh of your innards, seeping into your blood, fuelling your every thought.
Ten had been wrong. Donghyuck must have some sort of background in acting, because wow, can the bitch put on a performance. Unbeknownst to everyone here, his entire persona’s been a facade. He isn’t a kind, endearing stranger, no, he’s a conniving, sly, little prick. No, you’re not mad. You’re pleased, pleased that he’s shown his full colours, pleased that you’ve dodged a bullet. You’d been intending to exchange numbers. Imagine that! It would’ve been devastating if he’d only shed his charming glaze after you’d grown attached. You would’ve gone out for drinks, confided in him after a few, and he would’ve laid every dirty secret bare for the public to scarf down, telling the media: I never really liked her anyway.
Cuss him out. No, what would he think of you? But then again, you’re strangers. It’s not like he’s afforded you an ounce of chivalry, why should you? He doesn’t deserve even a morsel of pity or remorse from you.
“My deal? What the fuck is yours? Fine, I screwed up back there, but you didn’t have to be such a bitch about it. What happened to having fun?”
Donghyuck looks at you like you’re a moron. “Of course you think having fun means fucking about. I didn’t mean for you to disregard the steps to the recipe. It explicitly said ‘let rest until completely cooled’. You said you’d let it cool. You lied! You could’ve ruined our chances! I was being nice when I said that, but look where that got me.”
“You? Being nice? You’re the furthest thing from it.” You groan. “You’re just making a fuss out of nothing. We didn’t get eliminated and we’ll be moving on to the next round. What’s the big deal?”
“The ‘big deal’ is, that isn’t the only thing you fucked up. How about the butter that you forgot to put in?”
“I did not forget that. You did. The butter was not my fault. I told you to add it in during mixing after I left it out to thaw. Don’t try to pin your faults on me.”
Donghyuck flushes, and you swell with righteous pride. “Alright, fine, but that’s only because I was too busy picking up after your messes.”
“Picking up after my messes?” you scoff. “I’m not a child, Donghyuck. I was making no messes.”
“Holy shit,” he laughs, bitter and indignant. “You didn’t even realise that I saved your—our asses, did you? ‘No messes’? What about the frosting?”
God, does he ever quit? “What about the frosting? You upset I didn’t milk a cow and make the butter myself?”
“You forgot to put it in the fridge.“
You weave your arms across your chest. Yes, you’d prematurely made the buttercream, but it was an accident. And besides a minute or two squandered, it hadn’t reaped any severe repercussions. “No, I didn’t. I took it out from the fridge. It wouldn’t have been there if I had forgotten, now would it? I definitely remember putting it in.”
“Of course, that’s how you remember it.” He rolls his eyes. “I put it in the fridge, not you. If I hadn’t been aware of my surroundings or neglected common sense, our buttercream would’ve been unsalvageable. Your mistake would’ve single handedly gotten us eliminated. So, yeah, no big deal.”
“Okay, fine, I get it, Donghyuck. I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear? You’re being so dramatic. It’s not like getting upset’s gonna change what’s already happened. Why’re you still so pissed?”
“I’m pissed, because when I win, I’m going to have to split the money with someone who did nothing but drag me down the whole way. A freeloader, riding on the coattails of my effort. I’d tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but it seems like everyone was right about you.”
You bristle. Freeloader. How many times have you heard that before? And what had he heard about you? Everyone? Who else in this room, on this set, in the cast, has something against you? A bottomless chasm of pent-up resentment behind smiling masks? Do they whisper about you behind your back? Does Taeyong? Wendy? Ten?
“The fuck does that mean? Don’t act like you know me when we only met two hours ago! Nothing? I did nothing? Are you so far up your own ass that you didn’t see how I was helping you out the entire time? So what I made a mistake? Surprise, surprise, I’m a shitty baker, Donghyuck! You are too! That’s why we’re on the show!” Your fists are curled, nails piercing the flesh of your palms. “You’re so full of yourself for thinking you pulled all the weight. You prance around smiling and laughing, bluffing about who you really are, pretending like you’ve not got a bad bone in your body, when really, you’re full of shit.”
Hurt shadows his face, but the flames of his ire are quick to extinguish it. He’s not tall, but in this isolated moment, he towers over you. “If being full of shit is what wins me this competition, then so be it. You might have come here because you’ve got nothing else to do, and hey, if you win, there’s a bit of easy cash and publicity, but there is no ‘if’ for me.” His cadence is feral, convulsing, voice cracking as if he’s trying to emphasise every word. His breaths are manic. Each syllable strangles him, pressing tighter and tighter and tighter. He’s frantic, pupils dilated, almost... terrified. “I didn’t come here—didn’t take money out to audition, didn’t spend weeks in anxiety waiting for a response, didn’t take days off my job—just to lose. So, start taking this seriously, or don’t. Get. In. My. Way.”
He’s so close; it’s suffocating. The air between you is congested with all the words uttered, so many that there’s no room left for oxygen. They taint your trachea black, shrivelling your lungs. Your exhales are stifling. The room seems to shrink. The ceiling begs to cave in. It’s claustrophobic. You want to claw at your throat, but instead, you tip forward, glaring, your voice low and vicious, “I hate you.”
Donghyuck smiles, crooked, sadistic. He stoops lower, so close you can taste his rage; tangy and sickly saccharine. “Then hate me,” he whispers. Your gaze flickers to his lips, the way he enunciates each word with escalating menace. His eyes skim your face, before he rights himself, tongue prodding his cheek. You shudder with an exhale. Asswipe. He beams, and it’s only now you notice that it’s stretched too far to be sincere. “See you tomorrow.”
Nothing happened during confessionals the next day. You had expected overt hostility, but Donghyuck was insouciant. He smiled, conversed effervescently, and met your gaze despite your blatant aversion, as debonair as before. You would’ve been piqued by his nonchalance, but yesterday’s outburst had wisened you. Lurking beneath that sunny pretence was, unmistakably, irritation; you only had to learn where to look, and yesterday’s ordeal had been a spectacular lesson in the matter.
Though he approached you with a skip in his step, and a lilt in his laugh, it tormented him more and more every time. The cracks in his charade were laughably transparent when he’d talk to you. From the too broad smile, the too high giggle, the twitch of the jaw, the dart of tongue over upper teeth, he hates being around you—despises it. Well, that makes two of us. Partner.
Now, four days since you last saw him, you smile just reminiscing about his distaste. Obviously, he’s not as unbothered by you as he tries to exhibit. Good. He can pretend as much as he’d like, but you know from experience that bottled-up aggravation is going to simmer to a boil, and just one teensy turn of the gas knob is going to make him go boom. And luckily for him—
No, this isn’t a matter of luck, this is the result of your doing, because you—not anyone or anything else—have decided you’re going to turn up the heat.
Your phone rings, buzzing on the dresser. It must be your mother, harassing you to contemplate moving back in again. Or maybe your parents found out about the show. It had just aired yesterday. Shit. You roll over in your bed, face mashed into the mattress as you blindly reach for your phone.
You clear your throat, and answer with your chirpiest voice, “Yes?”
“Why do you sound like that? Are you sick?”
“Oh, it’s you.”
“At least try to sound enthusiastic,” Ten mutters.
“Yay.”
He grumbles. “I called to ask if you’d seen the episode yet.”
“No.”
“Typical,” he groans. “Do you really not give a shit about it?”
“Should I? Why? Do I look bad?”
“When do you not?” he asks. Silence. He cackles at his own ingenuity. You can hear the grin in his voice when he says, “Anyway, check your texts. I sent you a link. Really, I had no idea you were into guys like that.”
Guys like what? But Ten’s already hung up. Curiosity nips at you, so for once, you immediately enter the Messages app after Ten’s told you to. Hopefully, whatever the hell he’s done now won’t afflict you.
He’s attached a single link; an article. An article with your face on it. Your heart lurches, palms beading perspiration at the sight of yourself. The choice of colour and font of the article is garish, something only a tacky gossip column could get away with. What are you doing in a gossip column? You’ve abstained from anything remotely scandalous for weeks since moving out, refusing to supply any ammunition your mother could use to justify you staying home. So what had soured?
‘BITTERSWEET ROMANCE?
'Just last Friday, the world of reality TV was shaken to its core when the first episode of season three of World’s Worst Bakers aired. The show pits the worst of the worst against one another in an ultimate bake-off to find out who will succeed as the best among them (is that really something to be proud of?). The show itself boasts an impressive cast from rising actor Jung Jaehyun, gorgeous part-time model Johnny Suh, award-winning traditional dancer Dong Sicheng, singer/heartthrob Mark, prodigy baker Lee Taeyong—’
Yeah, yeah, whatever. But why is your face on an article titled ‘Bittersweet Romance’? You scour the page, eyes bulging when you discover what’s been written about you.
‘...the former child star and daughter of esteemed actor seems busy on the show; busy with love that is. Introducing Lee Donghyuck, indiscriminate and humble, perhaps lacking in notoriety, but certainly not in looks. The two seem to have struck a passionate romance, seen in the clip below sharing a tender moment together as Donghyuck soothes his lover’s anxieties about the competition, even slipping in a swoon-worthy gesture. Allegedly, the two were so enamoured by each other, they were nearly eliminated! Ah, young love. Sources say they witnessed the young couple’s hurried departure for privacy the moment filming ended, and we don’t think we need to spell out what probably happened next. Though reports state the couple seem end-game, is that really a possibility considering our darling lover girl’s history? It’s public knowledge that she’s quite a wild card; who knows how she’ll break this poor boy’s heart, if it ever comes to that. Her ex-partners—’
You refuse to read further. Nausea clings to your stomach. A mixture of mortification and abhorrence batters your skull. Passionate romance? Tender moment? Enamoured? Love? And what are they implying with ‘departure for privacy’? That you and Donghyuck had a quickie while the entire crew was milling about? If only they’d heard the berating the two of you had dished out, then the article would probably be singing a drastically different tune. Temper Tantrum: Former child star lambasts her baking partner! They’d regale and call you bitch instead of censoring themselves with ‘wild card’. Wild card. Even in an article claiming you’d found potential true love, they’d wormed it in. Would they be calling you wild card even in seniority? You snort. Imagine that: an eighty-year-old you plastered across gossip columns. Maybe they’d find another washed-up star instead. They probably would. They always did.
Your phone chimes again, screen alight with a new text from Ten.
Looks like we’ve got ourselves a pair of stars.
You scoff, tossing your phone back on the dresser. Yeah, a pair of five star shit shows.
