#(i’m not perfect myself but…you choosing dropping this in my inbox…i hope that means you’re comfortable with me ;;)

[taee]

genuinely how do you deal with this fandom? i am reaching burnt out levels of exhaustion dealing with its whining, witch hunting underdog complex. i get things have been rough but some of them really act out like children. worse, like headless chicken who can't be trusted in society. the level of pettiness infantilization and almost cult like behavior that some parts of it are exhibiting is honestly worrying. and that's without mentioning the feeling of entitlement to the members private moments. i just. so goddamn tired of it all. i have tired but i dont think i can keep interact with it as closely as I've been doing

and i cant speak for them, but I fear the members are also getting sick of it

My response got a little too long so I'm putting it under the cut!

Honestly…I just actively ignore the toxic parts of it. Not the best way to handle things but there really is no point getting invested in all the drama because in most cases they just turn out to be a waste of time and emotions. Like Issues that don’t exist and only blew up because someone’s personal opinion/assumption went viral on social media. I don’t need to go into more details because I believe you’ve seen a lot more than I have…Anyway, I’d much rather spend more time in things that actually matter like loving and supporting the members. I’m here for a good time and I also want to be here for a long time. 

I can see why this fandom is extremely protective of the boys considering all that they’ve been through in the past, but there is a line that we shouldn’t cross. We’re a very spoiled fandom I don’t deny that. A huge part of the members’ lives have been made into content and fed to us all these years. So much that some of us forget that the members have their private lives off camera. And they go crazy when they learn about a fact but there is no visual content for them to consume. 

I actually do believe that the members themselves recognise this too, the song Pied Piper is a good indication…

I’m very late to this I’m truly sorry ;; I do hope you’ve managed to distance yourself from all the toxicity and negativity since. If not, please do so! I think another thing you can do other than a social media cleanse is to give your following list a purge. Blacklist and block content that you don't want to see, you have all the right to do that. Your wellbeing comes first, so take care okay? Sending lots of love and hugs your way <3

[sk-lumen]

Need serious advice about setting boundaries or communicating when dealing with a person who:

Is a parent

Has unhealthy communication methods -- it takes very little for them to start full-blown screaming, shouting out all your 'negative' things/mistakes/past, can continue to scream-criticise you even after you've gone silent, for WHOLE MINUTES even if you've shut up, will not accept anything that even hints at them making a mistake

You can't trust since childhood coz u made the mistake of confiding in them with a serious issue as a young teen --- mental related --- and they belittled and invalidated you, and since then pretended you never confided in them and have NO IDEA how you've been coping without them or ANYone else for years... Yeah thanks, parent, what u said back then made me think I was the one at fault and so I stopped trusting even friends coz yeah, when ur own parent doesn't give a damn, why would anyone else?

Is a master at silent treatments without explaining what EXACTLY they're punishing you for, then when theyre in the mood, will start talking to you as if they hadn't ignored you for days. Lol I'd rather be water boarded I think. Especially for all the damage this caused when I was a child

Won't openly talk about what they want, yet expects ALL FHE TIME others (in the family) to know what they want, then will complain/scream/angry for AGES about how no one cares, no one gives a damn... And when someone asks them what they want, they either say: nothing, or "you should know! Can't u see?"

Upon asking them to please talk normally, will blow a fuse, and lose it --- happened multiple times today

Literally will use me as a scape goat to unleash their frustrations upon. Even when I leave the room, I can hear them b*tch about how much of a failure I am etc. The trigger being anything that bothers them, from a phone call to something other siblings did, bla bla. I limit my time with them... But it's like, it feels impossible to have them treat me normally, without ridiculing or criticising me. I'm already a very low self esteem person... This doesn't help AT ALL

In short, refuse to tell/ask/discuss important stuff, and getting mad randomly that no one read their mind, bcoz everyone's 'old enough to have enough sense' to know what they 'should' do... Eg will not pikc up the phone when we call them from the store to ask when what the needed isn't available, so what other alternative can we get... And then when we get home, will instead blame us for being fussy and not getting the alternative, completelt skirting around the issue they didn't deign to pick up the phone... I mean, I don't get it. In the past I HAVE in fact asked them to just openly tell me what they want/expect from me to make them happy... Got passive aggressive answers like "don't you know? Are you dumb?" Bla bla

Passive aggressive to the max when they've lost it

Expect me to drop anything I'm doing and immediately cater to them, and expect me to help them in their hobbies (while simultaneously, as I learned many years ago to much heartache, not being interested or even pretending to be interested in my hobbies. The disinterest taught me very quickly how much what I wanted meant, leading to years of self-invalidation. Luckily I've learned it really is them, not me. My hobbies are valid)

Will not talk about why they're feeling angry, what causes it. Instead will blame me, who's like the golden scapegoat in our amazing family, by saying :YOU made me negative. They've said it many times now... It hurts a lot, when I'm also struggling with my own issues which I ofc can't confide in them about :)

Today I manned up -- the outburst of hatred happened again! Over a simple thing. It was NIGHTMARE and made me angry/sad/frustrated/triggered---, and so I told them to stop talking like that... Boy was that the wrong thing to say... I don't think I can accurately tell u what happened afterwards...

Usually children learn communication skills from the parents... I at least learned to recognize the unhealthy ones, and what NOT to communicate like lol. Like, other parent is even worse, believe it or not. But that's another complex situation

I'm not bashing on the parent. Lord knows I even have that much of a right huh? I hate myself eveb more when they invalidate me if I try to show how MUCH THEY HURT me after a 'communication session'. As in, heaven forbid me if I BE SILENT afterwards and DON'T wanna listen to their retardation. Nope. Even then they provoke me, rage at me, you know how sometimes enraged people hiss vitriol thru gritted teeth? Yeah, that's what they did today after I stayed silent and tried to ignore them an hour later after the 'session' when they wabted something. It's like they don't even need me to say a word and will carry on and on for minutes 🤢

I feel alone, helpless and at a loss what to do

I want to move out. Due to severe mental issues I can't even move out rn coz it scares me even more. But this has to stop. Things are only okay if I'm absolutely passive, say yes to whatever they want, kill my wants and needs, and become a perfect robot bred to cater to them (parent)

I hope you can help me out, dear

Hi darling,

It sounds like you’re in a considerably toxic environment. I'm sorry you're going through this. Know that this is not normal, nor is it how a parent/child relationship should be. In case there's any doubt, let me start by saying you deserve to be supported, respected, listened to, to have your needs met. You deserve to live in an environment that offers you all of these things.

With that being said, from the many scenarios you’ve mentioned you’ve already tried reasoning and setting boundaries, to no avail. There is only so much you can do on your own, if the other person in the equation is not meeting halfway or at all. After all, a healthy conversation involves two people, not just one.

Here's my advice, in this order:

Calmly and maturely asking the respective parent to have a serious discussion with you and to listen to what you have to say. Share how their actions and behaviour is making you feel, let them know you care, and make sure to mention several solutions for the issue as well. If this doesn’t work…

Bring up the subject of needing help from outside, such as the assistance of a specialist/therapist. Family counselling can shed a lot of light on toxic behaviours that are ingrained from childhood (both in their case and yours), on fears your parent may have, stress from their work, whatever is causing their outbursts and anger - because there is always a reason. Behind anger is sadness, and behind sadness is some need not being met, or an underlying fear, trauma, etc. This is not a justification for their behaviour, they are responsible for it; this is simply the fact of how energy dynamics work. People bottle up their frustrations, fears, etc, and let them out on those closest to them, to whom they feel superior. It’s not fair, and it’s not healthy, but it is frequently how this pattern works. If this solution doesn’t work either…

Then unfortunately, all you can do is focus on yourself. If they refuse to meet you anywhere along the road, you have to pack up your things and go your own way. Literally or metaphorically. They may be your parent and you may love them even in spite of their behaviour, but you cannot hold yourself responsible for anything they say or do; that is on them. In those cases, you have to prioritize your own mental health and wellbeing, and focus on moving out. If your (home) environment is toxic, you have to focus on first changing it. That’s vital. Only afterwards can you start healing, refinding yourself, reclaiming your self-esteem and confidence, your sense of worth. As long as you stay stuck in a toxic environment, you cannot really heal; if there is abuse of any kind (physical, mental, emotional), the causes are still there, leading to re-traumatizing.

If for whatever reason moving out is not (yet) an option, I would emphasize seeking some sort of counselling for yourself, if nothing else. You need an anchor, some sort of support that will help you along your path until you do get out.

Now, I don’t know how old you are. I am going to assume you are over 18 and of age, so only mind my advice if that is the case. (As disclaimer, I don't provide advice to minors as it's not the scope of my blog nor am I specialized/focused on that area.)

I understand moving out seems scary because it is unknown, but with that line of thought you may wait another 10 years in the same situation. Wouldn’t you wake up 10 years later already having done the hard work on moving out, finding your independence, claiming your sense of individuality and moving on from this sort of environment, this phase in your life?

Sooner is better than later, but do so with mindfulness and care over your mental health, of course. I know it’s scary. But being an adult requires some difficult decisions at times, and setting boundaries begins with choosing your wellbeing and doing what needs to be done, even if it is something uncomfortable short-term, but highly rewarding and beneficial long-term.

Hope this helps... and wishing you much luck, clarity, gentle guidance and comfort.✨

PS: Lately I've been receiving longer and longer letters in my inbox. As solution, I was thinking of having longer asks/letters redirected to my blog where there isn't any length limit, and readers can more comfortably browse both my tumblr and blog - and those requesting advice can share and receive a more in-depth response.

-Lumen

[rivkahstudies]

Hi, i've been having big troubles with wanting to be better at academia and stuff but im not really sure how to get started... i sorta feel like an imposter a lot but im trying to not let it affect me but sometimes i just have moments of excruciating executive dysfunction where i can't move because I want to do so many things and my body is fighting against me... Idk if i even have a question really but it feels better to tell you this... i really look up you a lot and have for a long time...

Hi nonnie! It’s incredibly brave of you to drop this in my inbox. Yes, even anonymously. It takes a lot to even type that kind of honesty out. So thank you, and I hope you take a moment to thank yourself.

Secondly, thank you for touching my heart by your kind words. I hope you realize as you look up to me that I have the same kind of feelings, as do many studyblrs–and I’m dedicated to being honest about it so you don’t feel as if you have to live up to a perfect (and impossible, and fake) standard. I go to therapy regularly despite being in a lot better place than I used to be, because it’s almost like going for a mental check-up or gym session, and my therapist helps me sort through even tiny things so I can build better habits and mindsets. But I still remember feelings of dysfunction well, and I still battle with imposter syndrome!

The most important key ideas here are attainable goals and self talk. Both of these ideas don’t come easily, they do take work, but they’re tools that make other difficult things easier over time, with persistence.

When your body is fighting you (and really, more than anything with executive dysfunction, your mind is fighting you and making your body less functional), even baby steps can be difficult. For you, it could be anything from exercising to studying to eating to showering. Big or small, it’s totally valid that you may or may not struggle with it, and it doesn’t make you desperate for attention, or fake, or pathetic.

Let’s take your desire to “get better at academia.” That could mean a lot of things, so I’m going to latch onto one facet of it as an example. If it doesn’t apply with that exact example, that’s completely okay! Just alter it to apply to what you are struggling with, or desiring.

1. Big, abstract goal: to get better at academia

2. What that means (for this example): developing better study habits

3. What kind of things constitute that? That’s still a big, abstract goal that sounds quite formidable and unattainable. List out as many things as you can that you are striving to do or would want to try. Not everything might work for you!

Managing time better

scheduling study time

being accountable via apps or with family/friends

being efficient or effective (i.e. not getting distracted 

Finding study habits that work for you and for the class’ requirements

flashcards

typed computer notes

handwritten computer notes

handwritten paper notes

infographics

youtube videos

interactive online exercises

conversations with classmates, tutors, or professors

podcasts

mind maps

journal entries

presentations

self-made study guides

practice tests (self-made or provided, online or on paper)

Feynman’s technique–writing a summary of what you’re studying, and then comparing it to the actual material. Whatever is missing is what you need to focus on, because my mantra is that it will always appear on the test.

ranking the subjects or topics by what you know most to least and studying from the bottom up. I can post a more detailed guide to this if you want! just hit me up again.

Also changing the way you treat and care for yourself

setting a stable routine

eating better (this means different things for different people–maybe you need more Vitamin C, so you should focus on more fruits in your diet, or iron, so vegetables, etc… consult with a doctor or registered dietician, not a nutritionist since they don’t have to have a degree or certification)

going to bed at a routine time

if you have to choose one, make the wake up time set. that way, if you do go to bed late but wake up at that time, it’ll reset your body clock to be sleepier earlier the next day. it’ll eventually even itself out. 

drinking more water

setting up or revising your skin care routine

taking measured and unmeasured breaks away from studying to allow the information to set in your brain and to give your mind and body a much-needed reprieve

setting limits on how much screentime you want yourself to add

Self-talk

This is the big one I want to impart on you before this post is over.

You can’t just try to implement these better habits. You also have to focus on what you’re thinking when you’re doing or not doing them, and how you’re psychologically treating yourself. This isn’t easy! It takes a lot of time. And that’s okay. You aren’t going to be free of this stuff overnight. I’ve been working on this stuff actively since I was about 17 and I’m still struggling with it. But I’m also much better at addressing it than I was almost three years ago.

Be aware

Recognize when you’re treating yourself harshly. Acknowledge those times you say “I’m not good enough” in the very back of your mind. Because a lot of times we aren’t even fully conscious of how much we say “I hate myself” or “I’m stupid” or “I can’t do this.”

Once you’ve done that, start calling attention to it.

Hold yourself accountable. If this were someone hurting a friend of yours, you would likely be calling them out for the whole world to know their cruel behavior isn’t acceptable. It’s the same thing for yourself! Those awful thoughts in your brain might live there from self-doubt, mental illness, or other reasons, but you do get to decide if they pilot your actions and your mentality, even if they’re whispering awful things about how you don’t have a choice but letting them be in control. 

I will freely admit on here that I’m attending therapy, because I seek to destigmatize it. I’m not at rock bottom. I’m not pathetic. I just noticed some things about me that I need to change, heal, and/or improve, and I wanted a professional to help me! Much like if I sprained my ankle or got a cold and needed to see a doctor. And one of the things that my therapist told me was as much as my anxiety felt debilitating, I am the one piloting my body and I am the one who gets to decide whether my self-talk is going to change.

And do it gently.

Not “you’re an awful person for saying these things about yourself.” You don’t solve bullying with bullying, and you definitely don’t solve putting yourself down or feeling like an imposter but doing more of the same. Instead, show compassion to yourself. 

Have a conversation with yourself.

“Why do I feel like this?” 

“Where is this coming from?”

“What makes me say that?” 

“What can I say instead?”

“What would make me feel better?”

“What could change my mindset about this problem?”

The choice is up to you how you do it. But pretend you’re pulling someone who is misbehaving or acting cruel aside, and instead of reprimanding them, you just gently put your hand on their shoulder and say, “I’m here. What’s going on? What’s causing this behavior?”

Do the same exact thing with yourself! Offer that compassionate hand. If you’re anything like me, your imposter system is probably coming from undue pressure on yourself, self-doubt, previous bad experiences, fear of failure or rejection, insecurity, anxiety, or any number of other things that could make you doubt your beauty, your talent, your work ethic, your ability to succeed.

And a lot more people have it than you think! Just don’t compare yourself to others when, even if you know them well, you can’t know them 100%. I’m sharing my experiences because I want you to know that you’re not alone. And I also want you to know that you can only fix yourself, you can only control yourself, and the same goes for others–they have no business (and probably aren’t thinking of having any business) judging you or controlling you. If they are, screw them. Your job is to take care of and focus on yourself.

Once you know where it’s coming from, start substituting the language.

You can’t do this. “You may not be able to do this yet, but with some effort, you’ll be able to–or, you’ll be close to being able to.”

You’re a failure. “Everyone makes mistakes or fails. It doesn’t define you.”

It was just luck that got you this far. “It was hard work, passion, and effort. Keep hanging onto those things.”

You’re not good enough. “You are enough, and you don’t exist for others. You exist for yourself.”

People will get bored of you. “You don’t exist to entertain or please others.”

There’s a million more I could go through, but hopefully these examples are enough for you to apply it to your own doubts.

This might be a good exercise to journal. Because then you actually have to get the thoughts out instead of them staying scrambled in your brain. Feel free to do a bulleted guide for yourself like this one!

Etc, etc, etc… Any one of these single bullets could be an entirely distinct post, but I hope this is enough to start you off, nonnie. I want to apologize for taking my sweet time responding, but I really hope you’re still out there, somewhere on tumblr, and you see this post. You are loved, nonnie, especially by me, and I’m always here if you need something. If you message me again, call yourself something, like “self talk nonnie,” so I know I’m still talking to you.

You are all loved! You are all enough! You are all valuable and beautiful as long as you stay true to yourselves.

[littlemisssquiggles]

You know this has been bothering me for a while now... How do you feel about people dropping the show? I mean, I'm currently not that close anymore and I am willing to give Volume 7 another chance (but I keep my expectations veeeery low since I am so tired of being disappointed like I was with Volume 6 - it started out good and I really much liked the two Apathy episodes, even though they had narrative weaknesses in my opinion), also thanks to you. I just want to know what you think about it.

Hello again Mizu! Firstly, let me apologize for taking so long to respond. I’mbacklogged on questions to answer in my inbox so I’m slowly working my waythrough them. Secondly pleased to hear you’ve decided to give the new season achance. 

To be honest with you fam, I honestly have nothing against folks who wish to drop RWBY. As I’vebeen telling you before, folks are entitled to feel the way they feel---be itgood, bad or indifferent. 

Basically what I’m saying is, I understand that everyone’s viewson RWBY aren’t the same and I respect that. I respect the fact that there arefolks who are genuinely loyal to the series and will continue to support it tothe very end, just as much as I acknowledge and respect the views of the folkswho are genuinely disappointed with the series or rather, they’re disappointedwith the direction in which the series has changed since V3---the last seasonits original creator---Monty worked on, I believe, before he sadly passed away.

When it comes to indulging in media, myideology stands as this: if you’ve come to a point where you’re watching apiece of media that you used to indulge in but the overall positivefeelings--- love, joy and entertainment--- you once felt for it when you firststarted is no longer there, then you’re more than welcome to drop it if you sodesire. 

Or you can take a break from it and come back later. Heck you can evendrop it but still remain a part of its FNDM, not necessarily following the showanymore but still enjoying other things like fanart and fanfic. No one is atfault for wishing to stop watching a series they once loved nor are they atfault for wanting to leave it/ take break from it only to come back later. Youdo you, dude.

In terms of RWBY, I’m half and half. Iunderstand why folks would wish to continue to watch the series; but at thesame time, I understand why folks would wish to drop it. The series, whilestill entertaining and enjoyable in some parts (at least to me) has admittedly madesome rather questionable choices in regards to certain aspects of the writing within therecent last arc. 

Questionable choices which unfortunately left a lot of fansdisappointed. As a matter of fact, I think disappointed is an understatement.But like I said before, folks are entitled to feel the way they feel andthey’re allowed to express their feelings, thoughts and opinion if they feelthe need.

Where I may take issue with folks whodrop RWBY, however, is if they turn into one of those kindred spirits over inthe RWBY Hatedom. RWBY is the one series I know where it has a community of people who dislike the show as much as the ones who love it. And they’ve very vocal about it too. 

It’s perfectly cool if you feeldissatisfied with the way things are being done with RWBY but where that becomes problematic, in my opinion, is when it turns to bitterness which then leadsto you attacking people and downright disrespecting them. This is inclusive of notjust the fans who still support RWBY but also the members of theCRWBY.

I get that people didn’t like the waythings were done with the show but that still doesn’t give you the right todisrespect the people working on it. One habit that I’m tired of seeing from theHatedom is their incessant use of throwing Monty’s name around as a means toridicule the current state of the show. 

Regardless of whether or not you don’tlike the way the showrunners have written the show, you still have to show themsome level of respect. And continuing to use the name of the show’s deceasedcreator to scrutinize the efforts of the same people---some of which wereMonty’s friends and original colleagues---is just beyond disrespectful.

If I may talk about Monty here for abit, it honestly disgusts me whenever I go into forums discussing fan reviewsof RWBY and still see people leaving comments such as “Monty wouldn’t have liked this” or “You’veruined Monty’s vision”  and all that jazz.

Seriously, how entitled of a fan must you be to act as if you knew Monty personally enough toimply that he wouldn’t have liked the way RWBY is now?

Who do you think will have the moral high ground in this predicament of deciding how RWBY should continue? The people whopersonally knew and worked with Monty when RWBY first started and are doing thebest they can to keep the show running? Or the so-called fans who continue towatch the series just to mock the efforts of Monty’s former friends and colleagueswhile constantly throwing his name in their faces as an insult.

You tell me.

What happened to Monty was sad and I’mmostly saying that as a longstanding fan of his. Like many RWBY fans, I didn’tknow Monty personally. I knew him mostly through his work. Monty was a creatorwho got an opportunity that most of us creatives with our our stories to tell couldonly dream of. He got a chance to bring his story to life only to unfortunatelypassed away while working on it.

It’s one thing to be disappointed withsomething you used to love but it’s another thing when your anger andresentment makes you disrespectful. It’s not cool when former fans of RWBY become people whoconstantly look for ways to talk down the show. I can sympathize with the FNDMfam members who were upset with the development of the show but where Ican’t take your side is if that dissatification leads to contempt.

I’ve said this before and I’m going torepeat it again. RWBY isNOT a flawless show. It never has been and quite frankly,it’ll probably never be as perfect as fans want it to be. But what I havelearnt is that RWBY is a show that’s much like the man who created it. It keepsmoving forward. Each season it tries to do better than the last and it shows.

I know certain parts have not been sogreat but I have to acknowledge the ones that were. I know some of usweren’t 100% pleased with how V6 turned. However, I will say this. Prior tothat season, the Writers promised that they were looking into some of the criticismsleft behind from past seasons and were working to fix him. Did they live up tothat? To quote Ozpin, in some ways yes and in other ways, no.

V6 still unfortunately suffered fromthe same issues with the writing that fans disliked back in V5. But what I willpoint out that it didn’t start off that way. I think we can all admit that thefirst half of V6 (C1 to C7) was done well. The other half….....er....not so much. Butit’s still worth noting that there is good within the bad.

This is why I personally will keepgiving the series a chance. Speaking for myself here, I’ve been on the RWBY train since thevery beginning and sink or swim, soar or crash, I’m staying on-board till thisseries reaches its final destination. Because outside of that fact that thereare still things about the show that I enjoy and love, I’m also very, verycurious to see where exactly the CRWBY Writers are taking this story of theirs.

Monty may not have been able to joinMiles and Kerry in progressing the show he made; however Miles and Kerry arecontinuing it. They are telling theirstory now in direct correlation to the onethey kicked off with Monty. 

What that story is overall? How is it gonna go for future seasons and arcs andmore importantly, how is it all gonna end? Those are questions with answers I’mstill interested to know. And until the day comes when I no longer care aboutthese things with RWBY, I’m gonna stick around and try my best to enjoy the ride alongthe way---whether it cruises calmly or runs over a couple of rough patches andbumps. It’s fine. I’ve got plenty of tolerance. 

I see a lot of potential for betterwriting in RWBY. I’m just patiently waiting for the season where the Writersfinally find their groove since I think they were struggling during the MistralTrilogy. RWBY isn’t perfect but it’s a show with folks who admittedly do theirbest to improve on it as the seasons go. 

They may not land every time but theeffort is still worth appreciating in some sense-- well at least I know appreciate it especially when they get things right cause, contrary to what othersmight believe, not everything about RWBY is completely bad. As a matter offact, some of it is arguably not as bad as folks let it out to be. But I understand that’s amatter of opinion. Can’t honestly speak for other FNDM members. Only my squiggly self here.

Now mind you, none of the stuff I’vementioned about the RWBY Hatedom applies to you Mizu. I know we’ve only chatted once or twice between Q&A but forthe most part, you’ve been quite humble and a pleasant person to talk to. 

Despite your voiced issues with the current run of RWBY, you’vemaintained a cool, respectable air about yourself and that’s great. Please keep that up. Regardless of what happens during V7. Regardless of whether youchoose to stay or go with RWBY during or after V7, do your best to remain as humble as you as much as possible. That’s basically the bottom line point I’m trying to say here.That goes for you and anyone else who’ve been feeling the same way you haveabout the show.

Just stay humble guys. Opinions can be different but still maintain that R-E-S-P-E-C-T and that goes for both sides.

And, yeah, that’s pretty all I gottasay. I hope I actually answered your question. I feel like I did. As always,feel free to let me know. In the meantime, take care.

~LittleMissSquiggles(2019)

[horde-princess]

omg 17 would be perfect

Sorry this took so long! I’ve been soo busy and kinda distracted with the new season ✨ There are still a few prompts in my inbox, plus Home Is A Lonely Place, not to mention all the meta i still wanna write sldjfskj there’s a lot going on

but anyway i yelled when i read what 17 was tysm for sending it!!! 💖 this is filled with angst and does get a little spicy so. take care of yourselves out there

17. Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys

Adora twisted against her handcuffs uselessly, wrists chafed and bloody, before finally giving up and dropping her hands into her lap. Her head was buzzing with fatigue and hunger, her muscles ached from spending the night in a Horde prison cell that was about as comfortable as a bed of nails. Still, it offered a semblance of safety, and for that she was grateful–since every second spent trapped here was time that she might have spent being, well, dead.

The Rebellion defense had been a total disaster. No, that was a lie–Adora was the only one to blame. She let Catra manipulate her again, choosing to save her friend’s life even knowing it would result in defeat. Why Hordak took her captive instead of killing her on the spot was a terrifying mystery that Adora preferred not to unravel right now. She couldn’t let fear paralyze her. She had to think of a way to get out of here. She had to get back to Glimmer and Bow, she had to help her friends–

A sudden movement in the darkness outside her cell startled her. She sat up straight against the wall, blowing loose hair out of her face. Whatever they did to her, she wouldn’t let them see her spirit broken.

But the shadowy figure was… familiar. Adora’s heart rate picked up and she watched as the door slid open to reveal the only person who actually did have the power to break her. 

They stared at each other for a moment, Catra’s expression unreadable. Adora was expecting insults from her, or mockery, but… none came. Truthfully, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Catra frowned, marched over, and yanked Adora up to her feet by the handcuffs, causing her to hiss in pain.  

“Let’s go.”

When Adora resisted, Catra gripped her arm painfully and dragged her out of the cell anyway. Her animosity never ceased to feel like some kind of fucked up hallucination.

“Catra, don’t do this!”

“Would you shut up?” she snapped. “If you get us caught, we’re both dead.”

She released her and pulled out a tablet, glancing nervously around the empty atrium.

“Wait… what do you mean ‘if we get caught?’”

Catra grit her teeth. She touched the screen and there was a quiet click as a door near them unlocked.

“I’m trying to get you out of here, dumbass.”

Adora felt like the world just slipped off its axis. She must have been more exhausted than she’d realized because there was no way she’d heard that right. But hope clawed at her insides anyway, demanding and vengeful, struggling to escape the little coffin she had shoved it into long ago and buried six feet underground.

“You’re… helping me escape?”

Catra shot her a glare then started walking again, pulling Adora along with her. Hostility emanated off her in waves. They passed through the doorway and started down a deserted corridor, broken lights flickering eerily. 

“But why?”

She rounded on Adora, stoic anger turning fierce. “Do you know what Hordak wants to do to you?!” she whispered. “He’s not just going to kill you, Adora! He wants to torture you, corrupt your powers–prod you like a lab rat until there’s nothing left.”

Adora had guessed as much, but that wasn’t really what she meant.

“I don’t get it, isn’t that what you wanted all along? I mean… you’ve been trying to get rid me ever since I…”

Left. Abandoned you. Ruined everything. She didn’t know how to say it aloud. 

Catra was quiet for a moment, then she sneered.

“No one gets to take you down but me. Got it? Especially not fucking… Hordak. And if I can ruin one of his plans while I’m at it, all the better.”

There it was again, fluttering madly in the deepest recesses of Adora’s chest. Hope.

“But why not just take me out now?” she pressed, wishing Catra would just tell her the truth, for once. “I don’t have my sword, I’m powerless.”

“Yeah, well, exactly!” Catra sputtered. “You’re all chained up and pathetic right now. It wouldn’t be a good fight.”

“…Catra–”

“We just have to get to the–Shit. Someone’s coming.”

Searching frantically for an escape, Catra pulled her into a niche in the hallway. 

The space was tight and dark, and Adora could feel Catra’s shallow breaths, and every accidental touch of their bodies sent a wave of anxiety screeching down her spine like nails on a chalkboard. All at once she realized exactly what Catra was risking by trying to save her. If she got caught… it would be the end of her.

The guards’ voices drifted over to them, getting closer. There must have been three of them, maybe more.

“…weird signal coming from the prison block.”

“No, it’s three in the damn morning. It must be a glitch.”

Catra took a steadying breath. “There’s no way they won’t see us here. How many can you take?”

“Oh, sure. I’ll just take down some armed gunmen with my hands cuffed.”

Catra groaned quietly, clenching her fists, and Adora could see the wheels in her head turning. Then her body went slack and her eyes filled with what could only be described as… horror.

Unmitigated horror. 

Adora blinked at her.

“Catra?–”

“We have to kiss,” she breathed.

Adora’s brain slowly faltered to a stop like an overworked motor.

“…Um. What.”

“Think about it! Why else would two teenagers be hiding in a dark corner in the middle of the night? If we can play it right, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

The voices were getting louder with each passing second and Adora was experiencing a strong wave of nausea. 

“You can’t be serious,” she rasped.

“Well I don’t hear you coming up with any bright ideas!”

The shuffle of boots echoing down the hall suddenly stopped.

“Hey, did you hear something?” A woman’s voice said, her flashlight beam sweeping near them.

Catra held her breath and Adora did the same, feeling like the blood in her veins had been replaced with electric current.

“Check the door over there.”

Catra was so close, and so warm, and so Catra; and if she closed her eyes she could imagine they were just kids again, sneaking around the Fright Zone, getting into trouble together. She could forget everything that had happened the past few months, all the pain they had caused each other. She could forget this was a life or death situation. She could forget that Catra hated her fucking guts.

…Though, apparently, not quite as much as she once did.

“Nothing here, boss,” one of the guards said.

“Keep moving, I know I heard something.”

It was dark, but not dark enough to hide them once the flashlight illuminated the space. As soon as the guards walked past them they’d be spotted. They’d be asked to identify themselves, if they didn’t already know their faces… fuck.

“…It has to look convincing,” Adora choked out.

Catra met her eyes, expression carefully neutral. 

“Take off your badge.”

Catra did as instructed. Adora moved behind her so her back was to the wall, hiding her tied hands from view. The guards were closing in fast. Catra’s face suddenly turned pale.

“You know what? This was a stupid idea.”

“Huh?”

“There’s no way they’ll just let us go… what if–I could take them myself, right? I  fight giant killing machines all the time–”

“Catra, they have guns–”

“Or I could tell them who I am, say I was just taking you to the–”

“Catra!”

The guards were feet away and the light was sweeping towards them and before she could think too much about it Adora surged forward and crushed her lips to Catra’s.

The earth seemed to drop out from under her.

God, it was so… wrong. It was fake and bitter and poisoned and fuck, it shouldn’t have happened like this, it shouldn’t have happened like this.

It took a second for Catra to respond, but then Adora felt her moving deliberately to make it look natural. She wrapped an arm around her waist, roughly pressing Adora between the wall and her body. The whole thing lasted for all of two seconds before she sensed a light shining on them.

“Oh–”

“What–”

“Shit–”

Adora’s head spun as Catra pulled her lips away and turned to address the guards, keeping her hands on Adora and her body pressed close. She was functioning at about a half a percent mental capacity and couldn’t begin to imagine how Catra was handling this so easily.

(Maybe it hurt her ego. So what?)

“The fuck?” Catra griped loudly. “Can we get some privacy?”

“Sorry, ladies, there’s been a security breach and–we didn’t mean to, uh–we’re supposed to check your badges–”

“We’re a little busy, here,” she interrupted, flipping them off as she turned back to Adora with a dangerous smirk. 

Her previous distress was all but gone now, masked over with an exaggerated confidence. She gave Adora a meaningful look, then leaned in and caught her lips in a sensual, open-mouthed kiss. And now that her brain had caught up with her body… Adora was on fire.

The guards, the prison, the Horde, the Rebellion–it all disappeared in a puff of smoke as Catra’s tongue twisted with hers, two opposite forces coalescing, and nothing in the world mattered but this, nothing existed apart from this. If Catra were to stop kissing her, she thought the fabric of her universe might rip apart. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered the guards walking away, but Catra wasn’t stopping the kiss, and every touch, every swirl of her tongue was bringing Adora closer to some kind of breaking point. Catra slipped a thigh between hers and a soft moan escaped her, she couldn’t control her body’s response anymore, and it definitely wasn’t part of any act.

Catra must have realized that, too, because she immediately pulled back to look at her, wearing the most smug expression Adora had ever seen on someone. Heat rose in her cheeks as reality slowly pulsed back into focus. 

The guards were gone. The universe was, somehow, still intact.

“If you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask, princess.”

Asshole. Adora wanted to smack the mocking grin off her face. Too bad her hands were tied.

“What–I don’t–Screw you! That was way past ‘convincing!’”

Catra cocked an expectant eyebrow and Adora relented with a sigh.

“Sorry. I… I know you’re just trying to help me.”

For some reason that made Catra’s smile fall. She leaned in again, lips close, her scent washing over Adora, smokey and intoxicating.

“Is that what I’m doing?”

They locked eyes for a long, tense moment. The taste of her lingered on Adora’s tongue and her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid Catra might hear it. There were no guards, no threats… it was just her and Catra this time. Catra, the person who had vowed to destroy Adora and everything she cared about. Catra, who was supposed to be her enemy. Catra… who was currently saving her life. 

“We should…” Adora licked her lips. “We should go.”

“Yeah,” Catra agreed.

But the second Catra’s eyes fell to her lips Adora was pushing forward and kissing her for the third time that night, giving into something furious and insane and probably inevitable. Catra sighed into her mouth as her hands raked down Adora’s body and she struggled against the handcuffs, not even feeling the pain of it, just desperate to touch her, and–fuck–this wasn’t fair–

Reading her mind, Catra raised Adora’s arms above her head and pinned them there with one hand, the other moving down to lift her leg around her hip. Adora swallowed back a whine as Catra pressed flush against her body–her kiss urgent now, consuming–and Adora arched into her, giving up any pretense of dignity or self-control. She was unraveling more with every new touch and she decided she didn’t care how fucked up this was anymore… she didn’t care if Catra was manipulating her, whether she hated her or not–what did it even matter? There was such a mess of emotion between them, it was impossible to make sense of, and if this was how it manifested in Catra, she really didn’t mind. 

Then, with a harsh movement–seemingly out of nowhere–Catra broke the kiss.

It was like having the wind knocked out of her. Adora slowly came to her senses and felt how Catra was struggling to control her breathing, fingers trembling against Adora’s jaw. The silence stretched between them. When she finally spoke, her voice was dark and… devastated.

“…What are you doing to me?”

Adora didn’t have an answer.

Catra’s grip on her loosened, she stepped away, and it left Adora feeling ice cold in the absence of her touch.

“Catra, I…”

What could she say? That she was sorry? She wasn’t. She was selfish, and stupid, and cowardly, but absolutely nothing in her was sorry. 

Not for this, anyway.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Catra stated rigidly.

Adora wasn’t sure which one of them she was trying to convince. Still, the weight of the words crushed her. She had nothing left, her cards were all on the table. If Catra were to ever use this against her… she almost laughed at the thought.

Catra turned away from her and walked out into the hallway, but Adora was afraid to move, afraid to shatter the illusion.

This doesn’t change anything. The words echoed in her mind over and over again.

“So that’s it?”

A beat of silence.

“Yeah.”

Catra looked back at her and jerked her head towards the exit, then walked away without waiting for Adora to follow. 

[peaceisadirtyword]

⭐

This has been in my inbox for more than 2 weeks💔 I'm really sorry anon, I wanted to do it in a more creative way, but as you probably know (because I keep saying it and I’m really annoying) I have a creative block, so I can’t do anything more creative than this.

For those of you who doesn't know: this is from something I reblogged a few weeks ago which said that you could send a star to my inbox so I'd talk about a section of one of my stories that I've been dying to talk about so... Here I go💕

It was really hard to pick a section, but I ended up picking a section from Hate Part III 

You shivered when you stepped out of the house, wearing only a bikini and a towel around your body. After dinner, everyone had retired to their rooms, except for Sigurd and Blaeja, who stayed on the living room singing and playing guitar. You sat with them for a while, but then they started making out and you left, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

You undressed and put on your bikini, thinking on going to the pool to relax a bit before going to bed. But when you approached the pool, you realized you hadn’t had a very good idea.

Ivar had been angry, stressed and aggressive during the whole day, and took the opportunity to have a relaxing bath when the rest were busy fucking or doing whatever the fuck they did while locked in their rooms.

Wow, Ivar is angry, stressed and aggressive! The reasons are simple: Y/N went out with someone else because he was too much of a coward to ask her out before. Well, Ivar, honey, you brought this on yourself. 

So, Y/N had a really disappointing date and she just wanted to relax on the pool, but....!!!

And he preferred to be alone when he went into the pool, so no one could see his legs. His brothers didn’t care, he knew that, not even Sigurd would say anything to him, but he had seen how Margrethe looked at his legs, with disgust and maybe pity, and how Blaeja would press her lips together and pity him silently when he struggled to go upstairs with the crutches.

Gods, he just wanted to be alone.

Ivar, for fuck’s sake, no one cares about your legs. We love you the same, though you make it difficult sometimes. And you don’t want to be alone, you want to be with Y/N, we know that.

He had his eyes closed, but still heard the door opening and someone walking to the pool. He frowned and clenched his jaw in annoyance.

When Ivar opened his eyes, you were looking at him biting your lip, then you smiled softly.

“Do you mind if I stay here for a while? I’ll leave soon” you promised.

Ivar sighed. Why did you have to be nice to him? It made everything worse.

His problem is that someone is being nice to him, okay

“Do whatever you want” he replied, shrugging. He cursed himself for not turning off the pool’s lights and hoped you didn’t look to his legs.

You didn’t say anything, only left your towel next to the pool and sat down at the edge, hissing when the cold water touched your skin.

Ivar tried not to let his eyes linger on you, though it was difficult. He hated that damned bikini that made you look so fucking hot it even hurt. You looked like a goddess, and if he hadn’t been in the water, he would probably be sweating. He was finding more and more hard to live in the same house as you and not being able to even touch you.

See? Ivar thinks you look like a goddess, so never feel like you’re less than a goddess. Also, if he doesn’t think you look like a goddess, leave him (or her, if you’re dating a woman). 

You noticed he was nervous, bothered by something, and tried not to annoy him even more, getting into the pool slowly. The last thing you wanted was to start an argument with him.

You shivered in cold when your head emerged from the water. Maybe it hadn’t been a very good idea.

“How was your date?” He asked suddenly, startling you. He was looking at the sky, some drops of water rolling from his wet hair and down his perfect face. You frowned trying to understand where did he get that beautiful tan.

Yes, I'm always mentioning his perfect face and his beautiful eyes, I can’t help it but Ivar’s (Alex’s) beauty just blows my mind.

“It was… Okay” you shrugged, standing at the other side of the pool.

“Okay?” He raised an eyebrow “So it was a fucking disaster”

“It wasn’t a disaster” you shook your head “William was really nice and I had fun, but…”

“Hey, I don’t really want to know” he rolled his eyes.

Ivar, actually, you did want to know. You wanted to know that everything went wrong and she was going to stop seeing that guy because you’re jealous. Exposed. 

“Then why did you ask?” You glared at him.

“Because my mother taught me to be polite, Y/N, if yours had raised you properly, you would have said 'good, thanks’, and shut up”

“Asshole” you scoffed, and Ivar smirked.

“So there is going to be a second date or he already got tired of you?”

“Yes” you replied, annoyed.

“Are you sure?” He snorted, biting his lip.

“Leave me alone, Ivar"

"I mean” his piercing blue eyes fixed on you “You haven’t told him you haven’t been with someone in more than a year, have you? Because in that case…” he chuckled “He’s going to run away”

“For fuck’s sake, I just want to relax a bit in the fucking pool before going to bed, Ivar, can you just shut up and leave me alone?” You groaned.

“You really need to get laid” he bit his lip to hold back a laugh when you glared at him.

“And you need to shut the fuck up”

One of the things I love the most about Hate is to write Y/N and Ivar’s fights. I love the sexual tension. And the enemies to lovers cliche is my favorite, so you can expect a lot of fights in my writings. I really like Ivar’s bitchy side. I’d love to punch him in the face too. Yes, Ivar, you need to shut the fuck up. 

“Wow, rude” he raised his eyebrows, his annoying smile still on his lips “I’m not surprised no one wants to date you if you’re always like this”

“Seriously, Ivar, what is your problem? What the fuck did I do now for you to attack me?”

“I’m not attacking you” he was obviously mocking you, his eyes widened in pretended innocence and he shrugged “I was just chilling in here by myself when you decided to join me, and I’m just talking to you”

“You’re not talking, Ivar, you’re insulting me, like you always do, I don’t know what the hell did I do for you to hate me so much, but whatever it is, I’m sorry okay?” You sighed tiredly, rubbing your eyes with your hands.

“Are you going to cry?” He wasn’t smiling anymore, but kept mocking you by pouting and tilting his head “Poor Y/N”

Ivar you’re not going to end up with her if you bully her. You’re doing it WRONG.

“Oh my god, shut up!” You screamed at him, and he smirked in victory when he got the reaction he wanted “Do you want to know what’s your problem, Ivar? That you are a spoiled brat, you treat people like shit and then whine because 'no one loves you’, well, it’s normal, who would want to be with someone that enjoys bullying people so much?I’m always trying to be nice at you, though you don’t deserve it, and all you do is insult me, attack me and treat me like shit, but I’m tired, so please leave me alone, don’t talk to me and forget my fucking existence, okay?” You ranted, glaring at him and watching how his smirk slowly faded, making you smile in victory. Ivar blinked a few times, speechless, and his eyes filled with rage.

I remember it was really nice to write that. I felt so much better. She’s right, to be honest, though in Ivar’s defense I'll say that he always thought no one loved him because of his legs, then his father left, he didn’t have a good relationship with his brothers... I can understand him, though that’s not an excuse to treat people so badly, especially when everyone (but her) knows you’re in love with her, Ivar. Also, she likes him too, obviously, if she didn’t she wouldn’t be so nice to him.

You didn’t know how the hell he moved so quickly, but suddenly he was inches from you, his eyes full of rage and his jaw tense as he glared at you. You gasped, feeling his bare chest brush against your skin. He looked sexy as hell and intimidating.

“Say that again” he growled.

You narrowed your eyes at him, refusing to be intimidated by his attitude.

“What do you want me to repeat? That you’re a spoiled brat or that no one will ever love you if you keep behaving like a total…?”

“Shut up” he interrupted you “Do you want to know why I behave like that? Because people always pity me, haven’t you seen how Margrethe and Blaeja, even Torvi, look at me? Poor Ivar, no one will ever love him if he’s so cruel. Am I supposed to be all happy and nice when I’m the poor crippled brother that can’t do anything by himself?. How could someone choose him when they could have any of his brothers?” He clenched his jaw and you could swear he had tears on his eyes “How the fuck do you think I’m feeling knowing I’ll never be an option for anyone? How should I behave when all I see in everyone’s eyes is pity and disgust?”

Now you were the one left speechless.

I feel really bad for him now, but as I said before, he could be nicer to people, that wouldn’t kill him, I think. I understand Ivar a lot, the part of ‘I’ll never be an option for anyone’ its something I (and a lot of people) have gone through -I'm still going through it, to be honest-. The feeling that you’ll never be enough for someone is really heartbreaking, especially when it’s something physical about you that you can’t really change. It sucks. Focusing on Ivar, he thinks everyone pities him, which is in part true because there is a lot of people who pities him, but his mistake is to think everyone is the same, and comparing himself to his brothers. What I love of the Ragnarssons is that all of them are different and have their own strengths and weaknesses. So Ivar, don’t do that honey, we love you!

“I… Didn’t mean it like that” you muttered, shaking your head “Not everyone pities you, Ivar, and I’m sure you’re an option for a lot of people but that’s not an excuse to…”

“I was never an option to you” he interrupted you again, narrowing his eyes “Was I?”

“What?” You blinked in confusion. You never pitied Ivar, or felt disgusted by him, in fact you admired him for his intelligence, his will and his strength. Fuck, you felt attracted to him. You fucking liked him, and when you looked into his eyes you could swear you felt that thing you wanted to feel so bad when you were with William.

Ivar didn’t answer, only rolled his eyes and got away from you, his lips still pressed together. He run his hand through his wet hair, breathing heavily. Just when you thought he’d turn around and leave, he turned to you again.

But this time he kissed you.

FINALLY THEY KISSED! They weren’t going to kiss on this chapter, I had planned something different, but... Yeah, I ended up writing this. 

This is what I was talking about!! She doesn’t pity him, she doesn't care about his legs, but he doesn’t want to see that, and that’s his big mistake. He’s too scared of rejection to try and understand she likes him no matter what.  

His lips were warm and soft, and they caressed yours with a tenderness you would never have guessed from Ivar. Your eyes closed immediately, and though you froze at first, you quickly kissed him back. Ivar moaned and his hand grabbed your neck softly, his thumb caressing your jaw, his other hand was at the other side of your head, holding himself on the pools edge. When he licked your bottom lip, you opened your mouth to gasp into the kiss, and his tongue caressed yours. You moaned. He was a good kisser, and before you could stop yourself, your hands traveled to his shoulders, caressing his soft skin and moaning in delight when you felt his muscles contract under your fingers.

“Y/N? Ivar? Is everything alr… Oh fuck"

Hvitserk, go to hell please. 

Ivar broke the kiss as quickly as he had started it, getting away from you and turning around to look at the house.

Hvitserk was only wearing his boxers, his hair was disheveled and he looked a bit out of breath. His eyes were widened and you knew him well enough to know he was holding back a smirk.

"I’m sorry” he cleared his throat “Am I interrupting something?"

YES YOU ARE???? I love Hvitserk, he’s one of my favorite characters to write, but sometimes I'd punch him. In this story also I wanted to make him a more important character, being Y/N’s best friend. He’s now all wrapped up with Margrethe but he will have an important part, you’ll see,

"No” both Ivar and you replied at the same time, making Ivar look away and you blush. Hvitserk bit his lip and nodded slowly.

“We just heard you screaming at each other and then nothing and I thought one of you had drown the other, but I see everything’s okay, isn’t it?”

Yeah they were trying to suffocate each other 

Ivar scoffed and glared at his brother, moving to the other side of the pool and putting his hands on the edge to push himself out of the water. You couldn’t take your eyes off his back, and you gulped when he started crawling to the porch, where he had left his crutches. Hvitserk looked at him and then at you with an eyebrow raised.

Still blushing, you looked away from him and let your body sink into the water, too embarrassed to talk to endure Hvitserk’s talk.

Another thing I love: Ivar embarrassed. Both of them were caught and yet any of them really believed the other liked them. Another one of my favorite cliches. 

There’s some Hate chapters left and there’s gonna be drama, but also a lot of love. And smut. And I hope Hvitserk is not there to interrupt again, especially during the smut part. I just want Ivar and Y/N to understand that they love each other and they should be together for the rest of their lives♥️

Also sorry again for this awful commentary, I just thought I'd do it to relax a bit!😘 thank you dear anon! 

[takemeawaytocamelot]

Expedition of the Heart: Fashionably Nervous

Thank you all for your patience! Here’s the next installment of my young Ian AU, which I just love! HUGE thank you once again to @akb723 for being the best beta ever. And also the genius behind all the titles (seriously she's amazing). Anywhooooo, I hope you enjoy reading! As always, leave me a comment or drop an ask to my inbox if you’ve got questions! Also if you want to be tagged in future updates of this series, please send me a direct request.

Catch up here: Prologue, 1, 2, 3, 4

Rollo sneezed and Ian turned to glare at him. The dog just stared back.

“It’s a date, Rollo. I need to look nice.”

The contents of his small closet had exploded all over his bed and floor, clothes heaped in untidy piles without thought. He lived a simple life and didn’t spend much money on his appearance. Every few months he got his hair cut, bought new clothes when his old ones wore out, and got Rollo his supplies. Otherwise his money went into his savings and the few miscellaneous needs that come up from time to time. A knock came at his door and Ian hurriedly pulled on a pair of jeans.

“Come in,” he said.

Auntie Claire walked in, her eyes bugging out at the state of his room.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen your room like this before,” she said, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Auntie, help me?”

“When is your date?” she said sympathetically

Ian sighed and sat on a corner of his bed.

“Wednesday. It’s her day off this week.”

Claire lifted an eyebrow.

“You must be special if she’s spending her precious time off with you. Jamie said you’re doing a picnic?”

“Aye. I wanted to do something nice for her. The weather should hold steady this week, but I’ve got an umbrella and blanket packed in my car to be safe.”

“Only one blanket? What will you both sit on?”

His face flushed.

“An extra, uh blanket, I mean. Uncle Jamie said I could borrow the nice picnic blanket he got ye a few years back?”

His auntie smiled at him.

“That’s perfect. Now, what is it you need help with?”

Ian waved vaguely at the mass of clothes piled on his bed.

“I dinna ken what to wear, Auntie. I want her to see I ken how to look after myself, that I’ve a good, steady job, but… I dinna want to look like a dandy either.”

She mad a hmmm noise as she began picking through the options. He did his own laundry, so she wasn’t overly familiar with what he had.

“This is all you’ve got?”

“Aye. Weel and the suit mam sent for Christmas last year. And my kilt. But… I dinna want to bring that out just yet.”

Auntie Claire eyed him critically before she sighed.

“You know… I’m not exactly the best person to ask for fashion advice.”

Ian nearly groaned.

“Auntie, I dinna have anyone else to ask!”

“Well, you could call your mum. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to help you choose exactly what you need, and I know she’d love to hear about Rachel too.”

Relief flooded Ian’s veins at the thought of speaking to his mam. He grabbed Claire up in a big hug before pulling his phone from his pocket. The door closed quietly behind his aunt as she left him in peace.

Ian felt a little nervous as his listened to the ringing. He hadn’t told his family about any of his other girlfriends, but Rachel was different.

“Ian?”

The sharpness of his mother’s tone pulled him from his thoughts.

“Aye, mam.”

“Are ye alright, lad? Is anything the matter?”

For a moment, he was confused at her question.

“What’s the lad done now?” came his father’s muffled voice.

Belatedly, Ian looked at the clock and winced.

“I’m sorry, mam. Nothing’s wrong, I promise. I didna look at the time before I rang. I’m sorry I woke ye up.”

“Why are ye callin’? Did something happen?”

“Weel… I need your help. I… I asked a girl out.”

The phone went silent for so long Ian worried he’d dropped the call.

“Mam?”

“What girl? Who did ye ask out?”

“Her name is Rachel. She’s a nurse at Auntie’s hospital. She’s… Mam she’s beautiful. I’m takin’ her out on Wednesday and I dinna ken what to wear.”

Ian heard the sound of an old door close as his mother left her bedroom.

“Ye’ve never called about a girl before, Ian. What’s so special about this one?”

“I… I dinna ken, exactly. But I like her. I waited up to sit wi’ her while she had a short break in the middle of the night. She agreed to go out wi’ me.”

“Oh Ian,” she said softly. “I’m so happy for ye. Tell me about her. What’s she look like?”

Ian sat on his bed and told his mother everything he knew about Rachel, which wasn’t much.

“Alright, alright. So ye need help pickin’ what to wear, aye?”

“How did ye ken that?”

“It may have been a long time since I last laid eyes on ye, Ian Murray, but I’m yer mother and I ken how ye are. Now go turn on the video call and show me what options ye have.”

He sighed and looked around the room.

“It’s a bit of a mess…”

“Dinna make excuses.”

With a few taps on his phone, he pulled up the video and smiled at his mam. She looked tired, but gave him a warm smile.

“Ye look good, lad.”

“Thanks mam.”

“Now gi’ us a look at yer clothes.”

Ian turned the camera around and did as his mother instructed. Half an hour later, they’d put together a respectable outfit. As he cleaned up the rest of his mess, his mam gave him the big family update. It had been some time since he’d learned what all his siblings were doing and it was nice to listen to his mam talk.

“So ye promise me, Ian. Promise you’ll ring after ye’ve gone out wi’ wee Rachel.”

“Aye, mam. I promise to call ye as soon as I can.”

Suddenly the elder Ian’s face filled the small screen.

“Are ye still talkin’ to the lad?” his father asked.

“Aye!” Jenny said, pushing her husband out of the way. “Get yer big head out of my face.”

Ian laughed, watching his parents. A sharp stab of homesickness stole his breath for a moment.

“Ye look good, son,” Ian’s father said.

“Thanks, Da.”

Jenny’s face came back into focus on the screen.

“I’m afraid my morning’s started now your da’s up.”

“Aye, I’ll let ye go then.”

“Dinna wait so long to ring again, Ian. I miss the sound of your voice.”

A lump formed in his throat and he coughed to dislodge it.

“I’ll ring ye soon, Mam. Promise.”

“I love ye, Ian.”

“Love ye too, Mam.”

She gave him a warm smile before the video call ended. Christ he missed his family. Maybe he’d have to start planning a trip back for a visit. If all went well with Rachel, perhaps he could bring her along.

Rollo, who had fallen asleep while Ian had spoken with his mam, suddenly barked himself awake. He looked at Ian with a puzzled expression before shaking himself.

“Dinna fash, Rollo. Mam helped me find somethin’. Lets take ye out to do yer business before we go to bed, aye?”

Ian patted his leg and led the dog out.

***

Claire looked out her bedroom window, watching her nephew and his dog. Her husband came up behind her, hair still dripping from his shower.

“He’s a good lad,” Jamie said.

“He is. And he’s got a date.”

“Aye, so he told me.” Jamie turned Claire to face him, grinning down at her. “The lad’s near terrified to take this lass out.”

Claire smiled back, brushing the wet, red hair from his face.

“We were never that young, were we?”

“Young? Nah. Terrified to ask a beautiful lass out on a date? Och aye. I remember that verra well.”

“What I remember,” she said, tracing feather-light circles on his bare shoulders. “Is wondering why you fancied a harried nurse like me. I know of at least six other nurses who hated that you brought me coffee.”

Jamie gave a deep chuckle, arms sliding around her to pull her in close.

“How could I see anyone else wi’ you right there?”

“And you still feel that way? After all these years?”

Rather than offer a reply, he met her gaze. His blue eyes were dark with desire and adoration, holding her attention until she knew the truth. He loved her to the depths of his very soul and she held his heart in her hands. Reaching up, she pressed her lips to his and sighed.

“I feel exactly the same way,” she whispered against his mouth.

Then he gathered her in his arms and showed her just how much he loved her.

@eclecticstarlightconnoisseur, @bkhw, @momwendy, @mebertolini, @michaela-armstrong-paul, @xdarlingx966, @thatwetwomaybeoneagain, @thesketchingwitch, @abbydebeaupreposts, @riveter-rose, @scwicks, @diversemediums

[lexosaurus]

I just wanna ask who let you be this fuckin good at music

Wow I’m actually really glad I got this ask because I was NOT always this good at music. In fact as a teenager I was very much the opposite of where I am now.

This was the first ever song I wrote, which I did back in like 2013. The full song is like 4min long but honestly you get the picture from this 1min clip. This^ took me months to do. Which now is like…what?  You can definitely see I was always fairly good at getting a decently melody but like the rest of it is yikes.

Uh yeah it’s very different than say,

So, how the fuck did I get from point A to point B???

Ok. Let me let you guys in on some of the trade secrets of building a song.

1) Pick up an instrument, whatever instrument you can (I like to use a piano for this part), and just pop off. You don’t have an instrument at the ready? Use your goddamn voice. No, I don’t care if you can actually sing or not. Just GO FOR IT. This stage is what I like to call the brainstorming stage. And my dudes, this is hard to do at first. It takes practice to get comfortable at just letting your brain wander around your instrument of choice. Like, I’m not even that good of a piano player. My movements are jerky and unclear, and I’m not on beat most of the time, but the point is I’m just collecting data. I’m exploring potential melodies, chords, whatever I want. When I do something I like, I grab my phone and video my hands or if I’m walking and humming to myself I’ll open up my voice memos app and record that shit asap.

2) Now go to your program of choice and start writing stuff down. It’s gonna look messy, it’s gonna sound unclean, but just go for it. You can always go back and edit. You can always move parts around. Just get your melodies, basic chords, and song structure down. This is often referred to as the skeletal stage, cuz you’re legit building a rough “skeleton” of what you want your song to sound like. This is also where you have to rein in on the creative side and be more realistic to what the song needs in its skeleton. You might have to let go of some ideas, but don’t worry! You can always use those ideas in a future song!

3) Now go in and edit, build, change, explore, doesn’t matter. Don’t be afraid here. Let your fears about perfection and inhibitions go. Because wanna know something? Some of the best ideas I’ve had were done by accident. 

Take, for example, the Koto song I’m putting out this weekend. That space right when the drop hits? Where the basses wait two beats before coming in? That’s because my dumbass fingers slipped and I accidentally deleted the first two beats of my 2 bass synths and then when I realized what I did, I kinda vibed with it and modified my drum synths to sync up. And BAM better drop made.

4) Now clean up. Fill in holes, gaps in the song. Make sure your automation/dynamics are good. Be meticulous, go through every single note and make sure each one blends well in the song.

Ok in terms of actual music theory rules now:

So here are some just guideline things you can do to make any song sound better by default.

1. Know your key, know the style of the song, know the bpm. Even if you don’t have your circle of fifths memorized (cuz I for sure don’t), find some way to figure it out. I’ve seen so many people write their song as a C or an F major when like, bruh you got Eb’s everywhere? And there have been moments where I’m like “Whoa is this in 6/4 or 6/8 time signature? Google’s not helping what do I do?” In those moments, ASK A FRIEND! And my inbox is always open too! Just by understanding these fundamental parts of your song will 110% guarantee a better song, trust me.

2. If your music sounds like it’s missing something, it’s either 1) Imbalanced. Maybe you made your lows or mids too quiet. 2) You’re missing a note in the chord. 3) Your main melody is too lonely and you need a counter melody.

3. In terms of chord-writing, whenever possible, write your lowest notes moving IN CONTRADICTION to your highest notes. So if your main melody moves down, your bass should move up. If you can. That way you’ll get a nice full effect.

This means that this simple 4 bar melody:

Would actually sound way better if you played around with the note octaves and wrote it like this:

Same notes, just different placements.

Another example is those opera voices in the build up of Koto? Those vocals looked like this:

As you can see, whenever the highest note goes up, I bring the lowest note down. Whenever the highest note goes down, the lowest note goes up.

I hope this helps people! Making music is just like writing a book or painting a picture: it takes practice and skill building. Your first song is NOT going to be good. Mine wasn’t! But the more time you spend building skills like practicing musical improv, learning about chord-building, learning different song structures, and allowing yourself to make mistakes, then the better you’ll get at it!

And remember, like any creative skill most of my plans don’t work the way I want them too. More often than not I’ll start something and it’ll just suck. But those “bad” files on my computer are just as important as the ones I do choose to share with everyone. Because even if you fail, you tried! And trying means practicing! Which means improvement for the next time!

[teacherkmd]

Struggles of teaching in China

If you’re in a TESOL prep program, you’ve likely run across articles that talk about the challenges of teaching in China. Well, at the special request of a previous professor of mine, here’s my version.

There are some very good things about teaching in China. For example, it is literally culturally ingrained in the fabric of society that teachers will be and are respected. It means my word will not be questioned (even though sometimes maybe it should be?). What I say goes. Classroom management issues (at least at the collegiate level) do not exist. My students are highly motivated and disciplined. I do not have to worry about attendance; they will not skip. This being said, here are 10 very real struggles I’ve had to face in the classrooms here.

1. The classrooms do not belong to the teacher.

One of the biggest differences between China (and Taiwan) and the United States is that the classrooms do not belong to the teacher. In the US, we often think of the teacher as getting to design their own classrooms and buying materials and decorating it and being the perfect “pinterest” teacher. The students tend to rotate and switch classrooms when the bell rings. Here, that is literally impossible (which might actually be good since I’m poor, not artistic, and don’t have much free time). Teachers are the ones who rotate and the students stay in their classrooms. This set-up means I would have to buy or create duplicates of anything I wanted to hang on the walls. It is good in some ways (gives students ownership of their space, they have a space to study after school hours, they’re responsible for cleaning and maintaining it, etc) but it is also bad because I can’t take up all the wall space. I am sharing with all the other teachers in the department. If I want a vocabulary word wall, or want to put giant “I am thankful for...” turkey’s on the wall or display student work... I’d need to make sure it didn’t bother the other teachers first. If my vocabulary word list would be seen as cheating or distracting for another English class... well it can’t be there. It also means that if teacher’s aren’t cleaning up after themselves a lot of crap ends up laying around the podium. I remember walking in and being annoyed at all the random textbooks, pens, pencils, paper clips, scraps of paper, tea, and other junk in my teaching space. Oh, and don’t think about rearranging the desks... that doesn’t go over well. Not ideal at all. I’ve never taught in a place where I have gotten my own classroom to decorate and create the environment I want, so I guess I don’t really know what I’m missing. I can imagine all the cool things I could do if I did though. 

2. Poor study skills for Western educational expectations

Another issue I’ve come across is what I consider “lack of common sense” when it comes to studying and taking notes. I have to be VERY explicit about literally everything. Do my students need to bring paper to class? Then I better tell them ahead of time. Do I think they should have a place to take notes? Then I better tell them to buy a journal for my class. Do I think they should have a place to put handout? Then I better tell them to buy a folder. Do I think something is important and they should write it down? Better tell them to write it down. I’ve had to give pop quizzes on things I’ve said in class multiple times to prove to the students that they should be taking notes in class. I’ve had to tell them that maybe that random page in their textbook isn’t a good place to put notes. I’ve had to say so many things where I know in America students would be like “duh”. But, that's now how teaching and learning work here. They take notes by taking pictures of my PPT and that is about it.

3. Poor communication styles for Western educational systems

China kind of skipped over e-mail. They went straight from fax to WeChat (a social media platform this is kind of like What’s app and instagram all rolled into one). Therefore, when I tell my students they need to turn in their homework via email, a whole truck full of problems crash into my inbox. No subject line. No names. No attachments. No message. I have had to show them exactly what I want them to write in the email so I know who they are, what class they’re in, and how to formally address a teacher. I haven’t let them vary their emails yet, but if any of them plan to study abroad in America or to teach students who wish to go to the US for schooling, they really need to learn how to write emails. I just wish I had time to cover everything. 

4. Fear of speaking up

“My students are smart. They understand what I am saying. It isn’t my fault they aren’t answering.” -- I constantly have to remind myself of this. I can put them in groups and have them discuss a topic. If I walk around and listen, I hear them all on task, on topic, and answering and sharing opinions correctly in English. Then if I bring them back together as a whole class and ask what they talked about or for examples of what they discussed: dead silence, heads bowed, avoiding eye-contact. It is the most frustrating thing. I know they know the answers, I heard them talking about it, and I literally went around the room telling them good job while I was listening. The cultural expectation that the group is more important than the individual causes a standstill. Almost no students will volunteer an answer freely. They don’t want to be seen as immodest or like a know-it-all. They would lose face if they did so. But, if I call on them, it isn’t them choosing to answer, they will answer correctly and accurately. They’d lose face if they didn't answer a direct question. They can’t be the peg that needs to be struck back down. My classes are slowly getting better.. they know I will hold them over the end of class time if they aren’t responding to me. I’ve reminded them that there are no right or wrong answers. I’ve told them if they don’t know the answer then I need to know they don’t know. I can get group responses quite easily, but class discussions that include the teacher just aren’t happening. I’ve gotten them to speak up by asking them things and saying “I don’t know the answer, so I can’t tell you if you’re wrong. I just want to know what you think”. We had a pretty good discussion on cultural appropriation and halloween costumes. 

5. No concept of plagiarism 

“The right answer is the only answer” and “Imitation is the best way to learn” are common beliefs of my students. If you don’t know how to write or say something, say or write the exact same thing as someone else. Shared knowledge is better than individual knowledge. Nevertheless, 0s have been given out already this semester along with in-depth discussions about how I don’t want perfect work turned into me. If it is all perfect, I could go back home. 

6. Fear of failure to the point of not following instructions

The all important grade. It doesn’t matter if they feel more confident, or if I tell them I see significant improvement. They are only focused on one thing: their grade. They focus on it so much, that if I give them instructions like “don’t write down your conversation and read it for your homework recording”, they will completely ignore the instructions if they think their grade will be better. They were shocked when the recording that was perfect with good intonation, proper grammar, native like pronunciation, etc got a 0. When they asked why, I said they didn’t follow instructions. They wrote down their conversation. How could I tell? Not once did they hesitate, not once did they act interested or surprised by what their fellow classmates had said. It was all scripted. And they can’t understand me if I ask a question, so how would they understand their classmate without having to pause and think about it? hmm? I will say this issue has been very quickly solved. They’ve come to realize in my class that I want them at the level they’re at not at some superficial level they want me to think they’re at. 

7. Highly stressed students

My students have absolutely no free time. They take 18 hours of class a week. Some of them are in military training still. Some have other clubs. Every weekend there are at least 6 or 7 competitions for them to compete in. I assigned a speaking homework and all the responses were about how tired they are and how they can't sleep because they’re so stressed. It broke my heart. The following week, I asked them to take 30 minutes to draw minions in halloween costumes for homework to make relaxation mandatory. I sat outside with a group of them after an English Corner event for 3 hours and talked with them about their lives. They feel so much pressure to conform and meet expectations. Their other teachers yell at them and shame them for being wrong. The foreign teachers are the only ones who encourage them or try to get to know them. I recently boycotted the crappy computer labs they had me teaching in on the 6th floor. I taught in their classrooms on the third floor instead.  The other foreign teacher came in during break and said how nice it was to have me teaching across the hall from her because she could hear them laughing and sounding like they enjoyed learning. I hope my small amounts of encouragement help them. 

8. Poor teaching materials and environment

I know no textbook is perfect... but these are exceptionally bad. All the foreign teachers are from the United States, but the textbooks all teach British English which means there are lots of things in there that I disagree with. The topics aren’t interesting. They’re the same thing they’ve been learning since 3rd grade but with more complex, technical vocabulary that native speakers wouldn’t casually drop into a normal conversation anyway. It just bad. Trust me. The building is also falling apart. The computers don’t work half the time. The software isn’t up to date. The chalk boards are so old you can’t see what you write on them anymore. Just not good for learning. 

9. Poor teaching pedagogy

Another reason my students are stressed is because my teaching style is completely unknown to them. They’ve never been asked to analyze or explain how they know something. The other professors mainly expect them to memorize a passage and spit it out verbatim. They don’t have to understand what they’re reading or saying. They just have to be able to do it. There is an old quad on campus and in the courtyard, we call it the hive. Every student is out there whispering and reciting passages to themselves. The drone of their voices sounds exactly like bees. In my class, they can’t get by on memorization. I make it almost impossible to prepare for class. They have to be ready to use what they’ve learned and apply it in practical situations and discussions. This is naturally very stressful for them. They would do much better if I taught in an audio lingual style or grammar translation style like the other teachers. But, if the school wanted that they would have hired a Chinese national and asked for a foreign teacher. 

10. Class schedules that focus on quantity not quality  

I see my students once a week for 2 hours for 14 weeks. Think back to college.. you had class three times a week for 50 minutes, or twice a week for 75 minutes. Or grad school, I had class twice a week for 2 hours each time. The contact hours I have with my students are very limited. They want to get as many students in there taking as many classes as they can. They all get exposed to the foreign teachers and they cycle them in and out. There is no buy-in, no investment, and no way for me to get to know all of my students. I feel a lot of pressure to cram in as much as I can in the 28 hours of class time they get with me. It is hard to remember that they have 16 other hours of class a week, and that I’m not solely responsible for them learning English. It is just hard for me to imagine that they’re taking away anything from my class. If I didn't have these textbooks dictating the topics we could cover, I would cover much less and slow down and make sure each lesson was in-depth. Instead, I have to make judgement calls about how much time we can spend on each thing before  moving on. 

I don’t want you to see this list and think I am complaining. I am not. I enjoy my work greatly, and I feel very lucky to be working here at QuFu Normal University. My students are brilliant, and I appreciate them daily. However, these are the things I have to keep in mind when I am making lesson plans, working on curriculum, and deciding what to include in teacher training workshops. A lot of these difficulties stem from cultural differences and require me to adapt and change just as much as I am pushing my students to bend. I am becoming a more flexible, more capable, and more opinionated educator. I just hope my students are learning as much from me as I am learning from them and this teaching context. 

[mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl]

NOW 2~G-Dragon Pt.8

Genre:Angst/SMUT

Rated:NSFW

Pairing: GD X Reader

wordcount:4,586

Masterlist

DISCLAIMER!:remember this is just an edit of an original book called after by anna todd i do not own this book!(choosen by popular demand but don’t worry bared to him will be up tomorrow!)

When I finally wake up, it’s two in the afternoon. I can’t remember the last time I slept past eleven, let alone later than lunch, but I forgive myself by taking into account that I stayed up until four reading and browsing through Jiyong’s wonderful gift. It is so thoughtful, too thoughtful, the best gift I’ve ever received.

Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I check my missed calls. Two from my mother, one from Tae. A few “Happy Birthday” messages clog my inbox, including one from Noah. I’ve never been that into birthdays, but I don’t exactly love the idea of being alone today either.

Well, I won’t be alone. Catherine Earnshaw and Elizabeth Bennet are much better company than my mother.

I order a crapload of Chinese food and stay in my pajamas the entire day. My mother is irate when I call her and tell her that I’m “sick.” I can tell that she doesn’t believe me, but honestly, I don’t care. It’s my birthday, and I can do whatever I choose to do, and if what I choose to do is lie in bed with takeout and my new toy, then that’s what I’ll do.

My fingers try to pull up Jiyong’s number a few times, but I stop them. No matter how wonderful his present was, he still slept with Chaerin. Whenever I think he couldn’t possibly hurt me worse, he does. I begin to think about my dinner with Trevor on Saturday. Trevor, who is so nice and so charming. He says what he means, and he gives me compliments. He doesn’t yell at me, or annoy me. He has never lied to me. I never have to guess what he’s thinking or how he’s feeling. He’s smart, educated, successful, and he volunteers at shelters on holidays. He’s so perfect, compared to Jiyong.

The problem is that I shouldn’t be comparing him to Jiyong . Trevor is a little boring, yes, and we don’t share the same passion for novels that Jiyong and I do, but we also don’t share a damaged past.

The most infuriating thing about Jiyongis that I actually love his personality, rudeness and all. He’s funny, witty, and can be so sweet when he wants to be. This gift is messing with my head—I need to remember what he has done to me. All the lies, the secrets, and most all the times he’s fucked Chaerin.

I text Tae back to thank him, and within seconds he responds asking for the address of my hotel. I want to tell him not to drive all the way here, but I also don’t want to spend the remainder of my day completely alone. I don’t get dressed, but I do slip on a bra under my shirt and read some more, waiting for Tae to arrive.

An hour later, he knocks at the door, and when I open it, his familiar, warm smile makes me smile in return and he pulls me into his arms.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N,” he says into my hair.

“Thank you,” I say and hug him tighter.

He lets me go and sits at the desk chair. “Do you feel any older?”

“No . . . well, yes. I feel like I’ve aged ten years in the last week.”

He gives me a small smile but doesn’t say anything.

“I ordered takeout—there’s plenty left if you want some,” I offer.

Turning, he grabs the white Styrofoam container and a plastic fork from the desk. “Thanks. So is this what you’re doing all day?” he teases.

“Sure is.” I laugh and sit cross-legged on the bed.

As he chews, Tae looks past me and raises a brow. “You got an e-reader? I thought you hated them.”

“Well . . . I did, but now I kind of love them.” I pick up the device and admire it. “Thousands of books right at my fingertips! What could be better?” I smile and tilt my head to the side.

“Well, nothing says happy birthday like buying yourself a gift,” he says with his mouth full of rice.

“Actually, Jiyong got it for me. He left it in my car.”

“Oh. That was nice of him,” he says with a peculiar tone.

“Yes, very. He even put all these wonderful novels on there and . . .” I stop myself.

“So what do you think about it?” he asks.

“It confuses me even more. He does these incredibly kind things sometimes, but he does the most hurtful things at the same time.”

He smiles and waggles the fork while he says, “Well, he does love you. Unfortunately, love doesn’t always go hand in hand with common sense.”

I sigh. “He doesn’t know what love is.” I start scrolling through the list of romantic novels, and note that common sense is not something usually seen in any of these stories.

“He came to talk to me yesterday,” he says, causing me to drop my gift onto the mattress.

“What?”

“Yeah, I know. It surprised me, too. He came looking for me, his dad, or even my mother,” he says, and I shake my head.

“Why?”

“To ask for help.”

Worry builds inside of me. “Help? With what? Is he okay?”

“Yeah . . . well, no. He asked for help with you. He was completely distraught, Y/N. I mean, he came to his father’s house, of all places.”

“What did he say?” I can’t picture Jiyong knocking on Ken’s door to ask for relationship advice.

“That he loves you. That he wants me to help him persuade you to give him another chance. I wanted you to know; I don’t want to keep things from you.”

“I . . . well . . . I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe he came to you. To anyone, really.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, he isn’t the same Kwon Jiyong that he was when I first met him. He even joked about hugging me.” He laughs.

I can’t help but join him. “He did not!” I don’t know how I feel about any of this, but that thought is definitely funny. When I stop laughing, I look at Taeyang and dare to ask, “Do you really believe that he loves me?”

“Yes, I do. I don’t know if I think you should forgive him, but if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that he does love you.”

“It’s just that he lied to me, made me a joke—even after he told me he loved me, he still went and told them all what happened between us. Then, as soon as I begin to think I could possibly consider trying to move past that, he sleeps with Chaerin.” Tears prick my eyes, and I grab the water bottle on the nightstand and take a drink in an attempt to distract myself.

“He didn’t sleep with her.”

I look over at him. “Yes, he did. He told me he did.”

Tae puts the food container down and shakes his head. “He just said that to hurt you. I know that’s not much better, but you two are both known to fight fire with fire.”

Looking at Tae, the first thing I think is that  Jiyong is good. He even has his stepbrother believing his lies. The second thing I think is: But what if Jiyong didn’t actually sleep with Chaerin? Absent that, could I move toward forgiving him? I had my mind made up that I never would, but I can’t seem to shake that boy.

As if the universe is mocking me, my phone lights up with a message from Trevor that says Happy Birthday, Beautiful.

I send him a quick thanks, then say to Tae, “I need more time. I don’t know what to think.”

He nods. “Fair enough, so what are you doing for Christmas?”

“This.” I gesture to the empty takeout box and e-reader.

He grabs the remote. “You aren’t going to go home?”

“This is more of a home than my mother’s house,” I say and try not to think about how pathetic I am.

“You can’t just stay in a hotel alone on Christmas, Y/N. You should come to our place. I think my mother got you a few things before . . . you know.”

“My life went down the drain?” I half laugh and he nods playfully.

“Actually, I was thinking that since Jiyongis leaving tomorrow, I would stay at the apartment . . . just until I get into the dorms, which hopefully will be before he returns. If not, then I can always come back to this lovely abode.” I can’t help but joke about how ridiculous of a situation I’m in right now.

“Yeah . . . you should do that,” Tae says with his eyes focused on the television.

“You think? What if he shows up or something?”

He still doesn’t take his eyes from the screen but agrees. “He’ll be in Jeju, right?”

“Yeah. You’re right. My name is on the lease, after all.”

Tae and I watch television and talk about Dakota leaving for New York. He’s considering transferring to NYU next year if she decides to stay out there. I’m happy for him, but I don’t want him to leave Washington—not that I tell him that, of course. Taeyang stays until nine, and after he leaves I curl onto the bed and read until I fall asleep.

THE NEXT MORNING I get ready for my return to the apartment. I can’t believe I’m actually going back there, but I don’t have many options. I don’t want to take advantage of Taeyang, I definitely don’t want to go to my mother’s, and I’ll run out of money if I stay here. I feel guilty for not going to my mother’s, but I don’t want to listen to her snide comments all week. I still may go there for Christmas, but not today. I have five days to decide.

Once my hair is curled and my makeup is done, I put on a long-sleeved white shirt and dark jeans. I want to stay in my pajamas, but I need to go to the store to get some food for the next few days. If I eat whatever food Jiyong has in the apartment, he’ll know I was there. I pack my few belongings in my bags and hurry to my car, which, to my surprise, has been vacuumed and smells faintly of mint. Jiyong.

It starts to snow as I make my way to the grocery store. I buy enough food to last me until I decide what I want to do on Christmas. As I wait in line to check out, my mind wanders to what Jiyong would have gotten me for Christmas. My birthday gift was so thoughtful, who knows what he’d have came up with. I hope it would be something simple, not expensive.

“Are you going to move up?” a woman’s voice barks from behind me.

When I look up, the cashier is waiting impatiently with a scowl on her face. I didn’t notice the line moving or disappearing in front of me.

“Sorry,” I mumble, placing my groceries on the belt.

My heart begins to race as I pull into the parking lot of the apartment. What if he hasn’t left yet? It’s only noon. I look frantically around the lot, and his car is gone. He probably drove himself to the airport and left his car there.

Or  Chaerin drove him.

My subconscious doesn’t know when to shut up. Once I determine that he isn’t here, I park and grab the groceries. The snow is coming down harder and covers the cars around me in a thin layer. At least I’ll be in the warm apartment soon. When I reach the door, I take one last breath before unlocking the door and stepping inside. I really love this place—it’s so perfect for us . . . for him . . . or me, separately.

When I open the cabinets and fridge, I’m surprised to find them stocked full of food. Jiyong must have gone shopping in the last few days. I shove the food that I bought wherever it will fit and head back down to get my belongings.

I can’t stop thinking about what Taeyang said. I’m floored by the fact that Jiyong would go to anyone for advice, and that Taeyang professed to think Jiyong loves me—a fact that I’ve known but buried and locked away for fear it would give me hope. If I allow myself to admit that he loves me, it will only make all of this worse.

As soon as I get back into the apartment, I lock the door and put my bags in the room. I take out most of my clothes and hang them up so they won’t be too wrinkled, but using the closet that was intended for Jiyong and me only makes the knife inside of me twist once again. He only has a few pairs of black jeans hung up on the left side. I have to force myself not to hang up his T-shirts, they are always slightly wrinkled, although somehow he still manages to look perfect. My eyes travel to the black dress shirt hanging sloppily in the corner, the shirt he wore to the wedding. I hastily finish my task and walk away from the closet.

I make myself some macaroni on the stove and turn on the television. I turn the volume up so that I can hear an old episode of Friends that I have seen at least twenty times, and go into the kitchen. I speak along with the characters as I load the dishwasher; I hope Jiyong hasn’t noticed, but I can’t stand to have dishes in the sink. I light a candle and wipe off the counters. Before I know it, I’m sweeping the floor, vacuuming the couch, and making the bed. Once the entire apartment is clean, I do a load of my laundry and fold the clothes Jiyong had left in the dryer. Today is actually the most peaceful and calm day that I’ve had in the last week. That is, until I hear a set of voices and watch in slow motion as the lock turns.

Shit. He’s here, again. Why does he always show up at the apartment when I’m there! Hopefully it’s just that he gave an extra key to one of his friends to check on the place . . . Maybe it’s Seungri with a girl? Anyone but Jiyong —please, let it be anyone but Jiyong.

A woman I’ve never seen before steps through the doorway, but I somehow instantly know who she is. The similarities are undeniable, and she is beautiful.

“Wow, Jiyong , this flat is beautiful,” she says, her accent just as thick as her son’s.

This. Is. Not. Happening. I’m going to look like a complete psychopath in front of Jiyong’s mom—with my food in the cabinets, my clothes in the washer, and the entire apartment cleaned from top to bottom. I stand completely frozen and panicked as she looks up at me.

“Oh, my goodness! You must be Y/N!” She smiles and rushes over to me.

As Jiyong steps through the doorway, he cocks his head to the side and drops her floral-print luggage from his hands. The surprise on his face is beyond evident. I tear my eyes from him and focus on the woman coming toward me with open arms.

“I was so disappointed when Jiyong said you’d be out of town this week!” she gushes and wraps her arms around me. “What a cheeky boy, fibbing just to try and surprise me!”

What?

She puts her hands on my shoulders and pulls me to look at her. “Oh, you are so lovely, look at you!” She squeals and hugs me again.

I stay silent and hug her once more. Jiyong looks terrified and extremely caught off guard.

Join the club.

Chapter twenty-three

Y/N

As his mother hugs me for the fourth time, Jiyong finally mumbles, “Mum, let’s give her a little space. She’s a bit shy.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m just so happy to finally meet you. Jiyong has told me so much about you,” she says warmly. I feel my cheeks flame as she steps back and nods in acknowledgment. I’m surprised she even knows that I exist—I would have figured he would have kept me a secret, as usual.

“It’s okay,” I manage to say through my horror.

Mrs. Daniels smiles brightly and looks over at her son, who says, “Mum, why don’t you grab a drink of water in the kitchen for a minute?” When she leaves, Jiyong comes over to me with gentle movements. “Can . . . I, um . . . talk to you in the bedroom for a mo-moment?” he stammers.

I nod and glance toward the kitchen before following him into the bedroom that we once shared.

“What the hell?” I say quietly as I close the door.

Jiyong winces and sits on the bed. “I know . . . I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell her what happened. I couldn’t tell her what I did.

“Are you here . . . you know, to stay?” His voice holds more hope than I can bear.

“No . . .”

“Oh.”

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair, a habit I picked up from Jiyong, I suspect. “Well, what am I supposed to do?” I ask him.

“I don’t know . . .” he says with a long sigh. “I don’t expect you to go along with it or anything . . . I just need a little time to tell her.”

“I didn’t know you would be here either, I thought you were going to Jeji.”

“I changed my mind, I didn’t want to go without . . .” He trails off, and pain is evident in his eyes.

“Is there a reason why you didn’t tell her that we aren’t together?” I don’t know if I want to hear his answer.

“She was just so happy that I found someone . . . I don’t want to ruin that for her.”

I recall Ken telling me that he never thought Jiyong was capable of being in a relationship, and he was right. However, I do not want to ruin Jiyong’s mother’s time here. I certainly don’t say what I say next for his sake: “Okay. You can tell her whenever you are ready. Just don’t tell her about the bet.” I look down, thinking that his mom knowing the details of how her son ruined his first and only love would surely hurt her.

“Really? You’re okay with her thinking we’re together?” He sounds more surprised than he should be. When I nod, he lets out a deep breath. “Thank you. I thought for sure you’d call me out right in front of her.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” I say and mean it. No matter how angry I have ever been at Jiyong , I wouldn’t damage his relationship with his mother. “I’ll just finish my laundry, then go. I thought you weren’t going to be here, so I figured I’d stay here instead of that motel.” I shrug uncomfortably. We’ve been in the bedroom a little too long.

“You don’t have anywhere to go?”

“I could go to my mother’s. I just really don’t want to,” I admit. “The motel isn’t bad, just a little expensive.” This is the most civil conversation Jiyong and I have had in the past week.

“I know you won’t agree to stay here, but I could give you some money?” I can tell he’s afraid of my reaction to his offer.

“I don’t need your money.”

“I know, I just thought I would offer.” He stares at floor.

“We better go back out there.” I sigh and open the door.

“I’ll be out in a second,” he says softly.

I don’t like the idea of going out there to face his mother alone, but I can’t stay in the small space of this bedroom with Jiyong . I take a deep breath and leave the room.

When I enter the kitchen, she looks over at me from where she stands at the sink. “He isn’t upset with me, is he? I didn’t mean to crowd you.” Her voice is so sweet. A total contrast to her son’s.

“Oh no, of course not. He was just . . . going over a few things about this week,” I lie. I have always been a terrible liar, so I usually avoid it at all costs.

“Okay, good. I know how moody he can be.” She smiles with such warmth that I can’t help but smile back.

I pour my own glass of water to calm my nerves, and she begins to speak as I take a sip. “I still can’t wrap my head around how beautiful you are. He told me you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, but I thought he was exaggerating.”

Less gracefully than the most beautiful girl a boy’s ever seen would do, I spit my water back into my glass. Jiyong said what? I want to ask her to verify that, but instead I just take another sip of water to mask my embarrassing reaction.

She laughs. “Honestly, I thought you would be covered in tattoos and have green hair or something.”

“No, no tattoos for me. Or green hair.” I laugh and feel my shoulders begin to relax.

“You’re an English major like Jiyong , right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ma’am? Call me Trish.”

“I actually have an internship at Vance Publishing, so my class schedule is kind of weird. And right now we’re on break.”

“Vance? As in Christian Vance?” she asks. I nod. “Oh, I haven’t seen Christian in at least . . . ten years.” She looks down at the glass of water in my hands. “ Jiyong and I actually lived with him for a year after Ken . . . Well, never mind, Jiyong doesn’t like when I spout off at the mouth.” She chuckles nervously.

I didn’t know that Jiyong and his mother stayed with Mr. Vance, but I knew that he was very close with him, closer than he would be if Christian were only his father’s friend.

“I know about Ken,” I say to Trish in an attempt to ease her discomfort, but then I immediately worry that I’ve implied I know about what happened to her, and I worry I’ve upset her.

So when she replies, “You do?” I try to hedge a little and follow up with, “Yeah, Jiyong has told me . . .”

But when Jiyong appears in the kitchen I stop, and I have to admit I’m happy for the intrusion.

He raises a brow. “ Jiyong has told you what?”

My tension goes through the roof, but to my surprise, his mother covers, saying, “Nothing, son, just some girl talk,” and walking over to him and wrapping her arm around his waist. He pulls away slightly, as if out of instinct. She frowns, but I get the feeling this is a normal interaction between them.

The dryer beeps, and I take that as my cue to exit the room and finish up my laundry so I can get out of here, fast.

I pull my warm clothes from the dryer and sit on the floor in the small laundry room to fold them. Jiyong’s mother is so sweet, and I find myself wishing that I could have met her under different circumstances. I don’t feel anger toward Jiyong; I have been angry long enough. I feel sadness, and a longing for what we could have been.

After I’m done with my clothes, I go to the bedroom to repack my bags. I wish I hadn’t hung any clothes in the closet or put food in the kitchen.

“Do you need some help, dear?” Trish asks me.

“Um, I was just getting my things ready to go to my mother’s for the week,” I reply, figuring I might as well just go there since the motel is expensive.

“You’re leaving today? Right now?” She frowns.

“Yeah . . . I told her I would come for Christmas.” For once I want Jiyong to come into the room to help me talk my way out of this.

“Oh, I was hoping you would stay at least a night. Who knows when I’ll be able to see you again—and I would love to get to know the young woman who my son has fallen in love with.”

And suddenly something in me wants to make this woman happy. I don’t know if it’s because of my mistake about saying I knew about Ken and her, or because of the way she covered for me in front of Jiyong . But I do know I don’t want to overthink this, so I silence my inner voice and just nod, and say, “Okay.”

“Really? You’ll stay? Just one night, then you can go to your mum’s house. You don’t want to be driving through that snow anyway.” She wraps her arms around me and hugs me for the fifth time today.

At least she’ll be here to be a buffer between Jiyong and me. We can’t fight if she’s here. Well, I won’t fight, at least. I know this is probably . . . certainly the worst idea, but Trish is hard to say no to. Just like her son.

“Well, I’m going to take a quick shower. I had a long flight!” She smiles broadly and heads out.

I sink down onto the bed and close my eyes. This is going to be the most awkward, painful twenty-four hours of my life. No matter what I do, I always seem to end up back where I started, with him.

After a few minutes I open my eyes to find Jiyong standing in front of the closet with his back to me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” he says when he turns back around. I sit up. He is being so strange, apologizing every other word. “I see that you cleaned the apartment,” he says softly.

“Yeah . . . I couldn’t help it.” I smile, and so does he. “ Jiyong , I told your mom that I would stay tonight. Only tonight, but if that’s not okay, I’ll go. I just felt bad because she’s so nice, and I couldn’t say no, but if that makes you uncomfor—”

“Y/N, it’s fine,” he says quickly, but then his voice shakes when he adds, “I want you to stay.”

I don’t know what to say, and I don’t understand this strange turn of events. I want to thank him for the present, but there is just too much going on inside of my head.

“Did you have a nice birthday yesterday?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah. Tae came by.”

“Oh . . .” But then we hear his mother in the living room, and he moves to go. He stops before walking through the door and turns to me. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to act.”

I sigh. “Me either.”

At that, he nods, and we both get up to join his mother in the other room.

a/n Thoughts???

[arrow-guy]

It’s A Trap

Original request from @buckysendoftheline : Hey! So I was thinking, could you do a Matt Murdock x reader where y/n is really great friends with him, foggy, and Karen. However, an enemy knows that Matt is Daredevil so one day seeing Matt with Y/N maybe on a walk? the enemy just takes y/n during the walk so Matt (aka Daredevil) gets lured. Then you make the rest! Thank you! :D

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get around to finishing this, but thank you for being so patient with me!! I actually ended up really loving this prompt, so I hope you like it!

Pairing: Matt MurdockxReader

Word Count: 4122

Warnings: Kidnapping

“Hello, boys!”

“Hey, (Y/N),” Foggy says, not even bothering to look up from his laptop. “It’s lovely to see you.”

“You know, you might actually mean that if you’d look up from your work.”

I watch his eyebrows raise as he finishes up the line of text he’s working on and looks up from the screen. His eyes go wide and a grin stretches his face. “You brought coffee.”

I grin back. “I brought coffee,” I affirm.

“(Y/N), you are an angel among men,” He says, taking his coffee from the tray and placing a smacking kiss on my cheek.

“You’re only saying that because I’m your caffeine supplier,” I scowl at him jokingly.

“Is that the loveliest paralegal in all of Hell’s Kitchen I hear?” Matt asks, poking his head out of his office.

“You’re such a flirt, Murdock,” I roll my eyes and place the tray of coffees on Karen’s desk so she can take her own cup and take Matt’s cup over to him. I take his hand and push the cup into it so he knows it’s there.

“What’s this?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

I roll my eyes. “It’s coffee, Matt. Just the way you like it.”

“Just the way I like it, huh?”

“Yup, black like the alleyways of Hell.”

He snorts before taking a sip of coffee and sighing loudly. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Anything on the docket for today?” I inquire.

“Nothing really, actually,” Foggy says. “We’re just finishing up the paperwork from our last case and then we should be free for the rest of the day.”

“Unless someone comes in looking for the best lawyers in all the land, that is,” I add, leaning on Karen’s desk.

Karen takes a rolled up newspaper and swats at my butt. “Get off, you’re wrinkling my rough drafts.”

I laugh and push myself away from the edge of her desk. “I’ll never understand why you want to keep up working here when you’ve got such a sweet gig with the paper, Karen. You know I can take over your place here so you can focus on your writing.”

“Why would I do that when I have such a fun babysitting job here?”

“Ooh, that really stings, Karen,” Foggy says, placing one hand over his heart. “You know damn well I can take care of myself. It’s Mr. Rose Colored Glasses over there who needs help.”

“I’m not even going to say anything,” Matt shakes his head and takes a sip of his tar-like coffee.

I bark out a laugh. “Yeah, because you know it’ll get you in trouble.”

A grin stretches his mouth and he lifts his coffee to his lips again. “Very true.”

I shake my head and head towards the door. “If any of you want to meet me for lunch in an hour, I’ll be at the usual place.”

“What makes you think we can just drop everything and meet you for lunch?”

“Well, the fact that you haven’t managed to land a case in a week is just screaming out for me to spill the beans on a very interesting and potentially high profile case that just happened to fall into our lap but, somehow, never made it to the inbox on my boss’s desk,” Foggy and Matt lean forward and I smirk at them. “If someone felt like treating, I might even throw in the file and spare you the pain of hunting down the client.”

“You drive a hard bargain, (Y/N),” Foggy scowls at me and Matt laughs loudly. “What?”

“Admit it, you want to go to lunch just as badly as she does.”

“Of course I do. (Y/N) picks the best restaurants!”

I snort. “So you two are coming?”

Matt shrugs. “Why not.”

“Cool. Karen?”

“I think I’m going to stay here and hold down the fort.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Just bring me back leftovers.” She says, offering a small smirk.

“Will do,” I shoot her a smile before heading for the door. “I'll meet you two outside.”

--

“How'd you even find this place, (Y/N)?” Foggy asks.

I shrug. “Boss brought me here for lunch one day. Said it was one of her favorite restaurants before she got rich.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I don't know, but if being rich means I can't eat at dive bars anymore then I think I'll be happy with the middle class for the rest of my life.”

“Amen,” Foggy raises his glass and taps it against mine when I do the same.

“So, you said something about cases earlier.” Matt says. “What kind of stuff are we looking at?”

I wipe my hands and mouth on my napkin before pulling several files out of my bag and flipping through them before handing them off to Foggy for safekeeping. “Nothing too crazy, just a few property damage cases that you could probably get settled before the week is out, might even be able to work it out before the first court appearance. The biggest one in there is a college student who's suing her college professor for stealing a book that she had been writing.”

Matt perks up at the mention of the last case. “Are we talking theft or plagiarism?”

“Straight up theft.”

“Are you sure this kid is telling the truth?” Foggy inquires. “I'm all for helping out someone who's been wronged, but I'd rather not drag out a case just because I need a paycheck.”

“Don't worry your pretty little head, Nelson,” I laugh lightheartedly. “I looked into all of these and they're legit. I even talked to the girl who brought in the case. She's got all of her hard copies, concept art and cover designs. She's been working on this since she was in elementary school.”

“Wow,” Matt lifts his eyebrows. “Even so, someone might say that she's faked all of it. Could've had a kid draw something for her, write something down. Even timestamps on digital files can be altered.”

“Very true, Matty. But, her mom worked as a patent paralegal and always told her to mail herself copies of whatever she's working on so that she could prove that it's her original work. Apparently that's what a fair number of inventors do to prove their work is original.”

“That's… actually fairly sound advice.”

“Yeah. It helps that she's been doing it since she was twelve years old. You've got a paper trail a hundred miles long. There's no way in hell you'll lose this suit.”

“I don’t know what to say, (Y/N),” Matt says, shaking his head.

“Well I do,” Foggy scoffs. “Thank you, (Y/N), we really owe you one.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Matt’s brow furrows. “Are you really sure we can take these cases? The clients won’t be upset over being sent to a different law firm?”

“I’m certain.” I smile sheepishly. “I may have sort of lied to you about sneaking the files out of the office.”

“Wait, what?”

“Boss lady knows I'm friends with you guys and she occasionally likes to help out smaller firms where she can. I didn't tell you because I know you guys would think it was a handout.”

“Isn't it though?”

“Absolutely not. It's a referral. The clients were consulted and were offered the option of waiting a month for her services or to be helped out immediately by the new up and coming defense attorneys in Hell’s Kitchen. They chose you guys. Not a handout, just a referral. If you choose to take their cases, that is. If you do well enough she'll send more people your way. Help build your reputation and client list.”

“Why didn't you just tell us this from the start?”

I shrug. “Had to get you out of that office somehow,” Matt snorts. “Besides, I know you guys like a good mystery mixed in occasionally.”

“Like I said back at the office, that's Matt. He's the reckless one. I like things nice and peaceful and routine.”

“Whatever you say, Foggy,” I check my watch and my eyes practically pop out of my skull. “Shit, I gotta go.”

“What? Why?” Matt asks.

“I'm supposed to be back at the office for a meeting in five minutes.” I flag a server down and manage to get my meal boxed up quickly. “Don't forget to get Karen something. I'll see you guys later.”

“See ya, (Y/N),” Foggy waves.

I sling my bag over my shoulder after stuffing the styrofoam box inside and head for the door. “Make sure you contact those clients. I don't want my boss thinking I've got terrible time management skills and horrible taste in friends.”

“Will do, (Y/N),” Matt says. “Just get back to the office safe and let us know when you get there.”

“I will.”

--

“Hey!” Someone plops their hand on my shoulder unexpectedly, making me jump. “You’re (Y/N), aren’t you?”

“First off, ” I stop dead in my tracks, pinching one of their fingers between my thumb and forefinger, picking it up and dropping it. “Don’t touch me like you know me. Second, I am one of many (Y/N)’s in this godforsaken city. What do you want?”

“Nothing special,” they say nonchalantly. “Just you.”

“Excuse m-?!” My cry of outrage is muffled as their hand clamps a rag over my mouth, their free arm pulling me to them and holding me firmly against their chest. “Mphf!”

I struggle against their hold managing to briefly dislodge their arm from around me, only to have the wind knocked out of me when someone walking past punches me in the gut before swiftly walking away. The air wheezes out of me and I unconsciously take a gasping breath, only accomplishing my assailants goal of introducing whatever's on the rag into my system. Within seconds I feel drowsy and my legs become weak. My body falls slack and my attacker hefts me up over their shoulder.

“Tell the boss we got her.” They say gruffly.

“You sure this is the right chick?”

I feel them sigh. “Don't give a shit. I get paid either way.” Their voices slowly fade as my consciousness does. “Let's get this over with.”

--

“Hey, has (Y/N) texted you yet?” Matt asks.

“No, she hasn't.”

Matts brow furrows. “It's been two hours since she left us at the restaurant. She should have reached her office building by now.”

“Maybe she just got distracted. Her workload is usually pretty heavy and she did say that she was late for a meeting.”

Matt shakes his head and pick up the phone on his desk and feels over the number pad before punching in the number for (Y/N)’s office. It rings twice before someone picks up.

“Hello, how can I assist you?”

“Hello, this is Matt Murdock of Nelson and Murdock. I was hoping to speak to (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N).”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Murdock, but she isn't in the office at this time.”

Matt's heartbeat stutters and his brows pull together. “Alright, do you know where I might be able to contact her?”

“I'm afraid not. We weren't informed as to- I'm sorry, please hold for a moment.” Matt can hear her whispering with someone on the other end, but he can't make out what they're saying due to the static.

“Mr. Murdock.” A new voice crackles through the line. “This is (Y/N)’s employer.”

“It's nice to speak with you.”

“I wish could say the same to you. Unfortunately, (Y/N) never showed up for our scheduled meeting after she said she was going to drop off the case files with you. About an hour ago, I received a rather, shall I say, disturbing letter.”

Matt’s jaw clenches in anticipation of the news. “Is that so.”

“It is.” She says. “When I returned to my office earlier, I found a rather disturbing note. It said that (Y/N) had been taken and that you would know why. There was no signature, but was simply signed with a blood red handprint.”

“They wouldn't dare.” Matt hisses.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Murdock, I didn't quite catch that.”

“I apologize, ma’am.”

“I assume you know how to get her back safely?”

“I certainly will do my best.”

“See that you do. Otherwise you'll find yourself ruined or dead by the end of tomorrow. Possibly both, we'll see what happens.”

“Understood. I will keep you posted.”

The line goes dead and Matt slams the phone down on its base.

“Bad news?” Foggy asks.

“The Hand took her.”

“What?”

“The Hand took (Y/N) because they know  I care about her and they I'm Daredevil. They're trying to lure me out.”

“Well obviously it's going to work because you have to get her back.”

“Of course I do.” Matt pushes himself away from his desk and quickly gets up from his chair. He grabs his bag and jacket before heading for the door. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Wait, you’re leaving now?!”

“I have to figure out where they’re holding her, then I can get her back, otherwise I could be searching for days. I’d like my balls to stay where they are, thank you.”

Foggy holds his hands up in surrender, more for his benefit than Matt’s. “Hey, I understand. Do what you have to do, just get her back.”

Matt nods once, turns on his heel, and exits the office.

--

The outside world slowly starts to break through the heavy darkness that's weighing on me as I come to. My ears are ringing slightly and my head feels like it's been slammed into a brick wall at least fifteen times. I scrunch up my eyes against the bright, fluorescent lighting and hesitantly open one eye, only to find the room I'm being held in to be empty.

Opening both eyes I look around me, finding abandoned desks and sparsely decorated, gray walls. I snort disdainfully and try to get more comfortable in the chair I've been tied to.

My hands are bound behind my back and my upper body has been tied to the backrest of the chair. My ankles aren't tied to the legs of the chair like I was half expecting, so I assume I'm safe from anything more questionable than a kidnapping for the time being.

The door slams open, the handle momentarily sticking to the old bumper on the wall. A man, that can only be described as being stubby, stands in the doorway, blinking at me dumbly.

I raise my eyebrows at him questioningly. “Well?”

“Ey, boys.” he calls into the next room. “The little lady’s awake.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Real classy,” I mutter.

“You say that like you’re in a position to complain, girlie.” Says a new, gruff voice.

I glare up at it’s owner and primly cross my slack clad legs. “You say that like I haven’t got the right to.” He snorts, dislodging something ugly in the back of his throat and spits it out towards the edge of the room. “Well, God gave me a voice, didn’t he? I intend to make full use of it while I can.”

The man raises a heavy fist, shaking it threateningly. “Why, I oughtta-”

“I wouldn’t advise that,” I snort amusedly.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I’m assuming I’m some sort of bargaining chip. Explains why I’m not dead yet.” I raise my eyebrows and smirk at the man’s shocked expression. “Wouldn’t want to kill the bait, now would we?”

“You don’t know nothin’,”

“Maybe not, but the real question here is, who on earth could we be waiting on?”

“They’re waiting on me,”

I strain to look past the burly man standing in front of me, only managing to catch a glimpse of deep crimson. The Devil of Hell’s kitchen? I'm bait for the Daredevil. Well that's just great.

“So you finally found us,” the man in front of me steps to the side, allowing me a better look at the masked man.

“You didn't exactly make it hard,” The devil tilts his head to the side as a hoard of broad shouldered, overly muscled, squat men surrounds him. “Practically left a trail of breadcrumbs.”

I flinch away from the circle of men in front of me and squeeze my eyes shut when they close in on the man in red. The sounds of metal hitting flesh reach my ears with a sickening slap followed by the occasional groan, scream and crunch. I crack open one eye, only to find the room pitch black. The Daredevil suddenly appears right in front of me and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. I lean away from him instinctively and turn my head away.

“Are you alright?” He asks, his voice quiet.

“Yes,”

“They didn’t do anything to you?” He moves his hands to the tie on my right hand. “Didn’t touch you or hurt you?”

I shake my head. “No, I truly think I was just here to draw you out.” When he frees my left hand, I rub at the red rings around my wrists before noticing his outstretched hand.

“Let’s go,” he says, his voice at a more normal volume.

“Why are you suddenly talking normally?” I ask, taking his hand only to be hauled out of my seat. The masked man doesn’t answer my question and instead guides me through the dark corridors of the building.

I dig my heels in when we’re a block away from what I can now see was an abandoned law firm anex. The Daredevil spins around and would have been glaring at me if I could have seen his eyes through his mask.

“What are you doing?!” He hisses.

I pull my hand from his grip. “I’m not moving till I get answers.”

He whips his head around, like he’s checking if the coast is clear. There isn’t anyone following us and I roll my eyes. When he’s satisfied, his gaze finally settles on me, his mouth set in a frustrated frown.

“What do you want to know?” He asks gruffly.

“Who are you?” I demand. “And why am I important enough to you for them to kidnap me?”

I watch with wide eyes as his hands curl into fists, worried that he’s upset enough to take it out on me. He slowly loosens his hands and flexes his fingers before sighing loudly and lifting his hands to his mask. He hesitates momentarily before firmly tugging his mask off his head. He shakes out his hair before lifting his eyes to meet mine. I feel my knees buckle slightly and he immediately drops his helmet, his hands shooting out to grab my arms in an attempt to steady me. I try to push away from him, but he just holds onto me tighter.

“Let go of me, Matt!” I land several hard punches to his chest and he barely moves.

“I won’t,” He says, pulling me in close to his chest and wrapping his arms around me. “I know you’re mad, but I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“I can’t believe you’re Daredevil,” I push away from his chest slightly so I can look up at him. “How have you been able to keep this a secret for so long?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a rueful smile, and he tilts his head to the side. “I’ll admit, it has made several relationships fairly strained, but the few people who needed to know, know.”

I lift one eyebrow at him questioningly. “And I didn’t need to know?”

“I had hoped that would be the case, but I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

“You’re an ass, Murdock. A total and complete ass,” I say, sharply jabbing him in the chest with my finger.

He smiles at me and gently takes my hand in his. “Yeah, I know. I’m glad to have you back. Foggy’s insults just don’t sting the way yours do.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head, crouching down to grab his helmet. “Yeah yeah, tell me how much you love me once we get somewhere safe, okay?” I scowl at the dark street. “It’s late and this place just gets darker and creepier by the second.”

Matt nods and carefully leads the way down the street, occasionally breaking away from the sidewalks and heading down a maze of alleyways. He seems to sense when my fear gets the best of me, his hand tightening around mine and even pulling me close to his side when he feels it isn’t safe enough for me to simply trail along behind him. After about an hour of walking, Matt leads me up several flights of stairs, into an apartment building. When he stops us outside of a door, I realize he’s brought me back to his place.

“Do you really think it’s safe for us to be here, especially if they know who you are?”

He unlocks the door and ushers me through. “You’re more safe here with me, and I’d feel better knowing where you are.” He turns to me and carefully brings one hand up to cup my cheek. “Please stay?”

My brow furrows and I frown, the weight of everything that’s happened to day crashing down on me all at once. I suddenly feel very tired and heavy, and find myself leaning into Matt’s touch.

I nod. “Yeah, I’ll stay. On one condition, though.”

“Oh?”

“You don’t sleep on the couch.”

He laughs lightheartedly and takes his helmet from my hand, nodding. “Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He wraps an arm around my shoulders and I sag into him as he leads me through the apartment towards his bedroom. He grabs a t-shirt, sweatshirt and pair of loose boxers from his drawers for me to use as pajamas and tells me I can change in the bathroom. I nod and quietly pad into the other room, closing the door behind me.

When I look into the mirror, I notice how tired I look. My eyes are barely open, and the dark circles that had already been well on their way to forming are even darker than they were this morning. I shake my head and quickly dress in the clothes Matt gave me, trying not to think about the fact that I’m putting on his clothing. I pull the collar of the sweatshirt up to my nose and breathe deeply, smiling to myself as I head back to Matt’s bedroom.

When I return, I find Matt perched on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. As soon as he hears me, his head snaps up, sightless eyes directed at me. He pushes himself up off the bed and walks towards me, head tilted to the side momentarily, like he’s listening for something. He reaches out to me and pulls me close to his chest, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. He gently combs one hand through my hair, and I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my nose into his chest.

“I’m so sorry you got roped into this,” He says softly. “I should have been able to protect you.”

I shake my head. “It’s not your fault. It’s not. The only people to blame are the ones you left in a heap in the middle of that room,” I feel my body growing heavier, my exhaustion finally hitting me full force. “You came, and that’s what matters.”

He sighs softly and I can feel him nod against the top of my head. “Tired?”

I nod and he guides us back towards the bed, pulling back the covers and allowing me to crawl in first before he slides in after me. I roll over on my side so I can face him and breathe deeply, slowly breathing out through my nose. Even in the dark I can see all the creases in his forehead, lines left there by worry and work and made worse when he pulls his brows together like he’s doing now. I smile and reach out to smooth my fingers over the space between his eyebrows, trying to get him to relax. The tension in his face slowly subsides and I watch as his entire body begins to relax. Happy with the result, I slowly move closer to Matt, curling into his chest.

Matt reaches out and pulls me flush against his body and gently cards his fingers through my hair. He sighs and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead before resting his forehead against mine. With the sounds of traffic in the city streets and Matt’s soft breathing, I feel myself nodding off. I feel safe.

Thank you guys so much for reading! If you liked the piece please reply to the post or shoot me an ask! Feedback would be greatly appreciated!!!

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[catherinebakewell]

How to Fail Successfully

From 2014 to 2016, I queried a novel for the first time.

I was a freshman in college. I extensively researched agents. I got a couple of requests. I changed my manuscript drastically. I queried again. I got some great leads. I got a lot of dead ends.

I started playing a game with my best friend; we guessed in a Final Four-style bracket who would reject me next. I got used to the epic silence of querying, and the fact that, after waiting six weeks and looking to my inbox like it was the bottom of the Christmas tree, “no answer” would have to be a sufficient answer for me.

My book was good. I still think so. I still have dreams about that story and I still get excited about how I could make it even better now.

Fortunately, I didn’t stop my writing career while I was querying. I wrote four more books while I waited. I became more integrated into the writing community on Twitter, and for the first time, I found writing friends.

I have seen a lot of people grow tired. Grow jaded with writing in general, and especially with the industry. That’s fine. Some people follow this path only to learn traditional publishing isn’t for them. Querying is such a good time for reflection. You’re suffering in the weirdest, easiest, most quiet way possible, and it’s a perfect moment to consider—or reconsider—why you want to write, why you want to share this story, and why your anxious stomach aches are worth it all.

There isn’t a simple fix on how to query fearlessly. Fear is part of the game. Losing hope is natural—if you hear no (or no response) at every turn, of course you’re going to feel like this whole writing thing isn’t for you.

Here are some things that helped me.

1.       Make writing friends

Through #CPMatch and through Pitch Wars, I was able to meet people who critiqued my MS, shared their wisdom with me, encouraged me, and taught me so much. I read incredible manuscripts and learned how to write stronger. There were techniques I’d never tried before. Plot holes and weaknesses in my stories that I hadn’t really seen before. Above all, the empathy from my writing people is the best part. Querying, writing, revising; it’s all a battle, and to have someone check in on you, talk about their own struggles, and identify with the rough parts of the writing journey? It makes you feel like you aren’t alone and you aren’t stupid for attempting to share your story with the world.

2.       Keep writing

Many writers find themselves tempted to go back and touch up their manuscript even while it’s sitting in an agent’s inbox. RESIST! This will end up being a hassle in the long run and you may never find yourself satisfied with the condition of your book. At some point, you have to take your hands away from your manuscript FOREVER, when it goes off to be printed… practice that self-control now!

Instead, edit an old story or start a new one! Becoming invested in new stories and new characters is a great distraction and reminds you why you thought writing was so great in the first place. It’s also great in case you want to try querying a different project someday—or if you land an agent, you might get to show off that new manuscript in your back pocket!

3.       Reflect, don’t wallow

Taking time away from writing can also be a good thing. You should give yourself the chance to pause and think about why you want to query, why you love writing, why this story should be shared.

There is a dangerous and false assumption that being critical of yourself is the same as being humble. This isn’t the case. If you get a scathing rejection—which I’ve found to be rare, from my experience and others’—mourn, but don’t let those words define you. The writer you are today is not the writer you’ll be forever. One person’s critique of you doesn’t put you or the quality of your writing into a box. Even if one agent or critique partner—or two or three—points out a flaw you’re hyperaware of, turn that negative thought “I suck at this” into the more positive “I can get better at this.” Ask for help. Do writing exercises. Write fanfiction. The best way to grow in your writing is to exercise your writing muscle, and in my opinion, the best way to do this is to have fun while you do it.

You’re allowed to be sad or scared while you’re querying. You’re even allowed to feel hopeless. But the attitude you choose is also going to color how the next weeks and months of waiting will be. Don’t let your moment of sitting in your sadness turn into you rolling around in a puddle of tears.

4.       Distract yourself

If you don’t want to distract yourself with writing, but still want to feel productive, read more books in your genre and/or age category. Consult with your Critique Partners or #amwriting; you may find a new and even better comp title for the novel you’re querying or your work in progress. Reading can also help you identify how other authors have addressed similar problems you find in your own writing (how to write strong dialogue, how to weave complicated plots together, how to juggle multiple POVs, et cetera).

Lastly, here are some things I learned while querying:

1.       Query thoughtfully

As the process dragged on, I started to feel like my queries didn’t really matter, and I might as well send as many as I wanted on the off chance I got an agent’s attention. The thrill of clicking send and marking a new name on my query chart made me feel productive, even if I knew deep down that the agent wouldn’t be interested in my book.

If you find yourself sending a query to someone who didn’t say they didn’t want your genre… maybe reconsider.

The person you query is going to be your partner in your art. Make sure, even if they’re the eightieth person you query, that you know something about them, that you like them, and that you feel like they could actually be a good fit for your project.

2.       Personalize your queries

This step is a given for most people, but it bears repeating and also connects to my previous point. Research your agents. Use MSWL (Manuscript Wish List). Check their Twitter. See what they like to read. Find blog posts or interviews. Find some sort of touchstone between your book and their interests and mention this in a line or two in your query. It shows that you’re not just spamming agents with queries and that you are invested in your project and willing to put in the work.

3.       Make a chart

I made a document listing every agent I queried, their agency, and their email. I color-coded it according to what materials they requested or if they rejected. I also included the date I sent the query or the requested material, as well as an “expiration date”, the date when I would consider the query to be a “no reply means no.” Many agencies will list this expiration date on their website (it’s usually about six weeks), and QueryTracker is another place where you can see how long it takes for an agent to get back to you, typically.

4.       Go slow and be willing to change your query or materials

When you first start out, send five to seven queries. Then wait. If you get no response at all, consider tweaking your query or looking back at the first ten pages you’ve sent. This is where your critique partners and other outside voices will help. Two agents told me they felt my story opened in the wrong place, and I paused, made my story stronger, and then sent more queries, to better results. Some other people suggested I change my age category. This also helped me get more positive feedback.

5.       Make sure your story is “as advertised”

This is the biggest problem I see in queries I read over. If your selling point in your query is that your story heavily features robot unicorns and your first chapter takes place in ancient Babylon, I’m going to be a little confused and disappointed on the lack of robot unicorns. Your opening may be too slow, or your query may be making promises that are a little misleading in the grand scheme of your novel. Remember that an agent may only see the first five to ten pages of your book. You don’t necessarily need to name-drop the robot unicorns in chapter one, but give us enough of a teaser to make us believe that there will in fact be robot unicorns in your story.

If you’re querying now or if you’re thinking about it, I urge you to continue in your brave but worthwhile journey. I don’t regret the years I tried to get my book published. I’m not embarrassed with my attempts. Instead, I can already see how much I’ve grown, as a person, as a writer, as a critique partner. I’m going to query again someday soon. Maybe I’m met with dead ends like before. Maybe things will be different. Win or lose, I know that I will leave the battle proud of myself and ready to try again stronger.

[mochimim]

Spotlight

Genre: Fluff, ANGST, Celebrity! AU

Word count: 7.7k (my longest oneshot ever !!)

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Summary: The perfect guy, the imperfect celebrity

Warnings: Triggering topics - panic attack, thoughts of suicide

A/N: HELLO GUYS IM BACK WITH MY FIRST FIC IN QUITE A WHILE im so sorry tumblr deleted the post before this i haTE but it’s back so whooo !! this story is actually somewhat based on a personal experience, so I included a lot of personal thoughts and insights to try to make this better HAHAHAH but i hope yall like it !! i put in a lot of effort trying to write this fic and many BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS were shed but im finally done !! i really hold this story v close to myself because i actually felt all these things and i was a little delusional like the y/n in this fic !! please tell me how it was by dropping an ask into my inbox, both compliments and constructive criticism is good !! anyway besides this fic, im not yet done with dead leaves soRRY but feel free to leave me a request for the ending of chapter 7 (2nd last chapter !!) so drop me that asK ANYWAY IM RAMBLING AGAIN I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS FIC BYEEEEEE

"Miss, your interview is in less than 5 hours, are you sure that you want to be seen on national television with dog fur all over yourself?" Seulgi wrinkled her nose at me in disgust.

"Shut up Seulgi, I still have so much time," I flopped on my bed with my puppy on my chest. "And don't call me 'miss', I'm your younger sister. Don't be weird."

"You are the one who needs to shut up." She scoffed at me, but quickly started giggling and I joined in as well.

"No, but really, your stylist is waiting for you. What's his again? The cute one? Seok-min?" I let a small chuckle escape from my lips at her confusion.

"Seokjin," I got up and placed my puppy on the ground. "And take him. He's all yours." I cackled before sprinting out of my room, listening to her frustrated and embarrassed protests in glee.

"I will bet my entire career that you and Seulgi will get together by the end of this year." I mumbled to Seokjin as he handed me my outfit. He made a weird noise, probably thinking about the possibility.

"Yeah sure, I can hook it up." He said nonchalantly. I choked on my breath in utter horror and shock, I didn't think he would take me so seriously.

"Why are you making me wear something so pretty today?" I asked him as I got changed behind a curtain.

"What do you mean by 'pretty'? You look pretty every day." He said matter-of-factly, and I couldn't help but blush a little at his words.

"I'm not used to this. I can't rock dresses, full stop. I only look decent in a shirt and shorts." I sighed as I looked at myself in the mirror one last time before walking out to sit down in the makeup chair. "Where am I going later, anyway?"

"You're an Academy Award winner, a Grammy winner, and you still don't know where you're going after this. Unbelievable." He called the makeup girl over and crossed his arms. I furrowed my brows, wondering how he linked the three things together.

"You're going on national television, stupid. You're going to be interviewed by Park Jimin!" He exclaimed and threw his hands into the air, almost hitting the makeup girl in the face.

"Who?"

He gave a little gasp at my obliviousness. "Do you not watch the evening news? He's the presenter after that. He does all the celebrity news, he interviews them on radio as well. He's like Korea's very own Ryan Seacrest! Only more beautiful and younger, and did I mention beautiful?"

"Uh, so, does this give me a reason to re-dye my hair?" I murmured as the makeup girl put some bright red lipstick on me, not really caring about whoever Park Jimin was.

"You've already done your makeup, silly. You wouldn't want to ruin her masterpiece, would you?" He said, posing more of a statement than a question. "Thank you Irene." He tapped her on her back as she scuttled away in fear.

"I don't think her name is Irene," I squinted my eyes at my reflection in the mirror.

"Whatever, you're almost ready. Time for hair, time for me to do my magic." He whipped a comb out of the pocket of his pants. "We have no time for re-dying of hair. And I think that this pink hair suits you. Also, don't worry about the interview with Park Jimin later. It will be a walk in the ‘Park’!" I groaned at his very lame joke and he chuckled softly.

I tugged at the hem of my dress, trying to pull it lower.

"Seulgi, why do you look so nervous? I'm the one going out there." I asked her as she bit her neatly manicured nails.

"Look, I'm just worried for you, don't mess this up for m- for yourself, okay? Also, I'm going to be in the same room as Pa-"

Heads were turned as a man walked into the room. He looked confident and cool. He was very handsome, with a charm that seemed to go around the room. His cotton candy coloured hair looked like it took hours to style, his makeup flawless. He wore a suit that looked a little too tight, but it accentuated his muscular arms, so I wasn't complaining.

"Park Jimin-"

Stop being so shallow, maybe he's a dick.

And suddenly, I was being pushed into the set. And right into Park Jimin's arms.

"Cut!"

I heard someone yell, and I swear I heard the entire studio sigh in unison. I didn't realise that I was in the Park Jimin's arms until he pulled me up, and I dusted off my dress.

"Sorry." I bowed to him and ran off to the standby area.

"Could we do that walk in part again? Come in less violently, thanks." The mysterious voice ordered me, and I nodded at the instructions.

After coming out less violently, the rest of the interview went fairly well. I didn’t mention any embarrassing things that could expose me, but I did comment on our similar hair colours, which was enough awkward for one day.

“Hey, we have the same hair!” I blurted out just before he could ask me a question. He tilted his head and was silent for a moment, but quickly caught on and smiled at me. I stretched my hand out for a high-five, hoping that he wouldn’t leave me hanging, and he didn’t. He flashed me the brightest smile I’ve seen in a while and gave me a high-five.

“He has the most gorgeous smile. His eyes smile along with him, did you know? He literally radiated happiness, Seulgi! I can’t believe it!” I exclaimed to my sister as we were leaving the venue, but quickly stopped myself from getting too hysterical over someone I just met.

“He really is a charmer. I got the chills just standing next to him.” Seulgi smiled to herself, quite pleased that she was able to stand next to him, and then I realised all the hype over him. I was going to start watching the celebrity news show from now on. I was going to b-

“Wait!”

I felt someone tap on my back and I turned around.

To be face to face with Park Jimin.

My bodyguard was going to push him away when I stopped him. Jimin looked out-of-breath.

“S-sorry for disturbing y-you. But, w-would you like to g-go out for lunch tomorrow? For w-work purposes, of course.” He asked as he caught his breath. I looked at his panting form, and my heart doubled in size.

Stop thinking of those things.

“YES!” I yelled, startling both him and Seulgi, making them jump a little.

“But miss, tomorrow you have t-”

“Cancel it!” I beamed at the glowing boy in front of me while trying to wave away my sister.

“Uh, we can go another time if you’re bu-” He blushed a little, scratching the back of his head. My eyes widened and I immediately waved my hands frantically.

“No, no! It’s okay, tomorrow is fine. I’m sure it isn’t important.” I smiled at him again, and he reciprocated the happiness.

“Okay! Could I get your number?” He handed me his phone and I willingly took it from him, not minding that it had a bright pink phone case. I punched my numbers in and handed it back to him eagerly.

“Thanks! I’ll text you later. See you tomorrow!” He bowed to me and walked back into the studio. By then, I felt like I was going to explode.

“You know, you’re supposed to meet your father tomorrow. Are you sure you want to cancel?” Seulgi asked me cautiously. I stopped in my tracks, thinking of him.

Did l really have to choose between my father and Park Jimin?

“Cancel the lunch appointment.” I sighed after a long time of just standing there. My sister made a sound of disapproval, but I ignored her and walked back to the car.

Park Jimin.

I went to Google him when I got home.

Actor, Presenter, Singer, Dancer

He seems really cool.

His fans love him because of his bubbly personality and kind words.

Seems legit.

Was in a band called BTS and was internationally known. However, the band disbanded due to unknown reasons. Whether the members are still close is still unknown.

He was in a band? That’s so hot.

Are you sure you want to read Park Jimin fanfic?

I’ve never been more sure in my life.

But, before I could click “yes”, my phone buzzed in my pocket. My gasped and snatched the phone out a little too excitedly to be greeted with Jimin’s text message.

Jimin: hello! This is y/n right? It’s Park Jimin. Are you able to meet at the dog cafe in Gangnam tomorrow at 1? xx

I am literally going to cry.

“Yes!” I screamed at my phone and threw it onto my bed. I pumped my fists into the air in joy and threw myself onto my bed as well. “He texted me!”

The next hour was just me doing some intensive research on Jimin for ‘work purposes’, or at least that’s what I told my sister, until I realised that he didn’t text me back. I picked my phone off the bed and read the message again. And then, it dawned on me.

I was the one who didn’t text him back.

I cried out in horror and quickly typed out a short message to reply him and not seem rude.

Me: hello Jimin! Yep tmr at 1 is gud HAHAHAHA c u !!!!

Too informal?

Me: hello Jimin. Tomorrow at 1pm at the dog cafe will be splendid. Thank you for your time.

Too formal?

Me: hello Jimin! Yeah tomorrow at 1 will be good! Thanks and see you there!

I guess that will do.

And I pressed send, waiting for him to reply like I expected him to send me a message at the exact same moment I sent him one.

[read at 6:45pm]

Oh, okay then. I’ll see him tomorrow anyway.

And I spent the rest of my evening thinking about him.

“So, is my dear y/n going on a date now?” Seokjin teased me as I looked for a dress.

“I think you’re a little too nosy today. Why are you peeking into my personal life? And I’m hanging out with a friend.” I shook my head. “Do you have an outfit for me to wear today? His- I mean their favourite colour is blue, so I want to wear blue.”

“So, you just diss me, and expect me to help you to impress some trick shot guy that might break your heart?” He crossed his arms.

“Ugh, okay then. There isn’t any, so I’m just gonna take this weird purple dress.” I sighed, in hopes of winning him over using reverse psychology.

“There are jeans in the bottom right drawer. And there are nice shirts somewhere in the top shelf I think.” Seokjin whispered to me, as if he didn’t want to get caught trying to help me. I giggled at him and went to search for the clothes. I picked out a simple white shirt and ripped jeans.

“Thank you, and sorry for the trouble.” I did a half-bow to him, actually relieved that he was here to help me. A small smile danced on his lips and I took it as a “you’re welcome” and walked out to get changed.

“Jimin! Hello!” I exclaimed as I got out of the car and saw him standing outside the cafe. He looked stunning as hell, with a long sleeved white sweater and black jeans that hugged his legs that were much prettier than my own, completed with a green beanie on his head.

“Oh, hello y/n. Are you ready to go in?” He flashed me his signature smile, and I was at a loss for words yet again. All I could muster was a slight nod, and he took my hand and led me into the cafe.

Park. Jimin. Is. Holding. My. Hand.

As we entered the place, we were greeted by at least a million puppies, nipping and yapping at our feet. Or at least I was. The dogs didn’t go near Jimin, strangely enough. I squealed at the cute puppies and picked some up to cuddle. Jimin tried picking one up, but it kind of growled at him, so he playfully growled back at it, making me giggle.

Many people in the cafe stared at Jimin and I, and I wasn’t sure whether it was because of Jimin’s good looks, his fame, my actor status or the fact that we were together. BUt it didn’t really bother me, I was just happy that I was with him at that moment.

With a puppy snoring on my lap and Jimin holding my hand in his, it was bliss.

“This one’s name is Bubbles, Jimin. He’s super cute, look at his face!” I whispered to him, afraid to wake the sleeping pup. He nodded fondly and peered at the dog’s face.

“He actually looks like my friend’s dog. I like him.” He nodded in approval and I smiled at him.

“I wonder why the puppies aren’t coming to you. Maybe I should trust them.” I jokingly said with a small wink. He chuckled at my teasing words and picked a dog up.

“What secret do you know about me? Huh?” He lowered his voice, trying to seem manly. But, the dog squirmed in his hands, so he put it down and it scuttled away.

“So, you’re an actress right? I’ve seen you in some dramas. You’re really good.” He murmured to me, and I swear I’ve never blushed so hard.

“Uh, i’m not very good. I just get casted in things for publicity, I guess.” I looked away from him in shame, not really wanting to talk about my career. “But how about you, Mr. actor-slash-singer-slash-presenter-slash-dancer? You’re multi-talented. That’s really cool.”

“I’m not that talented, come on. You’re-” he laughed at me, but was interrupted by a girl tapping on his shoulder. The girl looked about 15, with plaited hair and braces, and she held a notebook with Jimin’s face on it.

“Oppa-ya, could you sign this for me please?” She tilted her head to the side, making me want to laugh at her cute attempt of winning him over. He stared at the girl for a little while, and then magically whipped a pen out of thin air and signed her book. The girl was obviously really happy, as she squealed with joy when he handed the book back to her, and she went away skipping.

“I think that we should leave here and we can go to my house to chill out. It’s about a five minute walk from here. What do you say?” He suggested, and I willingly nodded, reluctantly carrying the sleeping puppy on my lap to his bed, and we left.

“Today’s weather is really nice, don’t you think?” I said it mostly to myself, but he hummed in response. I felt his hand brush against mine, and I laced my fingers in his. My cheeks were burning, but I could blame that on the weather.

And there we were, walking down Gangnam Street, ignoring all the surprised netizens and flashing of cameras. His expression looked a little strained, and I felt like mine was too, but when I looked at him all my worries melted away like ice cream on a hot summer day. He looked so beautiful in the bright sunlight, contrary to the sharp wind that tangled my hair and made me look like I was going very red.

We walked all the way until we reached a very tall, very modern building, and into a lift that took us to the penthouse. Once I stepped into his apartment, my mouth hung open. I couldn’t think straight looking at all that expensive looking furniture, and the five other beautiful men sitting on a couch that looked like it was bought with all the money I had earned.

“Ah, there they are! I’d like to meet my friends.” He squeezed my hand, and I had never been more glad that his seater covered his hands, because my hands were sweating.

It’s only been one date, and he’s introducing his friends to me now? This is going a little too fast, but I shouldn’t say anything.

“Guys, this is y/n. Remember her from that drama Temptation? Yeah, she was playing the young Park Jiwoo.” He asked the five men, and all of them sat up and nodded their heads.

“Y/n, the one in blue is Namjoon-hyung, the one in black is Yoongi-hyung, the one in green is Hoseok-hyung, the one in white is Jungkook and the other one in black is Taehyung.” He introduced, and I gave a polite bow to all of them. They all nodded to me, besides Taehyung and Jungkook who gave me an enthusiastic “hello!” each.

“I’m so sorry, I actually have to leave for a little bit, I have to settle some stuff with the producer of my evening show. I’ll only be gone for two hours at most. Would you like to stay here, or do you want me to take you home right now?” He said, not looking up from his phone.

“Um, I think I can stay here and wait for you,” I beamed at him, and he looked up at me and beamed back.

“Great! Guys, please treat her well and don’t scare her away.” He turned on his heels and came dangerously close to my face. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?” He whispered to me, and his lips brushed my cheek. I felt a tingle run down my spine and I nodded furiously. And he smirked and left.

I stood awkwardly at the entrance of the apartment, facing the five guys. They gave me a small nod, and gestured for me to sit with them. I gulped and moved my wooden legs to sit on the comfiest couch i’ve ever sat on.

“So, y/n, how old are you? Are you a 95 liner like Jiminie?” The one in blue asked me. Namjoon, was it?

“Uh, I-i’m a 95 liner, yeah.” I stuttered, trying to hide my increasing nerves.

“Don’t be nervous, we don’t bite,” Hoseok chuckled, and I felt the need to smile along.

“So, are you and hyung going to get married? I like you, you seem really nice!” Jungkook blurted out, earning him a light smack on his arm by one of his hyungs.

“Um,” I coughed, expressing my nervousness. “We’ve only been on one date, so I don’t so as of now.”

“I think you guys are making her nervous, you guys should go now.” Yoongi told the rest in a monotonous voice. They all grumbled, but did as he said, and I said my silent thanks to Yoongi for helping me. He stayed on the couch, though, but I didn’t really mind.

“I’m Yoongi, if you forgot.” I nodded at him, confident that his name was the easiest to remember. “You don’t need to call me Oppa, if that was what you were thinking.” He clarified, and even though I wasn’t thinking about that, I nodded along.

After that awkward first words, we started talking. About our likes, dislikes, favourite things and least favourite things. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, and surprisingly relatable as well. We had many things in common, and we mostly talked about music. He liked rap and hip hop, so did I. I even let him listen to some of my songs that I had recorded for fun, and he gave me a stamp of approval.

“Wow, should I be honoured that THE Min Yoongi gave me a thumbs up on my joke song?” I giggled, and he flashed me a gummy smile that I never thought that I would ever see.

“Yes, yes you should.”

But, before I could show Yoongi my other joke song, Jimin came in from the lift and sat beside me.

“You seem really comfortable here, that’s a good sign. Would you like to stay for dinner? I think Jungkook is cooking glazed sweet potatoes, and it’s really an interesting experience to eat that.” He asked me, looking at me with those gorgeous eyes and I immediately nodded without thinking.

“Great, I’ll be in the kitchen for a bit. I’ll be back.” His hand lingered on my arm a little too long, and I felt my blush creeping up to my cheeks again. Yoongi had also gotten up to go to the bathroom, so I was alone in the living room.

I took my phone out to check the time, when I saw the twenty-one missed calls and fifteen messages Seulgi had sent me. I sighed and rubbed my temples, worrying that Seulgi was going to overworry. I called her back and held my breath, preparing myself for a big scolding from her. She was working for me, but I was still her younger sister.

“Unnie?” I whispered into the phone, and I heard her cry out in frustration.

“First, you don’t answer my calls, and now you’re suddenly calling me unnie? I was so worried for you! You just ignored my calls, and I had to do everything myself! Where are you right now? I’ll send someone to pick you up.”

“Seulgi, please. I’m fine. I’m at Jimin’s house, it’s fine! But, can I stay for dinner? Please, they asked and I already said yes.” I pleaded into the phone, not caring that Jimin had entered the room and sat on the space next to me.

“You have so much to do tonight, what are you doing being at his house for so long? You have to send emails to-”

“Yay, thanks Seulgi! I love you very much! I’ll be home before ten and I’ll have plenty of time to finish up my work thank you! See you, I love you!” I dragged out my last word before hanging up on her and exhaling very loudly. Jimin pet my head, and I instinctively leaned towards him and lay my head on his shoulder.

“Ewww~ You guys have only been on one date, and you’re already so lovey-dovey.” Jungkook came into the room wearing an apron that said “kiss the kook” and a very disgusted expression. I was going to comment on the younger’s cute words, but Jimin beat me to it.

“Date? What date?”

I felt my heart break into two.

He said it with such confusion, that I couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not.

Jungkook’s eyes widened, making him look more like a child. He blinked at us awkwardly for a moment, but quickly came to his senses. “Dinner is ready, y’all can come now.”

Jimin got up and pulled me to my feet, and we made our way to the dining room together, but I suddenly lost all appetite.

He didn’t see today as a date? Then what did he think it was?

But, I pushed all my negative thoughts aside to be replaced by the glorious food in front of me. Not only could he ‘kook’, he could also cook.

We spent dinner talking about everything we could think of, and trying to pry the sweet potatoes off the plate. It was Jungkook’s special dish when everyone was sad or during a happy occasion, they told me, and I smiled at them.

After that day, Jimin and I became closer and closer. I ignored his words that hurt me before, and I tried to move on.

Maybe he just was trying to protect his dignity.

He texted a lot, and we called and video called a lot as well. We talked about everything, from good things to bad things, but we were never at a lost for words. We never got bored while talking, nor did we run out of things to say. Conversation flowed really well, and sometimes I felt myself wondering why I had ever doubted him for being a dick.

I talked a lot to Yoongi, as well. He was someone I could talk to comfortably without it getting too awkward. Our similar taste in music usually took the wheel in our conversations, we recommended music to each other and that strengthened our friendship.

Jimin and I went on a few more ‘dates’, or whatever he thought they were. We went out to eat, I went to his house to watch a romantic movie, we went shopping together, and many more things that I really cherished.

There were too many news articles about us to ignore, but Jimin didn’t seem to be bothered.

“It’s going to die out soon if we don’t address it, it’ll be okay.” He flashed that award-winning eye smile again, winning me over in a snap of a finger.

The news articles didn’t bother me, though. It was the number of news articles surrounded around our “pending relationship”. All of them said the same thing, all talking about how people saw us around together, holding hands and asking if the fans thought we would be a good couple or not. Most of the comments said we would be the cutest celebrity couple, and I didn’t deny them.

We were busy, I had a new drama that I was working on and he had his presenting career, but we made it work. We carved out time in between shoots to see each other, and even if we couldn’t see each other in person, we would call or text.

And every day, I fell more and more in love with him.

I couldn’t help it, it just happened. It hit me one day out of the blue. I didn’t just like him, I loved him. He brought so much happiness into my life, and introduced me to so many people that I wouldn’t ever trade for the world. I felt like if I ever let him go, all these things would suddenly disappear from my life, leaving me stranded in my own pit of loneliness and self-pity.

I also clung onto the hope that he would love me back.

Even when everything came crashing down.

So, I was close to two people in his friend group, Taehyung and Yoongi, and I really trusted the both of them. So, I told them my secret.

“I think i’m in love with Jimin.”

Taehyung spat his drink out onto the coffee table in front of him.

“Huh? What do you mean? You love Jimin? Are you sure this isn’t infatuation?” He spluttered out, probably very shocked at my sudden confession. Yoongi held his cam and cool exterior, so i didn’t really know what he was thinking at the moment.

“I don’t think it’s infatuation. Every time I go near him, or think of him, or talk to him, my heart begins to flutter. It’s not under my control, if I could I would definitely not want to feel like this, but I do. When we talk, I get excited over small things. I can feel it in my bones, Tae. have you ever felt this way about a woman?”

“Not about a woman,” he blushed and turned to face the back.

“Y/n-ah. Congrats on finding love and everything, but here’s the thing: do you want a relationship with him? Otherwise, all this is irrelevant.” He bluntly stated, making Taehyung shift in his seat and making me feel a little uneasy.

He had put it harshly, but he was right. So what if I found love but didn’t want a relationship? Did I really want to spend a long time, possibly the rest of my life, with this man?

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Okay, then good for you.” Yoongi curtly nodded and went back to scrolling through his phone. Taehyung seemed a little off, but quickly whipped out his phone and started scrolling too.

Was it so wrong that I loved him?

Me: Jimin-ah!I have about 2 hrs before our next shoot tgt! Would you like to come over or I can go over as well :^)

Jimin ❤️: busy.

Me: We can go to the venue together :^)

Jimin ❤️: can’t. sorry.

And that’s when it all came crashing down.

He hadn’t been like this before, why was he acting so cold towards me all of a sudden? Oh, cmon y/n, it’s just a text message, maybe he’s in a meeting. You’ll see him during filming.

And I did see him during filming, but he didn’t see me.

“Jimin!” I called out to him and waved. He looked back, but looked away just as fast. His pace quickened as he disappeared into his changing room. I was left there, hurt and very confused.

Our characters did not have much interaction except for one scene. And we were going to film that one scene that day. It was a comedy drama about two colleagues fighting for the head position but end up falling in love later in the story. He was playing the boy’s overprotective friend, who causes a lot of problems later in the story, but is checking the girl out to see if she is “worthy enough” to date his friend.

“Ya, are you the idiot who is dating my best friend?” He coughed into his fist, already fully into the character.

“Are you using informal language with me? We don’t even know each other.” I snapped back, wavering a little under his strong gaze.

“Ya, listen up, I’ve heard that I’m older than you. So back off.” He squinted at me.

“Look, I don’t even know you. I’m just here t-”

“You know, you’re really pretty. Easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Jimin winked at me, and I desperately searched for any signs of genuinity in what he just said. After his character had said that line, my character was supposed to throw her cup at him, but I was too busy ‘looking for love’ that I totally forgot what to do and screwed the scene up.

When the director yelled cut and we returned to our original positions, I thought I saw him roll his eyes, but I chose to ignore it.

We did the scene one more time, and we wrapped it up perfectly.

“Hey, Jimin, you were really good!” I tapped him on the shoulder and smiled at him. The corners of his lips turned up a little, and I took this as a good sign.

“You too.” He nodded at me and walked away.

Well, it could have been worse. He could have totally ignored me, but he didn’t. Does this mean that he likes me, just a little?

I spent the rest of my day smiling and thinking of him.

But as we got further and further into the filming, he ignored me more and more, and interacted with me only when it was necessary. We stopped texting regularly, and he stopped asking me out to hang. We kind of just stopped everything we had.

But, I still prayed and hoped that he had some feelings for me, because I sure did have feelings for him.

I started hanging out with Yoongi more than him, and we would just sit and talk about anything and everything under the sun. But, I needed to ask him about Jimin.

“Yoongi-ah, do you think Jimin thinks that I like him? Is that why he’s acting so strange?”

“Oh, he knows that you like him.”

What?

“What? Who told him?” I yelled, running over to his side. “Oh my god, I can’t fucking breathe. I’m going to faint.” I started hyperventilating and everything looked a little blurry.

“I think it would be best if you didn’t faint on me,” he said with a serious tone, but I could tell that he was a little worried. “I heard Jungkook talking about it to Hoseok, that Jimin knows that you like him. I didn’t tell him, if you’re wondering. And I don’t think Taehyung did either. Besides, I don’t think he’s acting strange on purpose. I’ve known Jimin for eight years now, he’s a genuine dude. He wouldn’t hurt someone intentionally. He’s just a little oblivious.”

“Do you think that he will forget about this?” I looked up at Yoongi with tears ready to spill out at any negative response Yoongi was forming in his head.

“I honestly think that he will. It might take a while, but he’ll eventually forget it and everything will go back to normal. Jimin doesn’t hold grudges easily, and I think that he’ll understand later on. But we will save that story for a time when we’re all old. You can still have feelings for him, nobody’s going to stop you. And you know, maybe he’ll like you back, but I can’t decide that for him. You just have to be patient and see what happens.” He reassured me, holding my chin up to face him as my warm tears glided down my cheeks in silence. “But for now, let’s go get some ice cream to calm you down a little. And let’s bring Seulgi along, I think she feels a little left out sometimes.” He stood up, and pulled me to my feet. He draped an arm around my shoulder and I buried my face into his shoulder.

“Thanks Yoongi.”

“It’s going to be okay.”

With Yoongi’s blessing, I continued to harbour feelings for Jimin. Seeing as I saw him almost every other day, I thought about him a lot. As I saw him acting, I thought about how he was so talented. His character was basically the comic relief, he made me laugh until my sides hurt. He never failed to make my day, and I hoped that my scenes made his day as well.

I would try to initiate conversation and we would occasionally have a short conversation about anything we wanted to talk about. I was really happy when he replied to my messages, I sometimes would screenshot our messages and show them to Seulgi so she could fangirl over the fact that I was friends with her celebrity crush.

“Y/n, can I be super honest?” She asked me once while looking at our messages. I was sitting on the couch, eagerly waiting for her reaction.

“Yeah, sure.”

“He seems like he’s replying with very little effort. You see, you typed such a long message here, and all he replied you with was a ‘cool’. I think you’re putting in too much effort into this, little sis. You might want to back down a little, give the dude some space for a bit and try again.” She sighed, and I felt a little bit of anger boiling up inside of me, not sure whether it was because of her blunt words, or the fact that I had suspected it as well.

“Seulgi, I don’t think you should butt into things like this anymore.” I murmured, taking my phone from her and slinking back to my room, locking the door behind me. I flopped onto my bed and had a long, silent cry.  

I could sense that he wasn’t really putting in much effort, but he replied me. He could have ignored me.

As the months passed by, my love for him grew stronger, he pushed me away more and more, until we stopped talking altogether. I didn’t really like the distance between us, even if we saw each other regularly, and I kind of slipped into a slump. I was constantly lethargic, I had massive headaches and I felt a little numb to all emotions. Sometimes, I would lie on my bed, body ridden with insomnia, thinking about him, about us. What we were. But sometimes, I cried myself to sleep, as dramatic as that sounds.

My heart ached for him, I felt empty without him, and when I was with him, I felt heartbroken. I didn’t know how or what to feel. There were a few thoughts of self-harm running through my mind, and I did attempt to do it, but when I picked up the blunt butter knife, I couldn’t hurt myself. There was something in me screaming that it was a bad idea, and I would just end up sitting on the ground, unharmed on the outside but broken on the inside. I mentioned these things to Yoongi, and he was very supportive even though he didn’t quite understand.

“Yoongi, I feel really bad right now. Is this normal?”

“Y/n-ah. You shouldn’t feel bad. Like I told you, I’m very sure that Jimin doesn’t know that he’s hurting you. I won’t tell him so you won’t be ashamed, but I don’t think that this is something you want to keep up with. It’s very problematic and it’s taking a very obvious toll on you. You look so thin, and your eyes are dull. Take a little break of filming is what I think you should do.” He continued to talk but I couldn’t really hear him anymore.

I looked down at myself, my wrists, my thighs, my stomach. All of them seemed thinner than normal. But that was just because I had no appetite, I wasn’t bulimic or anorexic, I simply just didn’t feel like eating. But why?

There were so many articles talking about how thin I was. My fans were very supportive, telling me to be strong and be healthier, but they didn’t know what this felt like. Only I did.

And that’s when I decided that I was going to get over him.

I knew that it was going to be difficult and extremely painful for me, but this ‘relationship’ I had in my head was obviously not going to happen in real life. I didn’t blame Jimin at all, it was not his fault, neither was it mine. But sometimes, things just happen, or they don’t.

“I’m going to get over him, I’ve been stuck in this crush for too long already. It’s almost been a year and a half, I think I’m ready to stop.” Tears welled up in my eyes as I told Yoongi, and I had no intention of holding them back.

“I’m here for you.”

So, from then on, I promised myself that I would get over him. Every time I thought of him, I would mentally slap myself and think of something else, which sort of worked, but my mind would naturally gravitate back to him like a paperclip to some sort of magnet, and I had to repeat the process, leaving me mentally and physically drained by the end of the day.

I was a pretty vocal person, so I decided to talk to Yoongi about it. He was a good listener, quiet and sturdy, and he sat quietly next to me, hearing all my feelings through text or in person. Sometimes he gave me advice, which was mostly to naturally get over him, but most of the time he just sat there listening intently.

I tried talking to my other friends as well, leaving his name as a blank, but they all gave me the same response: if you want to get over him, just stop talking about him, that way you won’t think about him as much. But I already thought about him on a daily basis, so what was the difference if I shut up?

I couldn’t breathe.

All the air in my body felt like it was being sucked out. I felt like dying.

I just got home from a photoshoot that went terribly wrong because the camera director thought that I was not the right model and started throwing a fit. It turned out okay in the end, at least he didn’t hurt me, but it still hurt my feelings.

As my car was pulling up into my driveway, I felt nauseous. I bolted out of the car and ran straight for the toilet, where I emptied the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl. NOt that there was much to empty, though.

I just sat on the ground, and reality hit me. Getting over him was the hardest thing I ever had to do.

I had done many crazy things to prepare for a role, like egg someone’s house to study their reaction, cut my hair unevenly to see what the media would say about me, and hug random strangers on the street to see what they would do.

None of them was as hard as staying conscious while having a panic attack.

And there I was, on the floor of my bathroom, having a panic attack. My breathing was rapid and shallow, and I couldn’t think straight. All my thoughts flew out the window, but the thought of Jimin stayed with me, comforting and hurting me at the same time.

I started hysterically crying, and Seulgi started banging on the door. Everything was blurry and disoriented, like I was looking through a fisheye lens. I slammed my head on the wall a few times, trying to knock some sense into myself as I hyperventilated, but it didn’t work.

I was a mess, sobbing on the damp floor, eyes bulged out, gasping for air and comfort.

What do I do? What did I do? I can’t breathe.

I tried counting the number of light bulbs in the room to take my mind off this attack, but everything became blurrier, and I had to focus on staying conscious.

My trembling hands reached out for my phone in my pocket, I had no energy to grab so I just dragged it out and held it. It looked like it was vibrating, but it was just me. 

I dialed the first number that came to mind and held it next to my ear.

“Yeoboseyo?”

“Yoongi, panic, attack, please, help.” I wheezed into the phone.

“Square breathe. Four in, four hold, four out, four hold. I’ll be there, just wait for me.”

He arrived at my house with a stuffed bear and a concerned expression. I stared at him from the mountain of blankets I had buried myself under.

Seulgi had managed to open the door to the bathroom and saw me crying on the floor. She immediately managed to get me up as I was too tired to resist and brought me to my room. She was in the kitchen making me a warm drink, and I thanked the gods for my wonderful and caring sister.

“What happened?” Yoongi said as he set the bear down.

“Yoongi, I don’t know what to do.” I hiccuped and closed my eyes to soothe the headache I felt coming on. “I really want to get over him, but I feel...I feel like...I don’t know how to explain it. But, I really love him. And when I try to forget him, it hurts. And when I think of him, it hurts. Yoongi, I am hurting. My heart is hurting. I can’t do this. I’ve never been in this much pain in my life.” I started crying all over again, but this time it wasn’t hysterical. It was the silent type, where tears just fell from your eyes, making you hurt even more. My nails dug into my skin, making little crescent indents into my arm.

I was going through so much, with the fame and now this. I couldn’t take it. It was too difficult.

“Yoongi, i’m in so much pain. I want to hurt myself, but I can’t. I can’t do that to myself. I can’t continue with life like this, Yoongi, I can’t.”

I looked up and saw tears rolling down his pale cheeks, but he didn’t make an effort to wipe them away.

“It’s going to be okay.”

1 year later

“Jimin-ah! Is that you?” I yelled out, and he turned around to face me. A grin spread across his face like wildfire, and he walked towards me with a spring in his step.

“Y/n! How have you been? I haven’t seen you lin like a year!” He stepped forward and embraced me. I felt the urge to wriggle out of his touch, but I took a deep breath and hugged him back. It felt good.

“I’ve been good, a little busy with filming and photoshoots, but otherwise good! We should meet up sometime to hang out.”  I smiled at him warmly, and he returned the smile with a genuine one. But, after a while, his smile faded a little, and there was a glint of worry in his eyes.

“Y/n, I need to tell you something.” He held my hands, and my breath quickened a little.

“Yoongi told me about what happened last year. About, you know, me and you.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I just wanted to apologise. I swear I didn’t intentionally hurt you. I was just a little freaked that a beautiful girl like you would love an idiot like me, so I wanted to distance myself a little. I didn’t know that I would end up hurting you. I was so immature and I really just want to start over with you. Do you forgive me?”

‘Hmm,” I pretended to think, picking at my nails, teasing him a little. “I’d have to think about that. But do you know what will make me make my decision faster? Us hanging out, sometime next week? I’ll call you.” I gave him a playful thumbs up, and he laughed as he shook his head.

“Of course, we’ll arrange a date.”

“It’s settled then.” I did a playful bow to him and started to skip away, but dipped my head backwards to say something before I left.

“Hey Jimin,” I called to him and he raised his head to look at me with confusion. “Remember when I was whipped for your ass?” He tilted his head and I flashed him a cheeky smile.

“Yeah, me neither.”

[themoneybuff-blog]

Five lessons I learned while making a documentary film about FIRE

When J.D. decided to spend three weeks in Europe with his family, he asked a few people if they'd be interested in contributing articles during his absence. He even asked me! My name is Scott Rieckens, and I'm new to the world of smart money management. I'm new to the world of financial independence and early retirement. I'm new, but I've totally immersed myself in it. I've immersed myself so much, in fact, that I've spent the past eighteen months creating a feature film about FIRE. (FIRE is the clumsy abbreviation for financial independence/retire early. Basically, the FIRE movement is all about saving big so that you can choose to live however you want.) You've been in a unique position over the past year, J.D. said when I asked him what I should write about. You've had amazing access to a variety of people who think and write and teach about financial independence and early retirement. You've been able to hear what they think and say in private as well as public. What about sharing your biggest takeaways from this experience? Perfect! I can dish out everyone's dirty laundry and avoid posting those embarrassing stories on my own site. I'ts a win-win for me, really. J.D. is such a sucker. You ready? Let's go behind the scenes of the early retirement movement. Here are five things I learned while filming Playing with Fire. [embedded content] Lesson #1: The FIRE Movement Is Polarizing When I started down the rabbit hole of early retirement blogs and podcasts, I was swept up in the euphoria that many others have experienced: Holy moley, I'm going to retire in less than ten years! Coming from fifteen years of a spendy, financially-illiterate lifestyle, this was a huge revelation that gave me hope, joy, excitement, andbutterflies. Imagine the control over your life! Imagine the freedom! Think of all the ideas I will chase, the whims I can explore! Think of what this means for my family! Somehow, though, I missed the blog post or podcast episode that explained just how difficult it can be to live within the FIRE framework while the people around you wonder what the hell you're talking about. But I like my job.That sort of lifestyle sounds terrible.Are you joining a cult? These reactions dampened my enthusiasm. Nobody had warned me that there might be people who thought we were crazy for pursuing financial freedom. Now, as FIRE is spreading through the mass media, there's been push-back from unexpected corners. Financial guru Suze Orman says she hates the FIRE movement. The comments on articles and interviews around the web are often negative even hateful. I wasn't expecting that. How can something so positive be viewed with so much negativity? Since starting our project, the number-one thing we hear from early retirement folks is: I really hope this film makes it easier to share FIRE with my friends and family. Every time it comes up, things get weird and my already-socially-anxious-self gets all clammy. I can say unequivocally that we have the same hopes. Our society's relationship with money seems completely broken. When the best-selling vehicles are full-sized $60,000 trucks, yet 70% of Americans are living paycheck to paycheck, it seems the general population is managing money at a fifth-grade level. (And again, that used to be me before I found FIRE.) We've got a lot of work ahead of us.

Lesson #2: The FIRE Movement Is Here to Stay As part of this project, my wife (Taylor) and I had a chance to share an afternoon with Vicki Robin, author of Your Money or Your Life, the 1992 classic that has inspired many Get Rich Slowly readers. We were beside ourselves with excitement. We first heard about Vicki Robin on the Mad Fientist podcast, where Brandon introduced her as one of the founders of the Financial Independence movement.Like J.D., Vicki wants people to devote themselves to their own potential and to a finding a purpose greater than chasing things. I assumed that she would be well-versed in all things FIRE. Instead, I learned that she had only recently discovered the newfound resurgence of interest in her previous life's work. So when we met with her, she was still assessing her place in all this, and whether she had the energy or desire to jump back in. She had aspired to use the concept of financial independence as a means to halt rampant consumerism and, in turn, improve our relationship with the environment, our community, and ourselves. Clearly, despite her decades of work, those goals hadn't come to fruition. Throughout the day, Taylor and I had been talking about the FIRE movement. But Robin challenged our assumptions. She reminded us that a movement is defined as a group of people working together to advance their shared political, social, or artistic ideas. Robin wasn't convinced that anyone was really working together in the financial independence community, or that real change had taken place. Instead, she believed we have a collection of bloggers (and other media figures) indirectly competing against each other for views, clicks, and subscribers. There existed little coordination just a handful of loosely organized events with major paywalls and/or a small number of tickets available. Since our conversation, however, the winds of change have blown in. People are starting to coordinate. FIRE is growing up, gaining popularity, and those in the lead are starting to work together. Look no further than the united response to Suze Orman's wildly condescending and inaccurate rant on Paula Pant's Afford Anything podcast.Look at our own project, the Playing with Fire documentary. We've enjoyed participation from everyone we've asked within the FIRE community (including Vicki, who has updated YMOYL and spent time and energy contributing to the community).Look at Tanja Hester's CentsPositive retreat for women.Look at the CampFI retreats held all over the country. Or the ChooseFI Facebook Page that continues to flourish. Or the FI subreddit, which has nearly half a million subscribers. That's just the tip of the iceberg. J.D. bought back Get Rich Slowly and continues to drop knowledge bombs. Mr. Money Mustache's keynote talks remind us that we all have the power to be rich, happy, and change the world. And J.L. Collins' talk at Google regarding the simple path to wealth is more popular than Oprah's talk at Google. (By a factor of ten!) I believe that this is just the beginning. The internet age presents an opportunity to easily organize, inspire, educate, and stick. When Vicki Robin first appeared on Oprah, millions of people watched. But Oprah didn't have a YouTube channel. And daily talk shows didn't broadcast re-runs. Robin enjoyed a brief burst of interest from that appearance, but she had to continue working to get coverage. She estimates she's conducted over 2,000 interviews in her lifetime. That's a mountain of work to get her message across! Fortunately, we've learned her effort wasn't in vain. She was just ahead of her time. Lesson #3: The FIRE Movement Embraces an Abundance Mindset When I set out to raise money to make Playing with Fire, I had one nagging worry. How was I going to get a bunch of frugal people to cough up their hard-earned, hard-saved dinero to support a film that covered the mechanics that they are already so well-versed in? Funny enough, the team at Kickstarter felt the same way. Below is a response I received from them hours before I hit the launch button to our now wildly-successful Kickstarter campaign. I'm excited to see how you get along and how in hell you manage to get FIRE fanatics to unnecessarily give away their hard-earned, hard-protected cash. But watching the trailer I looked at my colleague and said: I want to see this film. So hopefully that's everyone's response and bingo, film funded. My heart and the Kickstarter team's hearts were in the right place. We were half kidding, but seriously curious. Would this work? Does frugal equal cheap? Nope. Turns out that frugal is not the same as cheap. In fact, from my perspective, it seems like frugality facilitates excessive generosity. Brad Barrett from ChooseFI considers himself a valuist, he ensures whatever he accumulates or devotes his time to will bring him value. So we consider the overwhelming success of the Kickstarter as a sign that this community values the work we are doing, and the stories and perspectives we aim to share. An obvious observation in hindsight! It costs money to make movies, but money is merely a tool. Time is the ultimate non-renewable resource.And when I first kicked off this project, my inbox was inundated with offers of time, expertise, places to stay, stories, etc. to support this film. I've welled up with tears more than once over the past few months, overcome with emotion as the generosity continues to pour in. The FIRE community has been sharing their most precious resource time since day one. Imagine the impact the community could have if all this generosity were organized with greater clarity and intention! J.D.'s Note: Over the past couple of years, I've noticed the same thing: The FIRE community has an amazing abundance mindset. The folks I meet are the most generous, sharing people I've ever met. It's mind-boggling, actually, how much people are willing to give and without the expectation of any sort of return. Lesson #4: Once You See the FIRE Framework, You Can't Unsee It I used to feel bad about myself. When it came to investing acumen, and general understanding of personal finances, I was lost. It was so bad, that I'd sweep anything financial under the proverbial rug. Luckily, my parents were raised frugal and instilled the fear of debt into me at an early age. I respected debt and stayed away from the most egregious debt mistakes one can make. But, like so many, I had the idea that financial skill was something complex, something beyond my ability to understand. I excused myself from the task altogether. Boy, did that cost me! If Taylor and I had known what we knownow when we graduated from high school, we'd be retired today. Once we got past the sunk-cost fallacy, we picked ourselves up by the britches and realized something fairly profound. The secret to financial success is simple: Spend less than you earn and invest the rest. Duh. Although this fundamental financial truth is obvious to me now, I'd been blind to it before. But once you see it, you can't un-see it. It's not as complex as I had once believed, and with a changed belief system in place, new possibilities were born. Taylor and I have started looking for other aspects of our life where we can apply this lesson. What other seemingly complex issues do we avoid in our daily lives? Are there simple solutions to these problems that have perhaps been overlooked? We've found that taking the emotion out of our arguments is easier if we think about conflict resolution more simply. Assume your partner isn't out to get you. Give them the benefit of the doubt. Less conflict ensues! How simple?! [J.D.'s note: Preach! This is one of my personal mantras: Always give the other person the benefit of the doubt.] The more we crush complexity, the more we can simplify and enjoy our lives. Lesson #5: Get Rich Slowly HQ Is Pretty Darn Cool Okay, this final lesson isn't really about FIRE. It's more meant for long-time Get Rich Slowly fans who want a glimpse behind the scenes at GRS HQ. The Playing with Fire crew visited J.D. and Kim last February on a typical gloomy Portland morning. Grey skies and misty rain set the tone as we drove over gravel roads and beautiful rolling hills, the perfect kind of day to sink into your couch and read a good book. We were greeted by warm smiles and open doors, and a few friendly-looking but apparently murderous animals who all share a roof. [J.D.'s note: It's true. Our three cats and one dog make up a murderous crew that wreaks havoc on the local rodent population.] First, we drank coffee and shot a scene in Kim and J.D.'s living room. Here, J.D. and I are both taking photos of the same scene from opposite sides of the room:

After we cut, the crew tore down to reset for a sit-down interview with JD in his office, the shed that serves as Get Rich Slowly world headquarters. Apparently, this peach-colored shedquarters is built from cocktails and dreams. It contains J.D.'s collection of books, comics, and personal-finance paraphernalia from thirteen years of writing about money. It also contains several bottles of whisky. Most of all, the shedquarters reflects J.D.'s love for learning, collecting, and enjoying. For me, it was a literal FIRE library mecca. Thrift: A Cylcopedia first caught my eye, but then I was distracted by an old copy of Your Money or Your Life. Then a stack of books about the history of retirement. Then a collection of Malcolm Gladwell hardbacks. Then a well-worn copy of J.D.'s own Your Money: The Missing Manual. [J.D.'s note: True story. I refer to my own book all of the time. Although it's gradually growing outdated, it's my most-used reference book.]

If I'd had my way, I would have brought a six-pack of pale ale and spent the rest of the afternoon soaking up knowledge and J.D. vibes. But alas, we had to head to another shoot on the schedule. Perhaps Taylor and I will make a pilgrimage back to J.D.'s FIRE library sometime next year once our lives have settled down. Final Thoughts These are just a few of the many life lessons I've learned on this journey over the past two years. But I just realized that I didn't indulge in the promised FIRE gossip! That's because there isn't any. These folks are a bunch of nerds. They're money nerds, just like you. Sure, when they're together, they talk about frugality. They give each other tips on shopping for quality clothes at thrift stores. They discuss what they'd do with a $100,000 windfall. They dream about which new car to buy while they continue to drive twenty-year-old Hondas. They practice house hacking and building Roth IRA conversion ladders. They argue about whether a SEP or Solo 401(k) is best. They debate whether it's better to rent or buy your home. But they are also traveling across the country (and the world) to meet up and chat. They talk philosophy, the latest side hustle they've embarked on. They enjoy delicious meals at fancy restaurants (when I'm paying) and they drink an awful lot of beer and wine. They go for epic hikes and take long dips in ice cold water according to the methods of Wim Hof. The people I've met while working on this project are supportive, generous, and delightful souls, trying to squeeze the most out of this one wild and precious life. They've figured out that spending time playing board games with your friends and family is far more beneficial than preparing for tomorrow's board meeting. And they cook up plans to create their own FIRE-centric cities. Basically, they are the most interesting damn people I've ever met. Now, I find I'm part of this cult. If you're not careful, you'll get sucked in too. For my money, drinking the FIRE-flavored kool-aid has never been more appealing.

Author: Scott Rieckens Scott Rieckens is an Emmy-nominated film/video producer, serial entrepreneur, and author. Scott has spent his career as a storyteller connecting people with ideas. Along the way, Scott's work has generated millions of views through a feature-length documentary, multiple televisions series, short films, and a diverse range of commercial projects. Now, Scott has created Playing with FIRE, which explores the growing community of frugal-minded folks choosing a path to financial independence and early retirement. https://www.getrichslowly.org/making-fire-documentary/