#And then refuse to acknowledge the politics and activism in his songs
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scrolling through the hozier tag again and I can’t help but notice almost every post saying something along the lines of “that’s our forest god” which is fair but also
this might be a hot take but I think the beauty of Andrew’s music is that he can write such incredible songs that perfectly capture love and the human condition because he has experienced it?? And that’s why he can write such heart wrenching music? Idk this is random but I’m just saying my man gets it because he’s been through it.
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kwyw · 1 year ago
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Hey “Karlie Kloss is married” Anon:
You are aware that in 2023, the LGBTQIA community is still fighting for basic human rights, no?
You are aware that in 2023, people are banning FICTIONAL books because of the mere mention of LGBTQIA characters, right? What about the banning of drag shows? “Don’t Say Gay” in Florida?
Read the room, a book or maybe watch/read the news. The LGBTQIA community exists and will continue to exist regardless of the treatment they receive from those who claim to “not judge people for who they love because love is love” when it’s convenient for them and who misquote & misinterpret Martin Luther King, Jr.’s words on the one day out of the year they try to show they don’t discriminate against people in any way, shape or form.
However, it’s people with mindsets like yours who will always force the LGBTQIA+ community to continue the fight for equality, even in 2023!
Lavender marriages exist. People aren’t making this up or pulling it from the depths of their asses. If it were so easy to “just come out”, people would more frequently because that would mean people truly don’t care.
People lose jobs for being gay. They’re turned away from restaurants. Refused wedding cakes. Overlooked for promotions when they’re more than qualified or deserving. Denied the opportunity to buy a house or adopt a child. Called mentally ill or pedophiles. Physically attacked. Harassed. Murdered. All because of who they lay beside at night.
Just because Taylor is a billionaire doesn’t mean people wouldn’t treat her differently if she ever (allegedly) came out and the same for Karlie (allegedly). She would lose fans. Her albums may not sell as much. Venues may not want her to perform there to avoid protesters. People may stop buying a company’s products if she endorses them. Look at Bud Light/Dylan Mulvaney.
Because for some reason, some people in society think money loses it’s value if someone’s sexual orientation isn’t the same as theirs, but guess what:
Money is still green and it’s still paper, whether it comes from a gay person hands or not. That same green paper is what people want others to spend to support *them* and *their* business. You want it as a reward for your hard work at your job. You accept it as a gift. If you found $50 outside of a gay bar, you’re gonna pick it up because it’s $50 on the ground, right?
People will accept cash, card, credit, Apple Pay, etc., but won’t accept other people based on their race, sexuality, etc.
Crazy world we live in.
It’s not even easy for people to become billionaires, much less come out of the closet because in either scenario, they could lose everything.
Why do you think Scott Swift and that other guy were so against her speaking about politics? Ask yourself why you’re so triggered at the possibility that Taylor and Karlie could be or are (allegedly) gay?
Why do you think Josh (allegedly) takes Karlie on the majority of his business trips? His own family refused to acknowledge her for years. Josh himself referred to his friend Mikey (also married with two kids) as their roommate. Have you seen his past birthday tributes to Mikey compared to Karlie’s?
At the end of the day, people in some industries have to present themselves a certain way to be successful. It’s like code switching. You have to change or suppress things about yourself to appease other people.
Also, Karlie *has* actively dropped Easter eggs (hello, cardigan/folklore!). You probably just don’t like the messenger. For example:
Her using Labyrinth’s music in her IG stories just for Labyrinth to be a song on midnights?
Her own sister, Kimby, saying “la la la la” on twitter, just for Karlie to pop up at the LA show.
Taylor said in MA that she and her partner decided together they wanted their relationship to be private.
Wouldn’t you say that fits Taylor/Karlie? Because when you don’t see two people associating as much publicly as they used to, you automatically assume something happened or that they aren’t friends…right? Because that’s what everyone assumed until Karlie showed up at the rep tour and the eras tour.
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walkietalkiemaniac · 6 months ago
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It's really funny when ovhoe cunts claim that k. is fake activist. He literally straight up said in his first and last albums that he's not savior, that he's flawed etc but some ppl treat him like he's black messiah because he acknowledges existence of racism and wrote songs how it affects his and other black ppls lives.
I hate ovhoe and drake I hope all of them die.
the fake activist stuff def ties back to the discussion of how everyone is more inclined to criticize lefties or progressives or anyone who dares claim theyre trying to do good things for hypocrisy or higher standards they cant meet than criminal conservatives. kendrick stubbornly refuses to be held up to that standard, idolized OR idealized, and while i find that reasonable (its something even i had to do, its drawing boundaries of sorts) most just see it as an opportunity to claim that "see? hes not owning up to being an Activist and posting woke shit nonstop and always doing charity work! hes a fake!" while its all a huge misunderstanding of how political art and political actions are separate, different things. twitter activism brained dumbasses cant comprehend kendrick as a man, as an artist and as someone who does put time and money to achieve "progressive" ends, all separately.
ovhoes dying sounds great ill sign off on that tbh
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ineffablymanic · 1 year ago
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Crowley didn't know why he kept coming back to the bookshop. [AO3]
Muriel listened to his advice, no books were being sold. Her oddly polite "Kindly sod off!! Thank you!!" delivered with a hearty smile made Crowley's mouth twitch every time. He started sorting the books Jim had moved around, back the way they used to be, according to the order Az- he had last put them. Crowley replenished the fire extinguisher supply. He scoffed at the yellow duster and just miracled any dust he saw into the close proximity of customers who he could sense being nasty to the staff in the surrounding shops. Enjoy coughing for the rest of the day, jackass.
Crowley avoided the messy writing desk. He avoided plenty of things. Couples. Certain genre movies and music. Bentley, on days when hissing it to shut up shut the fuck up with the certain genre songs didn't work. He had plenty of thoughts he avoided like a professional.
But then he saw Muriel actively defiling the desk.
She had moved the once dispersed yellowing pieces of paper into one pile and gathered old tea cups to be taken to the kitchenette. There was a large leather bound notebook in her hands that she was maybe moving to a shelf.
"Leave. It," Crowley snarled, regretting his too harsh of a tone the moment the words spat out of his lips, but Muriel just seemed surprised. She'd gotten too used to his presence, he thought absently.
"Oh, is the mess intended? Is that another human thing?
"It's his mess. He doesn't- didn't-" Crowley tried not to groan in frustration. "Humans, people, don't like it when their personal stuff is touched."
Muriel's brows furrowed as she considered the revelation. "I guess that makes sense. I've never owned anything, angel's aren't supposed to crave possessions you see, but I do suppose if I did... I'd be upset too."
She let out a little nervous chuckle. "I'd rather like to give a permission first! I don't know what that would be like, I've never been asked." Her eyes widened and suddenly she looked like the book had burned her, and she quickly put it back down on the desk.
Crowley's irritation melted away. He couldn't stay mad at Muriel over anything. He'd forgotten how cruel Heaven was. Well, he hadn't, but spending such a long time with one angel had skewed his memory- Nope. He forced his mind to look for something else to think, anything else than that ecstatic smile when he’d obtained a rare book, or the pure, unfiltered delight when he ate or drank something delicious, or-
Crowley shook his head vigorously and started sauntering towards the door. He needed fresh air. Or a bottle of Aerstone, he wasn't sure which. 
"It's okay, glad we cleared that up. Leave the desk be, uh, yeah. Bye."
In all earnestness he considered finally going on a trip of some kind. Somewhere warm and dry, Australia maybe. Maybe he'd just keep driving and see where he ends up. Few years of Wanderlust might do him some good.
He was back at the bookshop in three days.
Irked out of his mind, Crowley acknowledged Muriel's cordial greeting with a grunt and started meandering around the bookshelves, glaring at anything that could possibly be out of place. If he focused hard enough, he could make the old plant essence in the books shiver under his scrutiny.
With a sigh, he sprawled on the sofa like a deflating balloon. Muriel left him be, in some round about way she'd learned when he wasn't in a talking mood. Apparently she'd been taking 'Demon Crowley Behavior' notes and refused to show them to him. He didn't want to compel her, in fact he was appreciative of the silence. Trying to ground himself, Crowley took in a deep breath, taking in the slightly stale scent of ancient books, leather and glue and regretted the act immediately. Another thought to avoid.
He didn't feel like leaving, no matter how often the thoughts get up, get out, why am I here kept repeating in his head. Maybe reading could distract him for a while. He lurched upright and slunk around, browsing the ever so slightly trembling book spines.
A Change in the environment caught his attention and he glanced at the writing desk. Right, Muriel had touched it so it didn't look the same as before. Crowley hadn't seen the book she'd dropped on the table before, it must've been buried under other notebooks. There were multiple pages jutting out, and he saw some colorful markings on them. His curiosity won and he picked up the book, unwrapping the leather string and started to browse it.
His eyes widened until they almost bulged out.
Crowley slapped the book shut, snatched it and staggered towards the stairs. When Muriel inquired where he was going, Crowley tried to answer something akin to "just visiting the bathroom", but what came out was mostly unintelligible garble. This apparently didn't bother Muriel.
"... Is there a bathroom? Do demons need to use the toilet? Or is your corporation different from mine? Mine didn't come with an active digestion tract, at least to my knowledge, I haven't consumed anything yet and..."
Muriel's prattling died out when Crowley crashed into Jim's (Gabriel's? Who cares) old room and slammed the door shut. The door had enough sense to lock itself. He sucked in a preparatory breath.
Crowley plopped the book on the bed, waved it to flourish open and spread his hands and fingers, moving them in an 'arise' gesture. All the loose sheets of paper spread around him in the air in a half sphere. Crowley forgot breathing existed. His heart worked overtime, seemingly pumping all the blood to his cheeks and neck.
Tens, no, more like hundreds of adept drawings. Of Crowley, and Crowley only. Various ages of paper, he could sense the trace of power that kept the older ones pristine. Ink, pencil, charcoal, watercolor. Vibrant red and yellow colors used to depict his hair and snake eyes in great detail. Worrisome amount of drawings of him sleeping in various locations. Drawings from multiple eras, of countless of his different looks and styles. Drawings of his wings. None had his glasses. He was drawn smiling in most of them (Crowley didn't know did he really have that bright of a smile or was it just drawn like that).
Aziraphale doesn't- didn't draw, Crowley thought, numbly. He kept grabbing one paper after another, staring at the details. Some of them had text next to the drawings, proving him wrong. It was Aziraphale's small, tidy handwriting.
I miss his curls.
I miss seeing his eyes glint in the sun. Like flawless, yellow garnets.
Why did men's stockings have to go out of fashion?
He looked stunning in a hanfu. Oh, who am I kidding, he’d look stunning in a jute sack.
Attractive messy bun. Perfection.
He looks so peaceful while sleeping. Some day I wish to see him as calm and content while awake.
Crowley grinned madly. Why was he shaking? A hysterical laughter was trying to tear its way out of his throat. Oh, this was rich. What a weirdo. When that bastard came back, Crowley would needle him about these till the end of time. Absolutely ridiculous. Incredible. Straight up beyond belief…
To his horror, his grin twisted into a grimace and his silent laughter warped into sobs. Before he knew it, he had dropped down on his knees, tears rolling down his cheeks. He managed to pay enough attention to not get any on the drawings.
Well, fuck. Fuck. The overpressurized bottle holding his thoughts and emotions burst open.
I miss you, you bastard angel.
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rhaenella · 2 years ago
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You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 2
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Part 1 | Part 3
Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks. 
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, (eventual) smut
Word count: 2.8k
A/N at the end.
Song: Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene – Hozier  
“Fuck the rich,” you groaned, frustrated as you kicked over two empty Chinese takeout containers. 
It had been six hours since you came home from your meeting with your employer. Leaving the smug bastard behind in that 18th century abandoned building falling apart at its seams. He didn’t own you – you were your own person. Accepting jobs or refusing them as you wished, but damn it had really felt like he controlled you. And you didn’t like the feeling one bit. 
Power is a dangerous thing. Something to be desired and wars fought over. You would never admit that you longed for it yourself. You just wanted the autonomy to decide your own path, your own life and future. And to make sure your sisters could do the same regardless of your shit start in life. 
Yet, you didn’t feel an ounce of autonomy right now scrolling once more through the endless online hits on one Rhys Montrose. Your next victim. A man who had to be dead and vanished without a trace within 42 hours. Pity, considering the man wasn’t entirely unattractive. 
But ultimately you didn’t care for the man, good looks or not. Sure, he seemed decent in his political stance and you could even find some similarities in your upbringing. Apparently, Montrose had a rather shit start in life as well. Raised in poverty by an unstable single mother. However, he got a chance in life you never did. Turned out his father was some loaded duke who actually recognised Montrose as his legitimate son and heir. From there on his life started taking off, even being able to attend Oxford. Montrose wrote one of the most critically acclaimed memoirs in — well, history. He rose in the elitist ranks and became active in politics. Now there were rumours he would take a shot at the mayor candidacy in London. 
Again, you didn’t care about any of this. It was all just part of your normal vetting process. In order to get close to someone without anyone else noticing, one must get to know said person. The preparations of a kill were usually quite thrilling. Yes, you were a gun for hire but the knowledge that you were planning another person’s demise and about to carry it out without any of the victims being none the wiser was exciting. 
Did that make you a sociopath? Probably. You never intended to officially label it as it would require you sharing your secrets with a shrink. Which was never going to happen. 
But you knew you also had a heart and feelings. It kept you grounded in your beliefs that you were still somewhat of a normal person. Your feelings tied you to your humanity and to your sisters. You would do anything to protect them. Doing brutal things like killing possibly innocent people for money? If it meant keeping a roof over your sisters’ heads and making sure they got an education, and also not unimportant, preventing your little sister from becoming more sick and likely dying, then yes — fuck it all. You really would do anything. And you already were. But a tiny part of you also acknowledged that besides all of that, you also relished the feeling of besting someone. Watching the light go out in their eyes. And if those people also happened to be privileged assholes – well, you weren’t afraid to admit you enjoyed it just a tad bit more.
You rubbed your tired eyes and got up from the carpet where you had spread out your little research station, a dozen printed-out news articles on Montrose lying scattered around. You sighed. “First coffee,” you muttered to yourself as the early rays of sunlight entered through your almost see-through curtains. You bent down to pick up the takeout containers and walked the small distance to your tiny kitchen, throwing them away. 
You had your own small apartment in central London, decorated mostly with thrifted furniture and the little you owned that you brought with you when you escaped your mother’s house. You filled the kettle with water and waited for it to start boiling, grabbing the container of instant coffee from the top shelf, generously adding three scoops of the bitter stuff. 
The ringing of your phone made you pause as you set the container of coffee on your counter. Briefly glancing at your clock that hung above your stove — it read 06.32 — you fished your phone out of your pocket and picked it up, already knowing who it must be. 
“You’re up early,” you heard the familiar voice of your sister Zoe along with some background noise, most likely she was preparing her breakfast. 
“I could say the same thing to you,” you chuckled, moving to lean back against the counter.
“I have an early morning class in—” she paused, probably checking the time. “In two hours,” she sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she replied instantly. “It’s just, well, I’m supposed to have finished up on my notes on Poe’s Man of the Crowd and—”
“You haven’t yet,” you supplied, a smile finding its way to your lips. 
You heard a huff followed by a laugh. “Yeah.”
You were silent for a minute, listening to the birds waking up outside. 
“But it’s fine, you know. My professor — Jonathan Moore — he’s nice and all. He’s a little hung up on his American literature, but he’s helping me out with my own short story so I can’t complain too much.”
“Professor Moore? I haven’t heard you mention him before.”
“Well, I’ve been busy,” your sister answered reasonably. “And by the way, so have you. How was Canada?”
“It was fine,” you commented, turning around when you heard the little click that indicated the water was boiling. 
“Just fine? Jeez, sis, you can tell me if you shagged a hot Canadian bloke. I promise it won’t be a commentary on your character.”
You laughed as you picked up the kettle to pour the boiling water into your cup, the smell of coffee filling your nostrils almost making you groan. 
“Unfortunately, there was no hot Canadian bloke,” you replied amused. There was however quite an attractive woman that now rested — peacefully? — six feet down in Glendon Forest, Ontario. At least you buried her deep enough so the moose wouldn’t be able to feast off of her remains. That would seem to qualify as peace as far as you were concerned. 
“However, I did get you some real Canadian maple syrup.”
“The answer to all my problems,” Zoe remarked dryly. 
“Exactly.”
Your sister was quiet for a moment as you stirred your cup of coffee, picking it up to tentatively take a sip of the hot drink. Now you really did almost groan if it wasn’t for the shaky inhale of breath you heard through your phone’s receiver. You were about to ask what was wrong — what truly bothered her, but your sister beat you to the punch. 
“Have you heard?” She asked quietly.
“Heard what, love?”
“About the possible serial killer running around London.”
Ah, the infamous Eat The Rich Killer as the media had dubbed him. A little prematurely you thought as there were so far only two confirmed kills, meaning he wasn’t technically a serial killer yet or deserving of a fancy nickname. 
You had been reading up on it about three hours ago because the victims had been part of a tight group of social elitists. People who were close to your target, Rhys Montrose. It briefly crossed your mind how well-timed it would be if Montrose would be killed by the presumable serial killer within your time span of killing the man. It would surely be an easy pay day. 
“Yeah, I heard. Did you know that professor? Harding, right?”
Your sister hummed affirmatively. “Malcolm Harding. He was a bad professor, never prepared his classes, but he didn’t deserve this. No one does.”
It made you smile thinking of your sister’s big heart. She sympathised with every person that walked this earth, even the ones who didn’t deserve it. Some would call it naive, and maybe it was a little naive, but you also admired that trait in her. It was a level of sympathy you’d never experienced or would ever be able to experience.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” you offered. 
“It’s okay. I just hope they catch whoever’s responsible for these crimes. Did you know the killer took… things,” she trailed off, doubtlessly horrified at the idea of cutting up a body. 
“Professor Harding’s finger was sent to The London Dispatch.” You could almost hear her shudder through the phone. “And they haven’t retrieved Simon Soo’s ear yet. How appalling — can you imagine cutting off someone’s ear?” 
Yes, you could. 
“No, the thought of it alone, it’s too awful to think about.”
“Truly horrible,” she agreed. 
“But I really need to get going. I still have to finish up on my notes for Moore’s class.”
“You do that, sweetie. And please don’t trouble yourself too much with this Eat The Rich Killer stuff, just focus on yourself and your studies. Okay?”
“I will try,” your sister promised.
You exchanged your I love you’s and goodbye’s, promising to bring her the maple syrup later today. When you hung up the phone and placed it back in your pocket, you picked up your coffee and lazily walked back towards your living room. You sighed as you took in the mess of articles and your hastily scribbled-down notes on Montrose’s movements of the past few weeks. 
Plumping down on the soft carpet once more, you took two deep breaths. You can do this. You’d done it countless times before. So what that he was some famous politician, being watched by the entire city, possibly the entire country. You could make this work. This was what you did best. 
You grabbed a clean sheet of paper and wrote down the address of Montrose’s townhouse in Primrose Hill. That is where you would start. 
The sound of the alert you had installed on your phone when a new article on Montrose would be posted, interrupted your train of thought. You quickly snatched your phone and couldn’t help but smirk as you read the headline now displayed on your screen.
Rhys Montrose Press Interview This Afternoon in Regent’s Park.
Perfect timing, you relished. Now you didn’t have to sneakily stay within the practically non-existent blindspots at his residence where you had counted at least 12 different cameras through looking up his house on Google Maps. The man was either paranoid or brilliant. Or both. 
You quickly skimmed through the news article. He would be there answering questions regarding the Eat The Rich situation, as well as raise some awareness for a charity run he’s apparently organising. 
You grinned, putting down your phone and eagerly grabbing your laptop to look up Regent’s Park online to examine all the different access (and escape) routes. 
Finally you felt like an opportunity had presented itself, the contours of a plan starting to formulate itself in your mind. 
As you scribbled down your ideas onto another fresh piece of paper in your notebook, you darkly chuckled, “You better get ready for our first date, Mr. Montrose.”
––
The sun was high up in the sky when Rhys Montrose stood in front of at least two dozen journalists and photographers that afternoon. With cameras zoomed in on his face and microphones and recorders all pointed his way, he had to carefully choose his words answering the media’s questions. Luckily, Rhys was a good talker, and if he didn’t want to provide any upfront comment he would charmingly deflect. It always worked. Handling people came naturally to him — being able to play them like a conductor who is in perfect control of his symphony. 
After a few questions on his charity run coming up in two weeks, the media quickly switched tracks to bombard him with questions on the Eat The Rich Killer. 
Are you aware of any possible suspects?
Do you fear for your own life?
Are you joining your friends in retreating to Lady Phoebe’s country estate for shelter?
His mind immediately zeroed in on that last question some 20-year-old newbie had shouted from the back of the pack.
Friends, he inwardly scoffed. But they had indeed invited him to come. None of them being aware that they had just voluntarily invited the killer into their little shelter. 
The groupchat had exploded after the news broke of Malcolm’s murder. Lady Phoebe calling for a retreat to the safety of the countryside, away from the prying eyes of the media and other dangers that lingered in the shadows of the city of London. 
Rhys was way too busy with his extensive plans that needed tending on his road to becoming mayor to accept this ridiculous offer. Besides, he had been more than a little annoyed at this pathetic attempt of outrunning, in his eyes, the inevitable — their deaths. 
He was in the middle of formulating a text stating he wouldn’t attend before he paused at a new incoming text by Lady Phoebe. Jonathan would also join them. Why he was admitted to their inner circle of snobbery was beyond him, but Jonathan had intrigued him from the start. His sixth sense when it came to murder and violence kicking in. Rhys had taken a gamble when he’d placed a freshly murdered Malcolm on Jonathan’s kitchen table, but he had been impressed with the way Jonathan had handled the situation. He had been right about him. And now Rhys couldn’t resist playing with Jonathan a little more, rearranging his plans to include the faux professor in his murderous schemes. 
Was it just for his own entertainment? Possibly. Would he tire of him eventually? Very likely. But Rhys would deal with that fallout when the time came. For now, Jonathan served his purpose perfectly. 
Maybe Rhys would attend after all.
Rhys cleared his throat and placed a befitting, empathetic smile on his face as he turned towards the newbie journalist who was nearly crushing his pencil as he waited for Rhys to answer. 
Rhys knew that he could never look weak in the public’s eye, but he did need to convey a sense of compassion towards the situation.
“I am indeed planning to travel to Hampsbridge House later today. We collectively decided to take a moment for ourselves to mourn the loss of our friends whom we’ve known since our days at Oxford,” Rhys answered, deliberately squashing any mentions of sheltering. A word that in his mind equalled pathetic and weak. 
“We very much appreciate your understanding of our wish to take some time away from the bustling of the city. Lady Phoebe suggested that the calm and serenity of the countryside may aid in our challenge to make some sense of all that has happened recently. And I wholeheartedly agreed with her assessment.”
Rhys looked around, focusing on the cameras. 
“And when I get back in a couple of days, I will be ready to resume my work with a clearer head and a renewed devotion to fight for what’s right in this city. To ensure the safety of all. Not just the social elite, but also the working class,” he concluded. 
The journalists and photographers took it as their cue to finish up and started packing up their gear. Rhys’ security walked up to him and informed him they were set to drive him to Hampsie. He nodded affirmatively at his head of security, relaying his instructions for the stay in the country. His security would remain at the outermost perimeter of the property. There would be no need for them inside the walls of the manor anyway. Likely they would only hinder what he had now planned for the other guests. 
He was discussing his final instructions whilst they left through the entrance gates of the park when someone forcefully bumped into his right shoulder. Rhys turned around swiftly, regaining his composure and stared at the back of a woman who was wearing head phones. He could clearly hear the blasting music even as she kept on walking farther away from him without apologising, completely ignoring who she had just rather rudely bumped into. 
“Sir, are you all right?” His security gathered around him like a protective shield. As if the woman had been any real threat. He chuckled, looking back at his men. 
“It’s fine. Let’s not waste any more time.”
The sleek black car that would take him to Hampsie rounded the corner and Rhys slid graciously into the back seat as his chauffeur held open the door for him. 
Whilst they drove through the busy London traffic, Rhys rested two fingers to his temple. The next phase of his plan was coming to fruition sooner than he had anticipated. But he was prepared. He always had to be. 
At last, they left the hectic city behind them and the smile that slowly made its way onto Rhys’ face was both wicked and dangerous, like a predator ready to stalk its prey.
–––– 
A/N: and that’s part 2!! Next part will be reader going on her mission to assassinate our favourite politician/serial killer, oh my...
ALSO, it’s the first time ever that I’ve been adding these soundtrack-esque songs at the beginning of the chapters. These are really just songs that I thought about (or listened to) during writing that would, in my opinion, really fit the vibe of the chapter. Feel free to play them as you read or perhaps listen to them afterwards
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remma3760 · 4 months ago
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Consequences
Chapter 12
Summary:
Lan Qiren would have preferred to keep Wei Ying and Lan Zhan away from Wen Ruohan, but that was no longer an option. They have been summoned, so they must go.
They arrived in Nightless City to stifling heat and the smell of sulpher. Lan Qiren had given in and allowed Lan Zhan to be carried on Nie Jiahao's saber while he kept Wei Ying with him. There really had been little choice as the steep mountain paths didn't allow for carriages so it was either fly in or ride. This place was absurd. Who would choose to build a palace on an active volcano? Madness. Taking his childrens' hands he followed a servant into the main hall, Nie Jiahao at his side. 
Wen Ruohan sat on his throne looking down on them as they approached. Wei Ying clung close to his side, intimidated while Lan Zhan seemed unimpressed and even a little bored. Wen Ruohan indicated towards the two children. "Which of these is the grandson of the immortal?"
Before Lan Qiren could answer, Wei Ying waved his hand in the air. "Me. That's me. Wei Ying."
"Hm. Step forward, child."
Wei Ying did, giving another small wave and a tentative smile. 
Wen Ruohan studied him critically. "You don't look like much, boy."
Wei Ying was puzzled. What had this man expected? "I look like a boy." 
Lan Qiren bowed, drawing Wei Ying back to his side. "Excellency, the child is seven. His golden core has only just began to develop."
"Yet you chose to adopt him? Why would you do so if he is not extraordinary?"
"I adopted him because I love him. To me, he is extraordinary. As, I'm sure his Excellency considers his own sons to be. Is that not the way of parents?" 
"Hmph. Tell me, Lan Qiren, why was the boy not brought to me for approval?"
Lan Qiren frowned. What was Wen Ruohan suggesting? "Excellency, my son's adoption was an internal matter of the Lan. I did not consider it necessary to seek approval."
"Yet you took him from the Jiang, is that not so? Would it not be customary to consult your Chief Cultivator in a dispute between two great sects?"
"The child is not property. While yes, Jiang Fengmian found the boy, he was never officially inducted into the Jiang Clan and was given no status there. His father was no longer a part of the Jiang and his mother never had been. Had he been properly cared for at Lotus Pier I would not have removed him. However, his treatment was reprehensible and so I felt impelled to act."
"And you nephew? Was he also impelled to act?"
"He was, Excellency."
"Indeed. So, I take it this is Hanguang Jun?" He indicated Lan Zhan, who had still not acknowledged him. 
"Excellency? Hanguang Jun?"
"You hadn't heard, Lan Qiren? That's what they're calling him now. The little lord who brings light into the darkness. How poetic."
Lan Qiren was shocked. First to find that songs and poetry were being writing about Lan Zhan, and now that he had been awarded a title? At eight? And what a title. Absurd. 
"I'm not surprised you hadn't heard. You Lans and your refusal to take note of what's happening around you because you consider it 'gossip'. Well, lets take a look at the little lord. Step forward boy, let me see you. Is what your uncle says correct? Did you feel impelled to act?" 
Lan Zhan stepped forward to look up at him. "Yes."
Wen Ruohan waited for him to go on until it became clear he was done. "Is that all you have to say?"
"Yes."
"You felt you had the right to interfere with the punishment of a disciple by the Madam of the Sect?"
"Yes."
Wen Ruohan was becoming frustrated. "Why?"
"Do not be angry and hold resentment. Do not mistreat the younger. Do not succumb to rage. Do not bully the weak. Do not be unreasonable. Do not treat others with contempt. Do not take advantage of your position to opress others. Uphold the value of justice."
Wen Ruohan stared at the boy standing politely in front of him. "Lan Qiren, is he serious?"
"He is, Excellency. My nephew is most particular about justice being upheld."
Wei Ying bounced forward to hug Lan Zhan tightly. "Lan Zhan saved me. Lan Zhan is good."
"So it would seem. Hanguang Jun indeed." Dismissing Lan Zhan, Wen Ruohan returned to his main point. "Am I to believe then, Lan Qiren, that your adoption of this child was out of kindness rather than to claim the Immortal Baoshen Sanren as an ally?"
"Excellency, I was unaware of Wei Ying's relationship to Baoshen Sanren until the adoption was decided."
"Indeed. Did you not consider, once the connection became known, that the Qishan Wen Sect would be a better option for the child? I, myself would have been willing to take in the boy."
"Your Excellency is always generous. However, Baoshen Sanren was pleased to give consent to my adoption of Wei Ying. Of course, His Excellency would not expect the Lan Sect to disregard the wishes of the Immortal."
Wen Ruohan was displeased. To have Baoshen Sanren allied to the Wen would be advantageous but to try to demand the boy now might anger her since she had already approved the adoption. How typical of Jiang Fengmian not to find out the truth of the boy's lineage. Now the boy was wasted on the righteous Lan. "As you say, Lan Qiren. The Immortal must be respected."
He would have to leave it there for now. Maybe something could be done to attain the boy in the future. He indicated behind him, a servant coming forward to hand him a saber. "Nie Zongzhu. What do you think if this gift? A magnificent saber, is it not?"
"It is impressive, Excellency."
"You think so? I was told that you would not be impressed."
"Who would say such a thing? Of course, and weapon belonging to His Excellency would be of superior quality."
"Indeed. Your saber is called Qiangda, I believe. Bring it to me, so that I may examine it."
Nie Jiahao looked to Lan Qiren, confused. It really was a bizarre request, but who was he to question the Chief Cultivator? He handed his saber to Wen Ruohan, who studied it carefully before forcefully slapping the blade several times. Lan Qiren was the only one who heard Lan Zhan's tiny gasp and he frowned down at his nephew who had gripped his hand tight. 
Wen Ruohan handed Qiangda back to Nie Jiahao, before getting up and leaving without another word. 
Puzzled, Nie Jiahao stared at his saber then looked over to Lan Qiren. "What was that all about? And what now? Do we just leave?"
A servant approached, bowing low. "Nie Zongzhu, Lan Xiansheng, please allow me to escort you to your rooms."
Lan Qiren nodded before giving Nie Jiahao a serious look. "We need to talk."
***
"What do you mean he did something?" Nie Jiahao gaped at Lan Zhan. What was he talking about? "Qiren, what does he mean?"
"Lan Qiren shook his head, concerned. "I don't know, but when Wen Ruohan slapped your saber, he reacted badly. A-Zhan, did you see something?"
"Not see. Heard. He hurt Qiangda."
Lan Qiren knelt, taking Lan Zhan's hands. "This is very important, A-Zhan. You need to tell us exactly what you heard."
Lan Zhan's little face screwed up in concentration. "When the mean man hit Qiangda she screamed, like when the hawk took the bunny. And now she sounds wrong. Hurt."
"I don't hear anything. Qiren, come on. This makes no sense. Did you hear anything?"
"I...not exactly. There was something, more a feeling of sound. A vibration. You know the Lan's use musical cultivation?" At Nie Jiahao's nod, Lan Qiren continued. "Well because of that, Lan's are particularly attuned to sound. We test children young. A-Zhan's hearing was found to be particularly enhanced even amongst Lans. Believe me, Jiahao, if he said he heard something, then he heard something."
Looking concerned, Nie Jiahao peered closely at his saber. "So now what?"
"Jiahao, promise me, as soon as we get back to the Unclean Realm, you get your weapons master to check Qiangda thoroughly."
"I will. I promise."
***
Nie Jiahao was in disbelief. "The boy was right?"
The weapons master was grave. "He was Zongzhu. There are hairline cracks near the hilt, easy to miss at such an early stage. Fortunately the damage is still negligible and easily repaired. However, if you had used Qiangda as she is now, she would have shattered."
Nie Min gasped, clinging to her husband's arm. "Husband, Wen Ruohan did this deliberately? He risked your life because he was, what? Jealous?"
Nie Jiahao held his wife, looking over her head at a troubled Lan Qiren. "I don't know. I don't know what he intended. Maybe he just didn't care. Whatever his intentions, he has failed."
Lan Qiren nodded. "I fear you are right. He is becoming ever more erratic."
"Qiren, this is an act of war."
"It is. But Qishan is too powerful for us to act yet. We will need allies."
Nie Min startled. "Oh no, I'm sorry, I forgot. There was a message for Lan Qiren from Jin Guangshan. He requests a visit so that he, too can greet the newest Lan heir."
Lan Qiren huffed. "Well of course he does. Gods forbid Jin Guangshan be left out of anything. I'll take the boys there before we return to Cloud Recesses."
"Will you tell him about this, Qiren?"
"If I think it will do any good. So probably not. I don't trust him, Jiahao. He's more likely to go running to Wen Ruohan than be of any assistance."
"Whatever you think best, Qiren. We should keep in touch either way."
"Mn. Wen Ruohan will know soon enough that you are well and healthy. He won't be pleased. Watch out for him. I will also try to get word to Baoshen Sanren. She warned me about Wen Ruohan so she should know that he's taken an interest in A-Ying."
Nie Jiahao nodded. They were in agreement. Trouble was coming.
0 notes
jameui · 3 years ago
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MOVIE DATE
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PAIRING: Hwang Hyunjin x Manager!M!Reader
GENRE: Angst, Fluff
WARNING: Hyunjin being a jerk
SUMMARY: You boyfriend, Hyunjin took you out on a date to watch your favorite movie.
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You sighed in exhaustion and as if the world was trying to test you, a fast running bicycle came your way causing you to jump to the side, so fast that you forgot about the takeouts you had in your hands and at a blink of an eye the neatly boxed items fell to the ground, all the food now spilled on the floor with your eyes widening in fear. "Shit!" You yelled out and tried to get back to the restaurant again, but as soon as you got there the line was already long and it'd take you ages to get to the counter to order, again.
You were at your way to your work with your phone squeezed in between your shoulder and ear as you talked to your co-manager on the other line who seemed agitated for your tardiness, while you tried to balance the foods you were made to order. "Yes, sir. I'll make sure that won't happen again." You told the male before the call was cut short when he decided to hang up all of a sudden.
Looking around, you saw a chinese restaurant that had the smallest line, so you went there and bought the food there, even though the orders of the group was not exactly what they wanted for you to buy. You just couldn't go back empty handed.
After a few minutes of walking, you finally arrived at the venue of the fansign event and got there just in time before Stray Kids were called to the stage for their activity to be done, but the moment you got there you saw that the people present were already eating their food away. They noticed your presence entering the room whilst their head turned to look at you. "I... Good morning, everyone." You greeted them. 'Guess their manager got their food delivered.'
You didn't get a reply, except from the group who was more than happy to see that you had food on your hands. "Hyung! Thank God. I was starving." The group's youngest, Jeongin said as he helped you put the foods down on the table. "You're seriously a life saver."
You smiled at him giving him a muttered thanks that earned you a smile from Jeongin. Honestly speaking, Jeongin was the second best person you ever liked in the group, the first being Lee Felix since he was the only person to ever approach you on your first day since he was able to see how much you were so nervous. Felix was also one of the members who taught you korean, the other being Bang Chan. You had always knew the group back then, and now and you were damn thankful that you got the opportunity to be in their circle.
Knowing how young you were to be working for them, they treated you nicely, not because they needed to, rather cause it was in their nature to be caring. Well, at least except one person. You were the closest to Felix who treated you like his personal manager and a friend as well, going out on friendly dates with you to the park, dog cafés, just anywhere Felix would find interesting to visit.
Who's the person that seemed irritated whenever you were around you ask? Why, the one and only visual king, Hwang Hyunjin. He doesn't actually treat you bad, but the way his eyes would always turn dark or displeased when you show up in his line of sight made you feel so small and felt totally unwelcomed. That was then, apparently, since today the male looked a little too quiet and didn't even bother to look at you. Believe me or not that's actually the kindest thing he's done to you.
You would try to go to him to try and talk to him, worried by his silence. You just furrowed your brows and sighed completely aware that no matter how much you try to talk to him he won't even dare to acknowledge you being there for him.
"M/n, are you just gonna stand there? Come and eat." Chan told you, but you just politely declined his offer with the shake of your head before telling him that you had just taken your breakfast and that you were full, more and you feel like your stomach's gonna burst. "Hm, suit yourself, but I'll be leaving mine untouched, so you can eat it when you get hungry, yeah?"
"You're so kind, Chan." You gave him a smile that got Chan smiling also showing his deep dimples that you could just dive in it anytime soon.
"Hey, hey, hey! We've known each other the longest. Why do I still have to call you 'hyung' and M/n doesn't?" Jisung, one of the group's rapper, pouted with folded arms as Chan chuckled before ruffling the kid's hair that Jisung angrily shook off.
"Well, since he's not that spoiled, unlike you." Chan answered Jisung who gasped dramatically. "And he also gained my permission, so—"
"Whenever or not he's around, is he the only person that ever comes into your mind?" That all too familiar voice spoke out, all your heads turning towards the person. He scoffed and stood up with a smirk on his face, probably in disbelief that the whole group was talking to you and always thought about you. "I mean, come on. There's gotta be something else to talk about other than this... person." You felt his eyes look at you while your eyes stared at him with rising anger. "There's sports, other artists, songs, music, so many and you chose to pick him as the topic of your talk."
"Hyunjin, that is very disrespectful." Chan gritted out, but Hyunjin knew better than to listen or to even stop.
"I'm really not, hyung." Hyunjin's smirk grew wider eyeing you with a suspicious look on his eyes. An idea popped in his head as he opened his mouth to talk. "But, if you want to, I could show you how disrespectful I can get." Without any warning, he took the take-out container and bottled drink in his hand and gave you no second to react as he poured all of its contents onto your head with a loud gasp coming out of you. "There. I'll call it a masterpiece even."
"Hwang Hyunjin!" Bang Chan's voice boomed through the whole room a still smirking Hyunjin turning around to face the older male who was fuming with anger. "You—"
"Chan!" You called out to him before things got a little out of hand. For pete's sake their going to just fight because Hyunjin had made a mess of you? You were not even worth the fight. "No. I'm fine. I can just quickly change, that's all. I'll be right back and I better get no reports about you two fighting." You told the two, Chan rolling his eyes.
You got out of the room and ran as fast as you can to the nearest restroom, cleaning yourself as soon as you arrived. Times like this you would immediately bawl your eyes out, but with the constant behavior that Hyunjin showed to you, you grew used to it. Heck, you even sometimes feel that the other boys only act like they liked you being there and when you weren't, they'd stab you behind your back. "Goodness, why won't this get off."
"Need help?" A raspy voice came from the entrance of the restroom, turning your head around to see Felix leaning himself on the door frame with his arms crossed, then untangled them to let his hands rest inside his pockets and stepped inside as you smiled at him. "Do you need more tissue?"
You shook your head at him, your attention back on your stained favorite shirt wiping them clean with the tissues the place's restroom owned. "Nah, there's plenty here. Besides, I'm all dried up now." You said and showed yourself to him, Felix knitting his brows in worry.
He seeped air through his teeth and cocked his head to the side, unsure if you should be wearing that now dirty shirt when you'd be with them during the activity the whole time. "I don't think you should be wearing that."
"Why? It's my favorite sweater." You chuckled half-heartedly.
"Yeah, I know, M/n, but it's dirty. Plus, I think it gets pretty uncomfortable seeing that stain on your shirt and it gets sticky. Yeugh." Felix pretended to barf which got you laughing softly. Felix, though not trying to be funny, whatever he does it always seemed so funny to you.
"Fine, fine. I'll go change, the problem though is that I didn't bring an extra shirt with me today." You told Felix scratching your nape.
"Really? Well, I guess we have to borrow from one of the group's." Felix suggested, but your eyes grew sizes bigger upon hearing that and waved your hands.
"No way, Felix! I have already done enough damage, I can't afford to borrow a shirt from one of the members, or to you even." You told him, but it all fell on deaf ears as Felix refused to listen. "I'm just trouble, Felix. You don't have to worry about me."
Felix hummed with two fingers pinching his chin gently. "Yeah, I don't think so." He took your wrist and started to drag you back to the dressing room. "Come on, I know there's someone willing to let you borrow a shirt." You just sighed, knowing that Felix won't even dare to change his mind when he had already set them on something.
Alas, as you two got there, none of the members even had a spare shirt to let you borrow. They were very willing and even tried to look around if there was anything, but to no avail. Although, there was one last person you didn't ask. "Hyunjin. You were the cause of this mess, you let him borrow your shirt." Felix sternly told the older male who pilled his brows together.
"What?! No way! Are you telling me I'd offer to do something for that guy? No!" Hyunjin retorted making Felix growl.
Felix was so ready to throw punches at the male who didn't seem to be bothered by the situation, but you just put a hand on Felix's shoulder and assured him. "That's alright, Felix. My sweater was thick enough to not get my undershirt wet. Although, I'm grateful for your effort." You smiled at him and sighed.
Just in time, you heard a call from one of your co-manager that the group was already being requested to be at the stage right now. You gave them an encouraging smile as they all did the same. "Alright boys. It's time to go out there and meet millions of your fans."
The group all shouted, excluding Hyunjin, hurray and hurried out to get on stage, you following behind after you were able to discard your sweater, leaving you only on your black t-shirt. You shivered at the cold now that you were left with a thin clothing that wasn't appropriate for the type of weather you were having and not mention that the place was fully air-conditioned.
Your shaking was not too evident, but one of the members, Seungmin, was able to notice it. Feeling pity he made his way to Hyunjin and tried to convince him. "Jinnie, M/n's cold. Please lend him your jacket, at least. He'll get sick if he continues to get exposed to the cold."
"Better for him."
"Hyunjin, please... Besides, you're already wearing thick layers of clothes why not let M/n borrow." Seungmin reasoned out and solemnly knitted his brows to persuade the male, Hyunjin rolling his eyes at his bestfriend and huffed before taking his jacket off of him and handed it over to Seungmin who silently squeaked. "Thanks, Hyunjin." Hyunjin brushed it off with a 'whatever', the younger of the two jogging his way towards you and gave you the jacket he got from Hyunjin. "I noticed your shivering, so I want you to take this jacket and no, you can't say you can't accept it."
You nodded your head at him and took the jacket from his hands. "Thank you, Seungmin."
"My pleasure." He smiled at you with those puppy dog like smile. He skipped back to reunite with his group while you put on the jacket that Seungmin offered you. You were still in thought though how Seungmin was able to convince Hyunjin to let you borrow his jacket. You knew Hyunjin owned the jacket since he wouldn't let them go since the moment you arrived.
You noticed how the jacket was too big for you, since the sleeves of the piece of clothing only let your fingers peek out through the holes while the flaps reached further down your hips, but it totally felt cozy and smelled like... Hyunjin. How do you explain it? You don't even know where to begin. It was him. The reason why you wanted to work with Stray Kids. You didn't want to look like you were some type of stalker, but all you ever wanted was to befriend Hyunjin.
The befriending process didn't go the way you actually thought it would go. Everytime his eyes met yours or you heard his voice you'd get all flustered and so nervous that your tongue always gets tied, the words you want to tell him gets trapped inside your mouth. It all started to be just an admiration towards the slightly older male until your determination to become his friend gradually became an unknown feeling towards Hyunjin, until realizing later that you actually liked the group's rapper, despite all his bad treatment towards you.
Back to reality, you hugged yourself and took in the wonderful scent the artist gave off until one of your co-worker nudged you. "Hey, stop sniffing the clothes. You totally look like a sasaeng."
"W-what? I wasn't sniffing anything." You denied it earning an eye roll. Later, you heard the whole place bursted into shouts of joy and excitement as Stray Kids made their appearance on the stage greeting all their fans inside and outside of the place. They all took their turns taking the mic to express their happiness and gratefulness to their ocean of fans that filled up the whole place.
Soon, the group was seated at a long rectangular table that was a perfect fit letting all the members seat on their respective seats. There were chairs as well settled in front of the table with each settled across a specific member.
You were appointed to keep guard and stand behind Hyunjin, in any case of fans throwing shade at him or any forms of harm or hate towards the member who had just been caught up in a supposed bullying rumor.
The line started to form as people who were present inside the place took their turns to talk to each member and get a sign from them. So far, you could only wonder how paranoid the company was to keep you on guard of Hyunjin when all these people here are Stays and they wouldn't do such thing to throw hate to any members in the group. Right?
The line was still too long to be gone in just minutes making you sigh, hearing your tummy rumble hoping that no one heard that. You now finally regret not eating that noodles that Chan offered you, the hunger finally hitting your system as your tummy continued to grumble. You pursed your lips and forced your eyes closed while you brought your head down in embarrassment. 'Fuck... why now?'
After a short while, the line was starting to get shorter and shorter, you thanking the heavens for the fast passing by of the time. But, the moment you least expected to happen happened. You felt a harsh tap on your legs and another and another after it finally took your attention, getting a little shocked that the action was done by the person who hated you the worst. "Take it before I change my mind." He told you. You complied and bowed at him politely as he tuts his tongue. "Who would even think of going to work on an empty stomach?"
'You... poured it on me?' You thought then shrugging it off before you looked at the treat offered to you by Hyunjin. You wondered what type of bread it was and hesitated, although Hyunjin's back was facing you he was able to sense your hard time on trying to eat what he gave you.
"It's not poisoned, M/n." He whispered as he signed the album that had his photo on it, then looking up at the fan who would like to talk to him.
Their talk wasn't audible to you, but you opened the packaging of the nicely wrapped pastry and bit on it with your body facing the wall so your back was turned against the people to cover yourself while you ate. One of your co-manager did notice your unwanted behavior and stomped his way to you and took the baked good from your hands and threw it to the ground to step on it and crush it good. "What do you think you're doing, L/n?! You're being inappropriate right now." He gritted out to you with a small voice almost like a whisper so no one else would hear you two. You bowed your head subtly before a hand was placed right below your chin as you looked up at him confused. "Spit." He ordered, referring to the food you were chewing.
You nod your head and spit out the food that was in your mouth into his hand while he picked up the wasted food and left, then threw it all at a trash can. "Fuck." You sighed as you held your chest and slowly turned around to face the non-existent line, the group now interacting with their fans.
Just looking at them now, you were able to remember when you were the one who was there seated at the chairs shouting out the name of the person you would call as your bias, which is no other than Kim Seungmin. At least, when you still didn't take the job to be one of the group's manager. Usually, it would only take one manager to manage the group, but why did this group require another one? You questioned yourself. It was all unexplained to you, but all you gotta do was to just be glad that you get to be friends with the people you see as your role models.
"Hyunjin-ah! When did you start trading jackets with your manager?" The question came out as a shout that got everyone laughing, including the group. You were only able to chuckle knowing that it was Seungmin who convinced Hyunjin to let you borrow his jacket.
Hyunjin didn't get to answer the question, when another fan spoke from the crowd that got every fans' attention. "Are rumors true that you don't treat Manager L/n well?"
Chan furrowed his brows and picked up his microphone. "Where did you get this story?" He chuckled trying to make it sound that it wasn't true and just pure bluff. Chan looked at Hyunjin with the face that told Hyunjin that he should start treating you well if he didn't want the netizens to know about his treatment towards you. "Anyways, it's seriously not true."
-----------
A few minutes later and the event was finally finished and the group was bidding their goodbyes to their fans as they started to walk backstage. You waited for them at their waiting room with a handful of bottled waters for the boys to pick up once they get inside. The door soon opened revealing the group with a tense atmosphere following them that got you so confused. "Hey—"
"Hyunjin. If word gets out about your mistreatment to M/n, that would be a serious damage to our image and to M/n as well, 'cause he's obviously in pain because of you!" Chan yelled at the trouble causing male who only rolled his eyes paying no heed to his warning.
"Atleast, I never went too far as to really hurt him physically." Hyunjin deadpanned Chan growling at his response. Your eyes flickered to Hyunjin, then to Chan not knowing what to do in this situation.
"You are seriously being a jerk right now, Hyunjin." Chan fumed in anger while Hyunjin just continued to act deaf and played on his phone. Chan, giving up, sighed and plopped down on his seat. "Ayayay."
They took turns in getting your glances as you thought of a way to calm the atmosphere. You had already been their manager for a over a year now and this was the only time that Hyunjin ever spoke up to Chan and, to top it off, with sass and without the slightest feeling of being bothered. That was the moment you felt like you had enough. You've had enough with all these things. You were tired of yourself to even think that Hyunjin would finally soften up to you and be his friend. You were wrong to even apply for this kind of job. The group wouldn't be fighting if it hadn't been for you appearing in their lives all so suddenly. "Guys... let him do as he pleases. I'll be the one to take of whatever the netizens hear."
Chan raised his eyes up at you with furrowed brows. "What do you plan on doing? Whatever it is don't do it."
You smiled and nodded. "I won't, Chan." You held up the bottles in your hands and turned on a toothy smile. "Water? Anyone?" They all sighed in relief and got their turns in picking their own bottled water, the last one not being picked up by Hyunjin, so you decided to give it to him. You brought the cold drink to his face making him flinch as he looked up at you. "Thank you for the bread, by the way." You told him and giggled. "I've already packed your jacket in your bag." You informed him and patted his back.
The once crazily terrifying atmosphere now turned into a more comfortable one, the one you always would want to see. You didn't know what got you the courage to speak or blurt out whatever you had in your mind, but you looked at Hyunjin and said: "Hyunjin, can I talk to you privately?" Thankfully, their loud voices was able to distract themselves from hearing your request to Hyunjin who sighed and nodded his head. He stood up from his seat and started to move outside of the room. You followed behind closely, feeling intimidated by the month older's tall figure. "Hyunjin..."
"Cut to the chase, M/n. I don't have much time." He told you as you nod your head in understanding and fiddled with your fingers.
"I know, you'd probably like hearing this, but could I have the permission to quit as your group's manager?" You asked him, his forehead creasing that made him pull his brows together. "I was able to notice what the group had become the moment I became your manager—"
"And do you think quitting would change it?" Hyunjin asked you with a raised brow. "If anything, it'd probably—no, it would break their hearts to know that you quitted. If you do so, you're not only quitting as a manager, but as their friend as well."
"And you're able to say that after you purposely tried to have me fired or suspended from work by offering me that bread?" You sarcastically answered, Hyunjin clearing his throat.
"Well... that wasn't my intention. I didn't even know it'd get you fired." Hyunjin replied making you chuckle.
"Yeah..." You replied with a sad smile. "But, I don't wanna be the reason why you and Chan would always fight. Stray Kids is Stray Kids because they're fun and loving, caring. And I don't want to change that by being around the group." Hyunjin never replied anymore and you sighed. "I'm heading back now." You said and as you started to walk back inside, Hyunjin spoke.
"I wish you never entered our life, at all, M/n." He told you that got your heart broken into pieces. Sure, you admitted that he never liked you even just a bit, but him saying it so bluntly to you, it's like he does really mean it and could only care less. You were about to speak when Hyunjin beat you to it. "If so, I wouldn't be able to garner these undeniable feelings I have for you."
You froze. Were you hearing right? You just cleaned your ears this morning, well you do it everyday. Is your ear trying to play with you? "W-what?"
"DAMN! WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT?!" You gasped with your mouth full of popcorn, your boyfriend, Hyunjin seated beside you at the movie theater. He smiled at you admiring how cute you looked with your shocked expression that was being illuminated by the big screen. "Jinnie! Look, they're gonna kiss! AH!!" As the two actors in the movie was about to kiss, one of the movie's cast bursted out of the door cutting the kiss and earned a few 'oh's and 'I hate you, Chan's. "Chan is such a cock blocker."
"Watch your mouth, babe." Hyunjin told you making you pout.
"It's true, though!" You retorted and Hyunjin could only laugh at your cuteness and honest opinions.
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sunshinexlollipops · 4 years ago
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this is my only big and last post on Tyler Joseph from twenty one pilots and the stupid shit he pulled yesterday.
I’ve been a big fan of top for a long while. 2015 and onward. albeit now I’m reconsidering things...
my first concert was top in 2016. I have been to 2 other concerts, and about half my wardrobe are top shirts. I have blurryface, vessel, and trench on vinyl and trench is the only album I don’t have on CD. hell I was a goddamn clique artist for a couple of years and gained 2k followers before quitting 2 years ago.
my point is: I was a MASSIVE fan of top. but what happened yesterday... makes me really consider how I feel about Tyler and if I should support his work as happily as I once did.
for those who don’t know, Tyler tweeted a joke yesterday while wearing platform boots from dollskill with a caption pretty much stating: “you guys told me to use my platforms, so glad to dust these bad boys off.”
obviously this was meant as a pun over fans and others asking Tyler to use his social medias to speak up about various issues like BLM or the Yemen crisis.
and naturally, the joke didn’t land well with pretty much everybody.
Tyler’s response was to “double down” on his tweet and he even said he refused to delete it because it was “fantastic.”
then, he proceeded to post links about mental health, and stated he wasn’t capable of mentally dealing with certain things (essentially: he is too mentally strained for acitivism).
he eventually ended the whole post-a-thon hours later with an apology, some BLM links, and stated: “I wanted to speak about something I cared about, but obviously this isn’t the time for that right now.”
In short: it was a shit show.
I personally never asked Tyler or expected Tyler to speak about these issues, and this whole debacle started a debate on celebrities and if they have to speak on social / political issues esp when their fans ask them to.
personally I do think celebs should be able to discuss what they want. they are people, yes. if they are crap, don’t support them. if they chose to remain neutral, respect that. it’s not a huge deal.
the problem with what happened with Tyler is that HE CHOSE to start this by mocking people asking him to use his voice.
he saw these requests and decided to make a mocking joke about it, turned the narrative to mental health, and made it seem like no one cared about what he was trying to “bring attention to.”
listen: we all know Tyler is a mental health activist. his entire musical career is based on that. all of his songs are based on that. not a single person in the fandom lacks an ounce of respect for mental health because it’s why we’re all here.
BUT it was obvious from the start that no one was asking Tyler to be an activist on something he had already so openly and publicly supported.
seeing those requests asking him to speak up meant that Tyler also knew the issues they wanted him to address publicly.
otherwise how in the hell would he know what they wanted him to talk about???
turning the whole thing into a pun not only belittled those people, but the issues they presented.
there is always a time to discuss the importance of mental health; however, given the context of the situation, this whole thing was not conceieved on that subject.
Tyler basically turned into a war against his mental health activism to make it seem like people were in the wrong for being critical of his poor joke and refusal to acknowledge its damage.
additionally: if this was about mental health the entire time like he is trying to say, that means that his joke was directed at being an activist for mental health.
there is no way Tyler comes out in the right for it.
if you aren’t mentally capable of public activism, then don’t make a mocking joke out of people asking you to speak up public.
if you are upset no one takes your issue seriously, then don’t turn their issues into a chance to make puns.
it’s like announcing you’re allergic to bees and you’re upset about what happened to you after you kicked the nest and got stung.
or in this case: it would be seeing his thread about mental health activism and deciding to pose with some crocs.
at some point Tyler’s conscience should’ve come into play. someone should have said: maybe this isn’t a good idea.
specifically buying those shoes, posing for photos, and planning this all for that caption meant that Tyler never intended for anything other than making this joke.
the fact that he still refuses to delete that post and that he still defends it in some way is just... disheartening to say the least.
unnecessary and tragic deaths of ANY person for ANY reason are things we should care about and try and prevent. be it because of mental illness, racism, a humanitarian crisis— the right to live for any person should always be respected.
let’s leave the cameras off and leave the clown shoes at shoe carnival, okay?
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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago
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Hi! I really love your writing and was wondering if you would do a part 2 of the fic you did for @kitsunesongs birthday?
The one where Nie Huaisang meets Xiao Xingchen and "persuades" him to go to the Nie Sect.
sequel to this one
Xiao Xingchen and Nie Mingjue got along just as disgustingly well as Nie Huaisang might have predicted, and it was starting to tick him off.
Not just him.
“It’ll pass,” he remarked to the glowering young man sitting beside him. “It always does…eventually. Xiao Xingchen is no different.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Song Zichen said, voice tight and back even tighter. The temples and the sects were not on what one might call the best of terms – it was politely referred to as tensions – so Song Zichen had refused to even consider leaving Xiao Xingchen in Nie Huaisang’s not-so-capable hands, but he also wasn’t strong enough to stop him, so all it meant in the end was that he had to trail along with them like an imprinted duckling.
A duckling with no sense of humor.
“They all come and get knocked over the head with it,” Nie Huaisang said with a sigh, fanning himself. He’d seen it happen time and time again. “My brother, I mean.”
“Your brother…hits people?” Song Zichen said, sounding doubtful enough for Nie Huaisang to realize that even he’d fallen for it.
“No,” he said patiently. “They’re overwhelmed by admiration for how good of a big brother he is and want him for their own.”
Song Zichen’s expression appeared to be at war with itself: he couldn’t decide whether to scoff at Nie Huaisang’s patent ridiculousness, furiously deny that Xiao Xingchen was attempting to market himself for possible adoption, or sullenly acknowledge that he, too, would like to be the recipient of Nie Mingjue’s rough sort of affection.
It was all those meaningful hand-on-shoulder, serious eye-contact, respect-is-given-where-it-is-earned-and-I-respect-you things Nie Mingjue did without thinking about it – possibly it was just the dearth of decent parents among the Great Sects, and the smaller sects too come to think about it, but everyone was hilariously susceptible to it.
(He’d accidentally done it to Lan Qiren once, making the man actually glow with pride for a moment before he realized he was being complimented by someone at least a decade his junior and fixed his expression. It was a memory that warmed Nie Huaisang’s heart.)
“Still,” Nie Huaisang mused. “I will admit that this is getting out of hand.”
He’d known that Nie Mingjue would be fond of Xiao Xingchen, but he hadn’t anticipated how much his brother had apparently been longing for someone with whom he could have ethical and moral discussions that didn’t leave him scowling and looking sick to his stomach. The two of them shared a clear and forthright vision of the world – in which people were supposed to help others, fight evil and save innocents, and that everything else was a distraction – and what started out, to Nie Huaisang’s mind, as some sort of moral purist fan club had eventually sort of…escalated.
It wasn’t that Nie Huaisang forgot that his brother was a powerful sect leader and formerly the general of the combined forces of the cultivation world and therefore was a terrifying political powerhouse to be reckoned with, not really. It was that his brother so rarely ever did anything with his power and influence that it was easier to just…put it aside.
On a normal day, his brother was a simple person: he wanted his family and sect to be happy and safe and strong, the common people protected, and evil defeated – ideally courtesy of his blood-thirsty saber, after a brisk bit of exercise. Nie Mingjue was respectful of others, such that he rarely intervened where he wasn’t explicitly invited, and so his focus had always been Qinghe, its environs, and the surrounding sects that pledged their loyalty in exchange for Nie support and strength.
Xiao Xingchen had more ambitious ideas than that.
Maybe he should have done more to head off their enthusiasm before it got this far, Nie Huaisang grumbled in his thoughts. But his brother seemed so happy, lighter than he’d been in years, less angry at everything – and his sudden burst of activity was driving Sect Leader Jin up the wall, and that was just legitimately hilarious.
Still, it was one thing for Xiao Xingchen to say that he wanted to protect innocents and defeat evil, no matter where it was. In the end, he was a naïve and untried young man unfamiliar with the world, no matter how powerful his ancestry, and such things would always be met with indulgent smiles and virtually no interest, everyone assuming it was little more than a child’s daydream.
It was something completely different for Nie Mingjue, Chifeng-zun and Sect Leader to one of the Great Sects, to put out a call for all able-bodied cultivators with courage and skill to join together once more to sweep through the worst parts of the cultivation world and clean it up together.
After all, Lan Xichen might win the women’s vote, but among men, at least, Nie Mingjue was the most admired man in the cultivation world, bar none, the most idolized and revered and envied, and he was offering an opportunity to win valor by his side. Those who had fought in the Sunshot Campaign were enticed by the notion of something clean and straightforward, cultivator against evil the way it was supposed to be; those that didn’t have a chance to win glory the last time were champing at the bit to belatedly add “fought under Chifeng-zun’s command” to their personal legacies; those who had been too young for the war were excited by the possibility of fame and fortune…
Sect Leader Jin, who was advocating to be Chief Cultivator of the cultivation world, did not want there to be a roving war-bad of powerful cultivators under his chief-most rival’s personal command, traveling throughout the cultivation world and making friends with each other and winning fame left and right with only Nie Mingjue to thank for it.
Sadly for him, there really wasn’t anything he could do about it.
Especially not now that Nie Mingjue was no longer asking Jin Guangyao to come play for him so regularly.
The playing had been designed to help with his ever-worsening temper, if Nie Huaisang understood his brother’s curt explanation properly, but it hadn’t really been doing much, and Nie Mingjue was far too busy now to waste time with things like that.
(Nie Huaisang did not think about how his father had died, and how much stronger his brother was than his father had ever become. He did not think about the fact that Xiao Xingchen was said to be doomed, the way his brother was doomed, or the fact that his brother’s decision to stop listening to Jin Guangyao’s playing or Lan Xichen’s encouragement of it had come on the heels of meeting someone else who was trading away their chances at a long and happy life for a chance to try to improve the world.
He did not think about any of that, or of the slow halting explanation his brother had finally given him about all the things he knew-but-didn’t-know about his sect’s cultivation style, about his brother’s own personal prognosis, and he certainly didn’t think about how his brother clearly saw this whole ridiculous notion of a massive large-scale night-hunt as his final campaign, his legacy, to be left behind when he himself left the world.
It wasn’t relevant, because it wasn’t going to happen, Nie Huaisang wasn’t going to let it happen. So he wasn’t thinking about it.)
“It’s a good plan,” Song Zichen said, and Nie Huaisang looked at him. “I had wanted to start a sect with no bloodline, based only on friendship, but Xingchen and your brother are putting together a coalition of sects that is much the same thing. All of those young men becoming brothers in arms…”
“Women, too,” Nie Huaisang said, because it was true. There’d be plenty of unexpected marriages formed before this whole thing was done – Jiang Cheng had recently declared his intention of joining, the nephew he’d insisted on caring for personally carted around on a sling on his back, and he looked so positively dashing when he did it that the women of the cultivation world might even consider removing him from their blacklist one day.
Maybe.
Song Zichen nodded seriously. “Women as well. Regardless, the end result of what they are achieving is the same - unity, friendship, cooperation, rather than chaos.”
Nie Huaisang smiled. And then, because why not, he used the excuse to slide closer and nudge Song Zichen in the side with a hand that lingered. “Don’t count yourself out, Song-xiong. You’re contributing, too.”
Song Zichen did not appear convinced.  
“You are!” Nie Huaisang insisted. “You just need to figure out what you’re good at – some purpose for yourself, some mission, or even just something to pass the time pleasantly. I’ll even help.”
He was about to suggest that they go to bed together – listen, he was shallow and Song Zichen was a very pretty person – but Song Zichen frowned, ducking his head a little in thought.
“Well, there is something,” he said slowly. “I thought, if it was true, that I might go deal with it. Although it’s only a rumor I heard…”
“I love rumors,” Nie Huaisang assured him, shelving his proposition for the moment. “What is it?”
“Have you ever heard of someone,” Song Zichen asked, “by the name of Xue Yang?”
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fairestwriting · 4 years ago
Text
title: white to red
word count: 2223
summary: You’ve been invited to one of Heartslabyul’s famous Unbirthday Parties, Riddle wanted you to help him with inspecting the other dorm members’ activities even. You use that as an opportunity to get Che’nya to come so you could spend some time together, but that ends up not going too well...
commissioned by @honey-deerling , available on ao3 here ! tysm for commissioning me, i hope you enjoy this! ^_^
my guidelines for commissions are here, in case anyone else is interested
The Heartslabyul dorm’s garden is lively as ever. Blue skies blanketing over the scenery, sun shining brightly as the few, cotton-like clouds seemed to open their arms to introduce it. The wind blows gently, the leaves of the trees and bushes sway along, dancing to the lovely tune of the spring.
Following the tradition, today Riddle Rosehearts, Heartslabyul’s current crimson ruler, had picked a random date where none of the members’ birthdays took place — Today, in this case — to hold one of their famous Unbirthday Parties. And so the outdoors is decorated not only with the half-finished setup of the event, but the rush of a multitude of students.
The roses must be painted red, the queen had ordered. And so his subjects completed the task, some collared and some not, some chattering with their friends and some complaining about the ache in their limbs from reaching upwards, bringing pure white petals to bright red.
The party must be immaculate, after all. Just as the queen said.
Although in the bushes, hid a lone troublemaker, a flash of warm purple and shiny piercings on pointed ears, ready to taint the symphonic chaos of Heartslabyul’s event…
But, well, you didn’t mind that he was here. On the contrary.
He was invited.
“Prefect, have you checked on Spade and Trappola?” The crimson ruler’s voice comes into play, high heels crushing emerald-green grass. A couple years ago he might have held some papers, lists of regulations to follow for the Unbirthday Parties, but now, he knew all of them by heart.
“Hmm, not yet, no.” You respond. Riddle’s face contorts slightly, eyes narrowing. Vague displeasure. Though you’re pretty sure it’s not at you, Riddle wouldn’t have assigned you the task of helping him with the inspection if he didn’t believe you to be a responsible person. “I’m sure they’ve learned their lessons from last time, though.” You offer him a chuckle.
“That’s what we’ll see now. Would you follow me?” Riddle says, making polite eye contact. You don’t have a reason not to comply, strolling across the beautiful garden by his side. “Trappola specifically… just seems to never learn his lesson.”
“Aw, I’m sure he’s trying his best.” You say, though you’re not sure of it yourself, really. Riddle shakes his head with a sigh. “...well, maybe not, but he’s got a good heart.”
“Trappola has so much potential, yet he keeps refusing to just follow the rules…” Riddle grumbles, maybe mostly to himself.
Walking your path, you finally reach the rose bushes that your so-called friends were assigned to — And you come to find that out of all the reactions a student could have to being tasked with painting the rose bushes, Ace was of the collared, constantly complaining kind, and Deuce was the quieter, diligent one who on occasion told Ace off about regarding his complaining.
“Here they are.” Riddle says, unenthusiastic.
“...they’re working, right?” You say, narrowing your eyes at the duo. Neither had noticed you yet. Riddle takes a couple steps closer, straightening his posture even more (You didn’t know such a thing was possible) to face Ace.
“Trappola, care to explain why you’re whining instead of painting?” He queries, you take tentative steps towards Riddle to watch the scene closer. Just doing your job as a fellow inspector, really!
...you can’t help but give Ace a sympathetic smile and shrug. Sorry, Ace, I’m not defying your dorm leader.
“My arm hurts!” Ace complains, the turn of his head couldn’t possibly feel comfortable against that collar… “C’mon, prefect, can’t you release me just to do the rose painting?”
“You’re the one who chose to broke the rules, now you suffer the consequences.” Riddle states, then turns his gaze to Deuce. “Spade, you’re… doing okay, actually. Keep up the good work. You should improve as your magic gets better.”
“Ah, thank you so much, Prefect…!” Deuce’s eyes are wide upon the praise, he stops his painting for a second to bow to Riddle. Ace looks annoyed in the background. “I will continue to do my best!”
“Sure you will.” Riddle adds, and continues his walk, followed by you. “Frankly, these two…”
You take a couple more steps, before Cater hops into the scene. “Prefect— Prefects! I finished my rose painting quota!” He announces with a smile. Riddle hums in acknowledgement.
“Good job, Cater. Do move on to your next task.” He says. Cater winks, fingers positioned into a peace sign next to his opened eye.
“Sure, sure. Just gimme a minute, though — Prefect, can I take a selfie with you? I love what you did to your hair today, it looks so cute!” Cater chimes. You blink, a surprised hand touching your own hair for a moment, but you smile.
“Ahh, thank you! I’ve gotta help Riddle with the inspection, though.” You say. It’s a shame, really, Cater takes nice pictures. “But we can do it later! Pinky promise.”
“Aww, that’s a shame. It’s alright, though! I’ll be sure to ask for that later.” He sing-songs, and with one of his signature bright smiles, he hops away. You wave at him with a short giggle.
“So troublesome…” Riddle is mumbling.
You’re almost at the tea garden — When you almost cause a tragedy by bumping onto Trey clover, whose sleeves were rolled up as he carried a big, bright red strawberry tart.
“Careful there!” Trey warns, Riddle almost trips on his shoes trying to step back. He looks down at the two of you, smiling wryly. “Did you get distracted by the tart? It looks pretty good, I know.”
“I-I did not!” Riddle protests, flustered. “It… does look good, though.”
“You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Clover-senpai.” You praise. It’s true! The glaze on the fruits was brighter than ever. You could only imagine how sweet it tasted.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t forget you have to wait until the party to taste it. But I do hope you like it.” He says, giving you a smile as he walks away, and you do too.
“I didn’t get distracted…” Riddle mumbles again, and you reach the garden, your formal venue for the tea party, vacant since it wasn’t time to set down the dishes yet. “Oh, we’re here.”
“Yup!” You confirm. “So were people doing good today?”
He shrugs. “It was better than the last one. Acceptable, I’d say.” Is his response, before he takes a brief moment to probably go over his mental list of tasks. “I have to check the insides of the building now, to make sure nobody’s trying to slack off. You’re… done with your duties, so you can stay here as long as you don’t cause a ruckus. Though I doubt you’ll do that.”
“Yes, your majesty.” You reply with a smile. “I’ll wait here, I can help with the table when it’s time.”
Riddle’s expression softens. “That would be appreciated. Thank you, Prefect. You’re a kind person.”
He says that, and then he leaves.
You’re left by yourself in the quaint tea garden, rocking back and forth on your heels as you look around at the perfectly cut bushes, the soon to be beautifully set table.
Or, rather…
“Che’nya, dear?” You call out. Anyone who walked by might think you’re crazy, talking to absolutely nothing. But you knew he was here, you could sense his presence. An amused smile appears on your face. “They’re gone now, you silly cat.”
“Meow?” Your hear Che’nya’s voice, the mimic of a meow, and you look around for the source — Until you see him up on a tree, laying on his stomach over a thick branch, grinning at you as his tail swishes around playfully. “There are no cats here. You’re seeing things.”
“Sure I would, with how my cute kitty boyfriend just drives me so crazy. ” You joke, answering his grin with a giggle and a smile, reaching out towards the tree. “C’mon. I’m done with my stuff, now, so we can hang out here.”
“Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.” Che’nya chuckles, and he hops off the tree, cleanly landing on two feet — A cat, alright — before he takes the hand you’ve offered him, pressing a playful kiss to it. “Hey, how about I take you away from this place? Away from this tyrant of a queen?”
Through your hand, he pulls you closer. Che’nya’s mischievous grin never falters, decorating his face like the strawberries to a tart. Near him, you can’t help but laugh, feeling his other hand on your waist as he holds you like you’re a princess, his princess.
“To ride off into the sunset together?” You ask, smiley. “I never thought you were the princely type.”
“I can be anything, y’know.” He says. “For you at least!”
“Well, I like you best just like this.” You chuckle at him, making him smile bigger as he wraps his arms around you tighter, pulling you into a hug—
But then you hear a paint bucket drop.
“...is that an RSA student?” An unfamiliar voice asks with an edge to it, you step away from Che’nya to see who it was — A boy with messy black hair, you hadn’t seen him before.
“Oops.” Che’nya laughs with a hint of nervousness to it. “That’s my cue to leave, meow! See ya later— ”
“No, you stay right there!” The boy snaps, and for some reason, Che’nya freezes in place. “What the hell are you doing here?”
It’s like the air around you suddenly gets cold.
“I— ” Che’nya mutters to himself. “Can’t move?”
The student barks out a laugh. “Well, yeah, that’s my unique magic.” He informs. “I’ve been waiting to catch you here somewhere. You come here for every Unbirthday Party, don’t you?”
“H-Hey, man, come on, they don’t have any rules against that, right?” Che’nya asks, still completely still, standing up straight with his arms glued to the sides of his body. “I’m friends with your dorm leader, y’know! And it’s not like I’m here for too long.”
“You’re still in RSA. Do you have any idea what your school’s done to NRC students?” Taking steps closer, the student eyes at Che’nya dangerously. They’re about the same height, but he’s still sizing him up. You’re ignored in your shock, standing a couple feet away with wide eyes. You can’t believe the sight in front of you. He’s attacking your boyfriend? “You know what happened a couple years ago, when my older brother went here? During a Magift match, he got his knee broken and now he can’t play anymore at all. He lost his chance to make it big because of you!”
Che’nya laughs dryly, though his eyes still dart around. “I did that?” He questions, and you see how he spasms lightly, struggling against the spell. “That’s got nothing to do with me, come on!”
“I don’t care. It’s about what your school stands for— ”
Someone’s threatening Che’nya? They’re about to hurt him? And just like this, for a reason that doesn’t make any sense?
No, not on your watch.
It happens like a flash — The adrenaline hits your brain like a bullet, kicking you into motion. Air thinning, growing cold, nothing but that simmering rage in your blood — and suddenly you have that boy lifted up by his shirt, fist clutching the front of his shirt.
Your heart races with the anger.
“Excuse me,” You start, voice lowering, a waver to its edge. “What exactly made you think you could talk to my boyfriend like that?”
“H-He’s…!” He stutters. His eyes are so wide, skin ghostlike pale. “What the hell is wrong with you? He’s from RSA! Do you think you get anything protecting people like this?”
God. This idiot — Your grip on the shirt tightens, you feel how he tenses under your surprising strength. Something about how he looks at you, so terrified, just gives you this sort of rush. The satisfaction of justice.
This is what he gets for trying to hurt Che’nya.
“I don’t listen to scum like you.” You snap, and you — Raise your hand. To slap him, punch him, do something worse? You’re not exactly sure. But the adrenaline courses through you so fast, spiking even higher when you’re about to do it and…
You feel your wrist being grabbed.
“It’s okay. I can move now.” Che’nya’s voice brings you back to reality, and your grip on the boy’s shirt loosens. Suddenly he’s heavy to hold up, you drop him on the grass with a loud noise as you blink yourself back into full consciousness.
You turn to look at him. His face is serious like it never is.
The boy you’d been holding up shrieks without a word, fumbling to get up and run away, steps rapidly crushing grass on his way. Che’nya releases your wrist, gently.
“I’m sorry.” You mutter. “He was so stupid. But I’m not gonna let anyone lay a hand on you, Che’nya.”
Che’nya keeps watching you with this unreadable expression. Is he angry? Scared? You can’t exactly tell. You curse that student for ruining your sweet spring afternoon.
(You promise yourself to get him again later. Magic or not, you’d make him pay— )
“It’s okay.” He says, quiet, and he grins again. Your heart does a leap — Che’nya’s gentle hands cup your face, fingers carefully treading through locks of your hair. “I’d do the same for you, yeah?”
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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years ago
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Hi. Not VMIN or Namjin related, but I would love to hear your opinion about some critics (maybe haters is a better word lol) saying how Butter's success is inorganic. They were saying how it's just army mass streaming and mass buying etc, that the BB charts are irrelevant bec of it. It's a controversial topic and apparently it was common in the music industry to have payolas too? Lol. I never knew there's politics into it. Does streaming practically mean "cheating" ? Your thoughts?
You've come to the right place because I have a lot of opinions on the topic and I'm more than willing to share my thoughts because truly, just like everybody else, I'm sick and tired of yet another whiny white man of the week coming at us with baseless accusations of ARMY "cheating" and inorganically pushing Butter because that doesn't fit with what has been the status quo so far.
The issue, though really it only is an issue because it’s BTS and ARMY, is, like you said, ARMY buying Butter via the US store offered to us by BH/Columbia. This is funded either via funding accounts that gather donations and distribute them to those (usually fellow ARMYs) willing/wanting to buy the song, or people who just, well, want to buy the song because they like it, which includes non-ARMYs, aka locals/the general public. None of that is against the rules, which I think whiny white man of the week also acknowledged, but here we are anyway.
This complaint isn’t new either, we’ve already gone over it last year with Dynamite, so it’s another cyclical piece of discourse we’re having to deal with. Here is something that Bryan Rolli, a journalist writing (among other places) for Forbes and the man behind a lot of really good articles about BTS (among them also one in defense of them about this very topic), twted recently:
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And he is right, it’s unrealistic to think that even a fandom as large as ours in the US would be able to find funds they are able to spend across five weeks and ongoing in order to just make the #1 happen based on sales. There is no way, unless we have some truly generous rich people amongst us who would be wiling to spend thousands of dollars. Which we don't, as far as I’m aware. Which leaves us with one conclusion: while yes, ARMY are able to buy a good quantity of copies of Butter, it’s ridiculous to think that a song that is such a hit hasn't found its way into the heart of locals as well and that there aren’t people out in the US who just like the song and have bought it. Not because ARMY asked them to, but because they genuinely wanted to.
Besides, regardless how many copies ARMY would buy, sales aren’t the only deciding factor that goes into which song gets onto the charts, and which one will be #1. 
In order to chart on Billboard Hot 100 you basically need points gathered across three major categories: Sales (physical as well as digital), Streams (this includes music streaming services as well as video streams on YT) and Airplay. There are more finer details that go into all three of these, but just knowing those basics is enough for this post.
Staying with sales, there are many ways in which you can game the system, most of them ways BH has never touched while US artists did. Have any of these critics ever proclaimed how that was breaking and manipulating the charts? Of course not. At the height of the bundles era a label could decide to bundle something as cheap as a lollipop with a song/album and the sale of that lollipop would count as song/album sale, even if you didn’t actually pay for the album/song. That used to be an awfully popular method of gaming the system, just like selling a single song on a CD for a dollar (which isn’t against the rules) knowing that physical sales weigh heavier than digital ones. Again, that’s something BH/BTS never did.
So, even if we’d have sales covered, we still need streams and airplay to get that number one. Do you know what one of the major factors was for why ON “only” made it onto #4 and never onto #1? It wasn’t the song being bad and ARMY not buying, but because it barely got any spins on US radios. And by barely I mean (if I remember right) less than ten.
More below the cut:
Years ago when BTS were not anywhere as famous in the BTS as they are now, ARMY would call radio stations across the US, send flowers and cupcakes, just to get them to play BTS. In most cases, radios laughed at them and refused to do it. Thanks to one radio DJ we even know that there used to be a group chat of radio DJs who spent their time ridiculing BTS and ARMY and discussing how regardless of what we’d do, they wouldn’t play them anyway because *inset dumb, likely ra/cist, reasons here*.
Thankfully with Dynamite and Butter being English singles, the tides have turned a little more in our favor. According to this website the wonderful BTSChartData has created, Butter has had a reach/audience of 12M when it comes to radio (I’m unsure if this is overall or just this week) with nearly 3.5k spins. This helps tremendously when it comes to BBH100 points, but it’s important to remember that really, we don’t have any real influence on radio playlisting. Labels do through something commonly known as payola. And many, and by that I mean many, do that for their artists. Notice how some songs are being played nearly every hour? And yet other things which are massive hits get barely any plays at all? As far as we know BH/Colombia has never done any of this for BTS. If they had, those spin numbers would look very differently.
At this point we could get into a whole argument how messed up it is that it took an English song for radios to play BTS while they basically refused to do so with their Korean ones, and how with radio charts labels have the ability to pay their chosen songs to be high on them, but that’s a can of worms that would take too much time and we’re all aware that it’s a thing that happens.
The last category is streaming and here it gets messy, or messier, depending on how you look at it. ARMY might be the only fandom with this degree of knowledge about streaming and how to make our streams count, how to set up playlists properly etc, and yes, we do use our knowledge to our advantage, so to speak. And yet the system still finds a way to penalize us for it by basically filtering out massive amounts of streams for apparently no reason whatsoever. While other songs and their first day streams saw a filter rate of perhaps ten, maybe twenty, percent, do you know what it looked like for Butter?
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That’s quite the difference, right? And it remained at such drastic numbers for quite a while, too. Despite ARMY knowing how not to behave like bots, even though critics and antis love to present us as such. Does Spotify explain those filter rates, or even how those are decided and calculated? No. So basically ARMY is up against an invisible power that has all the tools while we have to hope we won’t get stepped on and crushed like ants.
Speaking of Spotify, a big part of how streaming numbers happen and how songs find their way in front of new audiences are playlists, specifically the ones curated by unknown Spotify staff members like Today’s Top Hits (28.8M followers) or Top 50 - Global (16M followers). Since those playlists are created by Spotify using whatever secret criteria, we have no influence onto them (other than some that depend, to a degree, on streaming numbers). Labels do through, again, payola. Labels can buy their artists top spots on the biggest playlists and thus their songs get massive streaming numbers, not because fans genuinely listen to them, but because random people listening to those playlists might have it playing in the background without them even really knowing it or being aware who the artist is or what the song is called. You know those ads you get when you’re listening to the free version of Spotify, specifically those advertising some new album or song? Even just those thirty seconds of ad time count as a stream.
While it’s true that ARMY hold streaming parties, it is also a fact that ARMY, unlike many other fandoms, really spend a lot of time genuinely listening to BTS’ music in general. And while some idiots on twt think streaming means sitting motionlessly while staring at a screen as the song is playing over and over again, most ARMY just have the music playing while they do something else, like household chores or reading or doing work. Is it cheating to enjoy your favorite artists music? To play it on Spotify or any other streaming platform? Is it cheating to watch an MV simply because you enjoy it? No, of course not. 
Therefore, to answer your question, no, streaming isn’t cheating. And neither are listening/streaming parties since, chances are, even without them those participating in them would be listening to BTS anyway. Thanks to those parties they get to do it with a sense of community, talk to each other, discuss whichever song is currently playing, and have fun. Nothing inorganic about that.
Pulling up another Brian, in this case Brian Cantor who is an entertainment journalist, here’s something he said that I think is very true:
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And that’s the thing, when BH set up streaming parties for a week after the release of Butter, that was seen negatively, as well as ARMY doing their own, and yet when another artist’s label did it for them, it was seen as fun way to engage with fans and to make listening to the new album a collective experience, or something like that. As long as it is Bangtan, only the negatives will count. But they (critics) forget something, as in, setting up listening parties and online stores for songs is one thing, but getting people to actually tune in and spend their coin on music are a completely different one.
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And this is the thing that whiny white man of the week, chose whichever one you want, don’t understand--the fact that ARMY are a big and very active fandom. That we are organized and that, in order for BTS to chart and be known, BH/Columbia doesn’t need to use any of the cheats that US labels use, like payola. They don’t have to rely on the whims of the general public, on radio DJs, or put out tens of thousands of dollars to get proper playlisting and interest in a song. BTS releases new music and ARMY is there, we tune in, we spend our hard earned money on their music, not because some smart PR tactic tricked us into it, not because playlisting, payola, and mediaplay tricked us into it, but because we genuinely enjoy their music, because we have this one of a kind connection with Bangtan, one that US labels, and whiny white man of the week, don’t understand. And don’t really care to understand either.
Because those aren’t the norm in the US. Because in the past hit songs were decided through large sums of money and deals happening behind closed doors. Yet now ARMY and BTS are here. We see the broken pieces of the system, we shine light upon them, reveal the negatives and all the ways in which the system doesn’t work and/or isn’t fair, we’re vocal about it on social media, and whiny white man of the week, as well as label executives, don’t like it. So we are made out to be the bad guys. For genuinely enjoying our favorite artists and their music. For being willing to listen to them and to spend money on them. What scandalous behavior.
We don’t do what we do because we want to game the system, but because we want things to be more fair, for BTS to get the respect they deserve, to be listened to and given the time of day. They are called the biggest band in the world right now, so why is it so hard to believe that their song is rightfully #1? That they are simply popular, not just with ARMY but also with locals (Dynamite is the background music in the new trailer for the Clifford the Big Red Dog movie, has been used at high school graduations, and many other things showing just how big of a hit it still is almost a year later, that isn’t us, that’s locals loving the song just as much as we do), and that ARMY aren’t just silly little girls (not that there is anything wrong with being a little girl that enjoys music, of course) that scream any time someone as much as mentions BTS. We are a large and extremely diverse fandom in terms of age, gender, race, and education/profession. We see the injustice and we aren’t afraid to point it out and stand up against it.
What we are doing isn’t manipulation, isn’t inorganic or fake, and it certainly isn’t making BBH100 irrelevant or broken. If anything it shows that it already was that way before we arrived. 
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smaidjor · 3 years ago
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i know they're losing (chapter 2)
Hello everyone! Since the last chapter received such a positive response (well, if screaming could be called a positive response), I've decided to not make you all wait long for the second chapter of this fic. Also, I have no self-control. Anyways!
Once again obligatory disclaimer this is characters not people, don't ship real people, etc.
Chapter Title: over snow and winter's morn
Chapter Wordcount: 3203
Content warnings: more discussion of death, also quite a bit of Scott being a bit of a dick. He's going through it, besties.
AO3 Link
Chapter 1
Actual fic under the cut:
Jimmy doesn’t get a chance to return the ring any time in the next few weeks. Scott must have told Katherine that he visited, since she doesn’t come to bother him about it, and every time Jimmy tries to go to Rivendell, something gets in the way. Demon attacks, urgent business in his empire, once even Scott’s own guards turning him away. Apparently Scott is a ‘busy elf’. Jimmy doesn’t doubt he is, but he also doesn’t doubt that Scott’s actively trying to avoid him. Scott is a petty man, ultimately, and Jimmy knows this, used to love it like he loved all his husband’s flaws, all his imperfections that were perfect to Jimmy. Now, though, it just hurts that Scott’s turning that pettiness on him.
Finally, something changes. Jimmy gets an invitation (in person!) from one of his closest allies; Lizzie wants to hold a ball, and she wants as many people as possible to come. It will be fancy and formal, with dancing and politics and all the things Jimmy’s just a bit awkward with, but he is an extrovert at heart, and well...Scott will be there, as Lizzie warns him.
“I know you and him don’t really get on, so I get if you don’t want to come. I really hope you will, though, it’s going to be a fun night!”
Jimmy nods. “I’ll be there! I need to talk to Scott anyways, actually, got to return this ring to him. It’s important, I think.”
“Gotcha! See you there,” Lizzie says with a broad smile. Jimmy appreciates that she doesn’t ask any questions about the ring, especially given that it’s the one thing holding together his emotional state right now.
And that’s how he finds himself frantically searching for something fancy enough to wear to a formal ball, wishing he’d had the forethought to plan for this a bit better. Scott would have planned, he thinks, would have had an outfit laid out for each of them and the time it would take them to get there exactly calculated.
He shakes that thought off, settling for a green tunic with copper accents. It’s not the most elegant thing in the world, especially when you take into account the slime that’s dripped onto it, but it’ll have to do. It’s representative of his empire for sure, and the copper is a nod to his ally. It’s good enough, and that’s what matters, Jimmy thinks.
Lizzie greets him when he enters the ballroom, smiling widely with her new fiance by her side. “Jimmy! Glad you could make it!”
“Yeah, yeah, I did make it! Here I am!” The smile he gives her is genuine; he likes Lizzie. She's fierce and kind all at once, the best kind of ally.
Joel offers him a brief wave, which Jimmy happily returns before Lizzie drags him off to chat.
“So, heard from a little birdy you’ve actually been visiting Scott,” Lizzie says, a grin like the cat that got the bird on her face.
“As a favor to Katherine,” Jimmy quickly clarifies.
She nods. “She did say that, yes. She also said she heard about the visit from Scott himself.”
Jimmy hates himself a little for being pathetic enough to ask “What did- did she say what he said? Was he talking about me?”
“She didn’t say exactly, but he seemed ‘shaken up’, apparently...and a little wistful.”
“Oh, no. Lizzie, no.”
“Say, why did you have his ring?” She’s still grinning, a little more evil this time.
“It’s a long story!” Jimmy blurts, and flees. How’s he supposed to say ‘oh we were married on a server where we thought we were going to permanently die and then we respawned here and now Scott’s refusing to talk to me because the grief over my last death is slowly killing him’ tactfully? There’s just no way to do it! Nice one, Jimmy, now she thinks you’re in love with him or something, he thinks ruefully. Not that he isn’t- wasn’t. Wasn’t. Scott’s made it very clear that he and Jimmy are through.
Still, even with his depressing thoughts, the ball is pretty okay. No one’s gotten assassinated, there haven’t been any demonic appearances, Lizzie’s already showing off her engagement ring, and he’s pretty sure Joey’s going off about how hot demons are. It’s a decent party, by empires standards.
Scott makes an appearance some twenty minutes or so later, stepping into the ballroom with typical elven grace. He’s not a very elven elf, as he once told Jimmy, short and sarcastic with a love for mortals, but he still looks twice as elegant as everyone else in the ballroom. The shakiness in his step from a few weeks ago seems entirely gone, and for a minute, Jimmy’s heart leaps in hope. Maybe he’s getting better?
Well, only one way to find out. Jimmy swallows the complicated knot of emotion in his chest as he crosses the ballroom, coming to an ungraceful stop in front of Scott. Up close, the elf looks worryingly pale, and there are dark circles under his eyes. He looks like a strong breeze might sweep him away.
“Lord Codfather,” Scott greets.
“Elvenking,” Jimmy returns, dipping his head a little. Look, Scott, he can be formal too, alright? “Care for a dance?”
Scott stares for a long moment before giving a single nod. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind.” He takes Jimmy’s outstretched hand in his own gloved one, letting Jimmy put a hand on his waist as they start into a simple waltz.
Now, Jimmy is a terrible dancer, and he’s not too proud to admit it. He steps on Scott’s feet, gets off-rhythm once or twice, and nearly crashes them straight into Lizzie and Joel. But despite their current status as enemies(ex-spouses?), Scott says nothing about it. He’s silent, in fact, seemingly caught up in the music. There’s something wistful about his expression, something soft and gentle hidden under his icy facade. If Jimmy tries hard enough, he can almost pretend that the two of them are back in 3rd life, dancing under the stars, and Scott is looking at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.
The illusion is shattered, however, by how heavily Scott is leaning on him by the end of the dance. He’s unsteady on his feet, grip like iron on Jimmy’s hand and shoulder. Though Jimmy can’t feel his hands though the gloves, when he brushes against Scott’s arm, it’s still a little too cold to be entirely right.
The music slows and then pauses before the next song, and they head for the edge of the dance floor.
“Thank you for the dance, Codfather,” Scott says. He steps away, face falling back into the emotionless facade so quickly it’s hard to be sure the tender expression of a moment before wasn’t a dream.
That’s the final straw for Jimmy’s fragile self-control. “Can we please stop acting like we don’t know each other?”
“What else do you want from me?” Scott snaps back.
“I- something! Anything! Just acknowledge that I exist, won’t you?”
“Acknowledging you exist doesn’t mean I’m still in love with you, you know.”
“I know,” Jimmy says, a little softer, a little bitter. “I know, trust me. I just want you to stop- to stop hurting yourself to try and avoid pain!”
“That’s not what I’m do-”
“Then what are you doing? Enlighten me, o wise elf!” They’ve kept their voices low enough, but people nearby are still starting to stare at them. Jimmy can’t bring himself to care. “You told me it would destroy you to lose me, but you’re losing me now by pushing me away!”
Scott’s expression is pained for a moment before he covers it with a glare. “I’m trying to do what’s best for the both of us, Jimmy.”
“No you’re-”
“I am an elf, and I cannot love a mortal. Humans are quick flames, burning and changing quickly. You’ll fall in love again, and you’ll forget me. There will be a mortal who loves you- I’m sure there are many already.”
“But I don’t want a mortal,” Jimmy protests. “I want you.”
“You can’t have me.”
“But why? Why, Scott?” His voice breaks, embarrassingly enough. “You said you loved me, you promised me all the time we’d be able to- to carve out, to steal from the universe.”
“I can’t give you that!” Scott snaps. “You’ll live sixty more years, maybe, a fraction of my life, a blink of an eye to an elf, and I can’t even give you that long! Not when I have to be the elvenking before anything else. Nothing I can do will ever be enough for you.”
“Enough for me? For ME? All I want is for you not to die to your own dumb plan and acknowledge my existance once in a while!”
“And all I want is for you to realize I can’t love you again!”
“Why can’t you care about me?”
“Why can’t you move on?” Scott counters.
“You’re not moving on, you’re just trying to forget!” Jimmy shouts.
In the silence that follows, he realizes that most of the ballroom must have heard the end of their little lovers’ quarrel. In fact, Lizzie’s somehow appeared next to him, laying a hand on his arm.
“Is everything alright, boys?” Her tight smile says that they will most certainly get kicked out of the ball if they continue this, and Jimmy can’t blame her.
“My apologies, Ocean Queen,” Scott says, switching to a formal tone with ease that Jimmy envies. He dips his head in respect, and only Jimmy sees how his hands tremble. “Everything is alright, but I am afraid I will have to leave early.”
She smiles again, dangerous this time. “No need to worry, Lord Smajor. Do try to avoid picking fights with my allies, next time, though.”
“It won’t happen again,” he promises, and sweeps away.
“Coward!” Jimmy shouts after him, anger making him bold. “You’re a coward, Scott!”
“Stop it,” Lizzie scolds. “You’ve already made quite the scene, and I did essentially kick him out. I’m not sure how much further you really want to carry it.”
“He is though, Lizzie, he’s a coward! Doesn’t want to face me because that means facing- well, facing everything that’s happened!”
“What do you mean, everything that’s happened?” Lizzie turns to the gathered audience of people who have been watching the spat, shooing them off as best as possible. They slowly disperse, thank goodness. “You and he are enemies, right?”
Jimmy almost winces. “It’s a bit- it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“I can see that. Jimmy, that looked like a messy breakup!”
“It, um, well, it was. Sort of.”
“Oh, Jimmy.” Lizzie’s giving him a sympathetic look, which she follows up with a tight hug. “Next time, how about we don’t invite him?”
He nods against her shoulder, rage leaving him as quickly as it came. Instead, he just feels...tired. “Thanks, Lizzie.”
“Of course. We look after each other, yeah?’
“Yeah.”
Jimmy leaves the ball exhausted, still reeling from everything that happened. The few lingering bits of anger are what gets him home, a bitter taste in his mouth from the bitter words he spat. Coward! You’re a coward, Scott! He refuses to regret them.
Scott’s ring nearly ends up in the swamp again, but Jimmy’s cooled down enough by the time he gets back that he can’t bear to throw it away. Instead, it goes in a box which he tucks into his old storage chest, somewhere he’ll never have to see it again. Scott can go to hell if he wants the ring back after all that.
-
For a while, Jimmy’s plan to tuck the ring and never think about Scott again seems to be working. Lizzie visits a few times to check on him, but she never asks specifically about Scott, and Jimmy doesn’t say anything about him. He receives radio silence from Rivendell, and he tells himself that it’s good, that he doesn’t want to hear from Scott.
So yes, his plan is working, up until he gets a knock on his door and opens it to find Scott there.
The elf looks terrible, frankly, almost worse than he did at the ball. His hair, which is usually so nicely done, is a mess, cyan strands falling all across his face. His clothes are wrinkled and have swamp mud on them, his eyes have dark circles as violent as bruises, and he’s swaying a tiny bit. In short, he looks like he didn’t sleep for a week, chugged coffee, and fought god in a denny’s parking lot.
Jimmy thinks he’s kinda hot.
No, he doesn’t. Fake news, brain.
“Hi,” Scott says.
“Scott? What- why are you here?” Jimmy’s voice rises, in shock or outrage even he doesn’t know.
“I came to apologize.” Though he looks like he’s going to pass out at any second, Scott’s voice is steady. “I was scared- I am scared. I’m terrified to lose you again. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away and hurt you.”
“No, you shouldn’t have!” Jimmy snaps, but there’s little real rage behind it.
“I know. I- uh- fuck.” Scott’s hands are shaking as he pulls out a little box from some hidden pocket. “I brought a gift as an apology.”
Jimmy takes it, curious despite himself, and finds that what’s inside is a silver bracelet with little crystals embedded in it. Flowers are the predominant design; he recognizes roses, hyacinths, irises, anemone, and poppies. On the underside, there’s elven lettering, though Jimmy has no clue what it says. The whole thing is a little clumsy, not quite as professionally made as the ring Scott once gave him, and Jimmy looks up at Scott. “Did you make this yourself?”
“Mhm. I did my best, but it’s not as nice as I’d like.”
“It’s pretty,” Jimmy says.
Scott’s shoulders slump with relief. “It’s spelled, too. Protection, good fortune, that sort of thing.”
“Do the flowers mean something?”
“They do.”
Jimmy doesn’t press for details.
“I-” Scott starts again, a tremble in his voice that wasn’t there before. “I’m sorry, Jimmy, I really am. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I needed to apologize before my time ran out.”
“Is it that- that dire?”
The barest nod. “This is what I chose to do with it. Making that, coming here. You deserved an apology.”
There’s a moment of awkward silence, Jimmy staring down at the bracelet.
Scott breaks it. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to love me. I can’t promise you eternity. I can’t promise you happiness. I can’t promise you that I won’t have to be the elvenking first and a husband second. But I am yours still, if you’ll have me.”
A part of Jimmy is very tempted to throw both Scott’s gift and his love back in his face. He can’t bring himself to stay mad, though, not when Scott’s looking at him like that, with so much raw vulnerability. So much devotion, like Jimmy’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen. It would be so, so easy to break that last strand of fragile hope in his expression; he’s offering up his heart on a silver platter, ready to shatter. Jimmy could- should- yell at him, reject his gift, tell him that he’s ruined any chance he has at Jimmy’s love.
Jimmy kisses him instead. It’s messy and it’s sudden and he very nearly drops Scott’s gift in the swamp in his haste to tangle his hands in Scott’s hair and press their lips together, but it’s real.
The little startled noise Scott makes gets cut off by Jimmy’s mouth on his. Scott’s lips are chapped and taste a little of glowberries, but Jimmy doesn’t care. He’s going to kiss his damn husband, something he thought he was never going to get to do again.
When they finally have to separate, Scott’s breathing hard, cheeks flushed. It’s a good look on him, Jimmy thinks, much more alive than his pale, rigid expression from before.
“So, I’ll take that as you want to stay married?” Scott’s voice is wry, collected, but his blush ruins the smooth effect.
“Of course I do! You absolute idiot!”
“Just checking.”
Jimmy kisses him again, just to shut him up. Scott goes with it easily, leaning into Jimmy’s embrace without complaint.
They pull apart quicker this time, and Jimmy holds the bracelet out. “Can you help me put this on?”
Scott nods. His hands are cold against the skin of Jimmy’s wrist when he fastens the clasp, but Jimmy grabs them and holds them in his own warm ones until they don’t feel quite so much like ice. It’s something. It’s a beginning.
“Come in and catch up with me?” Jimmy offers.
Scott nods again, and he doesn’t let go of Jimmy’s hand when Jimmy turns to go inside.
They talk about a lot of things. Empires, 3rd life, nightmares. Pufferfish, cake, flowers. They talk about the trials and tribulations of ruling; really, Jimmy complains that people keep attacking him and Scott nods in sympathy.
Eventually, though, the sun is starting to set.
“I need to get home,” Scott says. “You need sleep, not to stay up all night talking.” He goes to get up, and Jimmy immediately lunges, catching his sleeve.
“Don’t go! Please,” he adds, feeling his face flush at how desperate he sounds.
“Jimmy, darling, we both need to sleep.”
“We can sleep! I just….nevermind.”
“No, no.” Scott kneels back down, peering at him like Jimmy’s a puzzle that needs solving. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Jimmy.”
“I don’t want to be alone!” Jimmy blurts, and immediately flushes again. “It’s just, I’ve been alone for a long time, and there’s this demon thing that keeps showing up, and I’ve only just got you back, I’m not ready to let you go, and-”
“Hold on. What was that about a demon?”
“There’s this demon creature that I keep seeing, and it’s really messing with me,” he manages. “It sounds like you, sometimes, but all distorted, and I can’t handle it! You know me, I’m not brave or smart or anything, I’m just Jimmy!”
Scott’s frowning, worry wrinkling his brow. “Alright. How about you come to Rivendell for the night, then? I can protect us both easier there.”
Jimmy nods, feeling especially pitiful as Scott helps him to his feet. “Thank you.”
“Always. Do you still have the ring I gave you?”
“I do, I just….give me a moment to remember where I put it.”
“Good. It’s important.” Scott doesn’t elaborate, and Jimmy is too distracted looking for the ring to ask what he means.
Scott’s offer of protection feels flimsier when he has to lean on Jimmy as they travel back to Rivendell, but even then, it’s impossible to feel quite so afraid now that Jimmy isn’t alone anymore. And it’s even harder to fear anything that could happen when he’s safe in a warm bed, his head tucked against his husband’s chest. They’ll be okay, Jimmy thinks. They’ve been given another chance, and this time they’re going to get it right.
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the-void-i-scream-into · 4 years ago
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White Tulips - a JunJin fanfic 1/3
Full Story: Part 2, Part 3
Hello everyone! I hope everyone who is reading this is healthy and safe. This is a fanfic about my favorite characters, Kang Sujin and Han Seojun. I really love these two together so I wrote what I had hoped to see in True Beauty. This is my first time writing fanfiction so its not that good. But I hope you still enjoy it. I didn’t change anything from True Beauty, rather continued the events from the ending with a focus on giving Sujin the redemption arc she so rightly deserved. 
I really have to thank everyone on the shooters gc, especially @prodmina, for being so amazing and awesome. Never before have I come accross such amazing, wonderful, open and friendly group of people. I’m not that active on the chat, but I am so grateful it exists. Thank you to everyone on there. This is dedicated to you all.
Pairing: Kang Sujin x Han Seojun
Romantic Trope: Haters to friends to lovers
Word Count: 5.9k
Rating: T
PART 1
i.
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If you asked Han Seojun why he loved Lim Jukyung, he wouldn’t be able to answer. His feelings for her overwhelmed him to the point of inarticulation. His heart still skipped a beat every time he saw her at dinner with their group. He still found himself staring at her from time to time, unable to look away from her beauty. He even wrote songs about her, his only form of expressing his love for her.
He still thought of her in every free minute he had between practice, performance and recording sessions. When he couldn’t see her, he would watch her make-up tutorials online. He was proud of how far she had come with her career as a make-up artist. Her popularity was a source of delight for him. It was only appropriate that everyone see how amazing she was.
The only problem was, Lim Jukyung didn’t belong to him. She belonged to Lee Suho, his best friend.
Seojun was happy for the two of them. They were the best people he knew and even he had to acknowledge that they belonged together. Which was why, having these feelings were burdensome for Seojun.
It was burdensome, seeing them all lovey-dovey with each other and talking about their lives together. Normally Seojun would have faked a smile, but when they were all together in a group he scowled without reserve. He got away with it because right beside Suho and Jukyung, sat Taehoon and Suah who were the kind of cheesy couple that made anyone barf.
In fact, just the thought of Suah and Taehoon fawning over each other made him cringe. Even now as he walked into the special private room they frequented for their gatherings—private due to Seojun’s and Jukyung’s popularity—Seojun was pushing back his gag reflex at the squealing he could hear outside.
He scolded them as he entered the room. “Guys! I can hear you all the way from the front entrance. Why are you always so—” He stopped in his tracks. There, between a giggling Jukyung and beaming Suah sat the worst person Seojun had ever known.
Her.
He had heard peripherally about how she had changed now, having reformed as a charity worker. She had apparently apologized to Jukyung about the shitty things she had done before. As if an apology could change anything.
Han Seojun knew Jukyung had forgiven Kang Sujin. That woman had even attended Heekyung’s wedding. But Seojun didn’t understand why she had to invade their special gatherings.
The room had fallen silent. Everyone awkwardly stared at Seojun, then Sujin.
“It’s been a while, Han Seojun.” She said with a polite smile. Her voice deeper than most girls’. He always hated her voice and its lack of femininity.
Ya Han Seojun, are you a gangster?!
Seojun pushed the memory away.
“Ah-aah! Han Seojun. You must be surprised.” Jukyung said with forced cheerfulness. “I invited Sujin to join us today.
Seojun merely flicked a cynical brow at Jukyung and took his usual seat besides Suho. Suah and Jukyung nervously returned to their conversation.
The uncomfortable air in the room subsided after a while and everyone chatted cheerfully with each other. Everyone except Han Seojun.
“I saw your performance on TV. You looked good.” Suho told Seojun.
“Why the hell have you invited Kang Soojin?” Seojun asked Suho in a hushed tone.
“She’s a friend, of course she’s invited.”
“Why are you friends with her again?”
“Seojun, its fine.”
Seojun opened his mouth to protest but before he could, Sujin interrupted him.
“Ya, Han Seojun. I saw your performance on TV. I didn’t know you could sing so well.” She said, not sounding too impressed. “You were great.”
It was a peace offering. A way to start off on the right foot.
Seojun gave a sarcastic smile and tilted his head. “You should have known I was that good. I performed in school, didn’t I?”
“Oh right. I guess I didn’t really pay attention before.”
“You were too busy giving all of your attention to Lee Suho. I don’t expect you to have noticed anybody else.”
This time, the silence in the room was palpable. Taehoon audibly gulped. The only person unfazed was Sujin.
“Yeah. I was obsessed with Suho.” She said simply. “But now that I look back,” she made a frame with her forefingers and thumbs, “I think what the hell does Jukyung see in you?”
“Ya!” Suho protested so seriously that Jukyung giggled, breaking the tension.
“Honestly Jukyung. You’d be better off with me as your boyfriend.” Suah and Taehoon joined the laughter.
“Ya Kang Sujin, you stay away from my girlfriend.” Suho protested, pouting.
“You’re too serious, Lee Suho. Jukyung needs someone more fun.”
“At least I don’t go around kicking people in the face.”
“You wouldn’t be able to do it, even if you tried.”
“I know jujitsu, you know.”
“Okay, okay!” Jukyung said. And that was it, the friends were back to normal.
Seojun kept out of the conversations, eating and drinking on his own. No one dared to bother him lest he say something else to ruin the mood.
Han Seojun didn’t care to maintain a good mood. He had no tolerance for people like Kang Sujin; people who were bullies. And especially not when said bully had hurt someone he cared about very deeply. He didn’t buy this act that Sujin was pulling. He knew, that people never changed.
The conversation turned to Sujin and her charity work overseas. She talked animatedly about the children she and her non-profit group worked for. It made Seojun’s blood boil, how she was using a noble cause as a front for her true cold-hearted personality. That angel bullshit may work on others, but it would not work on Seojun.
He kept a close eye on her the entire time, almost glaring to the point where Suho had to poke him with his elbow to get him to look away. But Suho was blind, he should have seen how Sujin’s face gave the barest of glances of pain when he and Jukyung kissed each other and pulled each other’s cheeks and talked about living together.
“Oh, you guys share an apartment?” No one else noticed the high-pitchiness of Sujin’s voice when she asked this. No one, expect Seojun.
And then there was the stolen glances at Suho. That was the final nail in the coffin. Seojun was convinced that Sujin was pretending to be over Suho. She was still in love with him. And that was a problem.
“What’s wrong with you?” Suho confronted Seojun outside, when it was just the two of them waiting for the others to leave.
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know the kind of person Kang Sujin is? How can you let her in again?”
“Calm down, Seojun-ah. That was all years ago.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that she hurt Jukyung.”
“She’s not a bad person. I know her better than you. She made a mistake.”
“She knew what she was doing.”
“Haven’t you ever made a mistake before? Or are you telling me that blaming me for Seyeon’s death was the right thing to do?”
Seojun was quiet.
“Seojun-ah, don’t take this the wrong way. You have a tendency to judge too quickly, and misunderstand. If you really hate her that much then talk to her and ask her about her reasons. Don’t just go on assuming something is the way it is because you think so.”
Seojun grit his teeth.
“Shall we go?” Jukyung came up from behind, taking Suho’s arm. The rest of the group was behind her.
“Yeah. Bye everyone. See you next time.” The couple waved as others waved back. “Seojun, I hope you’ll think about what I said.”
Seojun just nodded and waved too. He watched Jukyung and Suho disappear into the crowd on the street.
The rest of them said their goodbyes and went their way, Seojun leaving after giving Sujin a distrusting side-eye.
ii.
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I don’t want to be a fool like you and be just friends, only to like him one sidedly.
It had been such a long time ago when Kang Sujin had said this to Han Seojun, but he remembered it like it was yesterday. That and a couple of other memories that played in his mind, causing whiplash.
Ya Han Seojun, are you a gangster?!
Those words especially felt like a slap on his face. He could actually feel his cheek burning at the image of Kang Sujin standing there in her uniform, telling off him and his boys about bullying Jukyung.
He had respected her back then, for having the guys to stand up for her friend. Even though she had been all haughty like some arrogant princess and thought him a fool, he had still respected her. He had never expected her to turn out to be such a vile person.
Am I handsome?
Yes.
No, no, no. That was one incident he refused to remember. It meant nothing. Only a source of surprise at her bluntness, nothing more.
“Seojun, we’re going to hit the showers now, are you done?”
Seojun didn’t hear Chorong as he ran on the treadmill. His body was in the gym but his mind as fully occupied by Kang Sujin, as it had been for the past week.
“Han Seojun, are you listening?”
She must have had a reason for suddenly showing up out of the blue. She had disappeared completely when the truth about her had been revealed online. Obviously, she ran away like a coward. If she was back now, it must be because she wanted something. Kang Sujin could be very calculating and manipulative.
Was it because of Lee Suho?
“Han Seojun!”
Chorong’s voice snapped Seojun out of his thoughts and he fell backward from his treadmill.
“OOOH! Are you okay?”
“YA! Why would you do that?!” Seojun snapped at Chorong as he got back up. He checked himself for bruises though his dignity caught the worst of it.
“Ah-nee, I called you so many times. You were totally checked out.” Chorong explained.
“Does that make sense? Why would I be checked out?”
“Well… you have been out of it this past week. Has something been bothering you?”
Something had been bothering him; something with silky, black hair and long legs.
“What? You met Kang Sujin?” His entire posse sounded as he told them about her return. Seojun put a finger in his ears as he was bombarded with questions.
“Did she apologize to Jukyung? Are they friends now?”
“Did she tell where she was all that time?”
“Is she still pretty?”
“Is she single?”
“What is she doing these days?”
Seojun ignored all of these useless inquiries.
“Hey! Did you al forget the kind of person she is? How could you ask if she is still pretty?”
“She must be. I bet she’s still the same.”
“She was never pretty.” Seojun declared. “I can never understand what people see in her.”
“That’s because you only have eyes for one.” One of them teased and the rest of them Ooh-ed like school girls.
“Ah, shikkeureo! Shut up!” Chorong said in defense of Seojun. Out of everyone, Chorong understood best how much Seojun still pined for Jukyung. “So, what exactly is bothering you about Kang Sujin?”
“I don’t trust her. Especially around Jukyung.”
“Wae? Do you think she might still be after Lee Suho.”
“Yes. At least I suspect so. I’m not sure what game she’s playing at but I’m not buying this angel persona she has on.”
“So? You can’t exactly stop Jukyung from choosing to be friends with her.”
“I feel I can convince Jukyung if I talk to her.”
“She might just tell you to try to get along with Sujin.”
This was true. Jukyung was too nice and trusting with people. Seojun thought long and hard.
“I’ll have to protect her. I’ll have to keep Kang Sujin away from Jukyung.”
iii.
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He had been on his way to the studio, casually riding by on his bike, when he saw her. She was in some blue vest, clearly a uniform of some sort. She was handing out fliers to people who passed by, smiling widely with that fake innocent look she had perfected. What a crock of shit. Seojun swerved around and parked his bike, then sauntered up to her with an amused expression.
She lit up when she saw him approach, waving animatedly at him. Her happiness upon seeing him surprised him so much that he stumbled and almost fell. He played it off as nothing, hoping she hadn’t noticed.
“Ya Han Seojun, gimme your autograph.” She grinned as she pushed forward a petition to help kids in Africa.
Seojun didn’t take it. “What are you doing?” He asked rhetorically, looking at the pictures of children she had set up for people to see along with information as to how to donate. So she’s using these poor kids for her own selfish reasons?
“Huh?” Sujin hadn’t missed his tone. “Just sign it, its for a good cause. And being charitable will help your image too, no?” She tried appealing to his logic.
“Ooooh,” Seojun mocked, “So you keep up the pretense even when you’re not around Jukyung? Isn’t this a too much, Kang Sujin?”
Sujin’s smile dropped into a snarl, “What?”
“I’m on to you, Kang Sujin.” Seojun got up in her face. “Ah-nee, if you’re going to pretend to be all reformed then you shouldn’t make it too obvious. Charity work is a little too on the nose, don’t you think?”
Sujin stared at him in shock and anger. Seojun suddenly recalled how well Sujin had kicked those thugs who had kidnapped Jukyung back in high school and gulped. He hoped she wouldn’t try to kill him in public but it was too late to take back what he said.
“Han Seojun…” Sujin said through clenched teeth and Seojun prepared for the worst.
Ya Han Seojun! Are you a gangster?!
But she said nothing. Instead she calmed herself, exhaling through her mouth.
“I probably deserve that.” She said, not backing away or cowering from him. She pushed the flier in his chest, “But don’t make these kids suffer because of your anger towards me. They could really use the support.”
Seojun looked down at the flier. He couldn’t sign anything without the consent of his agency. So he folded it up and pocketed it. Along with his pride. He could put his ego aside for a good cause.
“These kids deserve a better person representing them than you.” Seojun said. Sujin pressed her lips tightly.
“Aren’t you being a little too harsh? I’m not the same person anymore. And Jukyung has—”
“You may have everyone else fooled, Kang Sujin. But I will always remember what you are.” With that, Seojun walked away, his hand twitching.
 iv.
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The next time they all met up, Seojun made sure to sit between Sujin and Jukyung. He felt uncomfortable because he had to bump shoulders with her, but he would bear it for Jukyung.
Suho gave Seojun a warning look when they all sat down. Don’t do anything excessive, the look said. Seojun ignored it.
He could feel Sujin’s stiffness beside him. This was uncomfortable for her too. Good. If I’m suffering, she should too. But she kept up her polite façade, smiling like nothing bothered her.
Seojun made sure to keep her isolated from Jukyung. He didn’t let her speak to Jukyung, didn’t let her participate in the competitions. He even didn’t let her eat properly.
“Jukyung-ah, did I show you my pictures from—”
“Jukyung-ah, has your sister told you about the tour we’re planning?” Seojun interrupted.
Jukyung would be at a loss as to who to answer and Seojun would move forward, blocking Sujin.
When Suho or Jukyung tried to ask Sujin what she wanted to eat first, he took the first dish he saw and shoved it in front of her.  
“Here, have this Kang Sujin.”
“I don’t want it.” She said with an unamused look.
“Take it.” He ordered in his intimidating baritone.
They glared at each other , Sujin’s face twitching with annoyance. Seojun mentally dared her to snap at him but she swallowed her pride, quite literally, and put on a fake smile.
“Thanks.” She said dryly.
By the end of dinner, Han Seojun had successfully managed to annoy Kang Sujin. Her fake persona was slipping as she clenched her jaw and exhaled excessively to keep her temper in check. Seojun guessed he would have her true personality on display by the end of the night.
“Han Seojun what are you doing?” Suho confronted him outside.
“What did I do?” Seojun feigned ignorance.
“You need to sto—”
“Han Seojun. Let’s talk.” Sujin strode up to them from behind, her face set with determination.
“No.” Seojun said.
“I wasn’t asking. I was telling.” And there she was, the old Sujin. Gone was the politeness and friendly demeanor. She stared boldly at him, almost challenging him to refuse again.
“Seojun-ah, just hear her out.” Jukyung broke through their staring match. Seojun could never say no to her. But he didn’t get a chance to say yes either.
Sujin simply commanded, “Follow me,” and grabbed the collar of his jacket, dragging him away.
“Ya! What are you doing?!” But Kang Sujin was stronger than she looked and Seojun found himself being pulled against his will.
The rest of them could only stare.
“Do you think they’ll be alright?” Suah asked, concerned.
“Nope. I’m certain they’ll kill each other.” Suho replied nonchalantly.
“My money’s on Sujin.” Taehoon and Suah said together.
“You’re on.” Suho replied.
iv.
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“Are you crazy? How could you grab me like that?” Seojun smoothened the collar of his coat that Sujin had bunched up in her fist. She had let go when he had said that he would follow enough times. They walked together, Sujin going ahead of him. He quickly put on his mask. “How can a girl be so strong?” He said under his breath. Then spoke aloud, “Is this any way to treat an idol?”
Sujin suddenly turned on her heels, stopping Seojun in his tracks. She was a little too close for comfort and looked intimidated with that unfiltered anger on her face. “Just shut up and follow.”
Seojun put his hands on his hips, tilting his head. He was unimpressed by her tough attitude. He gestured forward with his chin, “Then move.”
He followed her, keeping a small distance between them. She marched forward, taking long strides with her long, long legs. She looked like a general going to war.
“She calls me a thug. She should look at herself.” He mumbled.
Sujin led them to a secluded pocha, street food vendor with small plastic seats housed inside a plastic tent. Seojun adjusted his mask.
“Relax, no one here is going to recognize you.” Sujin said, sensing his discomfort. Indeed, when Seojun looked around, all he saw were hold ahjusshis getting drunk and babbling nonsense. None of them seemed like his fans.
Still, Sujin led them in a corner table and sat where he was hidden by her. She ordered two bottles of soju and side dishes for him. He simply watched with his arms crossed.
The silence between them was awkward and heavy. Neither of them said anything. Han Seojun openly stared at Sujin. Kang Sujin looked everywhere but him. The lady brought them their order. Sujin effortlessly opened a bottle and moved to fill his glass. Seojun put his hand on top of his glass to stop her.
With a sigh, he took the bottle from her and poured for himself. She followed suit. They both took a shot.
Sujin sat up straight, shuffling in her seat. She first looked down at her hands in her lap, then looked up, straight in his eyes.
“Mianhae.” It took him by surprise. More than that, the regret on her face moved him. If only by an inch. “I’m sorry, Han Seojun. What I did back then… I was going through some personal issues, and I took it out on Jukyung. But even that is not a good enough excuse. I shouldn’t have done what I did. And even what I said to you… even after you gave me a chance to delete the video… I’m sorry.” She gulped and Seojun mirrored her. “You were right. I was only destroying myself. I should have seen that. But I have changed now. I’m not the same person. I know you’re important to Jukyung. So I hope we can get along from now on.”
Seojun took another shot. He took a minute, considering her words.
“If its forgiveness you want, then Kang Sujin, there is nothing to forgive between us. Your fight was with Jukyung. Not me.” Sujin appeared relieved till Seojun added, “However, my problem with you isn’t because of old grudges. I just can’t trust you, Kang Sujin. I believe you still will hurt Jukyung, even if you don’t mean to. And I can’t let that happen.”
Sujin’s mouth became small. She jutted her jaw, pouring another shot for herself. She downed it aggressively before responding. “I’m not the same girl anymore. I’m not in love with—”
“I keep hearing that you’ve changed. But have you really? Can you honestly tell me that you’re over him?”
“I am over him.”
“Bull shit. I saw the way you were looking Suho. All throughout dinner—”
“Aren’t you just projecting your own feelings onto me?” Sujin interrupted.
Seojun laughed incredulously, “What?”
“The one who’s not over their unrequited love is you. You’re not over Jukyung.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. All these years you’ve been pretending to be her friend. Aren’t you the one being two faced?”
“I’ve already confessed to her. We even went on a date.” Seojun crossed his arms with a smirk.
This was news to Sujin, “Aah. Is that so? Then isn’t that more pathetic? Even though she clearly doesn’t want you—”
“Ya, Kang Sujin.”
“—you’re still not over her. I too saw how you looked at her. With that pathetic puppy dog expression on your face. Don’t you think this is awkward for Jukyung? Sitting there with her boyfriend and—”
“Shut your damn mouth.”
“Wae? Don’t like it when the tables are turned on you?” Sujin and Seojun glared at each other with hatred. Seojun poured and downed a shot. Sujin swallowed and looked away. This was not how she imagined this conversation going.
“I’m not in love with her.” Seojun declared.
Sujin snorted, “Hul. Then why is it you who is giving me this lecture and not Lee Suho? If I’m really such a threat to Lim Jukyung, then shouldn’t her boyfriend be the one to confront me? What gives you the right to treat me this way?”
Seojun paused. “I can give you a million reasons; that I’m her friend, that even though I’m not her boyfriend, she stills relies on me, that I’m doing this out of humanity.”
Sujin scoffed.
“That I don’t want to lose another friend because of bullying.”
Sujin’s face fell. She licked her lips as she considered his point of view. Then, wordlessly, she poured him a drink.
“I’m not a bully. I never was. I did a shitty thing that I’ve apologized for and now I’d like to move on with my life.” She poured herself a shot of soju too. “I care about Jukyung. I will always regret what I did to her. But I still have a chance at friendship and I am going to take it whether you like it or not.”
They both took the shot. Sujin poured them another.
“We both care about Jukyung. And she would want us to get along, or at least pretend to for her sake.” Sujin gave Seojun a pointed look. The ball was in his court now.
Seojun remembered how uncomfortable Jukyung had been because of his hostility towards Sujin. True, Sujin wasn’t the kind to be trusted. Seojun was a man of action, he didn’t believe in hollow words. But it was also true that fighting with Sujin all the time would cause problems in their peaceful little group. And although he was sure that when it came to it, everyone would choose him and not her, he still held up the shot glass and said, “For Jukyung’s sake.”
v.
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The two drunken enemies staggered on the sidewalk, each supporting the other while trying not to fall; a drunk trying to steady another drunk.
“Ah-nee-ya, I’m not *hic* not in love with Jukyung. I don… I don…”
“Arassssso. And I’mf the Pwincess of England.” Sujin slurred, pushing Seojun upright as she tried to hail a taxi.
“Na ah-nee-ya. I’m not. Nope.” Seojun hiccuped.
“Ah just sstand still!” Sujin pushed his body away but his arm was still draped over her shoulder.
“Ah sshutup! Shut up you stupid Suijin!” Seojun started snickering at his own statement, “Hehehe. Stupid Suji. Sujinnie phabo.” Seojun pushed his weight onto her, still chortling.
“Ah stand still!!” Sujin wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him up. She was suddenly very aware of just how tall he was. Even with her own impressive height, he seemed too big.
A taxi finally stopped and Sujin struggled with pushing Seojun inside. She pushed him in with her legs when he bent over on the seat but refused to move further to give her room.
“Where to?” The driver asked when they both were seated.
“Han Seojun, tell him your address.”
Seojun fell to the other side, passed out. Sujin, who herself felt like passing out, leaned over to tap his face, “Han Seojun? Ya! Wake uuup.” He did not.
“Are we leaving or not?” The driver asked impatiently.
Sujin shook Seojun again. He stirred, only to mumble Jukyung’s name and pass out on her shoulder again. Sujin looked at the driver helplessly.
 vi.
The first thing Seojun felt was the pounding headache, it brought him out of a very nice dream he’d been having that he promptly forgot. He could feel his legs sticking out from the side of the bed. In turning over, his elbow punched into something.
“Oof! Ow! What the hell!”
Sujin kicked at him as she pressed her ribs in pain. They both were surprised to find themselves tangled in each other. It took them exactly three seconds to start screaming.
They both flew off the bed, Sujin hitting Seojun repeatedly with her pillow.
“Ow! Ow! Ah! OW!”
“Why. Are. You. In. My. Bed?!”
“Why am I here? Why are you here?”
“This is my room asshole!”
Seojun grabbed Sujin’s wrist to keep her from hitting him. He looked around and indeed it was Sujin’s room.
“What the hell happened?” He asked.
She kicked him in the shin, “How the hell would I know? Explain yourself, Han Seojun!”
“You explain! How can I end up here if you didn’t bring me?”
Sujin’s raised foot, about to kick Seojun, slowly lowered. She was suddenly hit with the memory of last night. Drunkenly trying to enter the code to her door as Seojun whined about missing Jukyung, stumbling into her apartment and dragging Seojun by his collar to the couch, falling on top of him as he fell and then immediately picking herself up and going into her room to pass out.
Seojun put his hands on his hips defiantly, “Kang Sujin. We got drunk last night didn’t we? Aish, chincha. I never thought you’d be the kind of girl to take advantage of a guy like that.”
“Ah-ni-godun! That would never happen! I only brought you here because you wouldn’t tell me your address.”
“Ah, what a nice excuse. And whose idea was it to go drinking any way? Was this your plan all along? Of course, its understandable that you’d want a rebound with the most handsome guy around.”
Sujin scoffed in disbelief. “That’s not the case!” She protested. “And what handsome? I find you laughable.”
“And I find you detestable.”
“Then why did you come into my bedroom when I left you out on the couch?”
A flash of memory sparked in Seojun’s mind; of getting up, using Sujin’s bathroom and going into the bedroom thinking he was at Chorong’s place.
The red spreading on his cheeks was a dead giveaway to Sujin that she had him.
Seojun cleared his throat, “No matter what, this isn’t what it looks like.”
“Of course, it doesn’t.”
They stood there awkwardly for a moment as they wondered what to do next. They both spoke together.
“You should probably go.”
“I should leave.”
A rare agreement. They both nodded in sync.
“But… is there a back door to your apartment? I can risk having my face seen leaving a girl’s apartment.”
Sujin licked her lips as she considered this. “I think I have an idea.”
From the outside, Kang Sujin’s apartment door cracked open, just enough for two heads to poke out to check if the coast was clear. One of those heads was wearing a beanie, a mask and sunglasses. The other was Sujin. They both sneaked out of her apartment and beelined for the emergency stairs.
“Why is your apartment so up high?”
“We can always go in the elevator where my neighbors can see you.”
“I hate you.”
Finally making it out the back exit, the two relaxed.
“How are you going to get home?” She asked him.
“I’ll take the bus. Nobody will recognize me when I’m like this.”
“You shouldn’t underestimate fangirls.”
Seojun chuckled, “Never do. Bye then.”
Seojun turned, then paused, then turned back. “Kang Sujin.” He called out to her just as she was about to go in. “Thanks… for not just abandoning me last night.” It was the most difficult thank-you he had ever said.
Sujin simply nodded. “Get home safely.”
 vii.
Sujin didn’t remember going back up to her apartment, just the click of the door shutting behind her that pulled her out of her daze.
She had just spent the night with Han Seojun. Admittedly, it meant nothing, but it still felt weird and she didn’t know what to do about it.
Maybe I should have asked him to eat before he went. He must have been hungry. She thought. And then scolded herself, Ah-nee, why would I care about him? He doesn’t matter to me anyway.
Traces of Han Seojun still lingered in her apartment; the bedsheet that had fallen on the floor, along with the pillow she had assaulted him with, his spicy scent on the bed and a metal ring on her bedside table that he must have taken off during the night.
Sujin held up the ring, looking through it. She would give it to him later, if they met again. She hoped they didn’t. She was already dreading the thought of encountering him again.
Kang Sujin didn’t let herself think too much about last night. She changed her sheets, showered and firmly put all thoughts of a certain idol out of her mind. He was just a silly twerp who had been a thug in high school and was now just an idol. He had nothing to do with her, nor she with him.
She had better things to do, like her work.
If you’re going to pretend to be all reformed then you shouldn’t make it too obvious. Charity work is a little too on the nose, don’t you think?
Nope, she wasn’t going to let that idiot get to her. Who was he to treat her like this? Next time she saw him, she would kick him in the face. Yes, that’s what she would do.
I keep hearing that you’ve changed. But have you really? Can you honestly tell me that you’re over him?
All day long Sujin’s hand twitched with the need to be scrubbed clean. They kept getting clammy and sticky. She wanted to scrub, scurb, scurb them of all the dirt and the grime and the filth of her past self. Sujin had believed that she had kicked this bad habit of unnecessarily cleaning her hands, but apparently she hadn’t.
My problem with you isn’t because of old grudges. I just can’t trust you, Kang Sujin. I believe you still will hurt Jukyung, even if you don’t mean to.
“Well who the hell wants your trust?” Sujin argued with the wind.
“Is everything okay?” One of the girls she worked with asked.
“What? Oh-um-yeah. Everything is fine! Just… talking to myself.” She put on a fake cheery attitude and shook her head.
It was only when Sujin’s day was finally over, and she was back in her empty apartment, leaning against her front door, that let herself feel the misery she had been suppressing.
Of course that Han Seojun hates me. What reason does he have not to?
Even the person who had been obligated to love and protect her, had only ever seen her as worthless. If her own father, couldn’t treat her with decency, then why should she expect a stranger to?
Her small apartment suddenly seemed so much bigger now. Big and empty, with shadows extending from the ground to the roof.
Kang Sujin, were you always such a piece of trash?
She hadn’t answered him back then. But in these quiet moments, she allowed herself to admit, “Yes, Han Seojun. I was always such a worthless piece of trash.”
Back when she had been a kid—running away from her problems in school, from what she had done to Jukyung—she would let this darkness take over. It would eat her inside and out till she was just a shell. However, now that he had grown up, she had learned how to deal with this on her own.
Sujin pushed herself off of the door and walked into her room, turning on all of the lights. Rest, she needed rest. And food, before anything else. Most of the time her depression would just be weakness caused by hunger. She was indeed careless with her health.
Her phone buzzed suddenly. It was a message from Jukyung. She would respond later. First she would spend time on herself. But then, almost immediately, there was a message from Suah. Then Suho. Even Taehoon. Then the phone lit up with a call from Jukyung.
“What’s going o—”
“Kang Sujin, have you seen the articles?”
“What?”
“There’s articles about you and Seojun dating.”
“WHAT?” It took Sujin a full minute to process what Jukyung was saying. She was speaking but Sujin didn’t hear the rest. Jukyung’s voice was muted from the speaker as Sujin searched through Naver for her and Seojun’s name.
“It’s all over the internet.” Jukyung was saying. “Someone’s posted pictures of you and Seojun together. Sujin-ah. Is that really you? Are you and Seojun dating?”
The room began to spin and Sujin had the urge to kick someone in the face.
“Jukyung-ah. I’ll call you back.”
What the hell happened?”
The articles Sujin found showed her and Seojun exiting her building. It was from this morning. Seojun’s face was well hidden but she could be clearly seen. From the way the pictures were taken, it looked as if the two were involved in something together.
Sujin’s phone suddenly lit up with an unknown number. She knew it could only be Han Seojun.
She pressed answer.
Some JunJin images I came up with just for fun
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vampiresuns · 3 years ago
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Again and Again, Even Though We Know Love’s Landscape | Asra x Milenko
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☽ AGAIN AND AGAIN, EVEN THOUGH WE KNOW LOVE’S LANDSCAPE ☽
2.1k words. Written for Asra Week 2021, Day 4: Bonds. In which the secret of the Scourge is discovered, Anatole and Asra fight, and Milenko has no choice but to be caught in the middle.
Title comes from the poem of the same name, by Rainer Maria Rilke. Dani’s @apprenticealec​‘s Baudelaire family has a cameo here.
You can catch up with Milasra’s pre-game canon, ‘Like Thirst Holds Water’, here.
CW: Trauma talk, mentions of captivity, suggested regicide.
Milan had only seen Anatole angry, really angry, a couple of times. While his cousin was easy to rile up, he truly believed in being kind and understanding with people and lived by it, even if sometimes (a lot of times) people exasperated him. Anatole was rather introverted but there was no doubt he was as people-leaning as can be. He believed in the freedom and fulfilment of the people with a candidness that refused naiveness. Anatole, while not immune to his own youth, was no fool. 
He had a very determined set of things which did tick him off, that made him forget he was a polite person and unleashed his vindictive wrath upon whomever dared to do any of those things. Neglectful incompetence, abuse of power, people who tried to buy him over, cruel people, or people who spoke over him too many times. Same as people who purposely messed with his schedule, when he had already explained why he had one. Being lied to for no good reason or feeling betrayed by people he loved and actively gave his time to, also angered him. 
He supposed Asra’s was a good reason, or at least, he understood the reasons behind it. However, Milenko also wanted to think Asra had a good reason to keep from all of them why Muriel wasn’t around any more.
Milenko had always known there had to be another reason as to why Asra could not stand the Count — besides him trying to ask about his parents and getting nothing, Lucio’s slumming and overall intolerable personality, or the way he ruled. Milenko didn’t know what it was exactly, but he knew it had stirred something up in Asra, something that had been happening for at least a year. He had offered Asra the opportunity to come to him, whenever he was ready. His mothers had done the same, offering their home as a safe place; so had Anatole and Paris albeit in a different way than Milenko had.
Or was it different? He didn’t know. It was love, after all. 
Anatole had found out about Muriel because he had been more or less forced to go to the Colosseum. As a general rule, no Cassano, and certainly no Radošević-Cassano, went to the building. Public entertainment was not a problem, even when it was not their brand of public entertainment. Their problem was when aristocrats, or worse, rulers, used it to provide some sort of macabre bread and circus, holding people against their wills and depriving them from their rights, grooming people in a lesser position into fighting, and another set of practices they had tried to mend for years upon years with their hold of the Consulship. 
That was, perhaps, why it was even more crucial that the Cassano never went — because all of the social failings of Vesuvia which procured the main source of “gladiators” were things the Consul was usually responsible for, having to find ways to mitigate them. However, there were always people like the Baudelaire family and their circles who did not hesitate to use their own influence to keep their business models. Owning things was not a job, exploiting others was not a job. It had gotten to such a point of tension that when Valerian Cassano was still performing, he refused to do it if a Baudelaire was in the audience, especially if it was their patriarch. His husband, Iovanus, former Consul of Vesuvia, had not been much better when he was still alive: the old Count Spada had to force him to hold meetings with them, otherwise, he plainly refused to, and Iovanus was stubborn as a mule. 
The Cassano took their civic duties seriously. Way too seriously to some people. Lucio was one of those people, which made matters worse. Count-Consul cooperation was minimal, despite certain rumours flying around in the City, and with Vlastomil as the Praetor, the criminal justice system in Vesuvia was decidingly falling apart. Lucio could say whatever he wanted, but everyone who had an ounce of critical thinking could tell what the Scourge of the South, or rather, Muriel —Milenko would not use that never, he would never use a name that wasn’t Muriel’s own— actually was to him.
Now they knew Lucio had threatened Muriel with hurting Asra, and lied to Asra about his possibility to free him if he paid his “debt”. Of course, the debt didn’t really exist, it was all a fabrication from Lucio, who did it simply because he could. Anatole was so angry about it Milenko heard him say something which he had only heard him say for the worst kind of people: “In Balkovia, people like this get murdered for less.” He was so angry, Milenko saw his cousin do something he never did — he reminded Asra everything he had offered with his friendship, how his family had opened up for him, a home, a safe place, all of it with nothing attached. For him and for Muriel. 
Nothing was attached still, Anatole wasn’t asking for retribution, he was asking for Asra to acknowledge the bond they were supposed to have, when in a time of need he could’ve used the entire weight of the Cassano to get Muriel out of it. Milenko had talked to Anatole first, caught between his friend and partner, and his cousin; Asra had wanted space anyway, so Milenko offered that to him. 
One way or another, he knew better than to tell Anatole what to do. He knew his cousin like he knew the water, so all he needed to do was let him talk and nudge him, and he would come around on his own. However, the more he heard him talk, the angrier Anatole got. 
“You know Muriel is everything he's got. Muriel didn’t talk about it either.”
“Muriel is the only person more hermetic than Asra, and if he doesn’t tell Asra first, he’s probably not telling anyone. Ever. Not to forget, he thinks we’re loud and weird. I just feel—”
“Stupid and you hate it?”
“So incredibly stupid.”
Milenko tried to tell Anatole it wasn’t his fault, and he meant it. Asra had to learn how to rely on others, instead of just enclosing himself so no harm ever came through his defences, nor to him, nor to his loved ones. Who better than Milenko to know. 
Anatole just sounded bitter and dejected when he spoke. “He knows I can tell when he’s lying to my face, Milenko. I’m not asking him to tell me everything. He can tell me he doesn’t want to talk about something and establish a boundary, which he knows he can do. I am asking my friend not to lie to my fucking face when I can literally feel he’s lying to me.”
Milenko hated how bitterness looked on him. It was wrong. Out of place. 
“I’m sorry, Nana. Maybe we should’ve all seen this sooner.”
“You saw nothing of this, didn’t you?”
Milenko sighed, being his time to sound defeated. “Yes and no. You know I can’t really control what I see. I wasn’t like it was with— with… you know—”
“Decimo?” Anatole smiled for the first time in their conversation, trying to reassure him. “You can say the name of the rat bastard, even if he doesn’t deserve to step on the same earth we do.”
“No,” Milenko said, surprising himself with how teeth-grinding angry he felt, “no he doesn’t. But what I was saying is that it wasn’t like that, when I just knew you weren’t safe. I think it’s because I’m not as close to Muriel as I am to you.”
Anatole sighed. “I think he uses protective charms. He’s never shown me much, but I’m pretty sure Muriel can do abjuration like,” Anatole clicked his cheeks, a gesture he had unknowingly copied from his friend Leonore, “better than most people we know that can.” 
They sat together for a long while until Anatole said he had to go. Milenko asked him what he would do, his cousin answering with a shrug. “At this point? I am willing to do anything in my power so this slimy, little, petty tyrant eats up everything he ever did to Vesuvia, and maybe everything he’s ever done to me in Court while we’re at it. And to Aunt Cassie, and to Iovanus, and to every living person whose life he’s fucked over. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I’ll do it, whatever it takes.”
Milenko didn’t say anything. Anatole looked determined, and once Anatole was determined to see something through, he didn’t waver.  
When he went back to find Asra, he was curled over himself, quietly crying. Asra felt the dent on the bed when Milenko sat in it, his cries erupting and resurfacing the moment he felt Milenko rubbing his back. The poet began humming a song for Asra, offering all the comfort he could. He was always so kind to him, he was always so loving to him; Milenko was always so good to him, and Asra was a mess. He knew better than to say anything, because after the three years and counting they’ve been together, Asra knew Milenko had very disarming arguments for that line of thought of his. 
When Asra spoke again, was to ask Milenko if Anatole was angry at him. 
Milenko sighed. “I think with you is more appropriate. Not for the reasons you think, though.
“What about then?” Asra asked, voice raspy through a sniffle.
“Beloved, he understands you grow at your own rate. No one is judging you or blaming you for not knowing how to deal with things, or not knowing when to reach out. He’s angry you lied to his face. Beloved, you know Anatole senses that. You know he can tell when you do it. He doesn’t care that you don’t tell him things you’re not ready to talk about, just, don’t lie to my cousin to his face.”
Milenko didn’t know what he was expecting, but Asra beginning to cry again was not it. With a lovefull sigh, he pulled his partner closer, letting Asra cling to him like an anchor to something Milenko didn’t quite understand. He knew, however, that Asra’s grief, that which he carried alone and alone only, was deep. A wound so deep it had pierced him to the very centre of his being and changed him forever.
He wanted to tell him he understood. Milenko’s first memory wasn’t a memory; it was a pit of panic ingrained in him out of something he had been told about but couldn’t really remember. He was a toddler, and the war in Balkovia was still raging on, and someone had decided Blasio, Violeta and him weren’t the right sort of people— 
Yet as Asra cried himself to sleep, Milenko helping him wash his face and handing him water to drink before he finally passed out, Milenko said nothing. Something told him it was not the right thing to say and that Asra, distressed and afraid, would not appreciate it. It was through no fault of his own, though, and Milenko knew this. Trauma and loneliness were fissures which never sealed right, no matter how well one learnt to handle them. On top of that, Asra was not a great fan of confrontation, and his argument with Anatole had hit not in one but two places because Asra now didn’t just carry the fear of Muriel being hurt (which he had been, several times) or Muriel dying, but also the one of losing Anatole for this, or Anatole doing something that he wouldn’t be able to stop and getting hurt for something Asra would assume was his fault. 
There had to be something tragic waiting to happen in a friendship so coloured by Romance. 
Milenko couldn’t sleep, so he held Asra instead, drawing idle patterns on the magician's back as he felt his soft, sleep-heavy breath tickling his skin. For the first time in the years they’ve been together, Milenko looked at their relationship and he Saw. Again and again, Asra and him chose to walk together, a love that made Milenko feel like anywhere was a field of flowers, a love that made him feel like he would burst at the seams with it. A love so heavy, no one that young should feel it, but perhaps they felt it because they were young. 
This was what the poets meant when they said Beloved, and maybe even then, when it came to him and Asra, love would not be enough. 
Morning came, and at least for the morrow, Milenko chose to love Asra again. He’d deal with the rest later.
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remma3760 · 4 months ago
Text
Consequences
Chapter 12
Summary:
Lan Qiren would have preferred to keep Wei Ying and Lan Zhan away from Wen Ruohan, but that was no longer an option. They have been summoned, so they must go.
They arrived in Nightless City to stifling heat and the smell of sulpher. Lan Qiren had given in and allowed Lan Zhan to be carried on Nie Jiahao's saber while he kept Wei Ying with him. There really had been little choice as the steep mountain paths didn't allow for carriages so it was either fly in or ride. This place was absurd. Who would choose to build a palace on an active volcano? Madness. Taking his childrens' hands he followed a servant into the main hall, Nie Jiahao at his side. 
Wen Ruohan sat on his throne looking down on them as they approached. Wei Ying clung close to his side, intimidated while Lan Zhan seemed unimpressed and even a little bored. Wen Ruohan indicated towards the two children. "Which of these is the grandson of the immortal?"
Before Lan Qiren could answer, Wei Ying waved his hand in the air. "Me. That's me. Wei Ying."
"Hm. Step forward, child."
Wei Ying did, giving another small wave and a tentative smile. 
Wen Ruohan studied him critically. "You don't look like much, boy."
Wei Ying was puzzled. What had this man expected? "I look like a boy." 
Lan Qiren bowed, drawing Wei Ying back to his side. "Excellency, the child is seven. His golden core has only just began to develop."
"Yet you chose to adopt him? Why would you do so if he is not extraordinary?"
"I adopted him because I love him. To me, he is extraordinary. As, I'm sure his Excellency considers his own sons to be. Is that not the way of parents?" 
"Hmph. Tell me, Lan Qiren, why was the boy not brought to me for approval?"
Lan Qiren frowned. What was Wen Ruohan suggesting? "Excellency, my son's adoption was an internal matter of the Lan. I did not consider it necessary to seek approval."
"Yet you took him from the Jiang, is that not so? Would it not be customary to consult your Chief Cultivator in a dispute between two great sects?"
"The child is not property. While yes, Jiang Fengmian found the boy, he was never officially inducted into the Jiang Clan and was given no status there. His father was no longer a part of the Jiang and his mother never had been. Had he been properly cared for at Lotus Pier I would not have removed him. However, his treatment was reprehensible and so I felt impelled to act."
"And you nephew? Was he also impelled to act?"
"He was, Excellency."
"Indeed. So, I take it this is Hanguang Jun?" He indicated Lan Zhan, who had still not acknowledged him. 
"Excellency? Hanguang Jun?"
"You hadn't heard, Lan Qiren? That's what they're calling him now. The little lord who brings light into the darkness. How poetic."
Lan Qiren was shocked. First to find that songs and poetry were being writing about Lan Zhan, and now that he had been awarded a title? At eight? And what a title. Absurd. 
"I'm not surprised you hadn't heard. You Lans and your refusal to take note of what's happening around you because you consider it 'gossip'. Well, lets take a look at the little lord. Step forward boy, let me see you. Is what your uncle says correct? Did you feel impelled to act?" 
Lan Zhan stepped forward to look up at him. "Yes."
Wen Ruohan waited for him to go on until it became clear he was done. "Is that all you have to say?"
"Yes."
"You felt you had the right to interfere with the punishment of a disciple by the Madam of the Sect?"
"Yes."
Wen Ruohan was becoming frustrated. "Why?"
"Do not be angry and hold resentment. Do not mistreat the younger. Do not succumb to rage. Do not bully the weak. Do not be unreasonable. Do not treat others with contempt. Do not take advantage of your position to opress others. Uphold the value of justice."
Wen Ruohan stared at the boy standing politely in front of him. "Lan Qiren, is he serious?"
"He is, Excellency. My nephew is most particular about justice being upheld."
Wei Ying bounced forward to hug Lan Zhan tightly. "Lan Zhan saved me. Lan Zhan is good."
"So it would seem. Hanguang Jun indeed." Dismissing Lan Zhan, Wen Ruohan returned to his main point. "Am I to believe then, Lan Qiren, that your adoption of this child was out of kindness rather than to claim the Immortal Baoshen Sanren as an ally?"
"Excellency, I was unaware of Wei Ying's relationship to Baoshen Sanren until the adoption was decided."
"Indeed. Did you not consider, once the connection became known, that the Qishan Wen Sect would be a better option for the child? I, myself would have been willing to take in the boy."
"Your Excellency is always generous. However, Baoshen Sanren was pleased to give consent to my adoption of Wei Ying. Of course, His Excellency would not expect the Lan Sect to disregard the wishes of the Immortal."
Wen Ruohan was displeased. To have Baoshen Sanren allied to the Wen would be advantageous but to try to demand the boy now might anger her since she had already approved the adoption. How typical of Jiang Fengmian not to find out the truth of the boy's lineage. Now the boy was wasted on the righteous Lan. "As you say, Lan Qiren. The Immortal must be respected."
He would have to leave it there for now. Maybe something could be done to attain the boy in the future. He indicated behind him, a servant coming forward to hand him a saber. "Nie Zongzhu. What do you think if this gift? A magnificent saber, is it not?"
"It is impressive, Excellency."
"You think so? I was told that you would not be impressed."
"Who would say such a thing? Of course, and weapon belonging to His Excellency would be of superior quality."
"Indeed. Your saber is called Qiangda, I believe. Bring it to me, so that I may examine it."
Nie Jiahao looked to Lan Qiren, confused. It really was a bizarre request, but who was he to question the Chief Cultivator? He handed his saber to Wen Ruohan, who studied it carefully before forcefully slapping the blade several times. Lan Qiren was the only one who heard Lan Zhan's tiny gasp and he frowned down at his nephew who had gripped his hand tight. 
Wen Ruohan handed Qiangda back to Nie Jiahao, before getting up and leaving without another word. 
Puzzled, Nie Jiahao stared at his saber then looked over to Lan Qiren. "What was that all about? And what now? Do we just leave?"
A servant approached, bowing low. "Nie Zongzhu, Lan Xiansheng, please allow me to escort you to your rooms."
Lan Qiren nodded before giving Nie Jiahao a serious look. "We need to talk."
***
"What do you mean he did something?" Nie Jiahao gaped at Lan Zhan. What was he talking about? "Qiren, what does he mean?"
"Lan Qiren shook his head, concerned. "I don't know, but when Wen Ruohan slapped your saber, he reacted badly. A-Zhan, did you see something?"
"Not see. Heard. He hurt Qiangda."
Lan Qiren knelt, taking Lan Zhan's hands. "This is very important, A-Zhan. You need to tell us exactly what you heard."
Lan Zhan's little face screwed up in concentration. "When the mean man hit Qiangda she screamed, like when the hawk took the bunny. And now she sounds wrong. Hurt."
"I don't hear anything. Qiren, come on. This makes no sense. Did you hear anything?"
"I...not exactly. There was something, more a feeling of sound. A vibration. You know the Lan's use musical cultivation?" At Nie Jiahao's nod, Lan Qiren continued. "Well because of that, Lan's are particularly attuned to sound. We test children young. A-Zhan's hearing was found to be particularly enhanced even amongst Lans. Believe me, Jiahao, if he said he heard something, then he heard something."
Looking concerned, Nie Jiahao peered closely at his saber. "So now what?"
"Jiahao, promise me, as soon as we get back to the Unclean Realm, you get your weapons master to check Qiangda thoroughly."
"I will. I promise."
***
Nie Jiahao was in disbelief. "The boy was right?"
The weapons master was grave. "He was Zongzhu. There are hairline cracks near the hilt, easy to miss at such an early stage. Fortunately the damage is still negligible and easily repaired. However, if you had used Qiangda as she is now, she would have shattered."
Nie Min gasped, clinging to her husband's arm. "Husband, Wen Ruohan did this deliberately? He risked your life because he was, what? Jealous?"
Nie Jiahao held his wife, looking over her head at a troubled Lan Qiren. "I don't know. I don't know what he intended. Maybe he just didn't care. Whatever his intentions, he has failed."
Lan Qiren nodded. "I fear you are right. He is becoming ever more erratic."
"Qiren, this is an act of war."
"It is. But Qishan is too powerful for us to act yet. We will need allies."
Nie Min startled. "Oh no, I'm sorry, I forgot. There was a message for Lan Qiren from Jin Guangshan. He requests a visit so that he, too can greet the newest Lan heir."
Lan Qiren huffed. "Well of course he does. Gods forbid Jin Guangshan be left out of anything. I'll take the boys there before we return to Cloud Recesses."
"Will you tell him about this, Qiren?"
"If I think it will do any good. So probably not. I don't trust him, Jiahao. He's more likely to go running to Wen Ruohan than be of any assistance."
"Whatever you think best, Qiren. We should keep in touch either way."
"Mn. Wen Ruohan will know soon enough that you are well and healthy. He won't be pleased. Watch out for him. I will also try to get word to Baoshen Sanren. She warned me about Wen Ruohan so she should know that he's taken an interest in A-Ying."
Nie Jiahao nodded. They were in agreement. Trouble was coming.
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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago
Text
TLTNL- THE SORTING HAT’S NEW SONG
Sirius took the book even with that knot of unease still residing in him that he refused to acknowledge purely for his friends benefit. If they saw how much his own future problems were worrying him, then they'd be freaking out even more, Sirius never let anything bother him. Instead he started with absolute amusement. Harry was back at school, and even considering all the problems he'd had in previous years there, at least they got more fun out of that place than old Grimmauld could ever offer.
Harry did not want to tell the others that he and Luna were having the same hallucination,
"I think that's pushing bounds a bit, even by magic standards," Lily smirked. "I can't see any two people having the exact same hallucination."
"Gee thanks," Harry rolled his eyes at her.
if that's even what it was. Still he couldn't stop staring at the horses outlines as the carriage went along. Thankfully he was distracted by Ginny asking about that Grubbly-Plank woman being back, and if Hagrid had left?
"He would never," James said at once with absolute conviction.
Remus though, suddenly looked contemplative as he remembered back to the end of last year, and how Hagrid may have been planning a little trip...and then he quickly grew worried of how that could have turned out. He kept his silence though, seeing no point in worrying Harry further until he had proof. Missions like those could take time, longer than a few months, and Hagrid was even tougher than him.
  Luna said airily she wouldn't care if he had, he wasn't a good teacher.
"Hey!" Harry, James, and Sirius all snapped at once.
The three glared at the other two, but while Remus looked chagrined and still didn't say anything, Lily shrugged without remorse. "I adore Hagrid and of course I don't want anything to happen to him, but you've all admitted he's not the best teacher. Without the knowledge we have of him with Harry, we'd probably be thinking the same thing."
"Not the point," Sirius muttered in annoyance as he turned back.
Harry, Ron, and Ginny all snapped back at once he was too!
Harry glared at Hermione, and she had to clear her throat before unconvincingly agreeing.
Remus at least gave a weak laugh for that.
Luna was unfazed by the outburst, saying the majority of her house found him a joke.
"Got to admire this girl," Sirius said grudgingly, "she speaks her mind, even when she clearly realizes she touched a nerve."
"She's like Hermione, except a spot more ah, with more of a um," James struggled to put into words how he was processing Luna, and then just let himself die off.
Ron snapped what a rubbish sense of humor that was, but Luna did not seem at all concerned with Ron's tone, but was now watching him avidly.
The others couldn't help agreeing now, Luna certainly had a way about her that even while speaking her mind which so annoyed them of Hermione lately, they couldn't stay mad at this girl as she clearly wasn't speaking for even hurtful intent. It was more of a free spirited comment.
They trundled in silence after that all the way up to the castle and were now climbing out of the carriages, Harry regretting the moment he glanced over and those horses blank white eyes were still there.
Harry still couldn't get these strange creatures out of his mind as he asked, "how come I couldn't see them at the beginning of last year, when I saw Frank Bryce die?"*
That stumped them for a moment, but Remus recovered first and worked out, "you didn't really process his death as more than a dream for a long time, even when Dumbledore confirmed those things you were seeing were real you still seemed to feel detached from them. Then you would have seen his ghost at the same time as-" he had to forcefully stop himself because Harry flinched and looked happy enough with this answer.
Harry had once before had the experience of seeing something that Ron could not, but that had been a reflection in a mirror, something much more insubstantial
"I still think you raise a very good point about Ron's, and most wizards reaction to these types of things though." Lily said with interest. "With the mirror you two just accepted you saw different things, why then does Ron think you're losing it for this same instance?"
"First of all, those little kids wouldn't question if Merlin had appeared they were so new to magic in general," Sirius smirked at her.
"But mostly, it's because we were taught magic has boundaries." James shrugged. "You can't bring people back from the dead, you shouldn't trust things you don't know the magical source of. The mirror was a clearly defined item that showed your deepest desires. This instance however, without any context, Harry is insisting something is as it shouldn't be. Even magic has rules, and magic shouldn't be able to explain that until it does."
Lily still looked interested enough in the idea she would have kept going, but Sirius just didn't care enough to sit around and hear the two go on about this so he kept reading loudly over them.
than a hundred very solid-looking beasts strong enough to pull a fleet of carriages. If Luna was to be believed, the beasts had always been there but invisible. Why, then, could Harry suddenly see them, and why could Ron not?
Sirius really wanted to get that pale tone out of Harry's skin, so he blurted out the first question that came to mind, "think Thestrals can see each other?"**
Harry at least looked interested in this topic as it didn't directly link to him anymore and watched eagerly as Remus considered it for a moment and theorized, "no, I wouldn't think so. Of course we've no real idea, but honestly they may be visible to each other. Of course, perhaps all animals can see them, and the magic concealing them from people other than those who have seen death just don't work on more simplistic creatures. There's an honest debate for both options."
"Thank you Padfoot, you have just given Moony a whole essay to go writing," James snorted in amusement.
Ron prompted Harry to get a move on instead of staring at nothing, and he trudged up to the castle and made his way into the Great Hall. Again he found that every person at every table he passed were pointing and whispering at him. Harry gritted his teeth and pretended he didn't notice.
"Exactly how well were you getting away with that?" Sirius smirked which Harry answered by blushing and muttering.
Luna departed towards the Ravenclaw table while Harry and his friends took seats near Parvati and Lavender. Both sprung apart the moment they saw their approach, and gave unconvincing hellos that didn't fool Harry for a second, they'd been talking about him as well.
"Well they're being as subtle as ever," Lily sniffed in annoyance.
Harry took no care of this as he glanced up at the staff table, still looking for his missing teacher, and was growing even more concerned he was still nowhere in sight.
Ron asked if he'd really left, but Hermione instead offered perhaps he was just hurt.
Harry said no at once, but then there was an uneasy pause as he leaned in and whispered for the two of them alone perhaps he wasn't back yet from the mission Dumbledore had sent him on.
"I'm surprised it took you so long to offer the idea," James said.
"Wanted to cover all our bases he wasn't at school," Harry sighed with disappointment.
"Wonder who's taking care of Fang, or do you think he came along?" Sirius quickly inserted.
They spent a giggling moment picturing all the teachers taking turns to care for Hagrid's dog in his absences, James getting the best laugh as he pictured tiny Professor Flitwick only just reaching Fang's head trying to fit a leash around the pooch.
Ron seemed reassured by the idea, but Hermione turned back to the high table biting at her lip, and noticed someone new.
"I'm guessing the new DADA teacher's already around," Sirius sighed as he gave his friend the stink eye for not being in attendance.
"I'm honestly surprised you haven't run into them yet," Lily rolled her eyes. "Have you lot realized Harry's met three and at least heard mention of every person before he got there."
"No, I hadn't," James blinked in surprise as all those circumstances sure seemed a lot to take in now that he was.
Harry looked back again, now taking every teacher in account, and aside from the normal staff, found the toad like woman.
They all sat there for a moment in confusion as they had no idea what to make of this woman's arrival. There just seemed no reason for it to exist, unless something like the Tournament was happening again, in which case Merlin help them all.
Sirius came out of it first with a hard shake as he demanded, "what, has Fudge got someone attending the school regularly now? I guess she's going to be inviting herself to the feasts and public school events to keep an eye on Dumbledore."
"And Dumbledore's to polite to turn her down," James agreed with his face squidged up in annoyance.
"This is a new low, just unprecedented, even for the Ministry." Remus shook his head in disgust. "I can't believe they're trying to poke their nose into Hogwarts like this."
"Trying and succeeding," Lily muttered with disdain as the idea of her job actively trying to get inside information on the school now boggled her mind. What exactly did this woman think she was going to accomplish by doing this? Where was the motive?
Harry still felt the worst of all, because he was getting a very bad feeling they weren't entirely right, but very close to the mark.
Harry said in surprise it was that Umbridge woman from his trial, she worked for Fudge.
Ron's first response was to sarcastically compliment that pink cardigan.
"Always love Ron noting the important things," Sirius smirked.
Hermione was frowning for a wholly other reason it seemed as she muttered no, surely not.
"Don't know what she's on," Lily said curiously.
"Don't know, but how come no one else new is there either," James brushed off onto more important things. "You should have a new DADA teacher around as well."
Harry opened his mouth to say something, felt a nasty jolt for the effort, and gave in with a shrug. Sirius saved him from having to respond anyways by saying, "maybe he or she just isn't there yet, Moody got there kind of late."
"Fake Moody, and look how well that turned out," Remus grimaced in annoyance.
Harry wasn't sure what she was talking about, but didn't ask as Grubbly-Plank arrived with the group of first years all lining up while McGonagall set up the Sorting Hat.
Sirius was suddenly brimming with excitement as he got the chance to sing the school song this time!
All talk around the hall faded as attention turned to the patched and frayed object, who opened a rip near the brim, and began to sing.
Sirius bounded to his feet and then flopped down on James' other side, squishing him right up next to his wife and leaving no one with any personal space as James eagerly leaned over anyways and the two began in perfect harmony;
Insert fifth year Sorting Hat song.
The two finished with a triumphant high five while the others were all snickering away at the performance, but Remus decided that had indeed earned them some applause which they each took a bow for. Then James promptly shoved Sirius off of him and stated, "if I wanted you sitting on my lap I'd have long since told you."
Sirius was still chuckling as he went back over to his seat, and then theatrically spread himself out so he was invading Harry's personal space this time. Harry's only response was to push his Godfather's elbow out of his face but otherwise ignored the proximity with comfort as he kept going.
The Hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured, for the first time in Harry's memory, with muttering and whispers.
"Ah," Lily nodded to herself as she guessed what that meant. "This would be the first time they've heard a warning in theirs like ours usually held."
"It's been weirder for us hearing these pleasant versions all about the different houses," Remus agreed to Harry's curious look.
James and Sirius only looked more mildly disappointed the hat's actual words was getting more attention than their performance. Sometimes they missed being in the halls and having all eyes focused on them.
Ron was clapping politely with a curious look on his face as he said how the Hat had branched out.
Harry agreed, thinking back on the two he'd heard about the different houses, not about all that advice and such.
Hermione wondered aloud if the Hat had ever done any such thing before.
"I miss childlike ignorance," Remus winced, all of them taking a moment and wishing Harry had asked the same, instead of simply looking resignedly around the room as he must have realized himself the Hat really hadn't been all pleasantries.
Nick agreed the Hat often felt honor-bound to warn the school when-
but was cut off by McGonagall giving a scorching look to the hall.
"It's good the first years learn that look now," James grinned.
"Didn't do you lot any good," Lily snorted.
Nearly Headless Nick placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat back as the muttering came to an abrupt end.
"Was he doing that for himself, or for you?" Sirius chuckled.
The sorting began, the first to come up Abercrombie, Euna who was placed into Gryffindor. The boy plodded off to his seat with pure embarrassment at all the applause, looking as if he'd rather sink through the floor and never be looked at again.
"Honestly, how they don't lead a chant in congratulations is beyond me," James rolled his eyes, though to be honest he was pleased no other first year besides himself had ever tried.
Finally that ended as well, and Dumbledore took to his feet. Harry felt himself relaxing in his seat at the familiar sight. After so many jarring starts to his school year, here was finally something familiar of his headmaster greeting the student body with a welcoming smile.
The smile that flickered across his face at the moment of seeing his Headmaster again during this day was jarred as he began muttering to himself almost unconsciously about how he wished that's where the surprises would end. They all hoped they were just understanding him wrong, that he could just go this year without something happening to him.
He gave an enthusiastic greeting to those within Hogwarts, and then the feast began. Ron began seizing food at once and hardly waiting for it to hit his plate before he began shoveling it into his mouth, while Hermione turned back to Nick and asked for more about those Hat warnings.
Nick turned away from Ron eating with indecent enthusiasm,
Sirius and James were getting a good laugh out of that mental image.
to explain that the Hat was known for giving warnings when it detected periods of danger, and the message was always the same, stand together, unite from within.
Ron haphazardly got the phrase out 'Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?'
"Sirius, you can't try to read and laugh at the same time, you sound ridiculous," Lily rolled her eyes at him. "Besides, it's not that funny to watch people stuff their mouths like chipmunks."
"Ron was talking with his mouth full," Harry explained for him, an amused smile himself present at watching Sirius try to reenact that.
His mouth was so full of food it seemed a miracle he made any noise.
Nick asked politely for him to repeat himself while Hermione looked revolted. Ron had to struggle for a moment to swallow before he properly asked how the Hat could know anything about the school being in danger.
"I find it a sad note I understood that the first time," Remus sighed. "I clearly need to have stopped responding to them at some point when that kind of speech makes sense."
"We've no idea what you're talking about," James said saintly while Sirius didn't bother to deny it and kept reading while still half giggling.
Nick reminded the Hat spent the rest of its time in the Headmaster's office, surely it picked up a thing or two.
Harry scoffed if that was really all the advice it could offer, be friends with the Slytherins? He was glaring in particular at Malfoy as he said what a fat chance that was.
"You don't have to be friends with Malfoy to have Slytherin friends," Lily frowned reproachfully at him. "Have you ever even mentioned any others by name except him and his little group? Not all of them are the same you know."
"At the time I didn't," Harry defended, before relenting, "but no, I hardly looked past him when speaking about the house, and I am sorry for that now. I do wish I had taken more opportunity to get to know any others, but a time never came where it wasn't always Malfoy around, so," he finished with an imploring look that she understood, which she did and gave in the argument.
Nick proved that cooperation was always a key to victory. He and the Bloody Baron were good enough friends though from different houses.
Ron said that was just because Nick was too terrified to tell him otherwise.
"What would a ghost have to be terrified of?" Sirius scoffed at Ron's goofy comment.
"Basilisk," James muttered under his breath, but thankful Sirius hadn't lingered for a real answer.
Nick looked affronted as he stated he'd never had a cowardly moment in his life! The noble blood that ran through his veins-
Ron cut in to point out he hasn't got any blood.
Nick was growing so angry his partially severed head was trembling in place as he said back that it was a figure of speech! Surely he was still allowed to use those though food and drink were denied to him!
"Certainly no one's going to stop him," Remus couldn't help a little laugh at both parties entirely over inflating this. "Ron's just mouthing off and now Nick's throwing a ghost tantrum."
"I liked Nick better when he was showing off his severed head to first years," Harry chuckled.
Hermione corrected for Ron that he hadn't meant anything by it, while Ron's mouth was full of food again.
"I take that to mean he was simply eating again while Nick was telling him off," James snorted.
"Don't know why something like this would stop him," Sirius snickered.
He still tried to get out something about iddum eentup sechew, but Nick didn't seem to find this an adequate apology.
"Well what more could he want?" James raised a challenging brow, that smirk still in place.
"Actual words would be a nice start," Lily rolled her eyes at him.
He flew away with a huff down the table while Hermione huffed at him.
Ron demanded to know what he'd done, but she just snapped at him to forget it and the rest of the meal was a huffy silence between the two.
"If she was so offended on Nick's part, she should have said something while he was still around," Remus rolled his eyes.
"She has a tendency to do that a lot lately, speak her mind when the party isn't around," James huffed.
Harry was too used to their bickering to bother trying to reconcile them; he felt it was a better use of his time to eat his way steadily through his steak and kidney pie, then a large plateful of his favorite treacle tart.
Lily suddenly felt a smack deep in her heart as she realized she'd never even asked Harry's favorite food. She'd simply whipped something up like always as her boys usually ate anything, and Harry had as well without a trace of showing dislike. It was another of those small details though, one that she'd have just thought she'd know when her son reached those ages of declaring his favorite foods. She honestly wished sometimes she could put this book down and just sit around for ages, asking him of all his favorite likes and dislikes, but the problem was if they went too long into any conversation he started having a poke at his memories to understand something odd, and then he'd go hurting himself again. Even knowing the good this was doing, she still often wished she could be doing other things regarding her baby that was all grown up.
After the meal was done Dumbledore took to his feet again and began addressing them all, first by stating that all first years were to know, as well as some older students were to be reminded, that the Forbidden Forest was out of bounds. The trio exchanged a smirk for that.
"I don't know what you're smirking about, you've had some pretty horrifying experiences in there," Lily rolled her eyes.
"Just laughing to ourselves of what Dumbledore could mean," Harry batted his eyes innocently.
Filch, the caretaker, had also reminded for the four-hundred and sixty-second time,
"I honestly believe that he's kept count to," Remus nodded.
that magic was not permitted in the corridors, nor a number of objects, the list of which can be found on the man's office door.
"And there's always a high demand to keep that updated," James rolled his eyes.
"Especially considering how many horrid students go out of their way to keep adding to said list," Sirius tacked on with an affronted look at the idea he actually held for a few seconds.
He continued on to a few staffing changes, starting with Grubbly-Plank who would be taking Care of Magical Creatures.
Harry made a guttural noise of protest as he tried to fight the book away from Sirius, exclaiming, "he didn't say for how long! Surely it's not permanent!"
Sirius managed to win the fight and keep the book in his possession even as he gave Harry a sympathetic look while answering, "relax pup, I'm positive Hagrid's fine and Dumbledore's just trying not to draw attention to him being gone by not bringing up his name."
"It's impossible not to draw attention to him when he's not where he's supposed to be," Harry said back belligerently as he sat back with a huff. Sirius winced, wishing he had a better answer for him as he tried to move on.
He also introduced Professor Umbridge, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Five jaws dropped in a stunning silence.
This was somehow even weirder than the idea of Moody teaching! That woman worked for the Ministry! So unless something had happened in a very short time from her getting fired as Senior Undersecretary, a highly unlikely scenario given her clear defense of them during Harry's trial, than that meant she was working there and at Hogwarts now! She was actually working at Hogwarts!
Harry felt a nasty tingling racing over the back of his right hand, his left moving to cover the faint white markings as he was truly derailed from Hagrid and left with a pit of worry for this news. Never before, not even Lockhart and Quirrell, had set off such a bad feeling in him as realizing he'd be spending a year in this woman's classroom.
Lily found her voice first, and it wasn't pretty as she said in a flat, icy tone, "just what is going on here? The Ministry at Hogwarts? Why on earth did Dumbledore hire this woman?"
"I'm drawing a blank," Remus winced, burrowing himself that much further into his seat as he imagined the scenario while he'd been at school, and how much worse his life could have been at the time. Considering all the things Harry got up to on a regular basis, this could be a new level of hell for the poor boy as well.
James and Sirius exchanged a truly uneasy look for this prospect as well, nothing was sitting right about this interference to their school, but Sirius forced himself to keep going no matter that feeling just to get a few more facts.
There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, during which Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks; Dumbledore had not said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching.
"That's the bit you caught on?" Lily wasn't that surprised, but was smiling at her son for his one track mind on his friend.
"How would I know it was so weird, sure the Ministry hadn't anything to do with Hogwarts before now," Harry shrugged, "but I was more concerned with my friend first."
Dumbledore switched topics to the house Quidditch team tryouts, but oddly stopped for a moment and glanced at Umbridge.
"What's she got to do with Quidditch trials?" James wrinkled his nose in disgust as he tried to wave Sirius onto this very important topic.
Harry felt a knot forming in his stomach at the idea for some reason he had no care to investigate.
It took a moment for everyone to realize Dumbledore had stopped and taken his seat, because the woman had stood to make her own.
Sirius looked like someone had taken his broom out from beneath him as he gazed down at that bit before glancing up in even more confusion. No one had ever cut Dumbledore off from one of his speeches. Just who did this woman think she was?
The headmaster clasped his hands politely in front of him and now gazed at her as if he desired nothing more than to hear this.
"Dumbledore's had some odd moments, but this tops them all." Remus was gazing blearily forward like he was trying to understand some foreign language as Sirius read this.
The rest of the staff weren't taking it so well, Sprout's eyebrows disappearing right into her flyaway hair, and McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. Many of the students were smirking at each other, this woman obviously had no idea how things at Hogwarts went.
"I'll be happy to inform her," Sirius said in an entirely pleasant tone that covered nothing of the intent behind those words.
Her voice was a girlish as Harry remembered, and he could feel a powerful dislike rising inside of him more powerful than ever.
Harry was getting double the amount of those feelings on him now, the combination of her predisposition and his memories trying to warn him all culminating with a truly ugly look set in place that honestly gave the lot of them chills. What on earth does this woman do?!
She cleared her throat with a little hem, hem, and began how lovely it was to be here and see such happy little faces.
Remus raised an imperious brow at the start of this, demanding, "what are they, five?"
She just knew they were all going to be very good friends.
Most students exchanged looks at this barely concealing grins.
James and Sirius weren't even bothering to do as such.
Parvati whispered to Lavender she'd be her friend so long as she didn't have to borrow that cardigan.
Lily let out a giggle of her own.
She paused then, gave another little hem, hem, to clear her throat and then launched into a more monotone speech she'd clearly learned by heart all about The Ministry of Magics respect of the rare gift that was wizardry and the ancient unique skills those posses in the noble profession of teaching.
Sirius could already start to feel himself fidgeting with boredom. Yeah, teachers were great, could Harry leave now.
She paused to give a little bow to the staff, none of whom returned in kind. McGonagall now looked almost hawklike.
"That is a genuinely new expression, I'm jealous we never got to see," James said randomly as he pulled out his wand and began twirling it in his fingers with boredom.
She continued along noticing nothing that every headmaster and headmistress had brought something new along to add to the history of Hogwarts, which should always be encouraged for without progress there was stagnation. However, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for traditions require no tinkering. Balance then, for permanence and change...
Lily was starting to get a bad feeling for this as she watched Sirius critically, who was now trying to mime Binns and doing a fair job of it. She wasn't falling for it though, this woman's first day she'd already begun showing a level of disrespect for the Headmaster, now she was giving a whole speech on the structure of the school and how that could be...progressed. She still couldn't shake the thought that someone so directly involved in the Ministry was there, just what was going on?
Harry could already feel his attention slipping away, turning to people watch instead. Cho was leaning in to start chatting with one of her curly haired friends, Luna had pulled out her copy of The Quibbler and was looking through that again. Ernie was one of the few still watching, but his glassy eyes showed nothing was coming through. Surely it was only the Prefect badge gleaming on his chest that was giving him the persistence of faking.
James and Sirius weren't acting much better, both becoming fidgety and bored as Sirius' eyes were already trying to skip down to the bottom where this was done, none of them seemed to particularly care whatever was being said right now, she'd already lost their respect for the way she'd treated Harry at his trial. Remus was still listening, but passively, he couldn't work up much care for whatever this woman said and as of now it mostly sounded like some pompous bit to impress, and was managing to have the opposite effect. In fact it was rather dumb, to start speaking to them as if single digit children and then launch into such a scholarly speech.
Harry was the only one keeping such sharp attention and absorbing every word. At fifteen he may not have given any more of a care than any of his fellow students, but that intuition was back full force now telling him to keep an eye on this one and he wasn't going to be ignoring that.
Umbridge seemed not to notice she was losing her audience, as many students weren't even bothering to whisper as she droned on.
Remus couldn't help a little chuckle at that insert, already imagining what he and his friends could get away with in class if this was how she was going to be acting now.
Only Hermione and the staff continued diligently taking in every word, though a quick read of their faces showed it wasn't tasteful.
She concluded herself with the act of pruning what practices out to be prohibited.
By this point James was slumped over in his seat mock snoring and Sirius couldn't recollect a thing he'd just said in regards to her. They were all just glad it was over and were already hoping Harry would start skipping her classes right off the bat.
She took her seat and Dumbledore began applauding, but before anyone could realize the change and join in, the Headmaster took back to his feet.
James jerked upright, mock wiping drool from his lip and muttering, "sorry Professor, miss anything important?"
Sirius was just snickering that Dumbledore hadn't allowed any proper applause to happen as it shouldn't.
He thanked her for the illuminating speech, before going back on track...
Hermione wasn't listening as she said that had certainly been illuminating.
Ron asked that she'd enjoyed that? That was the most dull thing he'd ever heard in his life, and he'd grown up with Percy.
"That's saying something," Remus smirked.
Hermione corrected she'd said illuminating, not entertaining.
"Because that clarified everything," Lily snorted.
It certainly explained a few things.
Harry asked in surprise it did? That had sounded like a loaded waffle to him.
"And not even a tasty, good waffle," Sirius sighed tragically.
Hermione grimly told him there were very important things hidden in that waffle.
"Jelly filling?" Remus asked innocently.
Ron had no clue what she meant, and Hermione quoted parts of the speech back for them.
"Thought she was just spouting things about tradition and such," Remus scratched at his ear without concern. "What's Hermione getting so worked up over?"
"Hermione gets worked up over everything," James rolled his eyes.
"Usually with good reason," Harry half-heartedly defended.
Ron told her to explain herself already, and Hermione said through gritted teeth it meant the Ministry was interfering at Hogwarts.
That caught all of their attention. Sirius began fidgeting uneasily with the pages as he thought that over, looking up hopefully when Lily said, "I, but they, why?" Well that wasn't helpful.
"I, Fudge is out of his mind!" Remus yelped in concern.
"If that's even what's going on," James persisted in utter denial. "Hermione could be wrong, there could be another reason for her being there..." he trailed off and looked hopefully around for someone to offer up said suggestion, but they were all coming up blank as what Hermione said really was the only explanation for a Ministry employ also being a teacher!
Sirius forced himself to keep going with a now dry throat in thought for all the implications this could hold for his school. Just what was the Ministry playing at?
A surge of noise began around them, Dumbledore had clearly dismissed them.
"Hey, we never got to find out when the Quidditch tryouts are," James pouted.
Lily smacked him and muttered something about priorities.
Hermione had to remind Ron it was their job to escort the first years, and Ron hopped to attention by shouting for the midgets.
This was so unexpected everyone gave a surprised burst of laughter, happy Ron was always around for that at least, even if it didn't erase one spot of worry in them.
Hermione scolded him not to call them that, before saying in a clear and commanding voice for the first years to follow her.
"I can at least see why she was made Prefect, we always knew she'd take well to authority," James rolled his eyes.
Harry watched them shuffle towards his friends, and thought to himself there was no way he'd been that young looking when he'd first arrived.
"Actually I'm confident you did," Remus smirked, "since I can still all to easily picture James that same way still, just replace Sirius with Ron."
"Nah, cause those two were at the front trying to lead the way when they had no idea where they were going," Lily reminded indulgently, at least giving Harry a moment to laugh at the idea.
He grinned at Euan as he passed, but the boy squeaked in fright and looked horrified at Harry, who's grin slipped away just as fast.
"Merlin's pants, just what was that Prophet saying about you?" Sirius demanded tartly as the exact same thing happened to Harry in here.
"First years have always been intimidated by him," Lily tried without much hope. "Surely it can't all be because of those lies."
Harry chose not to respond, instead gazing at the fire and trying to count in his head how long this nightmare would last.
He quickly departed the Hall and after a few secret passages was making his way up on his own.
Harry felt the nasty chills creeping up his spine for being separated from his friends twice already since he was at the school in his first night. He was wishing he'd found Neville and gone along with him, or even dogged the twins up to their tower. He truly hated this feeling of isolation he could already sense pressing in on him from all sides.
Harry felt stupid now for not having seen this coming. He'd reappeared with Cedric dead at the end of last year, and then everyone had gone home to think him a liar.
They were all fidgeting with unease at the reemergence of this topic. Surely the students wouldn't really gawk at Harry for that though...and none of them could deny they honestly believed it.
Harry reached Gryffindor tower before he realized that he did not know the new password.
"That's a recurring thing for you," James managed a sarcastic laugh.
"Hermione's almost always the one who knows it," Harry muttered without looking at him.
The Fat Lady refused to allow him in because of this, when Neville swooped in to rescue him.
Harry did feel a grin reaper for that at least, thankful he did still have a friend to rely on even if it wasn't one of his best friends.
The others were just blinking in surprise of this change, vividly remembering Neville's previous occurrences with this problem and some of the trouble it had caused.
He jogged right up to Harry and declared it was Mimbulus Mimbletonia!
The Fat Lady claimed this as correct, and swung open for them.
"Naww," Lily cooed with delight at the bright smile she could all to easily picture on Alice's face being passed down to her son for this moment.
"I'll bet you McGonagall had something to do with that," Sirius chuckled.
"I can almost picture it," Remus agreed. "If Neville sent word along to Sprout he was bringing that plant, and Sprout mentioned it to McGonagall..." he trailed off with a soft laugh that they all joined in on for this small but adorable little moment.
Their common room was a comfy as remembered, circular and full of squashy armchairs and a bright fire place with two sets of stairs leading to the male and female dormitories. They passed Fred and George hanging up something on the noticeboard as they went upstairs.
The boys perked up with interest at that, anything the twins got up to they always wanted to know more about.
Inside their own were Dean and Seamus already hanging up their favorite sports teams posters.
"How come they don't just leave them up in between years, it's not as if we switch beds," Harry had never bothered to ask before.
"The house-elves would throw them out," Sirius sighed. "Whatever you don't take, you won't see again."
Their voices abruptly cut off as Harry entered, and he began to wonder if that was paranoia telling him they were talking about him as well.
"It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you," Remus muttered under his breath, all of them wincing in fear of Harry's dorm mates even treating him like this. Surely at least they must know Harry wasn't crazy, they spent too much time around him!
Dean greeted him cheerfully enough asking how his holiday had been.
It would have taken Harry all night to relate the event, so he just said not bad.
"Got attacked by dementors, nearly expelled, and discovered the secret group trying to stop Voldemort all while dealing with my emotional godfather," Sirius ticked off on his fingers. "I really don't see how much harder that is."
"Well that's all easy for you to say, considering you'd refuse to give any further details," James snickered as Harry at least tried for a smile in agreement. It wasn't working too well, he could already feel a fight coming, not something he was looking forward to in his dorm with someone he at least considered a passing friend with any of those boys.
When Harry returned the question, Dean said it had been better than Seamus'.
Seamus took his time in setting up his poster, not facing Harry as he answered his mam hadn't wanted him to come back.
Harry watched those around him wince, but he wasn't entirely sure he understood that sad look of familiarity on their face.
Thankfully his mum explained for him, "that was a common recurrence during our school days. Parents spent a lot of time going back and forth between thinking their families were safest at home together, and then putting them back in school for a time when things seemed to be going quiet so they could have an education, than flipping right back. Looks like that's starting again."
Harry frowned in sympathy at the idea, but for some reason he wasn't entirely sure that covered his own building problem with whom he was now sure involved Seamus.
Harry was startled at the news, while Seamus still didn't look up at him, instead now digging out his pajamas.
Harry twitched in concern for that, but felt like he was the only one noticing this little oddity on Seamus's part. The others were still looking on in sympathy for the plight.
Harry asked why, this was such a Dursley like reaction he found it hard to believe Seamus' witch mother could do this.
"That's not just a trait of there's, regrettably," Remus sneered. "Fear makes people do the most foolish things."
Harry still wished those things would stop involving him already.
Seamus completed dressed himself before answering in a stiff voice it was because of Harry.
That caught them off guard, but only for a moment until they realized that it wasn't fear of Voldemort's return on Mrs. Finnegan's part like they'd assumed. Instead it was much worse, and now everyone was as tense as Harry, ready for a fight to break out.
Harry snapped back what that could mean, and Seamus took his time answering it was him, and Dumbledore-
Harry cut off to take that to mean she believed Harry a liar and Dumbledore a fool?
Seamus finally looked at him as he said yes.
James could feel a biting comment on the tip of his tongue he was just begging to lash out with, no one got to talk to his son like that!
Harry did not respond farther as he turned to get himself ready for bed. He was entirely sick of being the person everyone stared at and talked about.
Lily could feel her lip trembling for several reasons, only one of which was anger now. What she wouldn't give for this not to be happening to her child, when he'd never asked for any of these things to happen to him. He'd never gone out of his way and brought any of these people down on him, yet he was constantly used by nearly every damn person in the wizarding world who'd never even bothered to meet him.
His thoughts savagely centered around if anyone had any idea what he went through, finishing with what a stupid woman Mrs. Finnigan was.
No one was currently thinking much kinder.
He made to get into bed, but Seamus asked what had really happened that night, with Cedric?
"Would it really help if I gave details!" Harry hissed furiously. "Do they all really want to know I looked in him in the eye as his body-" he shuddered and broke off, couldn't even continue in anger.
Sirius hesitated, wanting to offer some word of comfort to Harry, they all did, but this wasn't something you could shoot a whisky over and force yourself to keep going. That wasn't a Death Eater you'd seen fall that you could convince yourself was done for some tangible good reason. Harry had been forced to see a brutal murder done all to get to him, and now he was surrounded by children who wanted the gory details without considering what they were asking for.
Harry realized what he'd said aloud, why the others had gone silent and so quietly asked Sirius to keep going. Sirius didn't entirely want to, he still worried that Harry deserved something to be said to him, but he supposed he should give himself something to do until he could come up with that.
Seamus sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dean, who had been bending over his trunk trying to retrieve a slipper, went oddly still and Harry knew he was listening hard.
Harry demanded what he was being asked for? Just read the Daily Prophet like his stupid mother, that would tell him everything!
Sirius felt a bark of laughter escape him, knowing he'd back Harry in a moment in saying much worse to any of these prats.
Seamus snapped right back not to drag his mother into this, which Harry returned not to call him a liar than! Seamus snarled not to talk to him like that!
"Yet he acts as if he can talk to Harry any way he wishes," Remus snarled.
"Just like Malfoy, can't take what they dish out," James sneered.
Harry said he'd talk to anyone any way he pleased calling him a liar! If it bothered him so much, take it up with McGonagall, stop his mummy worrying-
Seamus snarled for Potter to keep his mother out of this!
"Then he shouldn't have brought her into this," Sirius pointed out with an unfriendly smile.
Lily had a few things she'd like to say as well, but she was at least trying to restrain herself by running her hand through her hair. She knew the boys only saw themselves as backing Harry, but she at least liked to think she wasn't egging on the fight.
Ron came in then to see Harry itching to go for his wand, and Seamus' hands balled up for a fight.
"What a thing to walk in on," muttered Remus as he shook his head imagining Ron just walking into the middle of this and how off that must be.
Seamus turned at once to tell Harry was having a go at his mother. Ron tried to defend that wasn't possible, he wouldn't- but Harry shouted back he wouldn't be if she'd stop believing every stinking thing the Daily Prophet wrote!
Comprehension dawned across Ron's face as he gave an uneasy look between the two.
Sirius had his eyes narrowed dangerously, still smarting over Ron's treatment of Harry last year and how he'd claimed to not believe Harry about the start of that stupid tournament. Ron of course knew the truth of this situation, but he supposedly should have known better then, and had apparently spent that time hanging around Dean and Seamus. If Ron actually tried to play peacemaker instead of backing his friend, Sirius would have a few things to say about him next.
Seamus kept his focus on Harry as he said maybe he would go tell their head of house he didn't want to share a dorm with a madman.
Ron cut in that was out of line, his ears already starting to glow red.
No one else understood the almost relieved smile Sirius got there for a moment, but he didn't elaborate, now reading on with just a touch less venom now that Harry had backup.
Seamus snapped if Ron believed all that nonsense than he was mad too!
Ron jabbed his badge as she shouted back that he was a mad Prefect, so unless Seamus wanted detention, he'd watch his mouth!
For a moment Seamus was clearly thinking that whatever he had to say would be worth the detention,
James half wished he would say it, let Ron put that power to some good use right out of the gate. No one noticed Harry pale a couple extra shades at the mention of a detention, his right hand fidgeting up a storm.
but then he instead tore the hangings around his bed trying to get them out of the way so he could be out of sight.
Ron turned on the other two, demanding if anyone else's parents had a problem with Harry?
"I do love the way he phrases that," Remus couldn't help but snort. "Not them, but their parents."
"Most children do follow their parents beliefs. Not all of them," Lily amended when she saw Sirius roll his eyes in contempt, "but it's a fair question."
Dean put his hands up in surrender his parents were Muggles. They didn't know anything about anything because he wasn't stupid enough to tell them.
"That's so sad," Lily murmured, but with understanding. She'd rarely confided in her parents all of the gory details she often heard of from Voldemort's reign, but she couldn't bare leaving them completely ignorant either. Not exclusive commentary, some things she couldn't bare sharing about her world in fear it would make her parents fear her like Petunia did. She hadn't her sister to talk to, and after a certain point no friend either, she'd needed someone, and her mother had always been there for her even if she hadn't always understood Lily's tearful yet forced normal conversations.
Seamus snapped that wasn't like his mother, she could weasel anything out of anyone.
"He says that like it's a good thing," James had his head cocked to the side in agitation as he assessed that.
Dean's mum didn't get the chance to read the Prophet, the details about how the Wizengamot and the International of Confederation had sacked Dumbledore for losing his marbles-
Neville cut in to say his gran found that rubbish. She'd always said Voldemort would be back one day, so if Dumbledore said he was, than he was.
"You sure know how to cause a scene Harry," Sirius was full blown smiling at that. "Walk into a room, and suddenly you've got people declaring themselves to your side."
Harry tried to flatten his hair while he couldn't come up with anything to say but gratitude for Neville and his gran.
Seamus had nothing to respond to that with as he fixed his curtains and stormed into bed. Silence fell as Harry was left to his own mind, shaken by the fight. He'd always gotten on well with Seamus, how many more people would he come across who thought him lying, or unhinged?
They were all twitching uncomfortably as the fight broiled down and now Harry was left to his own mind again. This was a passing kid whom they had no real feelings towards other then as one of Harry's dorm mates, but he made a good point. Just how many people was this going to keep happening to? When would Sirius' prediction come true, and Voldemort would finally be revealed? Just how many people would Harry have to keep fighting with just to make himself heard, and how many would come groveling back after the fact to try and sucker back up to him. None of the answers to those questions left anything good in this future.
Had this been what Dumbledore had been fighting against all summer? Was he angry at Harry for getting him mixed up in this, and that's why Dumbledore had been ignoring him?
"He would never," Remus said at once. "Honestly Harry, he's never gotten into contact with you before this summer either. I agree circumstances had changed and you should have been told more, but Dumbledore isn't taking this out on you."
"Then why hasn't he bothered to even look at me, especially at the trial!" Harry persisted, this had clearly lingered with him.
"I'm sure there must be a reason," he tried to soothe, which didn't come across very effectively since he began fidgeting with unease he had no real answer.
Sirius looked between the two before shaking his head in defeat, hoping they got some answers soon, or Harry was going to drive himself crazy soon trying to find answers from himself rather than waiting on them.
Harry pummeled his pillow as he wondered just how many more attacks from people like Seamus he'd have to suffer through before the truth came out.
"Chapter's over," Sirius groaned in disgust as he hesitated giving the book to Harry. The poor boy already looked so agitated on his first day there, it felt like nothing had been going right for him for ages, and that deeply contemplative look he still had in place made it feel like nothing good was coming.
HPHPHPHP
*Thanks to aaquater for the question!
**Thank maana999 for the question!
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