#and as the sleepless nights and days filled of performing a job that he hates (and cannot bring himself to admit he hates)
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drac-kool-aid · 1 year ago
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Seward's bone deep desire to run away from the asylum is not exactly surprising. There have been a lot of really good meta posts about how the return of Van Helsing into his life is the turning point where we see the caring and good side of him and how we can interpret his life as a student in Amersterdam as one of freedom and happiness. How he is part of the tragedy of manners, how strict social expectations allow Dracula to persist, and how they only exacerbate the unhappiness of the characters.
And I think the tragedy of Seward is that, really, he should not be the head of an asylum. It's a job that brings him no joy, and he's BAD at it. We can all recognize that if your first reaction to going back to work is "What if I just leave it all." That isn't a healthy work environment.
Now, in the modern day, the ability to pick and choose a work environment, even to leave one that is damaging your mental health, is a privilege. (IT SHOULDNT BE, but it is). And, although it is definitely reaching crisis levels in modern times, major changes in your career have almost always been difficult (unless you are really rich, or a particular brand of academic in the 17th-18th century, or both).
Seward can't just leave and become a surgeon. To give up the lofty position of "Head of an Asylum" would be unthinkable in the 1890s, especially for a reason like "Being here is basically turning me into the Joker." Like, how would Seward explain that in polite society? Would they accept that reasoning? Would they create salacious gossip if they didn't? Can Seward leave his position without losing a great amount of social capital?
Probably not.
His rise to head of an asylum, as many have pointed out, was meteoric, to say the least. It has afforded him status and respect and also left him deeply, deeply fucked up. And he can't leave!
I think his desperate attempts to quantify Renfield's behaviors into a new mental illness are telling in this regard. Maybe he is too used to having to meet some sort of expectation, and now he thinks this is the logical next step (It's NOT, but I digress). The feeling of having to keep performing above expectations, grasping at straws to do so, and subsequently burning oneself out (as well as others around you) and engaging in unethical practices? Idk. It sounds like something that would happen today. (tbh there are probably a ton of Sewards out there today, as there are still systemic problems within the mental health system that allow for the dehumanizing and abuse of patients).
It doesn't excuse his behavior. Nothing he does to Renfield is excusable, but I think it does explain some of the *why*. He isn't just cruel for cruelty's sake.
So, tldr I guess: I think reading Seward as someone who got stuck on a career path that he realized was unfufilling and that he ends up hating. Social conventions restrict him from just quitting without and a (socially acceptable) good reason to do so, and a lifetime of being regarded as one of the smartest people in the room means he can not allow himself to fail. Unfortunately, this also means he can not admit when his actions or his ideas are wrong when it comes to his job.
(But he can show that uncertainty FOR Lucy, and TO Arthur and Van Helsing, which speaks his trust and love for them)
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echo-of-sounds · 5 years ago
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pcos
How Aizawa, Hizashi, and Fatgum would support and comfort their s/o who has polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS). While there are a wide variety and severity of symptoms, I focused more on the ones I’ve experienced.
Warnings: normal period stuff, blood, and cysts
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Aizawa Shouta
He’s heard of PCOS though he doesn’t know the details. He’s never known someone affected by it so he’s never had to learn. When you confide in him about your struggles, he’ll study up on the systems and treatments. And since PCOS is an endocrine disorder, all the hormones in your body are affected. It’s not just irregular, heavy, painful periods. It’s migraines, terribly low (almost no) energy, and serious mood drops.
Cramps aren’t merely cramps. It spreads to your whole body. Everything feels uncomfortable and wrong. When you’re bedridden for three days because of pain and heavy bleeding, Shouta will try to be as attentive as he can while working two jobs. He texts often and tries to get home quickly. Any time you want cuddles simply place a heating pad on your lower stomach and he’ll come like a cat to lay right on top of you. He’ll bring snacks and pain prescriptions for easy access between your naps.
His concerns spike when he sees you struggling to work. Especially if it’s not during your period. The sharp pains and neverending aches are often signs of cysts and there’s really nothing you can do about it until the cysts disappear. Prescriptions may work but there’s only so many you can take in a day. Even if you know what it is because you’ve dealt with it all your life, he’ll bring up visiting your OB/GYN. He’ll go with you if you want. He’s simply worried and wants to make sure your health isn’t in danger.
He isn’t bothered by body hair but understands why it would bother you. The world has a lot of beauty expectations, the majority of them being unfair towards women. So if you shave your lower tummy or jaw, he won’t judge. He wants you to do what makes you happy. He also wants you to feel comfortable in your own skin and not have to perform beauty a certain way because it’s what society says. Days where self-consciousness and shame hit you harder, he will assure you over and over again that you’re beautiful. It’s one of the few things that makes him vocal about how much he loves you.
Struggling with weight is another common problem. You can exercise daily and eat right but the weight won’t leave. Again, he doesn’t want you to feel forced to be a certain way. However, he is there to help if you want it. He’ll go to the gym with you and plan healthy meals. It’ll be good for him as well because he could also use a better diet plan.
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Yamada Hizashi
He gets sympathy pains witnessing his closest friends get hurt. So along those lines, he loathes seeing you in pain. And not just because he feels uncomfortable from it, but watching you grip your side and cry makes him want to cry. As he comes to understand PCOS in-depth, his anxieties begin to calm. 
Those six months where your period disappears, he’d be happy for you at first, saying, “Well most people don’t want their period, so isn’t that a good thing, babe?” You’ll have to explain that it isn’t a good thing because your body isn’t working right: the uterine lining doesn’t shed but can thicken which may lead to other problems, the chance of infertility rises, you have horrible cramps that persist throughout the months, and when you do get your period again, it hurts so much more because your body isn’t used to it. His smile drops and he becomes a lot more worried.
Hizashi’s major points of concern are your heavy bleeding and your sleepless nights because of it. Though he’s a fairly heavy sleeper, feeling your side of the bed shift is enough to rouse him. It’s like his subconscious knows you’re in pain and wakes him up to help. He’ll make tea, ready a rice heating pack, and grab a towel to put under you so you don’t have to fear a leak. He’ll hold the rice pack to your lower stomach for extra pressure. While you lay in the dark, he’ll quietly talk with you, hoping it distracts you from the discomfort.
The days before your period can be overwhelming from the fatigue and migraines. His quirk plays against him as he tries to keep his voice low. When he notices the trend, he suggests (like Aizawa) going to your OB/GYN for medications that could alleviate some of the worst symptoms. Or at least try to find something that could control the hormones better so you aren’t disabled by migraines for a week. He’ll support you through any medication changes and their side effects.
He isn’t an immature teenager. He knows every body is different. Oily skin and acne don’t faze him. Dark and/or extra hair on your arms and breasts is nothing to him. He’ll cuddle the self-doubts away and buy you clothes that highlight how gorgeous you are to make you feel gorgeous. Every now and then he’ll put together care packages filled with your favorite lotions and face masks and join in on your pampering days.
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Toyomitsu Taishiro
He has no idea what PCOS is. When you explain it to him, he’d still be confused about it at the physiological level. He’d do some research on his own time to understand it better. And more importantly, how to care for and support you.
Honestly, he’s the absolute best man to be with during your period. He’s perfect for cuddling, he brings you anything you want without judging your bizarre cravings, and he’s basically a giant warm bed. He’s also a total sucker for comedic and/or romantic movies. He’ll watch whatever you choose. Hell, he’d even carry you to the couch or bathroom so you don’t have to walk. He knows periods are often taxing on the body and wants you to be as comfortable as possible.
He’s very concerned when you have large blood clots. In themselves, they aren’t dangerous. It’s when you’re in pain passing them or you need to change pads nearly on the hour that he wants you to go to the OB/GYN. If they say you’re in the clear, then it was over nothing. But if there’s something else going on, he wants you to be aware and be able to treat it. His concern isn’t to annoy or pester you. It’s all out of love and devotion.
Doctor appointments can be rather scary. What if you need yet another medication? What if they find a big cyst? Or something worse in your blood test? Taishiro’s always willing to accompany you. He’ll make sure he has the entire day off just in case you need some extra comfort.
Cramps and mood drops can come at any time without bleeding. You’re left wondering why you feel so shitty out of the blue and it’s hard to manage, especially with added nausea and fatigue. Unlike Aizawa and Hizashi, he doesn’t work multiple jobs so he’s home more to help. He’ll ask if you want to talk about anything or be distracted from the pain. He’s open to movies, board games, bubble baths, or just a nice nap. To let you sleep comfortably, he lays you on his stomach, places a heating pad on your lower back, and slowly strokes your back and arms. He isn’t scared of blood if a leak happens. 
Like the other two, you don’t need to feel ashamed of any part of your body. He truly loves you and hates seeing you feel self-conscious. To let you know you’re not alone, he’ll share his own insecurities. He’ll kiss you all over on your worst days: on your neck and jaw, telling lame jokes, up your arms, tickling you, and down the hair on your tummy, blowing raspberries so he can see your beautiful smile.
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watchmegetobsessed · 5 years ago
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🔥 = smut   🌈 = readers’ favorite   🌷 = author’s favorite
Find my other masterlists HERE !
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No gifts — First Christmas living together you and Shawn agree on not gifting each other, but he has a huge surprise for you.
Lonely Christmas — It’s your first Christmas dating Shawn, but he couldn’t make it for the first day. To cheer you up he calls you in the evening.
Late — Shawn couldn’t make it in time for New Year’s Eve, but you are surprised to see him pull up on your driveway just seconds after midnight.
Wearing nothing 🌈 — You feel like nothing looks good on you after you’ve put on some weight, but Shawn assures you that he is crazy for your curves.
I only need you 🔥🌈 — A heated smut that starts off with an angst filled fight.
Best friends — You’ve been best friends for ages and you realize you feel something more. You cook together like in the old days and some confessions are made at the end of the evening.
Clubbing — You feel uncomfortable in the club with your friends. When a drunk asshole makes a move on you Shawn comes to your rescue.
I miss you — Video chatting with Shawn while he is away, just being cuties online.
Morning — Waking up next to Shawn, getting a little too touchy which makes it harder to leave the bed and start the day.
Dimples — You’re insecure about your dimples so you make up your mind not to smile that much, but Shawn tries hard to see you smile again.
Aging 🌷 — It’s your birthday and it’s making you feel anxious that you are one more year older. In addition, you are older than Shawn and it also bothers you, but he is quick to make you feel better.
Just you — You visit him on tour, but you get jealous of all the time he spends with Alessia. You start fighting about it, but after you go through a not too serious car accident it makes you realize how imprtant you are to each other.
Home 🌷🌈 — During a chill day off at his parent’s place Shawn realizes that home is not a place for him anymore, you are his home. Proposal involved.
Family — You’ve kept it from Shawn that you can’t have kids. Talking about having a family you break down and confess to him thinking he will leave you. His reaction is not what you expected.
Dance moves — After a long day Shawn gets home just to see you busting your best dance moves around the kitchen, putting up your best performance and he can’t help but admire you.
MET 🌈 — Your debut as a couple happens to be at the MET Gala and it’s stressing you out, but Shawn knows just what to say to make you feel better.
I promise — Shawn’s lifestyle is taking a toll on your relationship. After a fight he shows up at your place because it bothered him how your conversation ended on the phone.
Prom 🔥 — Shawn surprises you at prom after making you think he can’t make it. You are so happy to be together again that you can’t hold yourselves back and end up having a quickie in the bathroom.
Tired — Shawn has had a lot on his plate lately so you go to check in on him. You take a shower together and you experience the intimacy of washing each other’s hair.
Chemistry — You do a shoot for CK together, but you get nervous right before it’s time to shine. As always, Shawn knows just exactly how to make you feel better and comfortable.
Fantasy 🔥 — You’ve been fantasizing about giving a blow job to Shawn and your fantasy finally becomes reality, blowing not just his mind.
I got you — You’ve been keeping it a secret that you’re pregnant, worried what Shawn might say, but a sudden incident forces you to confess.
Leaving — You don’t want him to leave again. Emotional conversation in the middle of the night.
Slipped 🌈 — Shawn accidentally reveals at a Q&A that he has a girlfriend.
Happy father’s day 🌷 — A creative way to tell Shawn that you are expecting your first child.
Summer fling — You feel like you’ve been just a summer fling for Shawn, but soon he confesses that it’s much more than that.
Icebath 🌈 — Shawn has been terrified to take an icebath but his body needs it so he agrees to do it but only if you do it with him.
Don’t say my name 🔥 — You absolutely hate the t-shirt he is wearing tonight, so he finds a way to make you like it.
Love Of My Life (part 1) (part 2) 🌷 — Touring with a baby in the first part, touring with a toddler in the second part. Pure fluff with Dad!Shawn.
Better — A blurb where Shawn is the cutest boyfriend ever, holding his girlfriend tight after she had a bad day.
Everything about you 🌷🌈 — You’re Shawn’s personal assistant, have been having feelings for him, but a misunderstood situation pushes you and him farther away from each other until you confront him.
Red thong 🔥 🌈 — Shawn, standing tall, and very much naked, looking down at you, practically fucking you with his eyes, your lacy thong hanging from his mouth that he just pulled off of you with his teeth.
Lesson learned — It’s Shawn’s 21st birthday but not he is the drunkest one. Aaliyah’s first time drinking has him worried, but he finds entertainment in her teasing in the morning.
Sober — bartender!Shawn oneshot where you meet a cute guy during a night out, but he turns out to be the new guy working at your fav bar.
Teeth 🔥🌈— A juicy sugardaddy!ceo!shawn au insipired by Teeth by 5SOS
Unfortunate mistake — You and Shawn used to be an item. Meeting at the VMAs turns out to be more eventful than you imagined when you accidentally kiss him. Or was it meant to happen?
First times 🔥— Shawn and you have shared some firsts, but drifted apart during the years. It’s only until he shows up one thanksgiving and the two of you finally talk everything out.
One more — You and Shawn have twins, Charlotte and Miles and it’s the first day of school for them. It makes both of you emotional seeing them grow up so fast.
Lurking — Shawn lurks on your ex’s Insta and definitely doesn’t like what he sees there.
October 🌈 — Personal assistant themed fic inspired by October by Alessia Cara
Cinnamon — A peaceful day in the park with Shawn.
Careful what you wish for — You and Shawn are married, but it’s getting harder with each day. After a bad fight you make a wish upon a shooting star that turns your whole world upside down.
Opia --- Being Shawn’s friend has become emotionally tiring for you, especially since he is more than just a friend to you, so you ask for a break, but things don’t turn out as you expect them to.
Hands 🔥 --- The choker you want to wear: Shawn’s hands.
Sock 🌈 --- college!shawn au - Shawn and you live in the same dorm and one evening you both get locked out by your roommates who are having guests over.
After party --- Shawn chooses to spend the night with his very pregnant fiancé over going to an after party.
Yoga --- Shawn is being extra clingy while you’re just trying to do yoga.
Valentine’s Day --- The day that brings a change into your relationship with Shawn.
Sibling --- Your family of three is expanding and it’s time to reveal to your son that he is about to become a big brother. Shawn handles his awkward questions pretty fine.
Sister --- Part 2 to Sibling. The arrival of baby number 2 is a little messy, but eventually everything is going to be fine.
Choices --- CEO!Shawn AU. Working to The Shawn Mendes doesn’t turn out like you imagined it.
Crazy about you --- Sequel to Everything about you. Coordinating a new, secret relationship when you feel like the universe is playing against you.
Goodbye --- You have one rule. You never say goodbye. So what happens when in the heat of an arguement Shawn says the forbidden word and then things take a turn for the worse?
Hardest To Love --- Fic based on the song Hardest To Love by The Weeknd
Tease 🔥 --- Teasing has consequences. Dom!Shawn fic.
Number 20 🌷 --- AU based on the movie ‘What’s Your Number?’
Curls and boobs --- Cuddling in a blanket fort.
Privacy --- Shawn is doubting himself because of a stupid dream, and your privacy gets invaded that just worsens the situation.
Sleepless --- Pregnancy brings a lot of struggles to you, like not being able to sleep comfortably.
Two weeks --- PA themed fic! Quarantined with your boss who youa re in love with? That’s quite the situation!
Who you are --- soon-to-be-mob-boss!Shawn au, that’s it, that’s the fic
Hints --- Non-famous AU where Shawn is your brother’s best friend and you have the fattest crush on him.
Love hating you --- College!hockeyplayer!Shawn au where you start as enemies.
Better --- Morning with Shawn, a fluffy blurb.
I need you 🔥 --- Shawn needs you in the most intimate way.
Birthday tradition --- You and Shawn have had a birthday tradition for years, but this year you feel like things might change.
What you are to me --- (PA themed) Shawn celebrates is birthday with an epic vacation. Your feelings for him and your own demons are making it a mess and things take a surprising turn.
Empty promise 🔥 ---  You try that TikTok trend out on Shawn where you send him a dirty text out in the public.
It’s alright --- Shawn helps you through one of your darker days.
Scoring You 🌷 --- college!soccerplayer!Shawn AU
I never stopped loving you --- Sequel to Hardest To Love
Room service --- CEO!Shawn AU, where you’re a maid at a hotel who gets fired and ends up in Shawn’s room.
Wonder --- Shawn wrote a song about you back when you first met, now it’s time to show it to you.
Hot Chocolate --- Some teasing on a cozy fall evening.
My wonder --- A short story built around the songs Dream, Song for no one and Teach me how to love from Wonder the album.
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Day one — A late night talk with Grayson that ends with a kiss and confessions.
Hot 🌈 — After someone tries to break into your home Grayson comes to your rescue and you spend the night at his place, the two of you share his bed for the night.
Angel — You’re a nurse assisting to the twins’ nose surgery and Grayson is flirting hard with you while the goofy juice has him muddle-headed. When they come back for a check up he builds up the courage to ask you out.
Memories 🌷 --- You are childhood friends with the Dolan siblings and you recreate childhood photos, but one recreation results in surprising consequences.
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Even — You thought it’s going to be easier to deal with the fact that Tom and Zendaya has to kiss in the new movie. But it turns out different and Tom has an unusual idea to solve this problem. To make it even, you also have to kiss Z.
My girls — While Tom is away you shower him with content about you and Tessa, being the best buddies, waiting for him to finally come home.
Helping hand 🔥 🌈 — Tom is having a hard day on set and needs something to get the steam off. You are more than happy to help him out.
The kiss — Tom makes your dream come true by kissing you in that famous, upside-down way like in the original movies.
Truth or Dare — The story of two kisses that are exactly one decade apart.
Okay --- Just some cute fluff with boyfriend Tom.
Buzz cut --- In the middle of your social distancing you decide to shave your head.Tom is a partner in the process.
Sleepy babies 🌈 --- Waking in the middle of the night you find your husband sleeping with your daughter in his arms.
Dust --- You have a nightmare after seeing Tom die in Infinity War, but Tom is there to console you.
Sunset --- Tom reminds you why you are so in love with me.
Sing to me --- Watching the sunset with Tom as he sings to you.
Celebrity crush --- In a round of Who’d you rather with Ellen, your crush on Tom gets revealed to the world.
Forgiving 🔥 (kinda) ---  You and Tom like to experiment sexually. After having your first ever threesome with him and an unknown guy you realize it was not what you wanted but you’re afraid to come clear to Tom.
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Homecoming — Homecoming is near and you wish Peter would ask you out. You’ve been crushing on him since you met him, but does he feel the same way?
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Lazy Morning --- The title says it all basically.
Update 🌈 --- Harry falls for a mysterious girl from YouTube.
The best present --- Sequel to Update.
Flatmates 🔥 --- You move in with Harry and after a failed Tinder date, Harry proposes an offer you can’t turn down.
Two hearts in one home --- Just a short, domestic blurb!
Lending a pair of hands --- An appreciation fic for saggy boobs!
Never have I ever 🌈 --- Actress!reader playing the game on The Ellen Show with Harry, her celeb crush. Questions get a little nasty.
The art and the artist --- Harry, that amazing hat from the Golden mv and a nice Italian day by the pool.
Our song --- Harry helps vocalist!reader to come over her stage fright and the process brings them closer than ever.
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Running — Nick is done hiding his feelings for you. After his marriage failed he is ready to be with the girl he has always been in love with.
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In His Arms — The ending we all deserved in TROS.
Safe --- Kylo wants to know that you are safe even when he is not around, so he decides to teach you how to fight.
Everything --- Sequel to Safe. You gave up on a lot of things to be with Kylo. You crave small, normal things like dancing sometimes and one day you take your chance before training and ask him to dance with you.
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Benefits --- You and Adam meet at an AA meeting and soon enough, a weird, but benefitial relationship forms between the two of you.
Train ride talks --- The aftermath of a fight with a cute ending.
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❄️ FANFICmas 2019 ❄️
A set of holiday themed fics!
Mistletoe - Promise - Make It To Christmas - Cookies - Under The Mistletoe - A couple of reindeers - Santa Tell Me (Part 1)(Part 2)
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❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️
My business - With you - And I always will - First Christmas (VALERIE blurb) - Locked up Christmas - Waiting for you - Keys of truth
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cloudsrust · 4 years ago
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Death comes in all colors
And here I come one year late with a few of my deaths’ headcanons for the lm3 ghosts-... in short story form because of course I gotta go the extra step,, TW: death mention and description (duh), bones breaking / asphyxiation , choking, firearm’s wounds, freezing, aneurysm. Steward - “A back-breaking job.” His last task for the day was to deliver the luggage that had gotten shipped to the hotel to the rightful rooms, ready to be found by the guests arriving in the morning. It was late at night and the overfilled bell cart, tucked away in the establishment’s warehouse, had gotten stuck between a wall and few boxes. As he was pulling the unstable mess from the side, trying to free it, the cart inclined towards him. The worn out belts barely restraining the luggage to begin with. A sickening “snap” breaking the night's silence, as the buckle of one of the worn out belts freeed itself from its prong, mercilessly hitting him straight across the face, hands instinctively going to cover his newly acquired wound as everything around him fell apart. The heavy suitcases and boxes completely crushed him, splitting his spine and breaking his ribs. A shard of the latter penetrating one of his lungs, making it burst. Unable to call for help, he slowly died by asphyxiation, the weight of the luggage “mercifully” taking his last breath away before the internal blood loss could. He is keen to both anger and panic attacks because of how he was treated when alive, both of those feeling still stirring in his heart, unable to find rest. Chambrea - “Feeling your heart in your throat.” The butler of the mansion where Chambrea served as a maid fell in love with her. Many letters and flowers were found in her small room in the following mornings, sweet smiles and compliments filling her days. Even though that was the closest thing she could get to one of the romances in her adored love novels and as much as she desired an happily ever-after, now she needed that job more than a stereotypical love story. She kept refusing him over and over, apologetic smiles following offers to pay him back the money the flowers must've costed. The servant, however, just couldn't stand the thought of rejection. Just as a rope being pulled over and over, he snapped. The night the inhabitants of the manor were out for a private party, he killed her in retaliation, strangling her to death. The thought of “if I can't have her, no one will” only made sense until the time to dispose the body came, clarity coming back to him as he dragged her body across the dark street. He hadn't much time to regret his actions, as Chambrea took her vengeance scaring him off the same bridge he was trying to use to dispose of her corpse. Neither of the bodies were ever found. She still loves to read romantic and tragic novels but she doesn’t feel ready for an actual relationship anytime soon. Her heart stuck in her throat every time she talks with a man, remembering her last moments alive. Steward is trying to slowly help her move on, is the least he can do for a friend colleague. Kruller - “A shot in the dark.” He was a night guard in training at the Grand Mall of the city. It was supposed his first night alone in his side of the mall, a more experienced co-worker taking care of the other half. It seemed a calm night like usual, more tiring the stressful. It would've been so if a thief hadn't managed to avoid security during closing time, hiding in the vents. After an hour or so of undisturbed shoplifting, Kruller finally encountered the criminal during the patrol of his side. Taser gun ready to fire in his shivering hands, still inexperienced in field action, the cop still found the courage to stutter a “Freeze!”. That word sealing his fate. A round of bullets perforating his stomach and chest as the mysterious man turned around firing by instinct, shocked by the sudden threat coming from behind him. The thief fled the scene, leaving the mall cop bleeding to death. The other night guard, alerted by the shoots rushed to his position, calling the ambulance at the sight of the blood pooling and running along the floor tiles. But help didn't come in time, Kruller last words desperately trying to describe the criminal, in hope of justice. He has a serious fear of both realistic looking and real firearms and he still has trouble speaking up from time to time, the remembrance of his error still lingering in his mind. Chef Soulfflé - “Best served cold.” Left behind by his trusted staff to make the inventory of the remaining and the needed supplies for the night, Soulfflé was checking the state of the meat in the freeze chamber. A few misplaced cleaning supplies tragically slipped from their grip on the tiled wall, still humid from the cooking vapor, falling on the chamber’s door, slowly closing it. The spine chilling click of the automatic lock making the chef drop the pack of meat he was inspecting. A few minutes passing with him trying to desperately call for help, the leftover hours of his life passed making peace with himself, writing down his will on the ingredients checklist he had with him. His staff only found his body the next morning, various aliments scattered on the floor, the cardboard where they were stored laying on the frozen corpse as a last hope to produce enough warmt to survive the night. He overcooks the meat by mistake: unable to feel warmth, no matter the temperature, for him everything will always be and remain cold. Amadeus Wolfgeist - “A heartbreaking performance.” Entire days and sleepless nights dedicated to that night, the evening of his concert- just for an aneurysm to take his life before he could complete that cursed melody. Slowly feeling his body crumbling from the inside, responding to his will no more. Hands grasping at the piano keys like a stray dog does with a found bone, his hunger for glory, for redemption, pushing him to keep on going. His fingers suddenly stiff, the last note mocking him with its silence as his vision completely faded to black. Falling to the harsh floor of his reality as red curtains covered the stage, marking his demise. His mind is still plagued by that composition, cursed to always rehears it but to never complete it, his hand still phasing through that last note. It is always better to keep an ear out for such music, just to know when is better to not interact with him at all. ...and that’s all- y’all can surely  see how in the last two stories I was just rushing through eh,,  I do want to share the titles and “plots” that where planned for the other ghosts! (Yes, giving titles is usually my fave part ahah)
MacFrights - “A stab to your pride.” Killed by a spear during a jousting tournament. His saddle slipped at the worst moment, letting his opponent’s weapon into the eye hole of his helmet. (My MacFrights’ design as a deep scar on his right eye, a bit OOC I know-) Dr. Potter - “Quiet as a falling leaf.” Died of old age. Came back to take care of the garden of his beloved wife, passed away years before him and now resting in her garden’s greenhouse, now her mausoleum. She already passed on, but Potter can’t let go of the only thing that remains of her, keeping him tied to the mortal world. (I kinda wish to come back to this one, maybe write a bit about it- but it’s a quite slim chance) Morty - “Letting the credits roll." (TW: suicide mention) Commited suicide via sleeping pills. He was the best conductor of his times, always aiming for perfection in every shot. It was when he reached the top that he understood that he could never reach that perfect dream of his, and that all that he was left with were just golden trophies and broken relationships. He let his movie end in hope of a sequel. (Another OOC, I like the idea of him being the complete opposite of what he was in real life, some sort of desire for redeeming himself and truly enjoy his love for movies. I want to write about this one, I really want to expand on this- so I might have a stand alone fan-fic for this.) Ug - “Flesh and bone.” Died of starvation. Not much to say about him- he lived in tough times with scarce food. Clem - “Washing away your memories.” While he worked in the sewers, he drowned after some falling pipes hit his head, beating him unconscious. He suffers from memory loss, not remembering anything from his mortal life- except a deep love for ducks. (Headcanon of mine is that he worked at a farm with his mother and many siblings- he accept a job into the sewer system to help his family in a time of struggle of the farm.) Serpci - “Sacrifices must be made." Offered herself to be sacrificed to the gods, to help his reign during dark times. Lindsay, Nikky, Ginny - “Warming up the audience.” (TW: childrean’s death) One of their fire tricks malfuctioned, ending into an fire enveloping the room they were performing in. They died of suffocation, due to the thick smoke, before the flames could reach them. Lindsay, the older sister, protected her two siblings until the end. Capitain Hook - “Putting salt on a wound.” Eaten by the shark he was hunting for half his life. Fate played the cruel joke to turn him into his most hated enemy once he became a ghost. Johnny Deepend - “Hitting on you.” Hit his head on the side of the pool as he was attempting a complex dive, trying to hit on his crush. It wasn’t his most succesfull move- Phantasmagloria - “Shock! at the disco.” (Yes I’m P!ATD trash thank you for noticing lmao) She was electrocuted by her malfunctioning equipment.
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bearseokie · 5 years ago
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Working Other Occupations 2 | GOT7
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got7 m.list | navi.
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Mark: Professional Skateboarder;
learned how to skateboard young, went to parks and gained attention fast
didn't get into competitions until he graduated high school
won his local competition and got signed within a year
all of the kids look up to him, and he helps give them lessons when he has free time
is the quietest in his skate group, but is also a firecracker with jokes
formed a competition that was sponsored, one of the kids he taught won and they were able to donate the money to a charity
used his competition money to open up a skate shop, gifting jobs to some local kids and helping start more skate groups around town
got branded his own line of skateboards
restaurants offer him and the kids free food because of how much he's helped support his community
oversized clothes. baggy jeans he almost trips over. huge sweatshirts. hightops that are tied under the flap instead of out because that's "safer"
dyes strips of colors into his hair instead of dying his entire head
"snapbacks are helmets!"
forces the kids to wear gear and tries to wear it too so they don't get upset he isn't listening to his own rules
always had the coolest art on the bottom of his boards, with bright wheels and reflectors for night rides
gets frustrated easily, but doesn't like breaking boards
got a friend to weld him a beam to grind on, which he later gifted to his students to use to practice
clean rap songs around the kids, og rap songs when it's the older skateboarders
everyone thinks he's cool and sweet
drinks Gatorade and water like crazy
giggles
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Jaebeom: Detective;
takes his job Very seriously
people's lives are usually on the line, so he stays focused
yells at interns and then buys them food
everyone in forensics adores him
has so many connections, barely anything ever gets past him
takes very neat notes in his little notebook.
suit + tie every day
hates when he gets cases that involve kids, always tries to care for them best he can and get them somewhere safe
loves stakeouts because he gets to space out until he sees something
thinks driving fast in his car is the hottest thing he gets to do during the job
is always the bad guy during interrogations, jaw clenched and stern stares as he attempts to get answers
always breaks them
drinks more coffee than a human being should
breakfast + lunch + dinner at diners
got put into one of the biggest cases in his bureau's history
a man had gotten away with murder and managed to escape. after lots of sleepless nights and research, jaebeom found him hiding in a motel holding evidence that made him guilty. he was arrested along with two other men that played a part in the murder
jaebeom was labeled a hero, but he explained he was just doing his job
his mean demeanor lifts when he is off duty, always smiling
people are convinced he's two seperate people
hates when he has time off work because he loves his job so much
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Jackson: Firefighter;
the main muscle of the group
always gets called to save kittens out of trees
thinks the uniform doesn't show off his muscles enough
is the best at calming people down / distracting them during a fire in order to get them out safely
smashes through a window at least once a week
his firehouse is his family
gets handed a kid even if the person isn't involved in the fire / emergency
hates driving the truck because it's too big for him to control and he doesn't want to endanger anyone
befriended the house's canine and always sneaks it treats
goes into a fire first
puts his gear on others even though he's not supposed to
loves when his house gets to invite local schools for career days, always gives out snacks and smiles when he gets the help the kids slide down the poles
is always in the firehouse's gym
has such a disorganized locker that every time he opens it, a pile of stuff falls on him
walks around with his helmet on because he thinks he looks like a bobble-head
the captain messes with him all the time
some of the walls in the firehouse are glass, he's busted through two on accident because he wasn't paying attention
second fastest time during practice
refuses to see himself as a hero
cries with families he saves, hugs them and doesn't let them go
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Jinyoung: Professor;
always looks pissed
gives out hard assignments but half-ass grades them
can and will fail you for no reason
only talks for half of the class, the rest of the time is sat in silence as he glares over everyone doing their own thing
plays movies on Fridays instead of teaching
thinks Mondays are great test days
slams things on his desk to get student's attention
aggressively circles things in the board to make his point
no phones
all the girls flirt with him, he just sighs and gives more work until they stop
licks his fingers before he hands out papers
will kick you out of you disturb his lesson
never teaches about one subject, everything includes knowledge about other things and if you don't know it you're screwed
always gets forced to sub for other professors
will get up and leave without telling anyone class is dismissed so everyone just sits there until they can go
if you smile at him he will stare you down the rest of the class
always has his index finger and thumb clasped against his nose in frustration
gives extra long holiday breaks just because he doesn't want to show up
eats food when no one else is allowed to
button ups with tight pants and pushed back hair that makes everyone attracted to him to the point where no one can focus
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Youngjae: Teaching Assistant;
is louder than the kids
best at coming up with fun learning ideas for his students
is very glad he is only an assistant
wears jeans and dark shirts because the kids are messy
sings every day
helps with choir
works with all grades because he believes every kid is different and he wants to experience them all before he becomes an official teacher
makes the best snacks
loves going to older grades and giving them easy work so they can actually have a break
everyone loves him
loves putting random things on the white boards, drawings, quotes, morse code so no one understands what he's saying
eavesdrops on the teachers drama, but isn't included in the gossip circle directly
loves physical activities with the students because he thinks it helps them learn better
tries to end lessons early so they can play games
always has to help students with homework the main teacher assigned
all of the students agree he would make a better teacher than their own
never has to discipline anyone because everyone respects him and enjoys his teaching tactics
will argue against a teacher if the teacher tells a student they aren't allowed a bathroom break, will let the student go anyways
gets sad when he has to fill out nurse passes
hands out stickers
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BamBam: Animator;
used to not draw as often as he does for his job
now can't go a day without drawing something
has the smoothest animations for talking characters
started animating for fun, got to do it as a full time job
does all of his work alone, and though it's a process, he loves it
won an award for his details in backgrounds
created a short film
spends most of his days in baggy clothing, hunched over his graphics tablet
everything he owns has some type of drawing / sketch on it
was able to start up his own animation company
takes long breaks to gain inspiration
screams a lot because he wants everything to be perfect, no matter how long it takes
is less stressed when he has his team to help
chews a lot of gum while working
got lines of plushies for his drawn characters, collects all of them for his office
was able to write his own tutorial book on how to start animating, the profits from it was donated to animation programs in schools around the country
chugs water
hates animating series, prefers movies with solid plots
isn't confident in his animating abilities, can't handle praise
bites his tongue when he draws
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Yugyeom: Paramedic;
didn't think he'd do well as a paramedic because he's squeamish, but he really enjoys it
passed out the first time he had to draw blood, concerned the patient
fastest runner
can get in and out of his uniform in less than ten seconds, he knows because he timed it
wishes he was the driver of the ambulance so he could go over the speed limit and not get a ticket
quickest to help someone that's choking, performs a perfect Heimlich or tracheotomy every time
hates that he has to leave the patients with other doctors when they arrive at the hospital
will put himself in danger if it means saving someone
thinks medical gloves are sexy
talks about extra terrestrial theories when they are in the back of the ambulance without a patient
fibbed to a patient that he went to Harvard, they found out he didn't and sent him flowers thanking him for getting their mind off their wound, even if he did lie
always gifts kids teddy bears for their bravery
is friends with all of the first responders so he knows who's who during an emergency
craziest patient he had to save was inside of an elevator, he had to walk them through a procedure to save their arm after it was cut open. even he couldn't believe he managed that
is always around the ambulance even when he's off duty, just in case
works out while studying
has fruit around him at all times, offers them to others constantly
witty toward his coworkers, soft with his patients
keeps a tab on the people he helped just so he can ask the hospital how they are
make his own gift baskets
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bwemph · 5 years ago
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The Measure of Things | Chapter 1 | The Arrival
Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader
Summary: For living in hiding, you can’t complain about your life on Rabadus, a nowhere planet on the Outer Rim. You’ve got a roof over your head, a decent job, and the man you love all in one place. But one day the Mandalorian, an old flame, shows up out of the blue, leaving you questioning if this is really the life for you.
Word Count: 3.2k
Warnings: Light swearing, toxic relationship, nonconsensual touch, making out on the job
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You checked your watch, anxiety piling up in your chest as you scrambled through the shipyard. There was no way you were going to make it to work on time this morning. You jogged a little, stumbling on a scattered pile of miscellaneous ship parts on the outskirts of the shipyard.
You cursed under your breath as you fumbled through your pockets in search of your ID.
Already flustered from the shootout downtown, being late to work was only one more thing weighing on your shoulders.
Two Nedhads, a race of orange humanoids who were quite crabby in looks and in personality, got into a scuffle and decided to see who was better with a blaster, ultimately resulting in a duel between the crustacean-like creatures. Somehow, seven others got caught up in the chaos and raised all hell in the town square.
To avoid getting yourself shot, you took a detour to the quieter edge of town and found yourself now fifteen minutes late for work.
You stifled a yawn as you pressed the buzzer at the door of the hangar. You got no response your first two or three tries, but finally, on the fourth, a befuddled droid poked a long eyestalk out of a hole next to the door.
Damn, I need to fix that thing again, you thought.
You showed the droid your ID, and there was a few seconds’ hesitation before the door unlocked.
The sleepless night previous was like a ball and chain on your ankle, making you drag your feet and rub your eyes. Any minute now, you would get your second wind.
That’s what you hoped anyway. 
You strode across the empty ship bay with a sigh and went to the small control room, which was dark.
Flipping on the light switch, you settled at the panel and opened your communication channels. It was just static right now. No voices called across the channels for your attention, so you slouched in your chair and kicked your feet up onto the panel for a few moments of peace.
Next to you, a small metal ball with a shabby two-shade paint job whirred to life. It split in half, the two hemispheres separating, but remaining connected by the mechanics inside. It focused its single eye and spun a few more times, chirping excitedly when it saw you sitting at the control panel. If it had a mouth, it would have grinned.
“Hey, buddy!” You crouched on the floor to greet the hovering red droid. You gave it a pat.
You considered HE-27 to be your favorite coworker. It was always excited to see you, and it was far more efficient with its small, precise claws than any human’s hands when it came to repairing machinery, making it a valuable tool and amiable companion.
It buzzed off to attend to some task, and you settled again at the panel, watching the radar for any incoming ships.
You found yourself relieved that your boss, Carduel Stantin, wasn’t on site yet, and likely hadn’t noticed your tardy arrival. The wrinkled, red-faced man was anything but forgiving when it came to punctuality. He didn’t shy away from long-winded lectures, if they could even be called lectures. Sometimes his words were unintelligible when he got onto his half-shouted monologues, telling off whichever unlucky employee was getting the brunt of his unrelenting anger issues.
Again, you looked to the radar. Still no sign of a ship in need of landing.
Unusual, but not concerning.
Your job was to monitor the radar for incoming ships and perform maintenance on them as needed, which was almost any time a ship needed to land in your bay. Oftentimes ships would be damaged upon reentry into your planet Rabadus’s atmosphere, given the constant and unpredictable meteor field that loomed above the clouds. If the sky was clear, the screen of space rocks could clearly be seen from the ground.
The Field made for consistent work on the cargo ships, though. If you weren't in the rotation to be watching comms, you would have plenty of bent panels and damaged engines to fix in other ship bays. You much preferred working on the ships over waiting for one to show up, but you would always tell yourself good things come to those who wait.
“Knock knock,” a familiar velvety voice said, snapping you from your thoughts.
You looked up to see the one and only Max Melau leaning in the doorway with his signature lopsided smile and mussed golden hair.
You stood. “Hey.”
“Hey, cutie.” He crossed the small control room and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you close to brush his lips against yours.
You squirmed away after a short moment, laughing a little. “C’mon, you know what I said before. Not on the job, please.” You pecked a kiss to his cheek and turned back to the panel. You checked the readings on the radar.
“I know, I know. I just can’t help myself sometimes.” He followed you over to the panel. “Not when you’ve got this cute little ass right here.” He gave your backside a quick squeeze. 
“Max, please.” Another small laugh squeezed from your throat as you settled on the torn up seat. “What’s gotten into you?”
“You don’t expect me to just keep my hands off you all day, do you?” He followed your line of sight to the blank radar. “Can’t a guy just appreciate his girl every once in a while?”
“You can appreciate me on your own time.”
He recoiled at that, then he grew very silent.
You didn’t worry about it at first, but he continued hovering around you, but avoided eye contact. He knew you hated that.
You turned to him, softening a little bit. You stood and cupped his cheek. “Hey.” You kissed his nose. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a crazy morning.”
He didn’t answer.
“Can I make it up to you?” you pressed, eyebrows knitting together with concern. You felt that same nervousness from earlier creeping back up into your chest, then your throat, and abruptly falling deep into the pit of your stomach.
He lifted your chin with a finger. “I think so,” he said finally, his voice low and husky as he eyed you intensely.
You cast another glance at the radar, but Max turned your head so he filled your field of vision. Your eyes fell shut as he pressed his lips to yours and ran his hands down your body, resting them at the small of your back.
He pulled you close, holding you close to his chest.
Before you knew it, you were sitting on the control panel with your legs wrapped around his waist.
His hands roamed your body, groping at your chest and hindquarters. You reasoned with yourself to let him get it out of his system so you could both focus on your work.
Steadily, his kisses grew hungrier and sloppier and rougher. You could hardly keep up with him as he clawed at your waist and forced his tongue between your lips.
“Wait.” You pulled away to catch your breath.
“What?” Max said.
You delicately brushed a few hairs away from his eyes. “I would just hate for Stantin to see us like this,” you said, breathing a laugh.
“Ah, let him. What’s he gonna do?”
You couldn’t answer before your mouth was smothered with his lips again. He moved on to your neck, planting several kisses, and sucking long enough that you wondered if he might be leaving behind a trail of bruises.
Knowing Max, he probably was.
You tilted your head back, letting yourself succumb to the sensation of his lips on your neck.
A soft beeping caught your attention. “Wait,” you said again as you pushed him back.
You hopped down from the dashboard and looked at the radar. A ship appeared from the corner of the screen, approaching rapidly.
“All this waiting!” he quipped. “I’m an impatient man, y/n.”
“Rabadus base, do you read me?” a voice spoke urgently over the comms.
You were quick to answer, “Rabadus Base. We hear you loud and clear.”
“I’m going to need to make an emergency landing. Ah!” The transmission cut off partway through the pilot swearing in some tongue that was foreign to you.
“We can take you here in bay two as soon as you’re ready.”
“Copy that.”
Before the pilot’s voice cut out, you heard much rattling and ruckus from the other side of the comms, making you wonder just how much of an emergency this was.
Something in the pilot’s voice was familiar, but you couldn’t entirely make it out between the rattling on his end, the static over the radio, and whatever was muffling his voice. 
You looked to Max before a sputtering engine buzzed into the bay.
Through the window, you saw a large silver ship, once glorious and shiny, was now sparking from its rudders as it landed in the hangar and powered off.
You recognized this ship, too. Not that that meant anything; gunships like that were mass produced back in the day.
Still, you couldn’t help but wonder.
Pushing the thought aside, you stepped out into the bay with max trailing you as the hatch began to lower. Out stepped a Mandalorian.
You weren't sure if it was his walk, or simply just the air he brought with him, but it would be one hell of a coincidence if that weren’t the Mandalorian that you knew.
Something over the hatch spat sparks, which bounced harmlessly off his silver helmet.
“Mando!” you greeted, beaming.
He paused and took in the sight of you and Max before him. “Y/n?”
“You two know each other?” Max interjected.
You laughed, reaching out to firmly shake the Mandalorian’s hand. “We’ve crossed paths a few times,” you said, sharing a knowing glance with him.
“What are you doing here?” Mando asked, looking between you and Max.
You shrugged. “Fate, I guess.”
“It would seem so,” the Mandalorian replied. 
“It’s good to see you again, Mando.”
“Likewise.” He offered a nod and a soft laugh that just barely crackled through his vocoder.
You tugged on Max’s hand, bringing him forward a step or two. “This is my coworker Max.”
Max held his silence, seemingly mimicking your old friend’s stillness. He nodded once to the Mandalorian and kept a stone cold eye on him.
“Coworker, huh?” Mando said.
You couldn’t tell for certain if he was looking, but you remembered the darkening blotches on your neck and suddenly became very conscious of them. You pulled your open vest around yourself in hopes that the collar might cover the hickeys up.
“Well, something like that.” You cleared your throat and excused yourself to inspect the ship. “Let’s have a look at what’s going on here.”
You should have known it was Mando’s ride from the get go. The familiar stripes painted on the side would have been the first clue. They were far more chipped than the last time you had seen them. There was a small dent by the right engine that he never seemed to fix, regardless of how often you pointed it out.
The ship had certainly seen better days, and needed a lot of work from what you could tell by just looking, but you still felt the same sentimental attachment to it from the day you and Mando crossed paths for the first time.
Upon closer inspection, it was evident he had been in some kind of shootout.
“The fuel tank is leaking,” the Mandalorian said as you made note of the smaller things that needed fixing. “One of the engines blew out, too.”
You looked at him, your reflection peering back at you from his visor. “Wow, I’m surprised you even landed. Anything else?”
“I’m not sure.”
You pulled a tool from your belt and scanned the ship for any obscure heat signatures. Judging by the readings, you would have a few things to fix on the underside, too. “Well, I’ll get to work on it and let you know.” You hooked the tool back on your belt and gave a small smile to your old friend.
“Thank you.”
You couldn’t help but notice Max still hovering nearby. “Love, if Stantin catches you in here making eyes at me again we’ll both be in trouble.” You laughed softly, reaching out and caressing his cheek.
Max nodded and spoke as though he were holding his breath. “You’re right. I’ll see you later, y/n.”
“Love you,” you called after him.
No reply.
****
“Looks like you’ve gotten yourself into plenty of trouble without me,” you said as you changed out a few screws and other miscellaneous parts that you could manage without doing too much digging through the yard for replacement parts. You glanced from behind an open panel. “You’re shinier than last we met. Been successful lately?”
Mando replied, “I earned a handful of Beskar on a job.” He also worked on mending some wiring while he spoke.
You considered prodding him for more information, but you knew he was never one to discuss his work in depth.
“This is a lot of damage,” you said, gesturing to the Crest, “but it’s not like it’s anything someone on Nevarro couldn’t fix, right? What brings you here?”
He sighed. “Work,” was all he said. Something about it seemed a little strained. “What about you? How did you end up on this side of the galaxy? Last I heard you were on Alderaan doing business with some of the higher ups.”
“Well, the higher ups didn’t exactly appreciate my affiliation with the Guild,” you explained.
“But you left the Guild.”
You shrugged, moving on to see if you could close up whatever piping was emitting a sour smell. Now you were a little closer to him. “Didn’t make a difference to them. I was still a liability,” you closed the panel, leaning against the ship and facing him, “so I ran. Took one of their fastest ships and came out here. I knew they wouldn’t follow me this far out to a speck of dirt in the Outer Rim.”
The Mandalorian nodded once and took a moment to consider that, turning his attention back to the wiring that sparked a bit as he fiddled with it. “And where does Max fit into all this?”
You couldn’t quite read the tone of his voice. Had it really been so long that you couldn’t read his subtle signals anymore? Or was he just trying to fluster you? You pushed the thought aside and squirmed a little, letting out a long sigh as you busied yourself tinkering with a few loose screws. “We met here on the job. He’s really sweet once he warms up to you.”
“Something tells me he might not do that for me.”
“Just give him some time. I’m sure he’ll loosen up.”
You glanced at the sun starting to sink below the horizon, swallowing hard. “My shift’s about to end. I wouldn’t recommend sleeping in there tonight with the fuel leak.” You gestured vaguely. “Fumes, you know.”
He looked up at the ship and then back to you. “That’s alright. I’ll find an inn in town. Any recommendations?”
You inhaled slowly, fidgeting with your fingers a little. “Well,” you shrugged one shoulder, “I have an open couch you could stay on if you would like. Much cheaper and fewer bugs than any of the inns in town.”
“Cheaper? What’ll it cost me?” Mando asked. You sensed a playful edge to his tone.
A coy smile worked its way onto your features. “A drink?”
“Yeah, I think I can manage that.”
Your grin grew. “Great. I just have to run in and shut off a few things, and then we can head to my place so you can get settled in.”
Mando closed his panel. “I’ve got to get something from the Crest before we go.”
“Take your time. I’ll need a minute anyway.” You half jogged back to the control room to turn off the lights and comms and bid HE-27 goodnight.
The droid was waiting on your seat at the panel, keeping watch on the radar for you.
You affectionately touched its little red dome. “I’m headed home, H. See you tomorrow.”
It beeped a response, spinning its bottom hemisphere as a farewell.
You heard footsteps approaching and then the door open. You looked up and met Max’s stony eyes.
“Coworker?” he said, again lingering in the door. “What kind of bullshit is that?”
You closed your eyes to gather yourself before turning to face him. “I was just being professional, Max. Please don’t read too much into it.”
Max sighed, waving away the matter. “Still talking to that tin can?” he goaded, nodding to the droid. “Speaking of tin cans, where’s the Mandalorian?”
HE-27 hummed quietly, unsure if it should be hurt by Max’s words.
“Don’t listen to him, H. Max is just kidding.” you ran your fingers over the droid’s chipping paint again and looked back to Max. “He’s in the Crest.”
Max crossed the room and his hands went around your waist again, pulling your body close to him and swaying slowly. “Well, what do you say you and me split and get something for dinner? Maybe a drink too, then we can go back to my place for a little while?”
“Actually...” Your heart jumped to your throat momentarily. You hadn’t considered what he would think of you going out with Mando, much less what Max would think of him crashing at your place indefinitely. “I told Mando he could stay on my couch until the ship is fixed, so I need to get home to get him settled.”
“You told him what?”
“Max, if he spends too long on that ship the fumes will kill him.”
“Then make him stay in town! It’s not like he won’t be able to find anywhere to stay.”
“What’s your problem?” You pushed Max’s hands off your waist and took a step back. “He’s my friend. My home is always open to my friends, and you know that.”
“But--” he searched for an answer, “but he’s a Mandalorian, and you know they’re dangerous.”
“Babe, he’s a friend from the Guild. We’re all dangerous.”
Max’s lips pressed together so they made a straight line. You could see his jaw clenching.
You ran a hand up and down his muscular arm. “Please, trust me.”
When he didn’t answer, you followed Max’s gaze out the window to the Mandalorian exiting the ship followed by a small silver pram. Something was sleeping in it, wrapped up in a handful of brown pieces of cloth.
You furrowed your brow at the sight, but turned your attention back to the matter at hand.
“Fine,” was all Max said before turning and striding from the room. The door slammed behind him, leaving you alone with your eyes downcast.
Despite the unsavory interaction, you gathered yourself, drying a few rogue tears before you went back out to the hangar to investigate what the Mandalorian could possibly be doing with a pram.
*****
A/N: I’m excited for how this is coming together! This is the first fic in a while that I’ve been legitimately excited to write. I’ll take any feedback you have! Love you guys <3
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magnetictapedatastorage · 4 years ago
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I’ve started keeping a list of questions, remnants of a past life that I now need a beat or two to remember, if I can remember at all: What time do parties end? How tall is my boss? What does a bar smell like? Are babies heavy? Does my dentist have a mustache? On what street was the good sandwich place near work, the one that toasted its bread? How much does a movie popcorn cost? What do people talk about when they don’t have a global disaster to talk about all the time? You have to wear high heels the whole night? It’s more baffling than distressing, most of the time.
Full text of the (excellent) article is under the cut. (The Atlantic, March 8th, 2021)
I first became aware that I was losing my mind in late December. It was a Friday night, the start of my 40-somethingth pandemic weekend: Hours and hours with no work to distract me, and outside temperatures prohibitive of anything other than staying in. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to fill the time. “What did I used to … do on weekends?” I asked my boyfriend, like a soap-opera amnesiac. He couldn’t really remember either.
Since then, I can’t stop noticing all the things I’m forgetting. Sometimes I grasp at a word or a name. Sometimes I walk into the kitchen and find myself bewildered as to why I am there. (At one point during the writing of this article, I absentmindedly cleaned my glasses with nail-polish remover.) Other times, the forgetting feels like someone is taking a chisel to the bedrock of my brain, prying everything loose. I’ve started keeping a list of questions, remnants of a past life that I now need a beat or two to remember, if I can remember at all: What time do parties end? How tall is my boss? What does a bar smell like? Are babies heavy? Does my dentist have a mustache? On what street was the good sandwich place near work, the one that toasted its bread? How much does a movie popcorn cost? What do people talk about when they don’t have a global disaster to talk about all the time? You have to wear high heels the whole night? It’s more baffling than distressing, most of the time.
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Everywhere I turn, the fog of forgetting has crept in. A friend of mine recently confessed that the morning routine he’d comfortably maintained for a decade—wake up before 7, shower, dress, get on the subway—now feels unimaginable on a literal level: He cannot put himself back there. Another has forgotten how to tie a tie. A co-worker isn’t sure her toddler remembers what it’s like to go shopping in a store. The comedian Kylie Brakeman made a joke video of herself attempting to recall pre-pandemic life, the mania flashing across her face: “You know what I miss, is, like, those night restaurants that served alcohol. What were those called?” she asks. “And there were those, like, big men outside who would check your credit card to make sure you were 41?”
Read: Sedentary pandemic life is bad for our happiness
Jen George, a community-college teacher from Cape Elizabeth, Maine, told me she is losing her train of thought in the middle of a sentence more and more often. Meanwhile, her third grader, who is attending in-person school, keeps leaving his books, papers, and lunch at home. Inny Ekeolu, a 19-year-old student from Ireland, says she has found herself forgetting how to do things she used to do on a regular basis: swiping her bus pass, paying for groceries. Recently she came across a photo of a close friend she hadn’t seen since lockdown and found that she couldn’t recognize her. “It wasn’t like I had forgotten her existence,” she told me. “But if I had bypassed her on the street, I wouldn’t have said hi.” Rachel Kowert, a research psychologist in Ottawa, used to have a standing Friday-night dinner with her neighbors—and went completely blank when one of them recently mentioned it. “It was really shocking,” Kowert told me. “This was something I really loved, and had done for a long time, and I had totally forgotten.”
This is the fog of late pandemic, and it is brutal. In the spring, we joked about the Before Times, but they were still within reach, easily accessible in our shorter-term memories. In the summer and fall, with restrictions loosening and temperatures rising, we were able to replicate some of what life used to be like, at least in an adulterated form: outdoor drinks, a day at the beach. But now, in the cold, dark, featureless middle of our pandemic winter, we can neither remember what life was like before nor imagine what it’ll be like after.
To some degree, this is a natural adaptation. The sunniest optimist would point out that all this forgetting is evidence of the resilience of our species. Humans forget a great deal of what happens to us, and we tend to do it pretty quickly—after the first 24 hours or so. “Our brains are very good at learning different things and forgetting the things that are not a priority,” Tina Franklin, a neuroscientist at Georgia Tech, told me. As the pandemic has taught us new habits and made old ones obsolete, our brains have essentially put actions like taking the bus and going to restaurants in deep storage, and placed social distancing and coughing into our elbows near the front of the closet. When our habits change back, presumably so will our recall.
That’s the good news. The pandemic is still too young to have yielded rigorous, peer-reviewed studies about its effects on cognitive function. But the brain scientists I spoke with told me they can extrapolate based on earlier work about trauma, boredom, stress, and inactivity, all of which do a host of very bad things to a mammal’s brain.
“We’re all walking around with some mild cognitive impairment,” said Mike Yassa, a neuroscientist at UC Irvine. “Based on everything we know about the brain, two of the things that are really good for it are physical activity and novelty. A thing that’s very bad for it is chronic and perpetual stress.” Living through a pandemic—even for those who are doing so in relative comfort—“is exposing people to microdoses of unpredictable stress all the time,” said Franklin, whose research has shown that stress changes the brain regions that control executive function, learning, and memory.
That stress doesn’t necessarily feel like a panic attack or a bender or a sleepless night, though of course it can. Sometimes it feels like nothing at all. “It’s like a heaviness, like you’re waking up to more of the same, and it’s never going to change,” George told me, when I asked what her pandemic anxiety felt like. “Like wading through something thicker than water. Maybe a tar pit.” She misses the sound of voices.
Prolonged boredom is, somewhat paradoxically, hugely stressful, Franklin said. Our brains hate it. “What’s very clear in the literature is that environmental enrichment—being outside of your home, bumping into people, commuting, all of these changes that we are collectively being deprived of—is very associated with synaptic plasticity,” the brain’s inherent ability to generate new connections and learn new things, she said. In the 1960s, the neuroscientist Marian Diamond conducted a series of experiments on rats in an attempt to understand how environment affects cognitive function. Time after time, the rats raised in “enriched” cages—ones with toys and playmates—performed better at mazes.
Ultimately, said Natasha Rajah, a psychology professor at McGill University, in Montreal, our winter of forgetting may be attributable to any number of overlapping factors. “There’s just so much going on: It could be the stress, it could be the grief, it could be the boredom, it could be depression,” she said. “It sounds pretty grim, doesn’t it?”
The share of Americans reporting symptoms of anxiety disorder, depressive disorder, or both roughly quadrupled from June 2019 to December 2020, according to a Census Bureau study released late last year. What’s more, we simply don’t know the long-term effects of collective, sustained grief. Longitudinal studies of survivors of Chernobyl, 9/11, and Hurricane Katrina show elevated rates of mental-health problems, in some cases lasting for more than a decade.
I have a job that allows me to work from home, an immune system and a set of neurotransmitters that tend to function pretty well, a support network, a savings account, decent Wi-Fi, plenty of hand sanitizer. I have experienced the pandemic from a position of obscene privilege, and on any given day I’d rank my mental health somewhere north of “fine.” And yet I feel like I have spent the past year being pushed through a pasta extruder. I wake up groggy and spend every day moving from the couch to the dining-room table to the bed and back. At some point night falls, and at some point after that I close work-related browser windows and open leisure-related ones. I miss my little rat friends, but I am usually too tired to call them.
Read: The most likely timeline for life to return to normal
Sometimes I imagine myself as a Sim, a diamond-shaped cursor hovering above my head as I go about my day. Tasks appear, and I do them. Mealtimes come, and I eat. Needs arise, and I meet them. I have a finite suite of moods, a limited number of possible activities, a set of strings being pulled from far offscreen. Everything is two-dimensional, fake, uncanny. My world is as big as my apartment, which is not very big at all.
“We’re trapped in our dollhouses,” said Kowert, the psychologist from Ottawa, who studies video games. “It’s just about surviving, not thriving. No one is working at their highest capacity.” She has played The Sims on and off for years, but she always gives up after a while—it’s too repetitive.
Earlier versions of The Sims had an autonomous memory function, according to Marina DelGreco, a staff writer for Game Rant. But in The Sims 3, the system was buggy; it bloated file sizes and caused players’ saved progress to delete. So The Sims 4, released in 2014, does not automatically create memories. PC users can manually enter them, and Sims can temporarily feel feelings: happy, tense, flirty. But for the most part, a Sim is a hollow vessel, more like a machine than a living thing.
The game itself doesn’t have a term for this, but the internet does: “smooth brain,” or sometimes “head empty,” which I first started noticing sometime last summer. Today, the TikTok user @smoothbrainb1tch has nearly 100,000 followers, and stoners on Twitter are marveling at the fact that their “silky smooth brain” was once capable of calculus.
This is, to be clear, meant to be an aspirational state. It’s the step after galaxy brain, because the only thing better than being a genius in a pandemic is being intellectually unencumbered by mass grief. People are celebrating “smooth brain Saturday” and chasing the ideal summer vibe: “smooth skin, smooth brain.” One frequently reposted meme shows a photograph of a glossy, raw chicken breast, with the caption “Cant think=no sad .” This is juxtaposed against a biology-textbook picture of a healthy brain, which is wrinkled, oddly translucent, and the color of canned tuna. The choice seems obvious.
Some Saturday not too long from now, I will go to a party or a bar or even a wedding. Maybe I’ll hold a baby, and maybe it will be heavy. Inevitably, I will kick my shoes off at some point. I won’t have to wonder about what I do on weekends, because I’ll be doing it. I’ll kiss my friends and try their drinks and marvel at how everyone is still the same, but a little different, after the year we all had. My brain won’t be smooth anymore, but being wrinkly won’t feel so bad. My synapses will be made plastic by the complicated, strange, utterly novel experience of being alive again, human again. I can’t wait.
ELLEN CUSHING
is the special-projects editor at The Atlantic.
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neowinestainedress · 4 years ago
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↬  title: the devil’s in the details, but you got a friend in me  ↬  pairing: lee taeyong / kim doyoung  ↬  summary: when Taeyong's world falls apart right before his eyes, he realizes that staying with him means that clouds will always hang around them. And he wonders if what he has to offer will be enough to make Doyoung stay, even if he will never be able to give him peace. ↬  genre: idol!taeyong (but not nct!taeyong, soloist!taeyong), song inspired - peace by taylor swift, angst (not really, doesn’t concern the couple, tho), hurt/comfort, still romantic/fluff, happy ending  ↬  warnings: since is peace inspired there are references to a situation similar to the one taylor had to go through in 2016 and the aftermath of it, so taeyong is in a bad state of mind (mention of suicidal thoughts), homophobia (one explicit comment, but there are references to it during the whole story), implied sexual content at the end (nothing explicit) ↬  words count: 6.8k ↬  playlist ↬  ao3 link
Taeyong knew it, he knew everything since he was young and naive, too busy dreaming of filled stadiums and tears marked faces screaming his name. Taeyong always knew how fucked up the music industry was, how unfair, how fake and cynical it was. But Taeyong had always been a dreamer, a believer, and after all, he still was, even now. A grin made its way on his beautiful face, as he wiped a lonely tear on his rosy cheek away. Yes, he still believed in a miracle, he really hoped that the art he had been gifting to the world for all these years was enough for people to not stop supporting him. He really wished that all of his countless sleepless nights awake writing songs on his kitchen counter while his other half was sleeping in their bedroom were worth something. He wanted to think that the immense love he had been giving to his fans travelling around the world to perform with just four hours of sleep was appreciated. But deep down he knew that now everything was gone. His world crumbled apart into million pieces, and his love, his passion, his dedication, his art, weren’t enough to save it. He sighed, letting his head fall on the back of the chair in his home studio, he wanted to cry, scream maybe, destroy everything that was in that room, but he decided that it simply wasn’t worth it. Or simply that small sparkle of hope that was still burning inside of him stopped him from doing so. Except he knew what was about to come. “Tomorrow at 8, be careful nobody sees you entering the company, they’re not happy. We have to talk about the contract.” The manager's words were direct, strict and cold even through a text message. Lee Taeyong, the record-breaking artist from South Korea, with his incredible all-round personality full of charms and talents, was over, and there was nothing he could do to change that. When people fall out of love with you, there’s nothing you can do to change their mind. They simply don’t love you anymore. 
✯✯✯
It wasn’t the first time Taeyong had to go through something like that. He had always been extremely controversial during his seven years career, whether it was for something he had seriously done or some crazy fake rumour spread around. People are fast at judging others without looking at the mirror even once, and he had experienced that on his skin more than once. He had to say sorry for things he had never done. He had to stay silent in front of the tremendous words people would throw at him, his agents never taking his side, even when they knew the truth, and some of his fans turning around on their backs. 
Was he still famous? Did he still break records? Skyrocketed on the charts at every comeback? Yes, definitely. Probably somebody could say that after all these years he still had the world in the palm of his hands, but, honestly, he felt like he had nobody he could count on. All the people who used him just for clout, just to talk shit about him once they arrived where they wanted. All of the people who liked to call themselves tyongfs but never stayed when he needed them the most. His real friends all left the country, for different reasons, and the ones in the industry he felt to call like that, could be counted on one single hand. So when he met Doyoung and the other wasn’t totally disgusted by him or tried to work his way to the top, Taeyong was seriously surprised. A bittersweet forced laugh escaped from his lips as he put his coat on, and tried to take deep breaths in the mirror, trying to prepare himself to see the end of his career. He had been through so much shit since he was barely eighteen, but nothing ever hurt him more than seeing his dream disappear from his hands simply because he loved somebody, the only one who ever stood by his side. Nothing could ever come close to the pain that he was feeling at the moment, thinking that he had to choose between the people he loved the most, Doyoung and tyongfs. A choice that he never wanted to make, because his love and his heart were enough for them both. A choice that he wasn’t making, because apparently his fans, Korean netizens, and his agency decided that it wasn’t right, that something was twisted in him, and they simply couldn’t support somebody like him anymore. Taeyong had stopped being the perfect straight boy next door, and somebody decided for him that it was time to take him and throw him in the trash. And Taeyong had come close to that many times, but never like this, never he had seen such harsh words addressed at him, never he had felt so much hate and disgust. He knew that now, they were deleting him, acting as if he never existed. 
✯✯✯
Doyoung had no idea what to do. It had been a week now since their kissing photo got spread around, one week since the internet exploded, seven days since he had to thank God he worked in his own place or else he would’ve been fired too. It had been five days since Taeyong’s company kicked him out, giving him no chance to fight for his art and his job, it had been five days since Taeyong got home and wandered around like a ghost, his favourite blanket over his head, his feet lazily dragging themselves on the cold floor, and drinking cups over cups of coffee in front of their big window which faced the whole city. 
“Sitting there all day won’t change things.” The younger said, slowly making his way behind his boyfriend. He had kept quiet the whole week, not wanting to make him feel worse, and also because he didn’t want to let out his real emotions. Doyoung felt incredibly guilty. As soon as the news came out he already knew the ending, and all he could think was that maybe if they had been more careful, or simply if they had never met, if they had never fallen in love and started dating, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. And he felt that it was his fault because he was the one who couldn’t let Taeyong go, the one who had to persist and convince him that he deserved love, and he would’ve stayed with him till the end, no matter his reputation or the things Taeyong couldn’t give him. 
Doyoung sighed when his boyfriend didn’t answer, he sat next to him on the large windowsill, his body facing Taeyong’s even though the other was turned toward Seoul at their feet. 
Taeyong let out a barely audible huff, placed the hot cup in the cavity the blanket formed between his legs, and then turned around to face the older. His head was still resting on the wall at his side, and for a while, they simply stared at each other without saying a word. Somehow, that was enough. A silence that only two souls that knew each other that deeply could donate. An unspoken secret language they had taught each other through the years. They were like that, they never needed to say much out loud, it was a particular type of chemistry that flooded between them. 
“I’m sorry,” Taeyong mumbled, breaking the eyes contact, too fearful and coward to look at him in the eyes. Doyoung furrowed his brow, his hand moving to grab his chin and lift his head up. 
“For what?” 
Taeyong sighed, he blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his eyes from the foggy views the tears he beforehand shed gave him. “For all the shit that I put you through, not only now, but since we know each other.” 
Doyoung bit his lower lip and then moved closer to his boyfriend, his hands cupped his pretty face, and a smile crept on his own as he stared at the boy in front of him. No matter how tired and broken he was, to him, he was still the most beautiful man on the hearth.
“Don’t say sorry,” he whispered, moving the wild strands of his hair who fell messily on his eyes. “I’ll do it all over again for you, Tae. I knew what was coming when I started dating you, and I choose to stay. I’ve always been by your side, knowing that dating you meant waking up with nobody on the other side of the bed for months, and trusting you while you were on the other side of the world. I’ve chosen to stay, knowing that dating you meant going on the internet and read terrible things about your persona that weren’t true. I stayed, in your worst times, when everybody decided to stab you from behind and leave you bleeding. No, I fell for you there, when you were in pieces. I could’ve escaped, walk away like anybody else, take the distances from you, even foment people against you. But I didn’t.” Taeyong was trying to hold back his tears for the nth time of the day, or better, of the week. They loved each other, he was sure about that, but their love language wasn’t a spoken one. For most people it also appeared odd, their close friends and family sometimes still couldn’t believe that they were dating for three years now. Their dynamics appeared strange to many eyes, or at least considered the few people who knew about them. But they worked, better than with anyone else. Still, with all the love they had for each other, hearing things like this wasn’t something Taeyong was used to. He knew that Doyoung wouldn’t hesitate a second to jump off a cliff if it meant saving him, but hearing what he felt out loud made his heart skip a beat and flip in his chest. 
“And you know why?” Doyoung asked as his thumb gently wiped away his rolling teardrops. “And you want to know why I would do it all over again?” His voice started to shake a little bit, Doyoung wasn’t an emotional type, not that he was distant, simply the occasion where he would let himself go in front of the others were rare. But now, with a completely shattered Taeyong standing in front of him, it was just impossible. He had seen Taeyong at his worst, when society wanted him dead, and decided to turn around for the first time, and honestly, he had thought that he would’ve never had to see that again. But he was so wrong because now Taeyong wasn’t even half as broken as he was back then, the oldest didn’t let out much in those days, but Doyoung could only imagine all the things that were running in his pretty little mind. And they weren’t positive. “Because you are a ravishing sweeping fire, the most enchanting one, you have no idea how many times I feared of getting burned by you, but I stayed anyway and learnt that your flames don’t do nothing but keep me warm and safe.” 
Doyoung stopped for a second, taking his time and giving his boyfriend the time to absorb what he was telling him. “Remember what you once told me, the day you texted me we were over because you were terrified your life couldn’t fit mine, and how you didn’t want to hurt me?” Taeyong nodded, he remembered that day clearly. They had been dating for five months at the time, the worst rumours about him had just started to slow down, so he felt a little bit safer to go around Seoul when he had a break. All it took to ruin his day and destroy the pieces he had tried so hard to put back together was a rude comment yelled at him “What’s next? It'll come out that you’re gay?” And as he froze at the harsh words, looked at the ground and kept walking, his first thought flew at Doyoung. He couldn’t do that, he couldn’t put him in that situation. He didn’t think twice when he told him that things were over between them as soon as he arrived home. But honestly, he wasn’t expecting Doyoung banging at his door, screaming that he couldn’t care less what people thought about him, or them, trying to make him understand that they would’ve got this kind of remarks anyway, trying to reassure him that as long as nobody knew they would’ve been fine. 
“Rain will always come if you’re standing with me,” Taeyong whispered, reminiscing the words he had told him through the tears that night. Doyoung nodded, softly smiling at him, and then kept talking. 
“We got drenched with rain, we’ve been in the middle of storms, and look at us.” He smiled, holding his arms out in the air to point at them. “Our love was enough to keep us warm. Your beautiful, sparkling, mesmerizing flame is more than enough to keep us alive, warm and safe.” Taeyong didn’t say a thing, his emotions were all over him, he simply couldn’t find the strength to say anything, not already at least. So he simply let himself crush against Doyoung’s welcoming body, his face sunk in the cavity of his neck as he let the sobs roll out free, they weren’t sad tears, more likely the result of pent up stress of the terrible week he had been trough and the fears for their future who simply seemed faithless and tenebrous.
They sat there for a while, the only sounds they could hear were their breathing and Taeyong muffled cries. The sun was sinking at the horizon, lighting Seoul’s skyscraper of golden, wishing the town a good night, even if the city wasn’t going to sleep at all. Maybe on another occasion, they would’ve cared about that. As Doyoung lazily scrolled through Instagram while the national news channel was playing in the background as he waited for Taeyong to come home after a long day of practice, and then together they would’ve chosen what take out to order, half of the time ending up with Doyoung having to do all by himself because Taeyong was too tired even to make a choice. Or maybe they would’ve hit up some of their closest friends and hang out with them, at their place, without having to worry about getting caught. Maybe in another situation, the radio was on, keeping Doyoung company as he cooked for them, while humming and jamming to the songs the radio was passing, and then he would’ve laughed at Taeyong flustered expression when one of his songs would play. But now, it was totally different. If they turned on the TV they would’ve seen themselves, pictures of their broken privacy splashed on the front page of every journal and gossip show. If Taeyong turned on his phone they would’ve heard the frustrating ringing of persistent notification, missed calls from his mom, and his friends, just wanting to make sure he was still alive. Calls that Doyoung had to take for him during the whole week. 
“You know what? We’re cooking together tonight, you definitely need to eat more than just coffee and cheap snacks and I need to distract your mind from all of this.” Doyoung broke the quite they were in, carefully moving Taeyong away from him to look at his eyes. He tried to suppress a sad smile as soon as he made contact with them, Taeyong’s usually big brown warm eyes were now swollen and red, deprived of their typical bright light. He just wanted him to be happy because Taeyong never deserved any of the hurt people had put him through all these years. And the more he looked at his boyfriend the more he questioned when everything would go back to normal, if it ever will. But Doyoung needed things to at least be good again, he needed his happy, goofy, bright, loud and passionate Taeyong back. Because he deserved to be happy. 
Taeyong just nodded, not like he had a choice anyway, but not that he minded. He felt the need to spend some time together with Doyoung, just them, in their home, acting like the world didn’t exist. It was just an illusion, but he couldn’t care. And he was also pretty used to pretend, in his world, everything was an illusion, it needed to be like this to survive. Or else, there wouldn’t have been any other way to stand all of those masquerade revellers and their fake smiles, and unnecessarily loud laugh to hide emptiness and sadness. And for a split second, Taeyong thought that maybe, taking a break from all of that wasn’t even that bad. 
✯✯✯
“Are you eating?” His mom’s voice ringing from the other side of the phone was muffled, her tone as worried as three weeks before when the mess first happened. Taeyong giggled and rolled his eyes in the back of his head, it was like the third time she had to make sure about that since she called. 
“Yes, mom, I’m good. Doyo is feeding me well.” And even though he couldn’t see it, he perceived the genuine smile creeping on his mom’s tired face. She was so glad his son had someone like Doyoung by his side, especially now that she couldn’t be physically near him. 
“Still can’t come by?” The woman tried to ask anyway. Taeyong shook his head and hummed in negation. 
“You know why.” Honestly, Taeyong would’ve never forgiven himself if something happened to his mother. She wanted to pass by their house since the news broke out, but Taeyong was fast at forbidding her from doing so. Three weeks now, and the situation was still out of control. He simply couldn’t leave the house, the building was surrounded by angry, so-called, fans. Sometimes they were just standing there, breaking the merch, but two times things got out of hand and some neighbour had to intervene. Not that things changed. It was disgusting and scary, to the point he was just expecting from some of them to break in and kill him while he was distracted. Also, Doyoung still had to go to work. Being the owner of his small business he could take a week off to stay with Taeyong and also made up his mind, but they needed his job. Yes, Taeyong’s money were still there, he made pretty much a fortune during his career, but they needed to stay grounded, to have something that somehow reminded them of their everyday reality. Plus, what was Taeyong going to do now? Find another agency? Start one of his own? Cry himself to sleep every night because at this point it felt much more than just music and he couldn’t handle it anymore? Now the latter seemed to be the only thing he could think of. So he just stayed home, waiting for Doyoung to call him every time he made it out and in the house safe. He spent the days with a lump in his throat because of the girls down the house and the terrible things he read on the internet. The only things distracting him, his mom and his friend’s calls. 
At least two minutes passed by in silence, just a light buzzing from the line could be heard, but Taeyong felt some sort of tranquillity in his mom’s breathing. He closed his eyes and imagined to be wrapped in her arms, his head on her chest, as it moved up and down, and her voice chanting a sweet song. Just like when he was a child, and everything was easier, and nobody had ever hurt him. 
“Yongie,” her mom called his attention. The boy hummed, loud enough that she could hear. “You know that I love you and I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done in your life, right?” His mom had never been too happy about his choice in the career path. She knew he was talented, she never doubted his capability of filling stadiums and captivate people. She simply hated the industry, their brainwashing, the way they produced robots and not people with feelings. She was aware of what being a celebrity meant and she never wished that life for his son. But when someone you love has a dream, what do you do? Do you clip their wings or let them fly? She let him go, and never stopped, even for a second, to be proud of her little man. 
“I know,” Taeyong smiled, a sincere smile after lots of forced ones, “you’re always my number one fan, right?” 
“First and last, nobody might stand your annoying self anymore but I’m going to still be here.” She exclaimed, making his son laugh. But he knew it was true, even if everyone left, she was always going to be there. 
He talked with his mom some more, but when the phone call ended he fell back into the hole that was devouring him. He sighed, nervously running his fingers through his hair, pulling his bleached blonde locks.
He wanted to pick up the phone and call Johnny, have a chat with him up until Doyoung would've come home. Talking with his best friend would’ve definitely helped him to not think about his life. But they had already talked in the morning when Johnny called to make sure that he was okay and proposed him to spend some time with him and Ten in England. He didn’t want to bother him, but at the same time, he didn’t feel in the mood to talk with any other of his friends.
So, pretty much unconsciously, he did the only thing he shouldn’t have done. He grabbed his phone and went on twitter. Socials were toxic, he knew that. He should’ve already deleted everything and don’t think about it, but somehow he always ended up there. He desperately needed to know what people thought about him, if one, even just one, of his fans stayed. And for some sort of strange reason, he felt like he also needed to know all the bad things. To make sure that it was real, that people really hated him. Or maybe because, by now, that words already crept into his brain and he felt like he was unlovable and unworthy and deserved to read what they had been calling him lately. And his heart took it, up until he saw a tweet against Doyoung, about how they didn’t even know him but to date somebody like him they had to be twice as bad. Or another one saying that Doyoung wasn’t even attractive and at least Taeyong could’ve had better taste if he really wanted to be like that. The more he scrolled on his name the worst things got. People saying that they had been waiting for this for ages, some others saying that Taeyong should’ve already been cancelled years ago when his first scandals broke out, or how he had probably fucked his way to the top. Thousands of tweets saying that they always hated him for his attitude, and they couldn’t stand seeing him feeling himself so much, and all of that was a lesson that he was finally paying. Laughs and jokes on how probably the strong, intimidating Lee Taeyong was now crying like a little bitch.
And they were right, because he was sobbing uncontrollably, curled up on himself as he laid on the couch, the phone abandoned on the floor after he slipped from his sweaty hands. He wanted to scream, and he did. An agonizing loud scream resonated through the walls as he tried to push out of his brain the painful and dark thoughts that were drawing him. He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t sleep at night knowing that he was dragging Doyoung in this hell with him when he deserved much better. But what was he supposed to do? Taeyong had already tried to break up with him, fully aware that their lifestyles were just too different. And Doyoung had spent a whole night up just listening to his nagging and crying, as he desperately tried to convince him that no matter how hard it was going to get, he wanted exactly what they had. But now everything was different. Back then Taeyong had snapped because of one single homophobic comment, they weren’t out, nobody knew about them. Now, everything was different. And he just had to make sure that Doyoung was strong enough to get through that. Because Taeyong wasn’t so sure that all that he could offer was enough for him to stay. And he also wasn’t so sure that he, himself, could make it out alive. He just couldn’t take it anymore. And he felt so fragile as perfectly known old thought came to his mind. It wasn’t the first time other people words made him believe that he simply wasn’t worth living. He disrupted the lives of all the people he loved, he was a tornado, not the nice little flame Doyoung loved to describe him as. But he didn’t want to be like this anymore, to hurt the good and trust the evil, even if unconsciously. Maybe it was a sign, that life didn’t suit him anymore. He was tired, he just wanted a normal life. He wanted to wake up in the morning and go to work, just to go back home to Doyoung preparing dinner. He wanted to spend lazy Sundays on the couch wrapped in Doyoung’s arms. He wanted to live somewhere where they could hold hand with a little less terror of being judged and beaten. He wanted to live, as a human being who made mistakes and not an automaton. 
He wiped his tears with the back of Doyoung’ sweater he was currently wearing and got up from that spot in the living room. In less than twenty minutes Doyoung would’ve been home, and he didn’t want him to see him like that. He needed to distract himself, not let his mind travel in the wrong places, so maybe some music playing in the background as he cooked would’ve been helpful. 
✯✯✯
The evening passed by quietly. Doyoung had come home safe, finding Taeyong busy at the cookers, humming and dancing to the rhythm of one of his favourite records. The younger didn’t see it coming and slightly jumped when Doyoung hugged him from behind, maybe, given the tense situation, that wasn’t the best idea Doyoung had ever had, but Taeyong couldn’t mind. He just wanted to feel him close, to make sure that he was there for real, and he wasn’t just one of the many mindless dreams he had. Taeyong had to make sure that Doyoung was his, he had to remind himself that he deserved the happiness he could bring him. And Doyoung felt that something was somehow wrong when Taeyong kissed him a little bit longer than the usual and then didn’t pull away but let his head rest on his shoulder. He didn’t say a word, tough, other than pointing that what was for dinner looked delicious. 
Seoul's sky was particularly pretty that evening, coloured with soft shades of pink and purple, painting their living room with the same tones. And that dinner passed as one of their old romantic indoor dates, far away from the world, and strangely, for the first time after many, the exhausting sense of suffocation wasn’t there. Maybe Taeyong still felt it, but not as much as that afternoon, when he was all by himself. 
Taeyong really didn’t want to ruin that perfect mood. The apparent calm they were surrounded with as they laid on their sofa, carelessly paying attention to the movie they had chosen to watch. They were more lost in each other's touch, Taeyong let himself relax as Doyoung spooned him, their hands intertwined, because they wanted and also because Taeyong had started to nervously bit his nails once again. In the years Doyoung learnt that telling him was useless, he would panic, his cheeks flushed, and then go back doing it once again. So the most efficient method was to grab his hands, play with them, hold them, caress them, anything that could divert Taeyong’s attention and also his nervousness. Not only he would stop bite them, but it would help his sense of anxiety, and Doyoung got to feel him closer, so everybody won with that. 
But they needed to talk. This was a point of no return, and Taeyong had to know if they wanted to travel the same road together forever or not. They needed to start over. Their coming of age had come, they couldn’t just sit around and ignore the problems. Taeyong had never been firm on his choices, always walking on eggshells, with fear of crashing because the danger was near. But now, after all of these years in the industry, he had realized that he simply couldn’t get away from it. It was always around the corner, ready to attack, it lived in him. And he had to remind Doyoung that. He had to let him know all the feelings he had for him, and then let the decision in his hands. 
“I could never give you peace,” the blond mumbled, his words barely more than a whisper. Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows, he had heard what his boyfriend had said, but he couldn’t understand his point. 
“What do you mean?” he asked, moving a little so he could have a better look at the older’s face. 
Taeyong took a deep breath while his eyes were focused on their fingers playing together. “With my life, with who I am. And then your life, and who you are.” Doyoung wanted to roll his eyes to the sky, thinking he was going to witness Taeyong trying to break them apart once again, but something in the tranquillity of the other’s voice told him that this conversation wasn’t going there. 
“Sometimes I look at you, and just don’t feel enough. Not enough to cope for all the things that you had to stop doing for me, or the fears that I planted in your heart, or even the way I make your future so uncertain. I look at you and I see integrity, and it makes me feel small.” 
Doyoung stayed silent, as much as he loved Taeyong, he couldn’t deny that he was right. Their lives were totally different and pretending it wasn’t true would've been. And yes, sometimes it was hard to keep it up with Taeyong’s busy rhythm, sometimes things got bigger than what he could handle. But Doyoung knew that. Taeyong had made it clear since the start, and he knew by himself that dating a celebrity like him would’ve brought along a lot of hard times. Still, he could totally get why Taeyong always felt like a burden; he was insecure, he always believed that he wasn’t deserving of love, especially a sincere one that lead to a healthy relationship. 
“You think that I regret all these years together?” Doyoung asked when nothing else came out of Taeyong’s mouth. 
The other shook his head. “I don’t know, but I want you to know that I’m fully aware of how hard it has been for you too. And I’m glad for all the things you’ve done for me.” 
Doyoung smiled, then one of his hand travelled up to caress his hair. Yes, he knew Taeyong knew that. Taeyong had seen the most fragile and vulnerable sides of him, he had seen him fall apart in front of him so many times that sometimes he wondered why he never left. To strangers’ eyes, Doyoung was strong, always in control of everything, it looked like he always had his shit together, but it wasn’t like that at all. And Taeyong was the only one who ever seen him like that, the only one he had ever opened up to in such a real way. The times he cried because he was terrified of not being able to do well in his new business. The older wanted to spend more time next to him, but the worldwide tours didn’t give him the chance to be present in the way he really wanted. Or when jealousy and insecurity mixed up together, and Doyoung cried at night thinking that Taeyong could find somebody better than him every day; and some nights the blonde was there to roll around, hug him and love the insecurities away, but many others he wasn’t. 
“I’m sorry if I couldn’t always be there for you, but God, Doyoung,” he exhaled, squeezing his eyes to hold back the tears that were threatening to roll down his cheeks, “everybody thinks love’s for sure, but I would die for you in secret, any day, without thinking twice.” 
Doyoung’s heart skipped a beat, his head fell on top of his boyfriend’s shoulder as he held him tighter. 
“You know, right?” Taeyong asked, lifting his body to sit up with his back and look at Doyoung in the eyes. And in a fragment, he could see all of his vulnerability. Taeyong had always thought that Doyoung was like glass. Beautiful, transparent, resistant, but so, so fragile, that one single needle could tear him into pieces. And he had seen him shattered many times. He just wanted to make sure that he knew he could always count on him, since most of the times it was always Doyoung worrying about everybody else, without taking care of himself. 
The younger hummed, following his actions. 
“You know that I’d swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches. Give you my wild,” Taeyong stopped for a second, his hand moved to grab Doyoung’s one, and his head rolled back as he tried to hold back the tears, and then let out a giggle “I’d even give you a child if it was possible.”
Doyoung chuckled and smacked him playfully on the arm. 
“You know what I feel for you, the way I never felt so at ease with anybody else. You know how deep under my skin you got, how deeply you know every single inch of my soul. You know how much I cherish the way we don’t need words to understand each other, a glance is enough, silence is enough. I see your family as mine, your brother is my brother, and I couldn’t ask for anything better than that.” His tone was sincere, not that Doyoung ever doubted that, but something in his voice and in the way he was looking at him, made him feel a certain kind of way. And in that moment realization hit him like a truck, what they had was just above everything and everyone else, a rare gem only them could understand. And he was so grateful that fate, God, his ancestors, or whoever people wanted to believe held the strings of life, let them together. 
“I’d give you my sunshine, give you my best,” Taeyong said, now intertwining their fingers, and holding tighter. 
“Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?” a tingle of fragility in his voice. He was scared, no, terrified, Doyoung would say no and run away from him without thinking twice and looking back. He was so scared that Doyoung would've slipped out of his fingers that he unconsciously held even more than before. 
Doyoung didn’t answer, he threw himself in the other’s arms and kissed him, slowly at first, just to become more passionate. His hands running through his locks, pulling him closer. 
“Yes, Taeyong. It will be enough. You are enough. You will always be enough.” He mumbled once he pulled away, tears marking both of their faces. 
“I don’t regret one bit of what I had with you, I could never, Yongie,” he said, his hands still cupping the other’s face. “I want this, I want you, and all the mess you bring with you. I love you. I’m dating you, not them, and their poisoned words. I’m in this with you. Not with anybody else. I don’t care about what they say to you, they don’t even know a quarter of the amazing person that you are. I don’t care about what they say about me, their words don’t define me. Their hate doesn’t define our love and its validity.” 
This time is was Taeyong’s turn to stay silent and just lean in to make their lips touch again. 
And in the dawn of the night, they stayed like that for a while. Forehead to forehead as Seoul was busy outside; with her cars moving between traffic lights and her people getting drunk in downtown bars. They could feel the city’s vibration, but they couldn’t care much about the others. It was just them, lost in their own moment. 
Taeyong leaned in to kiss him again, and again. He needed Doyoung like he was his vital lymph. And he couldn’t care if he looked desperate, greedy and messy like a teenage boy during his first love story. He just wanted to feel. To feel alive, to feel real, to feel love. He couldn’t quite remember the last time they made love to each other. The last months had been a hell for so many different reasons, always busy, life moving so fast that the only time they had together he was either too tired or a quick thing was all they could get at. 
But now, the world had stopped. His castle crumbled overnight. They took the crown from him. He wasn’t sitting on his throne anymore. He had nowhere else to be, now. 
Now they had all the time they wanted to take things slow. To get lost in the smallest details of the other. Taeyong could kiss every small portion of Doyoung’ skin. He wanted to burn in his flames, feel the heat on his skin, and deep down in his soul. 
And right now that Doyoung’s hands were on him, modelling him like a sculptor, touching him like nobody else ever could, he was sure of one thing. He had made mistakes in his life, never learning much from them, but at least he had done one thing right. 
Now that Doyoung’s starry eyes looked at him as if he was the most precious jewel in the world, he understood that just that was enough to light up his darkest night. No, Taeyong didn’t know how to call that, it was just more than love at this point. Maybe they were soulmates. No, definitely they were, there was no other way they could be described as. And a smile crept on his face, as he let himself be lulled by the strange wave of happiness and safeness that hit him. 
Doyoung noticed that, and, stopping for a second, he raised his head to level his. “Why are you so happy, uh?” He asked with a smirk on his face. 
Taeyong shrugged. “Nothing, I was just thinking that I won at life.” 
“You won?” Doyoung raised an eyebrow, his left arm was resting at the side of Taeyong's face supporting his weight so he wouldn’t fall on his naked boyfriend. 
Taeyong hummed, his "dumb" smile never leaving his face. And Doyoung was so glad that the same old Taeyong seemed to be back, at least for now. He knew that the road to healing would’ve been long, but now, Taeyong had stars in his eyes, and that was the only thing he wanted to see. 
“If I tell you that I think we’re soulmates in the middle of a lovemaking session will you run away?” Taeyong giggled as soon as he saw Doyoung roll his eyes. 
“I can’t believe I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Doyoung responded, but his hands were once again busy working on the other’s body, somehow pulling him even closer to his. 
“You want to spend the rest of your life with me?” Taeyong asked with a genuinely surprised look on his face, which disappeared as soon as Doyoung’s hands touched places that made him see stars. His lips opening, letting out beautiful moans that Doyoung suppressed with a kiss. 
“Isn’t that what soulmates do?” Doyoung asked him, leaving a trail of kisses over his neck, down to his collarbone, and all over his chest. 
And Taeyong wanted to say something rational, a small part of him even cry for the joy he was feeling after so many time, but he was already putty in Doyoung’s fingers, overwhelmed by too many emotions. But once again, words were superfluous between them. 
And as they became one in the night, burning in the heat of their love, they both had the confirmation that it would’ve been enough. Because at the end of the day, even if the devil’s in the details, they had a friend in each other.
And somehow, that was the only thing that mattered. 
 part two: where all the poets went to die
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bbbarneswrites · 6 years ago
Text
Future’s Now
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: For every time Bucky thought of his past, you made him think of his future. Genre: Romance/fluff Rating: T Warnings: Swearings, mental health issues 4,314 words
Notes: Hello! It’s been a very long time since I posted something...and for that I’m sorry. My writing skills seem to be drying out each day and even when I want to write, I just can’t put anything together. This piece started last year and I finally got myself to finish it! It’s not my best but it’s something. I’m hoping to be posting another piece soon until next week. Meanwhile I hope you enjoy this one. Feedback’s always welcome! Happy reading! <3
As soon Bucky steps into the bar, he’s welcomed with the warm temperature of the crowd and its noise, the faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air. Choosing that place most definitely isn’t his smartest choice, he admits, but the Winter Soldier knows how to blend in anywhere like no one else.
(Plus, this is as near as he can get to his apartment so he can’t exactly complain).
The small dancefloor is packed with people, mostly young and drunk and way too happy when compared to his shit mood but that doesn’t stop him from taking the farthest seat at the bar’s counter, his brown locks falling against his face as soon as he places his order for the strongest drink in the menu. That’s all he needs for now–a drink (that won’t make him drunk, much to his dismay) and a few hours away from the Tower and its residents, including his long lost best-friend.
After completing his fourth mission in about a week and a half, Bucky can’t help but feel annoyed and useless as his teammates keep pestering him about his well-being. Always hearing something among the lines of coping and therapy and health, he pushes all those concerns away because those are things that doesn’t matter now.
Not to his redemption, anyway. Because neither of those things will ever erase whatever shit he’s done over and over for decades in a row.
But this is his easy way out.
It should be easy enough. To spend a night somewhere around people who don’t give a fuck about him or his health. People who might hate him for what he’s done. People who’d rather have their drinks than to pay attention to what’s surrounding them. He just needs a night where he can be a nobody instead of a super soldier in a team of super human beings. And so, that’s the last thing on his mind as he takes sip after sip from his bitter drink–getting recognized.
That doesn’t happen until he takes a note on you standing right beside him, having taken the duty of ordering another round of drinks for your friends. Even though Bucky isn’t in the party looking for something or someone, he has eyes and he can’t deny you’re beautiful. And it’s funny how you’re the first girl to really catch his eye during his first hour spent at the bar.
Your hair frames your face just perfectly and the little make-up you’re wearing it’s enough to do its job and highlight your features. Your outfit isn’t the boldest one he’s seen around but it still makes him squirm a little on his seat, his eyes incapable of not flickering over the expense of your legs exposed by a black skirt, t-shirt tucked under the waistband.
You are beautiful and he can’t deny that.
But his mistake is to think you’re just another face in the crowd.
“You know, if your mugshot hadn’t been plastered in the news for months in a row, you’d give a nice NYU senior.” You say smartly, lips holding back a grin and eyes brimming with amusement while all Bucky can seem to do is stare dumbly, like a fish out of water. “A hipster-like senior, maybe? Really into arts and acting if you squint.”
Bucky doesn’t say anything but his mere raise of eyebrows is enough of an answer for you, given that you huff out a little laugh and turn your attention back to the bartender, now lining up six little cups of tequila in front of you.
Putting two and two together and now everything makes sense–the young crowd, the pop music and the insistent drinking. It’s a fucking student party and he’s right in the middle of it. Choosing that place most definitely isn’t his smartest choice, Bucky admits, but he’s surprised to acknowledge that he doesn’t want to leave. Not now, anyway.
“Guess you’d be surprised to know I was an art student back in the day.” Bucky finally breaks his silence, unable to hold back a little grin as he watches you raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Not all history books put that up, huh?”
You chuckle incredulously, eyes firmly set on his imposing frame as he just shakes his head with a deep breath and turns his attention back to the glass hanging from his fingers, holding back back a grin of his own. Bittersweet is the right word for the feeling beaming in his chest, as he misses the days where he could just talk to a girl like a normal guy but dreads the problematic person he’s become after all these years.
Bucky wonders if you’d still give him the time of your day if you knew only half of what he’s done as the soldier.
“Yeah, not all books do that. It’s a shame, really, if you ask me.” You sigh dramatically, placing a hand on your chest until Bucky is snickering in reply and you’re laughing at his sassy reaction. “Okay, so if you really were an art student, what’s your deal when it comes to it? Paintings? Performances?”
Bucky takes a sip of his drink, his lips curving in a small grin as he watches your antecipation over his answer–raised eyebrows, elbows resting on the counter, the tequila shots momentarily forgotten as you stare at him.
For someone who just wanted to get lost in a crowd less than ten minutes ago, he’s very well enjoying being the center of your interest and attention so far, much to his surprise. Oh, life, and the way it always come back to bite him in the ass and make him swallow his own words.
“Just sketching, mostly.” He answers with a small shrug, his eyes falling to the dirty wooden counter. Once you hum encouragingly, curious eyes still upon his bulky frame, Bucky continues. “Just got in art school for Steve. Wouldn’t let his sorry ass miss a chance just ‘cause he’d get beat up by bullies.”
When Bucky dares to glance up to you again, your eyes are somewhat sorrowful but there’s still a little hint of playfulness that you take up with an amused smile, making you look suddenly mischievous just like that.
He decides right then that he likes the sight, and it makes him think that if this was any other kind of life or universe (where he isn’t as fucked up as he is now), he’d do something about it.
“College kids are a bit more level-headed, you know. Or are supposed to be.” You tease, throwing him a cheeky wink as your fingers reach for one of the little tequila cups lined up in front of you. “Not all of us drink our problems to oblivion like I’m doing now. Or beat up other kids. Just sometimes.”
As you shrug and down the shot in one go with a grimace, Bucky can’t help but smirk.
Maybe he was hoping to be recognized, deep down in his consciousness. Maybe he was hoping to have someone to spit drunk but bitter truths to his face about his past. Maybe he was hoping for someone who wouldn’t coddle him, just take things as messy as they are. Maybe he was fooling himself into thinking that he didn’t want to meet someone in that night. But he’s pleasantly surprised to know all of that really is happening–just not in the way he’d been expecting.
Turns out, you don’t need to spit bitter truths to make him feel like a random guy in bar. Not an Avenger, not a recovering soldier, not a ruthless assassin. You only need to be you, talking to him as if he’s a nice NYU senior, really into art and acting, if one squint. Funny.
“Drinkin’ to oblivion sounds like a smart choice.” Bucky tips his glass between his gloved vibranium fingers but lets out a short laugh in the way. Your eyes follow the movement of his lips and he can’t help but grin, chest flaring in mild smugness with your reaction. “Can’t exactly do that with the super soldier thing and all.”
Just as Bucky takes the last sip of his drink, you raise a hand for the bartender and his cup gets filled up to the brim again. Words muffled by the rock song blasting through the room, the order is placed on your tab, just like you request it. And then, your fingers are expertly lifting up the little tequila cups together, a grin on your face as you turn to the side and rest your hip against the counter.
You are beautiful and he can’t deny that.
“Bucky Barnes.” You start, a smile on your face as you lean closer to him and lock your eyes with his. When Bucky nods in a silent urge, you swipe your tongue over your lips, feeling nothing but gleeful as he follows the movement. “Find me. And then I can maybe pose for one of those sketches of yours.”
And he does find you.
(Or FRIDAY does for him, that is).
He remembers the time where things like these were usual to him–the suits, dancing, parties and all that.
Bucky used to be that guy who liked going out, seeing and knowing people. He liked to dance, to get his best suit out of the wardrobe for a night out. He liked to have a good time with someone by his side, to feel comfortable and confident in his own skin. He liked to be a free spirit, not caring about people’s judgement over his actions and his life choices. But fast foward to this day and age, from the second the invitation is sent to his name to the actual gala party day, Bucky completely dreads the entire situation altogether.
The one thing he’s completely sure of is that he hates Tony Stark and his pompous events.
Bucky Barnes is now a former assassin with a troubled past and issues that can go down to his bones. Not exactly a perfect poster boy or a favorite between the Avengers. His day-to-day consists of occasional anxiety attacks, isolation and guilt trips. Sleepless nights, bad dreams and whatever else a man like him is supposed to have.
And still, the so dreaded night is nothing but pleasant.  
He drinks and laughs and dances and it’s a nice change from the times where he used to stick to the corners of the ballroom with people tiptoeing around him.
It’s a nice change to have someone who treats him as a whole, like he’s not made of glass or a ticking bomb that may explode at any second. Bucky might hate the parties and dislike the attention but he won’t snap because of it. Strange enough, the damn night grants him a pleasing sense of nostalgia as it makes him think of the Sergeant in a less bitter way than he’s accustomed to.
Twirling you around on the dancefloor, drinking just for the fun of it, enjoying the company of his teammates. Doing so suddenly doesn’t feel so foreign as he thought it would be.
Despite it all, Bucky can’t deny he likes this much better–both of you sitting in the corner of an old diner, waiting on your orders as the stereo plays catchy 80s songs and you pretend to sing along. Every person who passes by your booth gives a double take because you look anything but ordinary in that moment.
Between his jet black suit and your flowy mint green gown (a Dior, courtesy of Tony Stark himself, as a thank you for convincing Bucky to attend the gala), it’s clear that neither of you really belong to that place, at least not while sporting the very much expensive looking attires that will be returned in a few hours.
The burgers and fries and milkshares combo arrive in no time and after a suspicious glance from the waitress and a change of genre on the stereo (now playing a Ariana Grande song (that he’s surprised to know), you’re falling into mindless conversation between one salty fry or two.
“I need to know something really important about you.” You start, pointing one of your fries towards him in a rather threatening way, though he can clearly see you’re playing just by the mischief in your eyes. “Do you believe in astrology? Horoscopes and all that? Think wisely about this.”
With the milkshake straw between his lips, Bucky mulls over your question.
Back in the day, his life was simpler but way too busy for him to be thinking about something as seemingly silly as astrology. His sisters had magazines about it though and sometimes read bits and pieces to him, only to be always shrugged by the older brother. The traits they veemently claimed he had as a Pisces man, now don’t make much sense so maybe Bucky isn’t that sure about his astros anymore.
“I know I’m a Pisces but that’s all about it.” He finally answers, huffing out a laugh and offering a playful apologetic shrug when you glance at him in pretend hurt. “Just never put much thought into it. Can’t blame me, I was born in 1917. Why?”
In a ploy that is clearly meant to rile him up, because there’s definitely a hint of curiosity laced to his voice despite the nonchalant answer, you mirror his shrug and take your time on sipping your vanilla milkshake.
And Bucky knows he’s supposed to feel something but not this–at least, not yet.
Under the pink-ish lights of the diner, his mind is all over the place with just how pretty and just unapologetic you look in the moment. The straps of your dress are very thin, but just enough to expose your collarbones and skin, a simple necklace that hangs a little star closing around your the base of your neck. Despite the long night, your make-up is pretty much intact though a few strands of your hair are out of place. It’s right then, Bucky realizes he never wants to miss this sight–or rather you, again.
(Getting out of his comfort zone scares him a whole lot, yes, but feeling this infatuated with someone this damn quickly feels even scarier, if he’s being honest).
“Pisces are very compassionate people, you know.” You break his momentary misery, smiling cheekily despite the straw still hanging between your lips. “Very intuitive, loyal and kind. They can be a little unpredictable with their feelings, though. I can definitely see the pisces in you.”
An unfamiliar warmth spreads through Bucky’s neck and despite the unexpected blush, a rather grim laugh escapes from his lips, anyway.
He doesn’t mean to be this bitter but supposes it’s probably in his nature now, especially after the shitshow that has been his life since HYDRA. The one thing that Bucky can’t deny is the fact that even with his deep layers of grief, your sweet words are easily breaking all the way through his heavy heart.
So much that he feels soft, light as ever. He’s not made of glass or a ticking bomb that may explode at any second–he’s just Bucky.
“I think you see way too much in me, baby doll.” Bucky huffs, looking adorably sheepish as you offer him an unimpressed glance. “Just sayin’, I’ve been called a lot of things but compassionate and kind aren’t one of them.”
Stopping midway through a bite of a french fry, your face quickly shifts from tenderness to indignation.
By being who he is, Bucky doesn’t need somebody to pick up his fights. He’s stubborn as all hell, and Steve is one to testify to that. It’s hard to accept help from someone when you’ve got an historic as dirty and shady as his, he doesn’t think anybody in their right mind should be meddling in his business. It’s not a smart thing to do–being somehow associated with a former rogue assassin.  
And it’s true, Bucky Barnes definitely is a protective fucker, so he goes out of his way to protect his people from his own actions. Still, he can’t help but feel his chest flare over your own protective reaction towards him.
“That’s because people are stupid, Bucky Barnes.” You huff, voice sounding nothing but firm though there’s still a hint of empathy laced to it, one that makes Bucky smile softly. “They see what they want to see. Most of us close our eyes to the truth because it’s convenient, easier to judge.”
Silence falls between you as Bucky mulls over your words.
Over the years, there’s been a fair share of excuses for all the crimes he committed as HYDRA’s puppet–he was just a small piece of a bigger game, not in control of his mind, a victim just like other prisoners and experiments. When it comes down to it, Bucky knows it’s different, too personal when it comes to him. So he doesn’t fail to remember that it was his hand that pulled the trigger every time, his face that people last saw before their death.
He lives with the memories, sleeps upon them, and he doesn’t blame people for hating him.
That doesn’t mean the fact sits well in his heart, that he doesn’t seek redemption through his actions, that he doesn’t care about what his family thinks about him. About what you think about him. And despite knowing who you are and what you stand for, Bucky would be liar by denying the hint of fear creeping up the corners of his mind.
“Did you?” He mumbles, watching you frown in mild confusion for a second before a sigh escapes from his lips. “Did you ever judge me for what I did? Before you knew me?”
With your expression changing once again, this time from confusion to pure and unashamed affection, Bucky doesn’t expect your next move.
It takes a second for you to get up from your seat, the skirt of your dress swaying as you squeeze the way into his side of the booth. Bucky almost thinks that’s the end of it until you’ve got the lapels of his Valentino suit in a fist, pulling him to you so quickly that he barely processes your lips crashing into his.
When Bucky feels you smile against his lips, arms sliding up to close around his neck, he breaks out of his stupor to pull your body closer to him–hands on your hips, just slightly lifting you so it’s enough to bring you to his lap between the tight fit of the corner table. And while both of you know it’s highly inappropriate to be doing this in the middle of a diner so late into the night, discretion is thrown into the wind as soon you melt into the kiss.
A change of song makes you break apart from his lips with a laugh and Bucky bets it’s from a girlband he can’t quite remember the name.
Tightening your arms around his neck, he can’t help but smile by feeling your face buried against his skin, soon enough with your lips lightly pressing little kisses over the collar of his button-up. It’s right there that Bucky realizes–even though you haven’t said a word, he’s got the answer in the best way possible.
Your eyes were always open for his truth.
Sitting half asleep in the kitchen island of your little apartment in Queens, a lukewarm mug of tea between his fingers, Bucky can’t help but replay the twisted images of his nightmare over and over again.
It’s been over a year since the last time he’s even had one but the familiar heavy feeling settles back inside his chest like it never really left.
Irony seems like a right take on his situation–years and years spent with HYDRA having his body and mind harmed to no end, added to the many more he’s spend on the run until he was put back under and deprogrammed, to then become dust in Wakanda. He’s gone through hell and back but yet, he’s surprised to be visited by the ghosts of his past.
Over a year ago, he couldn’t care less about his nightmares.
They were his own–a sick, twisted way of coping and redeeming himself for his time with HYDRA. Sometimes if felt like a reassurance, a reminder that it was never him, never his own volition, only HYDRA. But even then, they were never like this one. It was always his victims, glimpses of bloodied places, hints of pain, blurried memories and faces that belong solely to the puppet he once was. It was never about Steve, his family, the Avengers, never about someone too close to his heart.
(Funny to see how his mind has betrayed him. Life is right there making him swallow his words once again).
Bucky can’t shake the image of your body strapped to the chair.
At first, there’s no comfort to seeing you safe and sound once he finally wakes up. It only makes him anxious, the possibility that his nightmare could eventually become a reality crushing his chest. It makes him angry, because out of all people in his life and all bullshit he’s been through, his subconscious chooses you to haunt him. It makes him painfully aware that anything can go south in his life, no matter how comfortable he feels.
But right now, Bucky’s heart can’t help but feel lighter as he watches you step into the kitchen in your baby blue pajamas and fuzzy socks, looking cozy and sleepy and just very you.
Knowing him inside and out, you silently walk over, arms reaching out around his waist and just lightly squeezing closer to  your chest. Your cheek pressed between his shoulder blades and his own hands covering your own over his stomach, Bucky easily feels like he’s safe again.
“Whatever’s going through your head right now, you know it’s not true. Right?” You mumble, voice muffled with the fabric of his t-shirt, though he can still feel the warmth of your breath and your hair tickling the nape of his neck. “Unless you’re thinking about us adopting a pet. I’m all up for that, just so you know.”
Though it’s small, an unexpected smile makes its way to Bucky’s lips. To match, his cheeks burn to a rosy tone over the mere thought of an earlier discussion–a dog or a cat, Bucky, so we can finally be a family. And now, he doesn’t voice his sudden agreement, but he’s most definitely taking you to the shelter soon in the morning.
Gently prying your hands from him, a little noise of distaste coming from you that makes him really laugh, Bucky turns around on his seat and then there’s you standing between his legs.
“So no breakfast in bed tomorrow morning then? Goddamn, doll.” He huffs, eyebrows drawn together in pretend annoyance until you’re playfully slapping his thigh. “Breakfast in bed. Got it.”
The sound of your laugh echoing through the apartment and the sweet sight you make after such a hellish hour is enough to send him reeling back to a simpler time.
Where he could enjoy a night with his best-friend, win a fight or two as a welterweight boxer, provide what he could for his family, meet a nice dame that he’d eventually give out his mother’s ring, passing on the Barnes legacy with a kid or two, or whatever else a man from his time is supposed to do. And though Bucky hadn’t let himself think of that for a long time, he can’t help but to do so with you.
His life is anything but simple but his life with you can be just that and more.
“I’m not opposed to breakfast in bed, I’ll say. Nutella pancakes.” You wink, a tender smile curling your lips as your hand reaches out to cup his jaw. Beard harsh against your palm, you brush a thumb over his lower lip. “Are you okay enough for breakfast in bed tomorrow morning?”
Lips pressing a tiny kiss to your finger, arms reaching out to your hips and forehead meeting yours as he leans closer, Bucky nods.
“Just if you’ll have me for breakfast in bed tomorrow morning.” He chuckles quietly, sighing as your hand falls to his neck, fingertips into his hair. “I’m good, baby girl. Promise.”
Life and the way it always come back to bite him in the ass and make him swallow his own words. All it takes is a tug down from your hands until your lips are meeting his and Bucky is just melting away. It’s sweet, soft, and it makes all of his worries fade just as quickly as they fogged up his mind. You feel warm, welcoming and familiar–just like home is supposed to feel like, whether if it’s now or seventy years back in the past.
“Okay then, Mr. James Barnes.” You mumble, lips still brushing over his after the broken kiss. Eyes still closed, his lips curl up in a small smile when you squeeze his neck. “Tomorrow, we’ll have breakfast in bed with nutella pancakes. And then, we’ll make it a day out to visit a few thrift stores I’ve been meaning to go. Got it?”
Thrift stores like his baby sister would drag him to and that he’d usually hate with all his might.
Though the idea doesn’t sound so bad now–it’s a hint from his past with a twist of his future that makes Bucky realize that despite of all the ghosts glooming over him, he’s still standing tall, still hopeful for the life twenty-one year old Bucky Barnes planned out.
And so, with another kiss pressed to your lips, he promises to fullfil his own wish.
“I got it.”
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artificialqueens · 7 years ago
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I'd lie and say that you were mine (Craquaria) - Otter
Hello, I’m Otter and uh, this is my first time posting here. Um, I was in a mood and decided to write this and I felt like sharing it so here it is! Just some Craquaria for you :)
Inspired by the song Lies by JANE XO
Also, if anyone does know who I am, I’d like to keep that a secret so please don’t tell anyone.
Hope you guys like this!
/ Oh it drives me mad,
You’re the best I never had /
Cracker watched from amongst the crown, hidden in plain sight, standing out while simultaneously blending in, watching as Aquaria continued to perform her heart out on stage, her face holding a look of concentration and excitement, a layer of sweat masking her face, making her glisten more than before when the light hit her face. It made her look angelic, purer than the whitest snow even.
Aquaria continued to perform, completely murdering the stage and capturing the hearts of the crowd in front of her, who collectively yet individually demanded attention from the being in front of them. A being who was worthy of all the praise in the world and so much more. A being who could be described with a countless words, words that Cracker had used so many times that she began coining phrases to describe Aquaria.
Cracker made her way backstage, draping herself across the sofa in Aquaria’s dressing room, waiting for the Italian beauty to come and grace Cracker with her presence. Cracker kept her eyes closed, losing herself in the faint sound of music that could be heard from where she was, followed by an eruption of cheers so loud, they could have drowned out an actual eruption. She hear the sound of a door opening and closing a few seconds later, followed the the sharp sound of Aquaria’s heels hitting the floor, each step sounding like it was made with a million calculations beforehand. Cracker felt a body settle on top of her, and her chin slightly being lifted by an all too familiar hand, one that was possibly cut and carved by god himself.
“Max, they loved me…” Aquaria breather, exhaustion and exhillieration both evident in her voice, placing a small kiss on Cracker’s jaw and setting her head down in the valley of Cracker’s shoulder.
‘Who wouldn’t?’ Cracker thought as she opened her eyes, letting them fall on the figure currently seated on top of her.
“You looked like a billion couldn’t afford you” Cracker murmured, causing Aquaria to lift her head, flashing a smile so bright it would have been able to blind a room full of people. Cracker returned it with a smile of her own, grasping Aquaria’s jaw softly, pulling the younger queen down towards her before their lips met in a soft but powerful kiss.
/ But I always had you through the night.
Did I go too far?
If I did then I was wrong /
Giovanni had woken up much before sunrise, letting his eyes scan over a room he had seen many times before, taking in every cut and corner for the hundredth time before he finally let his eyes fall onto the sleeping figure next to him.
Max lay there in all his glory, hair completely disheveled, lips slightly parted, his body steadily rising and falling with every breath he took, arm still firmly wrapped around Giovanni’s torso. He was at his most vulnerable and only Giovanni got to witness it. Giovanni felt himself lean into Max and he did nothing to try and stop himself.
Had it been anyone else, Giovanni would have probably got up and left a while ago, going on with his day, not giving a second thought to the previous nights incidents, but.. this was Max. Max was different, special, like a diamond amongst sand or a bird amongst dogs, and all Giovanni could do was stare. Stare at this beautiful man in front of him, not saying a word, too scared to rip through the silence.
And when the sunlight made its way through the windows, hitting Maxwell’s face in all the right areas, Giovanni swore no one could get any more beautiful. The sunlight made Max’ hair look like the finest of whiskey, his cheekbones shone and stood out and there was a perfect balance of light and shadow falling on his jawline.
Yet, the moment Max opened his eyes, Giovanni shut his, catching only a glimpse of the golden brown pools he would so desperately love to take a dip in.
“Well good morning to you too…” Max said and chuckled.
Max almost removed his arm from around Giovanni before noticing how the younger man was so contently tucked into his side, instead choosing to hold Giovanni tighter, earning a happy sigh from the younger man, his smile not going unnoticed by Max.
/ Should’ve known this happens everytime
When I thought we were just warming up you were turning so cold /
Max barely bothered getting ready tonight. Why would he? He choose to show up at the club in an old sweatshirt and a pair of baggy pants. Why should he make the effort? The pain of eyes that once searched the crowd just for him now avoided his face like the plague, numbers that were performed solely for him were now scrapped from performances entirely.
Max hadn’t slept in days, dark circles beginning to reside under his eyes and a growing beard made it completely evident. His attitude becoming increasingly lethargic and the personality was withering away, bit by bit, like a dandelion in the wind. All he could think about was Aquaria and Giovanni. Giovanni and Aquaria.
The one person who made these nights, these shows worthwhile. The one person who could turn bad days around with so much as a smile, making his entire day worth it when he caught so much as a glimpse of her. Aquaria and Giovanni
The one person he confided in, trusted, opened up to. The one person that knew every inch of his body and personality, the story behind every knick, scar and bad memory. The one person who he would call on sleepless nights, when he let his mind fill up with the darkest of thoughts. Giovanni and Aquaria.
And when they did finally make eye contact, all Max could read was a split second of pain and regret before they vanished, leaving Aquaria’s eyes stone cold again.
/ If I think I’m in love,
I’m the only one who’ll ever know /
8 months. 32 Weeks. 224 Days. 5376 Hours. Yet Giovanni kept refreshing his screen. His purpose? He wasn’t sure, he was waiting for the reply he knew would never come but the reply he so badly wanted. A drunk text, an accidental text, hell, even a text from Max saying how much he loathed Giovanni would has satisfied his urges and maybe even calmed his mind down a bit. But nothing ever showed up apart from the message that begun to haunt his life. The message that ended years worth of friendship. The message that ended one of the best relationships Giovanni ever had, and he besmirched it all with one text. Miz Cracker and Maxwell. Maxwell and Miz Cracker.
‘ I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore, we can’t see each other. This whole age gap thing isn’t working and it just feels weird because people are starting to talk about it. We can’t continue, I’m sorry… ’
He read it once, twice, everyday from the day he sent it, and he broke on the inside every time he read it. He wanted to fix it, oh, he desperately wanted to fix it and if he could go back in time, he never would have sent the message at all. All he could think about was how much pain he must have cause to the one person he really, truly loved. Miz Cracker and Maxwell.
Giovanni wanted something to happen, something to get the back to the way they were before, all smiles and laughs. He was willing to do anything. Willing. Would he ever actually give in? This was the only question he didn’t have the answer to because where will plays a role, ego completely overpowers it. All he knew was he wanted Maxwell to come back. Maxwell and Miz Cracker.
/ Well maybe it was in my mind,
And if I ever told a lie,
I’d lie and say that you were mine /
Aquaria and Miz Cracker. Two names that flew off the tongue like birds of a feather now rolled off like spikes form the porcupine. Two names that once held love now held spite and vengeance.
Miz Cracker and Aquaria. Two names that were always seen together on any poster for any event now barely even wanted to be associated with each other, like two outcasted lions of a pride.
Max and Giovanni. Two people who were inseparable, joined at the hip as others would say, rarely being seen without each others company, now completely stayed away from each other as if they would suffer an allergic reaction if they got too close.
Giovanni and Max. Two people who told each other everything, from stupid mistakes, their darkest secrets and deepest desires, countless nights spent where one would take care of the other all vanished, like a cloud of smoke.
These were two people who loved each other, so much so that they broke each other. Two people who’s burning passion for each other burned them out on the inside. Two people who experienced the world with each other like they had never before… and they would give anything up to do it again.
/ Yeah you started this,
Took me down and I gave in /
Aquaria kept look over at the mirror, stealing glances of Miz Cracker whenever she could. The two hadn’t seen each other in almost a year and Aquaria found Cracker’s presence to be inviting yet overwhelming at the same time and she hated it. She hated that she felt this way around someone she loved. She hated that she couldn’t even bring herself to turn towards Miz Cracker. She hated that she was the one that made it this way.
“That wig doesn’t suit you girl…” Aquaria said, letting out a dry chuckle, hoping to lighten the air a bit.
“It doesn’t, doesn’t it?” Cracker replied softly, looking into the mirror and then at her feet.
“You’re losing your touch, maybe you should find another job…” Aquaria replied quickly, barely registering what Cracker had said.
“You’re probably right, I don’t know what I’m trying to achieve here…” Cracker said, starting to take her wig off, still not looking up, choosing to focus on the ground instead.
“Yeah- Wait what?”
“I said you’re right. I can’t even do my own job properly. I can’t style my wigs like I used to, my performances are lacklustre, my makeup isnt even mine anymore apparently. I don’t even know what I’m still trying to achieve. I mean, people are obviously tired of me, I don’t know why I still try, I’m just not good enough!.”
“Max, you’re good enough-”
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Gio,” Cracker spat, making Aquaria wince, “If I was, why would you suddenly leave? Because I wasn’t good enough for you, right? Was I really that bad? Was it really that bad to be associated with me? What was it, because clearly something about me wasn’t good enough for you if you choose to end it, because ‘people talked about us.’ Nothing I do is ever good enough for anyone anymore, not even myself!”
Aquaria just sat there shocked, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. What Cracker just said had hit her hard, but nothing as hard as the last line, and the next thing she knew, she had engulfed the smaller queen in her arms. Miz Cracker was silently crying, staining Aquaria’s shirt, but her shirt was the least of her worries at the moment. Aquaria looked at the trembling figure in her arms as if Cracker could change the alignment of the planets at will, as if the being in her arms had single handedly created the universe as they knew it, and she began rubbing soothing circles into Cracker’s back, whispering strings of ‘You’re always good enough’ into her ear until Cracker eventually fell asleep, Aquaria still holding her like her life depended on it.
The two missed their performances and appearances, only being found by club staff at the end of the night, and neither of them could have been happier.
/ Said it’s over now you’re all over me /
Max lay across the sofa, Giovanni sprawled on top of him, with a blanket draped over them. Giovanni’s head lay on Maxwell’s chest and his arms were clasped around the older man’s torso. Max ran his fingers through Giovanni’s hair with one hand, the other drawing various patterns on Giovanni’s back, as the two continued to lie there in a comfortable silence, reruns of FRIENDS playing softly in the background.
They shifted only once so that Max was sat upright with Giovanni sitting against him, the younger man’s back to Maxwell’s chest. Max began humming, small vibrations travelling through his body, making Giovanni lean into his touch even more, as if Max was a drug and Giovanni couldn’t help but get addicted. Max snaked his arms around Giovanni, protectively holding him and looking at him as if he single handedly put all the stars in the sky.
“You know Gio,” Max started to say, earning a small hum from Giovanni, “If I ever told a lie, I’d lie and say that you were mine.”
“Doesn’t have to be a lie…”
“No?” Max said, looking down at Giovanni who was looking back at him with soft eyes.
“No.” Giovanni replied, leaning forward and sealing their conversation with a kiss.
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greyias · 7 years ago
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“if anything happened to you…” Theron/Grey
Umm… this got angsty… like whoa. I’m, uh, sorry Nonnie? I probably owe you some fluff after this. (Also not going to lie, this piece of art by @meonlyred​ was the image in the back of my mind while writing this.)
Set Post-Copero. Theron’s trying to keep it together, but the cracks are starting to show. Please be warned this is a bit dark, as I don’t think our boy is in a good place right now.
The days are long, but the nights even longer.
Sleep is elusive. When it’s not chased away by visions of the galaxy being devoured in flames, it seems to be pushed aside by the nightmarish memories of late. Sometimes it’s the faces of the lost souls damned by recent events, other times it’s just one shattered face that won’t let him rest. Tonight it’s somehow all of the above.
Theron sits up in bed, one hand scrubbing across his face as reality chases away the last remnants of his dream. He lets the soft hum of hyperspace travel drown out the words echoing in his skull, lets the darkness dampen out the too bright image of her face being consumed by flames.
“If anything happened to you…”
Except it already had. In his dreams it always does. Even the ones that start out pleasant somehow go off the rails quickly. Like his subconscious doesn’t believe he’s allowed them anymore. It’s possible he doesn’t. His usual cure for insomnia is meditation, but he can’t risk performing those techniques in case someone’s watching. Can’t look like he’s trying to hold on to any piece of the past he’s made a spectacle of swearing off. He’s tried to adapt some of the mental exercises to lying down in bed, but his results are mixed at best. Some nights he’s so exhausted he falls into a dead, dreamless sleep — but he never wakes feeling rested.
Theron has been undercover before. And for far longer stretches than this has dragged on — but he knows this time is different. Knew it before he ever set foot on that damn train. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to play the part he’s chosen, or how to act to expectations, but the constant and unending scrutiny is starting to wear at him. One wrong move and it’s all over — that kind of thing used to give him a thrill back in the SIS. Now it just fills him with a cold dread.
There’s no safety net here, no one coming to his rescue if he screws up. He is completely and utterly alone by his own design. He always used to work best that way, fly by the seat of his pants to get the job done and probably get yelled at by Marcus once he got home. There’s no boss waiting to yell at him, and there’s no home for him to return to. He left Odessen behind with nothing but the clothes on his back — and now he doesn’t even have those.
Sometimes he doesn’t feel like he has anything left.
Nothing but the mask he slips into place every morning before he walks into this den of serpents he’s embedded himself into, as he listens to every poisoned word that’s formed by their forked tongues. He fits right in.
Theron hates this character he’s playing with a passion, the jaded traitor looking to end it all — but every time it starts to chafe, when he wants to plant his fist into the nearest cultist face, or he starts to falter as their requests chip off another piece of his soul, he closes his eyes and he’s reminded why he has to keep the mask in place.
In his mind eye, she’s always the first thing he sees. She’s wearing that last smile she graced him with, the one on Odessen as they’d shared their last kiss. That was the image he’d forced himself to burn into the back of his mind. Not the shattered look he’d left her with on Umbara, although that one visits him often enough in his dreams. But he has to hold on to some semblance of perfection, some reminder of why it’s important for him to not slip up. Something beyond the wider, dire galactic repercussions. Something personal and dear to him. It may be selfish, but at this point what does that even matter? One happy little memory, a cherished thought at the back of his mind to keep him going is all the momento he has. Too risky to bring anything else with him to contradict his cover story, even if sometimes he wishes he had something physical to hold onto during his weaker moments such as this. When he keenly feels the absence of the warm body he’s grown accustomed to sleeping next to. That he knows he’ll likely never feel again. 
He’s seen the way some in the Alliance still look at Arcann. Theron’s not sure if his fake crimes outweigh those of the former emperor or not, but forgiveness is not in everyone’s repertoire. Not everyone has the seemingly endless patience and open heart as his Jedi.
However, he doesn’t expect her to be waiting for him at the end of this — a large part of him doesn’t really expect to survive long enough for that to even be an issue. He just needs to get the Alliance the intel they need to snuff out this conspiracy, root out the whatever moles have infiltrated their ranks. At some point, everyone’s luck runs out, and Theron’s pretty sure he used up all his chances ages ago. And probably a few other people’s as well. But… as long as she makes it through, and one day flashes that smile he loves again, even if it’s never for him, then maybe everything will have been worth it.
One of them deserves a happy ending.
She of all people does, after everything she’s been through. More than anyone else he knows. He’d been a fool to think that somehow he’d get to share in hers. After Haashimuut, it had been clear that life would never go according to his plans, so there had been little point in making any beyond the moment. Dreams were just that, it was always better to focus on reality and the problem at hand. He’d never been destined to have a normal life — and every time he catches glimpse of one it’s immediately snatched away.
There was a moment after Yavin where he’d forgotten this, but then there had been Ziost to remind him. Then after Ziost there had been Zakuul. Then there had been five hellish years where that lesson should have finally sunk in. Should have stuck when Valkorion haunted every early step of their relationship. Should have known that after they’d finally defeated Vaylin that their near domestic bliss had been too good to last. Worse, he’d let it distract him from the clever web being weaved around them all until it was too late.
He had been blind before, but Theron knows now. Nothing in his life will ever be permanent. No matter how hard he tries to hold on, it will always be snatched away from him — whether by his own stupidity, or by darker forces trying to make their mark on the galaxy.
But they will not make their mark upon her.
Those bastards might have set this entire chain of events into motion — but Theron will not let them finish it. His progress with them is slow despite everything he’s done to ingratiate himself to them. Sometimes he wonders if they really believe any of the lies he’s fed them, or if they’re just using and baiting him along as much as he is with them. It feels like they’re about to move into the final act of this prelude to galactic annihilation, and Theron has yet to see the whole picture — but he’s seen enough. If he could only verify all the players in this little production, then he could identify the true puppet master pulling all the strings. Then he could cut this serpent off at the head.
Not for the first time he wonders if Lana has been able to put the clues together he’d left behind on Copero. A thread of doubt weaves its way in. Theron had pulled enough sabotage on behalf of the Republic. He knows how to make damage look convincing but still leave enough viable data behind. He’d designed the charge he’d used on the map himself, but there were so many variables, if he had miscalculated…
Valss’s vision surfaces in Theron’s mind and he allows himself the shudder, fairly certain it won’t be noticed in the dark. The Alliance needs those coordinates, needs to finally confront and dismantle the Order of Zildrog. Stop them before they can use that weapon. Perhaps he should have found a way to make a copy of the data, even with the eyes of the Order watching. But he’d already risked enough letting that transmission get intercepted so they’d know who was behind this. He tries to have faith in Lana, faith in her endless tenacity and quest for the truth to put the pieces of the puzzle together.
He’s already trying to come up with a backup plan, figure out a way to draft a communication with the coordinates to the planet — and make sure it arrives to its intended recipients. Every one so far has him going down in a blaze of glory as he holds off the Order — something he’s trying to save as a last resort. They still have to search the planet for the hidden vault. There’s still time for the good guys to catch up and put a stop to this madness. Time for the legendary Outlander to pull off the impossible like she always does. He just has to give her the chance to shine.
Somehow the dimness of the morning brings clarity he needs after another sleepless night. There’s no coming back from this, and the dark path stretching out before him is the only one he can tread. He never wanted to walk this road, he still doesn’t, but he’s burned the bridge leading back home. It’s too dark here for the light he loves so much to flourish, and he refuses to let it extinguish her flame. He’d promised to do anything to protect her, and despite what it may look like to the outside observer, he doesn’t break his promises to her.
So, wearily, he fixes his mask back into place, and walks back into the den of serpents.
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jackoftradesmakescontent · 7 years ago
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The Seven Friendly Sins Chapter 2
The sun rose on the horizon and Richard went through his morning ablutions. The first day of work. He knew he would be in rough shape for the day, so he packed plenty of energizing snacks and bucketloads of coffee and water.
With himself and his cat fed and watered for the day, Richard made to leave the house. Of course, Jade objected to her human abandoning her for more than a few hours. With his hand on the door and the cat sulking somewhere, Richard paused. He turned back into the house and called out.
“Hey! Be nice to Jade while I’m gone, alright?”
And then he was gone.
The drive to work passed in a haze of music, coffee, and asphalt. He was introduced to his coworkers, a theatre troupe’s technical support, and led on a tour. It was familiar enough that he was able to get the gist of what he needed even through the fog in his sleep deprived mind.
Before he could start the actual work of assembling the set for the theater’s upcoming play, his boss pulled him aside.
“Hey, just wanted to make sure you’re good today.” The scruffy man, Vincent his mind supplied, looked worried. “You look a bit rough.”
Richard waved him off. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
Vincent looked unconvinced, but let Richard go to work anyway. He was given easy, menial tasks, both as a first day hazing and no doubt due to the dark bags under his eyes. Counting and sorting screws and bolts by length and width, playing Tetris with the various hand and power tools to make them all fit snugly in their drawers, and similar tedious jobs that no one liked to do. Still, Richard felt that he had acquitted himself well for the circumstances. He bid the others goodbye as his shift ended. The drive home was identical to the drive to work, but in the opposite direction.
Jade, of course, greeted Richard at the door with an indignant yowl demanding attention. He crouched down to scratch the jet black cat behind her ears.
“Hey. Those nice ghosts keep you company while I was gone?” Jade purred under his ministrations.
“Yes we did.”
Richard swore, startled, and scrambled to stand. He darted his eyes back and forth, but there was nobody else in the hall with him. The voice had been a quiet murmur, but seemed to have been said right into his ear. He shook his head, pounding heart slowly returning to its usual beat.
“Well… Thanks.”
There was no response save Jade winding her way between Richard’s legs. He sighed, rubbing his face, and carefully walked his way into the kitchen, mindful of his cat underfoot.
Richard engaged in one of his more productive methods of stress relief: Baking. Before the day was out, there was a loaf of banana bread cooling on the counter, a rack of cookies stuffed full of chocolate, and a stack of fruit-filled pancakes getting buttered.
“Breakfast for dinner. Heh. Dad’d love to hear how I take after him.”
At the thought of his father, Richard caved in to the nostalgia and quickly fried up a few eggs to sandwich between the pancakes.
“There we go. Dad sandwich. Now where’d I put the syrup…” Richard began searching through his cupboards until he heard a scraping sound on the countertop. He saw the syrup bottle slide to a stop next to his plate of food. “Woah. Thanks. Man, who’d have thunk being haunted would be so nice?”
The only answer was the sound of furniture being upturned in the other room. Richard disregarded the crashes and thumps and tucked into his food. It was gone in an alarmingly short amount of time. He could feel a presence staring at him while he washed the dishes he had made. It was already late, and so, lulled by a stomach heavy with food and an arm full of purring cat, Richard fell asleep quickly.
The next day of work was much smoother. Rested and well fed, Richard was given more arduous tasks, which he accomplished with little fanfare. It was only when Richard was told to haul a toilet from one place to another that anyone commented on his work.
“You sure you’ve got that?” A short, blonde haired man asked. Richard racked his mind until it recalled his name: Cameron.
“Yeah, I’m good.” Richard grunted, hefting the full porcelain throne onto his shoulder.
“Don’t need a hand?”
“Nope. I’ve got it.” Richard began trotting to the place that the toilet was designated for.
“Man.” Cameron sighed. “You’re tougher than I thought. Where do you hide all that muscle?”
Richard shrugged, jostling the toilet enough that he had to stop and resettle it before moving on. “Under all the meat and cheese. I care more about food than I do about my figure. Plus, I’ve got a lot of leverage to throw around.”
“Fair enough, fair enough.”
They reached the platform that the toilet was to be bolted to and Richard set it down where he was directed. Cameron went to work setting the anchors while Richard moved on to the next job. The rest of the day was similar, Richard single handedly hefting eight foot tall panels of wood from one place to another, or helping to move heavy flooring to where it needed to go.
Richard’s muscles were sore when he got home that night, but it was a good ache. The burn of a day well spent. He was grateful for the food he had prepared yesterday to tide him over, even if was just bread.
Even still, tired from work and sated from dinner, Richard found that sleep would not take him. He shifted and turned as much as he could with one arm pinned beneath Jade. Finally, thinking that night would be another sleepless one, Richard made to extract his arm from his cat. However, Jade was being stubborn, and staunchly refused to let up her cushion.
Richard was making to pull Jade off of his arm, but he felt a breeze tousle his hair. Something whispered in his ear, and finally Richard felt his eyes droop under the weight of sleep. He lay himself back down and was vaguely aware of the sensation of fingers running through his hair, and judging by Jade’s purring she was experiencing something similar. The rest of the night passed in sleep.
Richard absolutely did not want to get up in the morning. The blankets weighed heavy on his limbs and he felt as though the mattress was swallowing him up in its soft embrace. However, Jade insisted that she needed to be fed, and so Richard dragged himself from the confines of his bed. The blankets clung to him as far as they could stretch before falling limp onto the floor.
Through the haze of restless sleep, Richard began preparing his breakfast after giving Jade her own. He was chopping an apple, paying little attention to the action and letting muscle memory perform the task for him. This lack of oversight lead to Richard nicking one of his fingers with the knife. It took a few moments for Richard to process this while he continued to chop the apple, but his attention was drawn to it when the knife was yanked out of his hand.
Richard’s head snapped to follow the knife as it went whizzing through the air. “Hey!” The bloodied blade was spinning and bending, dancing in the kitchen. “Hey hey hey hey hey!” Richard grabbed the cutting board, scattering the apple slices, and started swatting at the knife while it tried to shake itself apart.
Eventually Richard walloped the knife hard enough to slam it into the floor. He quickly pinned it underneath the cutting board with his own prodigious body weight. It was still struggling to free itself. “Quit it! Are you trying to kill someone?” The knife gave an extra violent tug, but Richard had it well trapped. “Keep this up and I’m grabbing Jade and going to fetch Miriam, you got me?”
The knife finally stilled. Warily, Richard slipped his hand under the cutting board and gripped the handle. When it didn’t resist, he pulled the utensil out and put it and the board on the counter.
“You fuckers try this shit around Jade and I exorcise this house. I don’t care if you try to pull something on me, but I will make sure you all suffer if you so much as pull a whisker off of my cat.”
The whole house gave a shudder, then fell still.
Sighing, Richard turned back to where he left his apple only to find a blood smeared mess. He checked his finger and only then began to feel the throbbing of the cut along the breadth of his pointer finger, sheeting blood over his hand. He surveyed the room and realized that in his wild swinging at the flying knife, he had flung droplets of his vital fluid all over the kitchen.
Richard dialed his boss and held the phone against his ear with his shoulder while he washed and bandaged his hand.
“Hey Vince, I’m gonna be late today. Had a bit of an accident and I gotta clean it up. Nah, I’m fine, but it made a mess that’s only gonna get harder to clean if I leave it. Alright. Yeah, see you in a bit.”
It took the better part of an hour and most of a roll of paper towels before Richard deemed the kitchen clear of blood spatters, though the walls, counters, and floor bore numerous nicks and scratches from where the knife glanced off of them. He had bandaged his finger and went to work, which was made a bit aggravating from the sensitive appendage, but he worked through it, going late to make up for his tardiness.
On the way home he visited a nearby restaurant supply store and bought garlic, sage, purified salt, and pure silver tableware. He made sure to leave them in his car so that the ghosts in the house could not get to them.
The view when he entered his house was downright childish.
A giant 6 6 6 was drawn in what looked and smelled like blood on the kitchen wall.
Richard sighed, flipped out his personal knife, and slashed across his palm. With the welling blood, the owner of the house improved the smudges on the wall.
It now read 69 69 69.
If the ghosts in the house were going to be childish, Richard was glad to reciprocate. Though cutting his palm was, perhaps, a tad impulsive.
“Today really hates my hand, doesn’t it?” Richard muttered to himself as he bandaged his hand. His first aid kit was in a bathroom, and upon returning to the kitchen, there was a new addition to the blood stained wall. It was also written in blood, but in a much more angular and graceful handwriting.
‘Nice’ the note read.
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maryseesthings · 8 years ago
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Across the Universe
A/N: Sooo, I’ve read so many imagines and fan fics here, and I wanted to try and write my own. I really hope you liked it, and if you have any suggestions or comments they are very welcome. Btw, I also wanted to say sorry if there is any typo or if the sentences/words are hard to understand. I don’t fully speak English (im like 70% fluent in English) but I tried my best. 
You were so nervous, that you thought you were going to faint. You approach the stage to see better, and see your parents, sisters and brothers in the front row, even your best friend David, and you were surprised by the fact that he could come, you wanted him to come but didn’t know how likely it was since he was very busy with his performances with the Royal Ballet, but, of all the familiar faces that were there, you didn’t see one of the ones you most wanted: the face of your boyfriend for 4 years, Tom Holland. You couldn’t help feeling sad, your relationship was not at its best. Both of you had been very busy with their respective careers. And it was not something that bothered you, on the contrary, you understood it, and you liked it. You liked that Tom knew that if you didn’t answer a call or a message immediately was because you were probably busy with your research, after all, being a woman and studying chemical engineering isn’t easy, you had to make a double effort than your fellow men to demonstrate to your teachers that you were equal - or more - intelligent than them. And all that effort was worth, was giving its results. After all those sleepless nights, working on your graduation thesis, you finally succeeded. And, not only did you finish it, but something happened that you never imagined. The National Science Foundation is about to award you a recognition thanks to your discovery in the area of Environmental Research & Education. All these months of study resulted in the discovery of an enzyme in the seeds of Tamarind Tree that serve to produce biodegradable plastic, and its cost of production is a half of the costs of production of the plastic that is used at the moment worldwide. As a child you always dreamed of changing the world, and now you were doing it, however your significant other was not there to see you live an unforgettable moment, something that surely you will tell your children and grandchildren about, although, now you weren’t sure if those children and grandchildren were going to be yours and Tom’s. Before your thoughts went to places where you didn’t wanted to go, you listened to the master of ceremonies, the event was about to begin. Not only you were going to be awarded, there were also other young engineers who were to be awarded -but not other women, just you- , and in the event there were very important people, vice presidents, governors, ministers, councilors, and other figures of great weight. This could open you hundreds of opportunities. The event ended, it lasted a little - or, rather, a lot more - than you thought would last, but you couldn’t complain either. Your speech was cheered by all the people in the room, yes, all, there wasn’t a single one who didn’t applaud you standing. That filled you with pride, and you couldn’t keep the tears of happiness from falling down your cheeks. You stayed at least an hour after the event ended talking to different people, there were even a couple of job offers and invitations to international events, they wanted you to talk about the research process, what motivated you to study engineering and especially to make a thesis on a subject of which practically nothing was known. After that you went to have dinner with your family, nothing like celebrating with people who love and support you … well, with almost all of them. When you got to your apartment it was late, isn’t like there was something wrong, you didn’t have to work the next day, and after all those months of unveiling, you deserved a little rest. You looked at your phone, it didn’t stop ringing, it all seemed to be Twitter notifications, you unlocked your phone and went to open the app, it took a couple of minutes to scroll over the tweets to see the source of all that spam … and what you saw wasn’t nice. Photos of Tom with a blonde girl, they were too close and seemed too friendly, you didn’t knew who she was, you had never seen her, “is it possible?”, you thought, “no, Tom would never do that to me”, “that must be old photos that until now got leaked ”. You entered Snapchat and saw that Tom had uploaded some stories, he was partying. Tom missed one of the most important moments of your life, for partying, and besides, he was with a girl. Tears began to roll down your cheeks again, but these weren’t full of happiness and pride like the ones of  hours before, these were full of anger and sadness. Four years of having a relationship and ten years of knowing each other, and everything was gone. He had thrown all that away. It’s been a week since that bittersweet day,  and it’s definitely a day you will not forget. Tom has tried to communicate with you in every possible way, he have called you at all times, sent you messages, even to your best friend and your family, well, the boy could be insistent. You were not going to lie, that week you had a few moments of weakness, in which you almost call him and tell him how much you loved him and that you were willing to forgive him, but those moments were very short. Thanks to Princess Leia you had to travel to Singapore in a few days so you spent most of your time planning everything.
David POV
Back to London, although I have to admit that Y/N almost had to get me kicked out of the house and get on the plane, all because I didn’t want to leave her alone, I knew how bad she is, I knew how bad had left her what that project-of-man done to her, but still Y/N knew how important this month’s presentation was for my career and didn’t want me to miss it. Typical of Y/N, putting the good of others before hers. I was walking quietly when I see the outline of someone who I didn’t want to bump into me, the famous Tom Holland, no more, no less. It took all my strength not to grind it to blows, besides that would probably also bring me problems and a millionaire demand, and no, he isn’t worth it. I kept walking when I heard his irritating voice. “Hey, mate” did he just call me mate? I’M NOT HIS MATE, at this point I could feel the heat go through my veins, I kept walking as if I had not heard him, but he grabbed my arm and made me turn to look at him. “Hey, David, I know you don’t want to see me, in fact I think I’m the last person you want to see right now, since Y/N doesn’t want to see me either, and I don’t blame her …” I could see the guilt in his eyes, in addition to the bags of dark circles under them, for the love of Castiel, this boy was a mess, for a second I felt sorry for him, until the memories of Y/N crying at 2am watching their old photos and wondering why came to my mind and again I was overwhelmed with anger. “Y/N doesn’t answer my calls, nor my messages. I have tried to communicate with his parents, even his brothers and all seem to avoid me” “Yes, well, it turns out that you stopped being in our Christmas list” I said in a sarcastic tone as I rolled my eyes, this could not be happening to me, I turned my foot to start leaving but Tom stopped me again, this guy doesn’t know when to give up. “How is Y/N?” “Very good actually, but no thanks to you, besides with the whole Singapore thing she has been very busy and almost had no time to think about what you did to her” I lied, I was not going to let this fool know how bad is Y/N, first dead, “well, I do not plan to continue wasting my time with you, it was a disgust to see you and I will pray that we will not meet again” and then I just turn around and keep walking.
Tom POV
What? It is true what David just say to me? Y/N is going to go to Singapore, God, no, I can’t let her go without fixing things, at least she has to listen to me, I will not stand the idea that the person I love most hates me for the rest of her life, just not, I have to do something, I will do something to show you Y /N much I love her.
To be continued…
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future-rp · 6 years ago
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static’s lead vocal & center yohan
verve creative; music 12 vocal / 01 rap / 07 dance
i. if they ask about your childhood,
you tell them that it was fun, that you grew up with mrs lee next door always pinching your cheeks and cooing about how handsome you were, how she’d always give you a lollipop when mom wasn’t looking and said you’d look even more gorgeous. you tell them about how half of the boys wanted to hang out with you because half of the girls also wanted to hang out with you. you don’t tell them about the other half that didn’t like you because they were jealous (boys) or because they were too shy to interact with you (girls).
you also don’t tell them about your parents fighting, about your habit of taking long baths because then you could muffle the noises of their arguments under the water. you don’t tell them about the nights that your mom cries herself to sleep when she thinks you aren’t listening or your dad spending the night on the couch when he thinks that he won’t get caught by his son.
you tell them about this one funny time when you were six that a man in a suit approaches you and your mom when you’re shopping and offers a smile along with a business card and a spot in a cf for milk or something like that. you tell them about your mom being suspicious and politely refusing the offer.
ii. if they ask about your parents,
you tell them they’re fine. they got a divorce when you were about ten and they’re friendly enough now. you tell them about how dad found a new girlfriend and your mom a new husband, they’re happier now and you’re happy for them. you tell them about the little sister you got from your dad and the little brother you got from your mom.
you also tell them about your summer vacations with dad and he had this strange phase of fishing and you two ended up visiting lots of fishing sites but to this day you can’t fish to save your life. or how your mom enrolled you in this binding course with her along with her husband (your younger brother being too young to join too but he does end up learning later on) because she got recommended by a friend and she thought it’d be great family bonding time. you tell them there’s a tradition now to give each other handmade notebooks in birthdays or at least one special occasion.
you can add that you gave one for each member of static because you think they’re family too.
iii. if they ask you about the journals that has been spotted with you more than once,
you tell them that your parents were worried because you were taking their divorce a little too well, that they were afraid you were bottling things in for their own sake so they ask for some advice for you mom’s friend who is a psychologist specialized in children and she recommends that you write down feelings that for some reason or another you don’t express it out loud.
it started as an experiment, a little thing to do when he was bored to a habit that you can’t shrug off. you don’t need to tell them that you keep every journal you ever written to this day, even the first one with his childish handwriting and as silly thoughts and doodles here and there. you tell them they’re extremely personal and you don’t think you’d ever show them to anyone and if you do, it’s because they’re very special. he doesn’t think he’d be comfortable even with his members reading what is in there.
you don’t tell them about the lyrics in there, written by sudden inspiration or even born from moments of boredom, most of them being done when you started putting your feelings in form of lyrics instead of simple text, when you gave your personal thoughts the form of poetry that only lacks a melody to become a song. you don’t tell them because you know they’re going to ask to see it and that’s a part of you that you aren’t ready to share (yet).
iv. if they ask you about singing and your scouting,
you tell them you’ve always sung in a way. you tell them the apparently funny story about how you used to sing even when you were as young as six to your parents and they’d sing the poporo theme with you. you don’t tell them it was one of your many tactics to make them stop fighting. you tell them that you’ve always enjoyed singing but it took you joining the music club during middle school, the teacher responsible for the club recommended that you took actual singing classes because you had a lot of potential to take it as more than just a hobby you enjoy.
you tell them about the school festival from when you were fifteen, about the performance with an one last minute formed band and how a man in a suit came to you with a business card and the offer of an audition if you ever were interested. you’ve always liked singing, but until that moment you always thought that it was a dream too far away and since you were offered a chance you wouldn’t let it go.
v. if they ask you about your training,
you tell them it’s hard, harder than you thought even if you had this classmate who started her own training a couple of months before you and she shared some stories, you could see how training was doing its damage on her. there were a lot of tears, blood and sweat involved. you tell them about how you thought about giving up more than once but the you remembered about why you were, about the adrenaline of being on a stage, the proud look on your family face when you told them about your hardwork, about the promise of being a great singer someday, the amazed look on your younger siblings because they’d have a big brother who was a star and every shed tear, every sneaker he ruined, every sore muscle, every tutoring that he left with a sore throat was worth it.
you don’t tell them that sometimes you missed home so much it hurt even if you didn’t live that far away from the company to begin with.
you don’t tell them about how much you love your job but hates the industry. about how you think it’s unfair that they’re both taught about how they should bond with other trainees because the members of a group being united and well bonded with each other makes a whole lot of difference but at the same time they’re stimulated to be competitive, to step on others to get to the top because there are only so much spots to debut and too many trainees to fill them.
you don’t tell them that you’d never wish this career for anyone you love like your youngest siblings. no, you smile and tell them about how much you worked hard and how much it’s paying off now.
vii. if they ask you about your debut,
you tell them it felt like a dream, that it actually took a while to believe that it was actually happening. you tell them it’s funny because even when you were put into a dorm with four other boys that were introduced as your teammates, that you spend hours and more hours practicing the choreography and recording their mini album, it still felt like you were still training without a debut to look forward to in the near future.
you tell them about how your mom cried on the phone telling you about how she saw you on the stage, that your father didn’t but he sounded happy saying that everyone was proud of him. you tell them about your excited siblings and how you promised them to be famous enough to ask for their favorite’s autograph without it being awkward — or more like they don’t have to wait for long because you’ve always been a little shameless.
you tell them it’s stressful but don’t talk about the sleepless nights going over the choreography again and again, how it took you a three or four times to get your first line right during the record of the mini album because you were that nervous, about the weight of the company name’s in your back, of the expectation of being the first boy group after a long while, of people looking at them and not knowing whether they’d be able to achieve those expectations.
you don’t tell them that you felt like static would flop before they even got a chance to shine and a good part of the fault would be on your shoulders because your mind goes to dark places sometimes.
viii. if they ask if you’re happy,
you tell them yes. the idol career might not be as you once idolized (nothing in life really is, isn’t it?), but you’re still allowed to do what you love that is singing with the company of amazing people that are your members. you tell them that you feel honored to share the stage with sunbaenims that you hope to be as good as someday.
you don’t tell them that you still miss home, that there are some things that happen behind the scenes that you don’t agree with, that there are days that you feel the exhaustion in your bones and wonders if this is really worth it.
no, you smile and tell them that this is what you’ve always dreamed to do and hope that can continue working hard until the day you can’t step on a stage anymore.
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Star Material Part 1
A woman stood there in the frigid air waiting to be admitted into the crowded club by the bouncer who was reminiscent of every Russian hitman in every movie ever. She strode up confidently in her emerald dress and showed her I.D, he took the card from her fingers in his hands covered in scars but he barely looked at it. Instead his eyes scanned her cleavage that was shown in her dress and she made a mental note to keep the dress if she ever needed something else to draw a simpleton’s attention to unimportant features. He gave her a nod and she smiled at him and stalked past him into the heat of the club.
She decided to get a drink and bide her time. She looked out over the crowd as she told the flamboyantly gay bartender to get her a gin and tonic. He slid her drink across to her and the cool glass touched her fingers. She could feel her heartbeat starting to quicken and reminded herself to keep her composure, this was her debut she could not lose herself to nerves. She took a swig of her gin and savoured the warmth on her throat and felt her shoulders release as tension left her body and she embraced the balmy feeling spreading through her. She finished her first and ordered another. Thinking that she could ride out the buzz that would come from them.
She was scanning the crowd looking for a face she knew she’d find. It didn’t take long at all. Her target slithered into her peripheral vision. Tall, dark haired and stunning although she was not put together to her usual standard which could be an attempt to blend in or laziness but she seriously doubted that it was the latter. She finished her gin and tonic and then walked out into the crowd never losing sight of her target but snaking her way through the dancing bodies and feigning enjoyment as her body met others. She found herself behind the woman she was so focused on. She studied the way she moved, the cautious nature of her body.
“Nice job dressing yourself down but you are still the most striking woman in this place.” She whispered in her target’s ear. The woman turned around looking shocked, her mouth gaping.            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, her face was believable save for her eyes. “Oh please, you’re Adrianna Solano. Anybody with half a brain could recognise you a mile away.”     “Look, we just come here so we can avoid getting hit on by creepy guys. It’s a lot safer.” The woman’s mouth twitched and broke out into a smile. “Sure, I come to the gay club because it’s a lot safer too. I guess you don’t want to dance then.” She turned and went to walk away. “Hey! Wait! You can dance with another girl without being gay right?” Adrianna was looking at her with a face that betrayed what she really was and she was a little amused at the vulnerability. “I’m sure you can dance with another woman without being gay. We’re just a couple of girls out at a gay club to avoid groping, dangerous men.” She said as she took Adrianna’s hand.
A half hour passed and she had started to make her move. She had moved her hands from Adrianna’s to her shoulder down to her hips, gripping them tight as they swayed to the music. Adrianna relaxed against her body and hands as she breathed into her ear and kissed her neck. Her fingernails grazed her thighs and scratched along the soft skin. Adrianna shuddered underneath them and she felt a deep satisfaction with her amount of control and how this stupid slut was putty in her hands. “Follow me.” She pulled Adrianna and she didn’t resist. She pulled her into the bathroom and suddenly they were in a stall completely alone, the bathroom a stark and barren contrast to the club that seemed to have a life force of its own.
They stood across from each other and Adrianna considered the woman she found herself so attracted too. The red tousled hair and the hazel eyes that burned into her with intensity she couldn’t describe, the emerald green dress that enveloped a petite frame, her long legs. Perhaps she was a dancer. She was drawn back to her eyes, they seemed animalistic, almost angry but that just drove Adrianna to reach out to touch her.
Adrianna reached out to touch her and she grabbed her hand hard and held it firm. “You are not allowed to touch me, I am in control and you will do what I say.” She saw a flash of excitement in Adrianna’s eyes and watched her unconsciously bite her lip. “Turn around.” Adrianna turned and she could hear the audible change in her breathing. “Put your hands behind your back.” Adrianna obeyed and surrendered her wrists. She took them in her hand and held them tight. She heard Adrianna catch her breath at the force with which she held her. Then she reached up and made a fist in her hair and tugged slightly. Adrianna exhaled and she knew that she was getting very different ideas about how this would end, she could see the goose bumps upon her skin. She pulled her head back, bit her ear softly and then waited to build the suspense.
Adrianna was completely enrapt in this woman. At her mercy completely in this bathroom stall. She surrendered her hands and any power and enjoyed the tingles igniting across her scalp as this woman pulled her hair. She realised she didn’t even know her name. She knew nothing about her except the effect she was having on her body. She could hardly contain her desire to touch her and her knees shook as she bit her ear.
She waited until Adrianna relaxed completely under her touch. Then she pulled her hair back with all her might and smashed her face into the back of the cubicle. There was an audible crunch as her cheek bone met the wall that she was aware was made of concrete. The blood upon the wall only filled her movements with more enthusiasm and she drew Adrianna’s head back. Adrianna let out a cry which was cut off when her face met the wall again in a violent kiss. She continued until Adrianna was moaning quietly and then she kicked her legs out from underneath her and she submerged her head in the toilet.
Adrianna realised that she was getting hurt. Badly hurt and she tried to struggle against this woman she had thought may end up being one of the best lovers she had ever had. She tried to free her wrists and was met with a vice grip she never would have thought possible for someone of such a small frame. She thought all she could feel was pain until she felt cold and wet and she realised she was drowning. No, no, fuck no, I’m gonna die was all she could think. I’m going to fucking die in a bathroom stall. This can’t be happening. She struggled as much as she could and fought and fought and she kept thinking, I don’t want to die here, I don’t want to die until she couldn’t think anything anymore.
Adrianna hadn’t moved in three minutes. She let go of her hair satisfied that she was well and truly dead but she checked her pulse all the same. Dead as a door nail. Stupid fucking dyke she thought as she walked out of the stall. She inspected her face and realized there was slight blood splatter on her face. “Dammit.” She muttered but she thought nobody would notice if her makeup was smeared so she wet her face and blotted away the blood and she realized the makeup she had had on her tattoo had come off during Adrianna’s last ditch struggle. She quickly dismissed any worries because nobody would be looking at that in this club. She composed herself, looked at her handy work once more, pushed up her cleavage a bit more for insurance, patted herself on the back figuratively and walked out of the bathroom, then out of the club and walked home.
She got in early around 4a.m and she tiptoed upstairs because the last thing she needed was her mother to wake up and question her on her whereabouts and actions. She stood in the bathroom and inspected her naked body. No scratches to speak of so there’s little to no chance of her DNA being left on Adrianna’s body. She stood in the shower for 45 minutes liking how the water fell across her body and washed away the nerves of her first performance. She gave herself a standing ovation as the water sprayed across her naked body and she laughed at how nervous she had been in the days leading up to what she had just done and gotten away with.
Then she got out of the shower, replaced all her tools and got into her bed and she fell asleep to the notion that Adrianna would never breathe or smile or shower or sleep again and that was the thought that brought her a sense of peace she didn’t know was possible. She slept long and hard and awoke to the smell of slightly burnt toast.
Another woman was warm and asleep in her bed and was rudely awoken by her shrill ringtone. She groped her bedside table like a horny teenager with their first partner until her hand found her phone. “Hello!” “Not a morning person huh?” “Ugh Jenkins, what is it?” “Murder downtown in a gay club. It was pretty violent so we have been called in. Get up sunshine.” “Bring me coffee or I’ll be violent too.” “Sure thing.” She swung her feet to her hardwood floor groaning and she was confronted by how cold it was. They say you get used to the sleepless nights but that is a goddamn lie she thought as she dragged herself to her closet to grab some clothes and to wake herself up with a splash of cold water to her face.
Twenty minutes later she was walking into the crime scene with a piping hot triple shot in her hand, she drank it gratefully and was looking forward to feeling the caffeine vibrate through her system soon. “So, who was the victim?” She asked nobody in particular knowing Jenkins would answer. “Adrianna Solano, she’s an actress who was just signed to do a movie part after being in soap operas for the last five years. Just about to make it big when somebody decided to make her nothing. They don’t know if it is a hate crime yet or if Adrianna was confirmed gay Lily so we have to be careful about how we handle this especially with the press.” Jenkins lowered his voice at the last part and looked at Lily. Lily returned his gaze and sipped her coffee. “You know I’m no fan of the media Jenkins, I’m not gonna go out there and start rumours about this poor dead girl.”
Lily flashed her badge at anyone in her way and entered the bathroom that had been taped off. The first stall was where Adrianna had met her end and it looked like nothing short of a crime scene. There was blood all over the back wall of the cubicle meaning someone had smashed her face into the concrete repeatedly from the looks of the spatter. There were no defensive wounds on her hands but there was slight bruising, her assailant must have had her wrists behind her back rendering her pretty much helpless to the violence to come. Lily stepped over the body to get a look at her face and felt something crunch beneath her boot, she lifted her foot and saw a tooth. She felt a pang of sadness, this poor girl had suffered underneath this person’s rage and Lily wanted to find out why.
“So, what do you think Lily?” Jenkins asked. Jenkins already had an idea of what had gone down in his own mind but he knew that Lily always had a view of the other side of the coin. “I don’t think this was a hate crime. I don’t know but this person smashed her face into that wall and I think that means it’s fuelled by jealousy. Adrianna Solano was one of the most beautiful young actresses coming out recently. Maybe somebody didn’t like her making her big break?” “Or maybe someone didn’t like the fact that she was gay? Hate crimes are known for their violent nature Lil.” They were sparring now but in a friendly fashion. Lily brushed some errant hairs out of her face and considered everything. “Was anyone here with Adrianna that has anything useful to tell us? Maybe they saw her with someone?” “There are a few girls outside the club who say they were with Adrianna. Let’s go see if they saw anything of note.”
There were two girls standing outside when Lily emerged from the club. They were visibly shaking and one had her makeup smeared from crying, the other was blank, near catatonic. Possibly dealing with the shock still. “Hi there, I’m Lily Hadden. I’m going to be handling this case. I know you two were here with Adrianna, are you two close to her? Did you see her with anyone?” The one with the smeared makeup spoke up first. “I’ve known Adrianna for years, she was so excited to finally be doing a movie and she just wanted to celebrate. Come out and have a good time. She didn’t deserve this.” Her voice cracked at the end of her sentence. Lily reached out and held her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “No, she didn’t deserve it. What happened to her was awful and I am so sorry for your loss but please can you tell me if you saw her with anyone suspicious or if anyone was paying extra attention to her in there?” The girl with the smeared make up started to cry. “I was so wasted and I was so focused on this girl I was eyeing at the bar that I barely registered anything. I feel like I should have seen something more but I broke off from them to try and see if I had a shot with this girl and I didn’t see her again.” She began to cry so hard that Lily thought she may break. She looked so fragile and hurt and Lily knew this girl would blame herself for what happened forever.
“I saw her with someone.” The silent girl spoke up and startled Lily. “Can you describe this person for me? Did she go anywhere with them?” The silent girl found her voice and started recounting what she had seen. “There was this girl who come up to Adrianna while we were dancing. She was taller than Adrianna and Adrianna is…was about 5’7 so this girl had to have been 6’1 in her heels. She came up to Adrianna and started talking to her, hitting on her I suppose and then she went to leave and Adrianna called her back. She was a red head, wearing a green dress, I think her eyes were blue or hazel. I didn’t get a really close look. She was all over Adrianna, hands on her and kissing her neck and touching her.” The girl looked at the ground for a second and then continued her story. “This woman grabbed Adrianna and pulled her away from the dance floor. I assume they went to the bathroom after that. Adrianna probably thought they were going somewhere more private to…you know and then something entirely different happened. Adrianna was so trusting, she never would have thought that someone would want to hurt her like that. She was a good person.” Lily saw the tears well in the girl’s eyes as she finished her story.  The two girls huddled together and Lily thanked them for their time.
“Jenkins, does this club scan I.D’s?” Lily asked hoping for a much faster way to find this mystery woman. “No, unfortunately they are not yet up to date. It isn’t one of the most popular gay clubs around here so they probably didn’t feel a need.” “Maybe we can question the bouncer, see if he saw a girl matching that description.” “Lil, do you know how many people that bouncer would have seen tonight?” Jenkins retorted. “There were over 300 people in that club and that’s not taking into account the people that came and left in that time frame. He’s probably not going to remember one girl.” “Okay, fine then what do you have in mind?” Lily snapped at him immediately regretting it and cursing her coffee for not kicking in yet. “Well Ms.Snarky, there are security cameras covering the entrance and exit so if we review the tapes we may be able to narrow down how many suspects and then show the witness we have to get her to identify the assailant. It should also help us to get a time frame because I don’t think I’d hang around after I did something like that.” Jenkins looked at her with a look so smug she couldn’t help but smile. “Okay Mr.Know-It-All, we’ll go with your plan. Sorry for being an asshole.” Jenkins laughed and they walked back inside to get the security tapes to review.
Back at the station house Lily rubbed her static assaulted eyes. “Jenkins, the quality of these feeds is bullshit, if I have to get glasses I’m blaming you.” Ugh she groaned, it was 11a.m and she already wanted to go back to bed. Instead, she got to her feet and poured another coffee. Lily knew she was being crabby but she couldn’t help it. Lucky that Jenkins was such a laid back guy otherwise she probably would have had a few insults hurled at her this morning along with other things. Lily poured another cup of coffee as a peace offering and slumped down next to Jenkins. “Have you seen anyone matching the description yet?” She asked pensively. “I have seen 3 so far but I want to make sure we review these thoroughly and find all possible suspects then we can zoom in and get the tech guys to fix up the quality and show the photos to your witness.” Lily looked at his notebook and noticed he had written down the times all 3 girls he thought looked like the suspect had walked into the club. “Well, I’m glad one of our brains is working today. How about I go find out what new movie Adrianna was meant to be in? Maybe there were some understudies who wanted her to literally break a leg? Or face?” Jenkins grimaced at the last part but she saw the corners of his mouth turn up slightly when he realized she just wanted a reaction. “Go on Lil, you’re always better at interacting with the people anyways. I’ll stay here and if I need glasses you’re buying!”
Lily called Adrianna’s mother and asked her as much as she could about who Adrianna was working with and soon she was walking into the office of Adrianna’s former director, Marius Arvanii. Marius was an animated man who would have been handsome when he was younger. Lily got the distinct impression that he thought he still had the same charm he used too.
“So, what can I do for you Officer? Or is it Detective? You seem a little young to be a Detective.” He smiled at Lily and she was already feeling offended and the lack of sleep wasn’t helping. “I am 28 and I guess I was just real good at catching bad guys so anyways, I was hoping to talk to you about Adrianna. Was there anyone here on set that seemed to have an issue with her or was she wary of anyone on set?” She smiled across at him as he reconsidered his manner of speaking. Marius cleared his throat and told Lily that he had not seen anyone nor heard of anyone having anything against Adrianna and likewise on her end. “Adrianna was just so excited to have a lead role for the first time even if someone did have something against her I doubt she would have picked up on it in her happy haze.” Marius looked across at me looking clueless. “Okay, well would you mind if I spoke to a few people around here? Tried to get a few leads?” Lily asked and smiled at Marius for the first time since she sat across from him. Marius relaxed and agreed to let her talk to anyone in the studio.
The smell of burnt toast emanated through the kitchen and she could hear her mother clambering to get rid of the slight smoke that would have been coming from the toaster. She never was any good at gaging how long the bread needed to reach the perfect amount of toasted. She groaned and got up because she knew her mother would soon be yelling her name and as she pulled a tee shirt over her head the unmistakable tone of her mother’s voice echoed up the stairs. “Erin! Erin, come down here! I made toast!” Erin rolled her eyes at that notion, her mother never made anything with any kind of success except a mess or her angry but she trudged down the stairs anyway.
“Mom, what are you doing?” She asked as she opened the fridge and grabbed a yoghurt and an energy drink. “I made toast and I know what you’re gonna say oh it’s burnt well for your information charcoal is good for your teeth and I noticed yours are starting to get stained from all the coffee and soda. You’re never going to get a leading role without perfect white teeth. No need to thank me.” Erin ignored her mother, she was used to the advice on her appearance by now. Her mother was a beauty queen growing up and Erin came up short of her expectations. You see, her mother was a lithe blonde in her day and her emerald green eyes made her incredibly striking when in contrast with her pale skin. Erin assumed she took after her father with her too small hazel eyes, freckles everywhere, angular features and her lacklustre brown locks.
Erin watched her mother bustle around the kitchen, doing nothing in particular. She was once a star, she wasn’t in films but she was in stage shows and revered for her strong voice and emotive face and her overall talent. How lovely it must have been to see her name up in lights and how disappointed she must have been when she found out she was pregnant with her. Emilia never told her that but Erin knew it, she let it show in her constant comments on Erin’s shortcomings.
“So darling, what are you doing today?” She asked as she slid into a seat with her meagre piece of toast and tea. Cordelia worried that with age she was losing her looks and waistline, she was right but for a woman of 52 she was still attractive, very attractive in fact. “Why are you only eating one slice of toast? New hip diet?” Erin deflected to try and steer away from talking about herself. It would only lead to more talk of her shortcomings. “I asked you a question first and not everybody can have a figure reminiscent of a pixie without trying Erin. Now, what are you doing today?” Erin moved her bangs out of her eyes. “I’m going into the studio to help with the lighting, like I do every day.” Emilia got up to get more tea and tutted at Erin. “You’ll never end up with your name in lights if you’re the one positioning them and goodness please do something with your hair. Why don’t you put on a little make up? Wear something nice to work? Try and.” “I have to shower Mum or else I will never get to work but thank you for the advice.”
Erin stomped up the stairs, feeling her anger seeping out of her pores. Fuck her, she thought, I will see my name up in lights because I am a goddamn star. I will be bigger than she ever was. Erin sat down in front of her mirror, looked at the wig she had donned the night before and wondered if she looked differently would it help her to get a role then she waved that thought away not wanting to reduce herself to appearance when her talent was so boundless. She looked at herself once more, brushed her bangs out of her eyes and then got dressed. She scolded herself internally for worrying so much about unimportant things. She would have to have her wits about her and not lose her composure today. I can’t break character, she thought, that would mean disaster. Erin got herself together and drove to the studio rehearsing in her head.
The studio’s atmosphere was heavy when Erin walked in. The sudden realisation of how much Adrianna’s death affected everything hit her with a mix of annoyance and admiration.  Adrianna was after all just a pretty face and a nice set of tits attached to a dumb Hispanic girl. Erin approached Sam, a girl she has gotten friendly with for appearances sake. She couldn’t very well go around showing her real disdain for all the idiots she worked with.
“What’s going on Sam? Why is everyone freaking out so much?” “You didn’t hear? Adrianna was murdered last night. Everyone is scrambling because we don’t know what is going to happen with the movie now. Marius is losing his mind over it trying to find a replacement for her. I can’t believe you didn’t know it has been all over the news this morning.” Sam said watching as Marius paced around talking to various team leaders from the studio. “I didn’t even turn the television on this morning. She was murdered? Why? That’s just so random. It’s not like she was a mean girl or anything, she was always nice when I spoke to her.” Sam and Erin spoke for a little while longer about the whole fiasco until Marius addressed everyone saying that this was a tragedy to have such a beautiful young woman lost and that she would be missed but that everyone should go back to work and get everything set up because it’s what she would have wanted while he finds a replacement for Adrianna. Yeah right, Erin though, more like you don’t wanna waste any of your cash because the bitch bit it.
It wasn’t long before some of the techs started whispering about wanting to go for Adrianna’s role as a lot of them had gone to acting school and had just fallen into different jobs and by midday three of them had already gone to speak to Marius. Erin bided her time, wanting to avoid suspicion and the stench of desperation. Instead of approaching Marius in the first wave she sat in her makeshift work shop and fixed the lights and day dreamed about how good it would be to be in front of a camera when suddenly there was a woman inviting herself into her workshop to speak to her about Adrianna. Erin felt her chest tighten slightly and then invited the woman to sit and talk with her. Erin was ready for this performance.
Lily had been asking around about Adrianna for hours and the hustle and bustle of it all was getting to her. So far she had spoken to 23 people about their whereabouts, what they thought of Adrianna, if anyone had major issues with her and she just wanted somewhere quiet to sit for a moment then she spotted a girl in a workshop working on some fixture and figured that was a good excuse to sit with her.
“Hi, I’m Lily Hadden. I’m a Detective and I am looking into what happened to Adrianna Solano so I was hoping that I could talk to you for a few minutes?” The girl looked up at her with a blank expression and Lily noticed the freckles across her nose and cheeks. She smiled and thought the girl looked like a pixie with her fine features. “Yeah, that’s fine. Sorry, I am just trying to fix this light fixture.” Lily sat down and felt the relief spread through her feet and legs. “Thank you. It’s been a long day. I’m assuming you have heard what happened to Adrianna?” The girl stopped and looked at Lily for a moment before looking back down at the fixture. “Yeah, it’s such a shame. She was a very beautiful girl and very talented. I can’t believe she’s dead, it still hasn’t really sunk in.”
Lily sat and let the girl compose herself for a moment after hearing her voice audibly crack. Lily thought it best to steer the conversation away from Adrianna for a few minutes and was looking around the room to talk about something else of depth and saw that this girl had a very detailed tattoo on her forearm. “That’s an interesting tattoo. Why a raven?” “I got the raven because when I was little the first acting I ever did was a dramatic reading of “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe and it was when I knew I wanted to be involved in show business. It was the day my life changed.” The girl looked at her forearm admiringly while she spoke. “Sorry, it just dawned on me that I don’t even know your name?” Lily said chuckling the end of her sentence. “I’m Erin. Erin Weatherall.” Lily smiled at Erin and thought that surely this girl was one of those people that you never really knew no matter how much time you spent with them. Something about her told Lily she had secrets.
Erin felt the nerves disperse as she spoke to the Detective and she settle into the role of the meek lighting girl who fades into the background. She felt the more she spoke the more the Detective was buying into it and she could see the harsh lights of suspicion fading away from her. “So, you can’t think of anyone who would have an issue with Adrianna? Nobody harbouring some jealousy over her success?” The red headed Detective probed further. Erin looked at her and pretended that she was really thinking over the questions for a few second. “Look, this is the movie business. There are a lot of beautiful girls in this company working in different areas hoping for a break. I guess if they had been hoping to break into a role after paying their dues and they saw Adrianna get to where they want so easily it could cause some animosity. I know a few girls have already started thinking about putting themselves forward for her part.”  Erin said matter of factly as she resumed tinkering with the light. “So, you aren’t one of those girls? Waiting for her big break?” Erin felt the panic rise in her chest but her face did not show it. “I am never going to be in the movies. I am not the pretty girl and that’s fine. I still get to work in this amazing industry and I get to contribute to something beautiful and that’s all you can really ask for in this industry.” Erin smiled warmly at the Detective and Lily returned it. “That’s a nice way of looking at it. Well, I better get going and let you fix that light. Have a good day Erin and if you think of anything you think could help us please don’t hesitate to call me.” Lily handed her a card and Erin took it with a smile as she bid the Detective farewell.
Erin looked at the card and started thinking. That nosy bitch was going to be around for a while so she would have to lead her into a direction that lead away from her. Erin started formulating a plan to start getting closer to her end goal. She was doing this to be a star and she would get there even if it killed her. Erin’s mind started running a mile a minute on what her next step would be to throw off the ginger cop. They were looking for a woman now and Erin decided the best way to take them away from that was to give them a male suspect and that was something that Erin could do. It wouldn’t even be a challenge for her but she would have to avoid anyone in her studio for now however that would not be an issue. Erin was a freelance makeup artist as well as a lighting technician so she had a myriad of air head beauties that she worked with to take out next. Even if it didn’t get her closer to this part at least she was eliminating the competition that Marius may call upon. She didn’t mind playing the slow game.
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