#i even graduated on time with honors and got into law school and had a job within 2 days of finishing my BA

[lightyaoigami]

3, 7, & 11 for the ask meme?

3. what is your favorite way to self care?

i have not missed a nail appointment since 2021 lmao gkslfjs even when i can barely maintain homeostasis my nails look FLAWLESS!!!

7. answered!

11. your last failed friendship

oughgh uncomfy...i have poured gasoline on a lot of friendships because i am a notorious ghoster sorry to say. the last one, i don't even know if she considers it failed. we were really close and now we aren't, and i feel like now i look back on everything with a very critical eye. it wasn't one incident or anything. death from a thousand cuts and all that.

[bornagainmurdock]

harmonious

author's note: hi omg thank you anon for this request! i was a band and orchestra kid and love love love this idea! i decided to go with cellist, not sure why but i have strong feelings about matt loving cellos.

contents: fluffy, matt murdock x reader, gender neutral reader, meet cute technically, and then a series of cute dates, first kiss

word count: 1.9k

Matt had been a regular at the syphony since he had graduated law school. It was a nice constant in his life knowing that every month on the third Friday he could go to the music hall and hear music. Various guest musicians shuffled through, each featured for one show before traveling to a new city to guest, but tonight was something different: a member of the symphony was being granted a guest spot, performing as the soloist for the week.

You had started playing cellos what felt like eons ago. Playing felt like second nature, so when you were offered the guest spot for April, you accepted on the spot, already having put together a concert's worth of music to perform.

Matt had heard your name before. You had features every now and then in pieces. Since he was a regular, the music hall started printing braille programs for him. He liked running his finger over your name. It was his favorite song. So when he heard you were the soloist, he couldn't have been more excited.

He hadn't spoke to you, but had heard you speaking in the lobby post shows talking to your family and friends that had attended.

Tonight, the night of your headlining show, Matt spent an extra hour getting ready, trying his best to look pristine and perfect, not a hair out of place. He had asked Karen to help him find some nice cuff links for the show a few weeks back, so tonight when he finally unboxed them, he pressed over them with his fingers as he clasped them and smiled. Two little metal silver forte designs.

At the show, Matt recevied his braille program, finding his way to his usual seat and dancing his touch over your name over and over, excited and smiling the whole time.

When the curtain rose and the auditorium fell silent, Matt wiggled in his seat, placing the program in his lap to clap the director providing your introduction.

Throughout the show, Matt gasped and clapped at your skills, constantly impressing him with your musical abilities.

Once the show ended, you approached the mic and thanked the audience for coming, and laughed. It felt like golden sunlight to Matt, his smile glossy and bright as you spoke.

When the curtain fell, Matt stood, walkign out into the lobby and waited to hear your voice.

"Mom! Thank you for coming. I'm so glad you could make it." You shouted.

Matt wasn't trying to eavesdrop on your conversation, but he did want to congradulate you on a great show, so he began to walk over to you.

"Excuse me, sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say that you chose a lovely program. I am constantly amazed by your talents." Matt spoke, blushed and starstruck.

"Mr. Murdock, what an honor to hear a compliment like that from you, one of the best lawyers in New York. I'm really glad you liked the show." You smiled.

"That's far too kind, but thank you." Matt said.

Your family and friends walked away for a second, giving you some time to speak to Matt.

"I'm grateful you came to talk to me this evening. You always seem to dart out so fast, never get a chance to thank you for supporting the arts." You said.

"The symphony gives me some time to myself to enjoy the wonders of the world. I'm glad I got to speak to you this evening as well. I feel very lucky to be in the prescense of such greatness."

"I could say the same. I have to mingle about the room, but could I get your number?" You said, perhaps a bit too forward, but willing to embarass yourself nonetheless.

"Absolutely. Here why don't you put yours in my phone, and I'll call you." Matt smiled.

"I'd like that."

You grabbed Matt's phone that he passed to you and typed in your name and phone number before handing it back to him.

"Hope to see you soon, Mr. Murdock." You smirked.

"Same to you."

Matt messaged you that same night, sending you a beautifully crafted congradulations message about the performance. Then, within the minute, asked when you were free.

You both set up a date for the next week, choosing to go to a new restaurant you both had never been to before.

---

The night of the date, you got ready, and started to head for the restaurant, seeing Matt on the opposite street corner, crossing to meet him.

"Matt. Hi." You said, trying not to startle him.

"Hi. It's good to see you. We're close to the restaurant, right? Sometimes I miss count my blocks." He joked.

"Allow me to escort you." You touched his arm, allowing him to use you as a lead.

When you got to the door, he opened it for you, allowing you to walk inside. At the host stand, Matt spoke.

"Two for 8. Under Murdock." He shuffled, folding his cane away.

"Yes, of course. Follow me." The host said.

Matt reached for your arm again, and you walked to the table.

Once the host brought waters, Matt took a sip and then sat back into his seat.

"Your show really was great. I really appreciated your choice of Haydn's Cello Concerto No. 1. A classic, but not played much anymore." Matt started.

"Well thank you. It was once of the first cello features I got to play in high school. Fell in love with it immediately and wanted to honor that memory here." You smiled.

You bantered the whole night, starting the discussion with mentions of the show and classical music as a whole, but eventually making your way to childhood.

"DId you play any instruments as a kid, Matt?" You asked.

"Didn't have the chance to. Came from an athletic family, and then the church didn't have anything but the organ. I've played a bit of guitar, but just the basics. Foggy taught me during law school." He laughed.

"Maybe you should show me some of your skills. That is if you still have that guitar."

"I think if I touched a guitar now I'd start on fire. I prefer to admire the music, not create it myself."

"I think that's fair. I mean, without music appreciators like you, I wouldn't have an audience." You said.

Once you both had finished your meal, you helped escort Matt through the maze of tables and out onto the New York street.

"I've had a really great time tonight." You said.

"I did, too. There's a jazz trio show around here next week. Would you like to join me?" Matt asked.

"I would. I don't get to hear much jazz, so I think that's a great idea. I'll see you then, Matt."

"Let me know when you get home safe." Matt said, unfolding his cane.

"I will. See you soon."

---

That next week you met Matt at the cocktail bar for the jazz trio. He was already sat at a table when you got there, nursing a bourbon.

"Hi! Hope I'm not late." You said, sitting down.

"Just in time. They go on in a few minutes. What would you like to drink? I can order for you at the bar." Matt asked.

"A vodka martini please."

"You got it."

He stood and ordered at the bar, bringing back your drink.

"Do you come here often? It's really nice in here." You looked around.

"I do. One of my favorite nicer places. Got an espresso martini here once and kept coming back. Not every cocktail bar can pour an espresso shot as good as here." He chuckled.

The band entered the stage, adjusting the seats and mics before introducing themselves and starting the set.

Between song, Matt would talk to you about the music, telling you about his favorite jazz musicians and other lore that he found important to the show.

"I've heard these guys play before, and let me tell you their bass player, off the charts. Can't top him. Can't listen to the original version of that last song since him."

After the set, Matt took both of your glasses to the bar, and walked outside with you.

"Thank you for inviting me. I had a really nice time. I love hearing your insights into music. It's like you're breathing fresh air into everything." You blushed.

"I'm so glad you enjoyed the show and the bar. Do you need to get back, or would you like to walk for a bit?"

"I'd love to walk."

"Or we could go get late night ice cream." Matt suggested.

"I think you're a genious."

Matt grabbed your arm again, but this time he led, taking you to his favorite late night ice cream spot.

You looked at the menu and decided, allowing Matt to order first.

"I'll take two scoops of pistachio in a cup." He smiled, allowing you to get closer to the counter to speak.

"I'll have two scoops as well. One white chocolate and one cotton candy." You said.

When they finished scooping your orders, you grabbed both bowls and joined Matt at the picnic table outside.

"A pistachio guy, hmmm. I'm learning a lot." You teased.

"White chocolate and cotton candy. Says a lot about you, too."

"Oh and what does that say?" You joked.

"That you're fun loving and adventurous. You've never been here before and you got two non-typical flavors. You're not scared of change." He attemped to appear serious in his attempt at reading you but continued to smile and giggle as he spoke. "What does pistachio say about me?"

"That you're a weirdo that likes pistachio ice cream." You laughed.

"You got me there."

You both fell into a pit of giggles, trying to catch your breath before laughing again.

"My cheeks hurt. Stop it." You continued laughing.

Once you were both done, you tossed both bowls and spoons, Matt standing beside you.

"Can I walk you home?"

"I'd like that."

"Lead the way captain." Matt ironically saluted.

He took your arm again and you started wlaking the few blocks back. Since the date had started, you don't think there had been a moment of silence besides during the jazz set. It was magical just how well you both got along.

Once you got to the stoop of your apartment you unlached Matt's arm.

"Thank you again for tonight. I had a really good time." You said.

"I really like going out with you." Matt agreed.

There was a minute of silence: you looking at Matt, and Matt fidgetting with his cane.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked.

"Please."

He leaned in, placing his hand on your cheek, and kissed you.

It only lasted a few seconds, but you were seeing stars. When he pulled away, he kept his hand on your cheek, smiling at you.

"Wow." He spoke.

"Wow." You repeated.

"You should get inside, it's getting cold." He said, blushed again.

You leaned in to kiss him once more and put your hand on his cheek this time.

You walked up a few steps of the stoop before turning back.

"Let me know when you get home safe."

"Will go." He smirked.

[mynameismckenziemae]

All of Me

Part 1

(next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OFC/You

Summary: You find yourself bored at the beach on a rare day of R & R. Things get a lot more interesting when Jake runs into you (literally). One thing leads to another and you find yourself back at Jake’s for a steamy, fun filled night.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Non-explicit smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), slight mentions of losing a spouse, alcohol use, etc.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

Relaxation has never been your forte.

Starting when you were a little girl; always having to sleep with one eye open to avoid your drug-addict mom’s unpredictable moods and the men she brought home. That unwanted attention only increased with age and the way you began to fill out your clothes which only fueled the resentment your mom had for you.

That resentment came to a head shortly after you turned 16 when one of her ‘friends’ made a pass at you and she subsequently kicked you out. Because it was your fault, of course.

Your best friend's family had taken you in with open arms and while it was the first time you felt like you had a home, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that her parents had another mouth to feed and another body to clothe even with their constant reassurance.

So you put your head down and continued to work hard to graduate high school early with honors. You joined the Navy at 17 shortly after with nothing but a backpack and $368 to your name.

Boot camp wasn’t a walk in the park, nor was the next 12 years of medical school and residency. During that time you fell in love, married the love of your life, got pregnant, and then watched your husband wither away from a debilitating, aggressive disease to pass away shortly after the birth of your son.

With the help from your in-laws and best friend, Maggie, you were able to stay enlisted for the past 8 years as you had navigated being a single mother and widow while also pursuing and achieving your dream of becoming a doctor.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

Late last night you arrived home from an endless 6 (and hopefully your last) month deployment-a week earlier than expected. Normally coming back from deployments early is ideal, but your son, Drew, was at Disney with grandma and grandpa for a few more days.

So here you sit on the beach with a cold beer catching some rays while trying and failing to relax.

A rowdy group of guys playing some version of football down the beach keeps creeping closer with each play and the hot, sandy-haired quarterback keeps catching your eye. He’s peacocking for you; flexing and glancing your way. You pointedly ignore it and have to bite back your smile when he deflates.

It doesn’t stop you from sneaking peeks at his sweaty chest under the cover of your sunglasses though as you pull out the smutty book Maggie’s been begging you to read.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

Just as you’re getting to the good part of your book, something flies over the top of you; a foot knocks the beer that was nearly to your lips down the front of your white coverup.

“Shit! I’m so sorry,” there’s an apology before he’s even on his feet. “I didn’t see you ‘till the last second.”

Liar.

“It’s alright,” you reply, looking down as you try to soak up some of the liquid with your towel but it’s no use; it’s saturated with beer, and the wet fabric clings to your torso.

“Sorry!” One of his friends yells, likely the one who threw the football. “Let me buy you an apology drink?”

“No worries,” you call back, glancing back down with a grimace. “I’m good, but thanks anyway!”

“We’ll meet you at the Hard Deck then,” his friend calls before jogging over to the rest of the group already heading that way.

“I really am sorry,” the culprit repeats. Your breath catches when you turn back to him. He’s even more good-looking up close, especially with that sheepish grin. Even though his eyes are hidden by his sunglasses, it’s obvious he’s checking you out. Your nipples are now standing to attention, pushing against your bikini top through the newly see-through fabric of your top. “I knew you were here but I hadn’t realized how close we’d gotten. Are you sure I can’t buy you a drink?”

“I was thinking about taking your friend up on the offer,” you answer truthfully, “but most of the bars around here have a strict “no shirt no service policy.”

You know Penny wouldn’t care but still.

“I’ve got more in the cooler though. You can have one if you get me one too,” you wink before peeling off the soaking garment.

He swallows thickly as he watches before he shakes himself out of it. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

“So, I, uh…I’m Jake,” he says, handing you a beer. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, I’m Reese,” you reply, shaking his hand after taking the bottle from him.

“Like the peanut butter cups?” He asks with a cheeky grin as he sits beside you in the sand.

“Wow,” you deadpan before taking a pull of your beer. “Never heard that one before.”You laugh at the dejected look on his face. “Yes, like the peanut butter cups.”

He laughs too, finally loosening up.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

It doesn’t take long for you to piece together that Jake’s younger than you and it’s obvious that he has no trouble keeping his bed warm. He learns quickly that you’re not easily impressed and changes his tune, turning the conversation toward you. You keep it vague, telling him you work in healthcare when he asks, knowing some men are easily intimidated by your degree, and in turn, he tells you he works in aviation.

Your heart pinches more than once as the afternoon passes. Your late husband, Andrew, had taken you to the beach for your first date and Jake reminds you so much of him; the way he makes you laugh; the charming cockiness when he talks about flying, the way he flirts and strokes your ego just right.

You hope your ego isn’t the only thing getting stroked when the sun begins to set. A shiver works through you, making you miss its warmth.

“Cold?” He asks as he rubs his rough, calloused palm over your arm. More goosebumps rise at his touch.

“A little,” you admit with a smile, but it quickly turns into a frown when you press your phone to check the time but it doesn’t light up. “Shoot, my phone died. So much for calling an Uber.”

“You can charge it at my place if you want. It’s not far,” he offers, brushing a strand of hair off your forehead.

“Sure, that’d be great,” you agree, knowing he’s offering more than a charger.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

He learn he was definitely offering more than the phone charger.

You ache in places you forgot existed as you reach for your phone buzzing on Jake’s nightstand.

Jake was better in bed than you expected.

He was a little quick on the draw the first time he had you with your back pressed against his front door, but he surprised you by dropping to his knees after he came, not even bothering to take the condom off. He’d paused at the thin line marring your lower stomach and you held your breath as you waited for him to comment or kick you out but he surprised you again by kissing your c-section scar instead before feasting between your legs like a man starved.

While you showered the sand and sticky residue of the beer off, he had ordered pizza.

After, he invited you to his bed with the excuse that your clothes were still in the dryer (even though you had both hard the buzzer). You’re not sure who fell asleep first, but you woke up a few hours later with his arms around you and his hard-on pressing against your ass.

You fell asleep after riding him, more relaxed than you had felt in years.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

You sit up as you read the messages from your son.

Drew: Mom!! Grandma and Grandpa said we could home early!

Drew: They said we’d be home by 10 with our new flight.

Drew: Is that okay? I just missed you so much.

Drew: Mommmmm

Drew: We’re boarding now.

Mom: I missed you too! Of course, it’s okay! I can’t wait to see you. I love you so much.

You look at the time when your text fails to deliver, 9:18 AM.

Shit. Time to go.

Resisting the urge to whip off the covers and scramble, you slowly get out of Jake’s bed, not wanting to wake him.

You’re quiet as you find your clothes in the dryer and gather your things.

There’s a notepad and pen on the small table near the door and your heart stutters when you see the dog tags hanging next to his keys.

Lt. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

US Naval Aviator.

Well. He did say he was in aviation.

Your phone buzzes again and you quickly scribble a note before heading out the door.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

“Reese?” Jake murmurs, cracking his eyes open when he pats the bed, finding it cold.

“No way,” he mutters grumpily as he heads out of the bedroom to find the house empty and quiet.

The first woman he’d felt anything for in years snuck out while he was sleeping.

An orange sticky note stuck to the door catches his eye and he walks over to read:

Sorry to run out-something came up and I had to get home. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again soon though, lieutenant.

Jake smiles despite himself at the smiley face you drew beside your name and sighs before heading back to bed.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

A/N: Wellllll here’s the first part! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it ☺️

I’m leaving early tomorrow morning for a 6 day girls trip (to the beach) so I might be slow to respond/update but who knows, maybe I’ll get bored 🤷🏻‍♀️

Thank you to @lexixstewart again for the meet-cute at the beach idea 🫶🏻

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs!

Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist (sorry if I forget anyone, I won’t be mad if you remind me).

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[starboyshoyo]

The Summer After Graduation

Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Deuce Spade, Trey Clover, Epel Felmier x fem!reader (separately)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Genre: Fluff, domestic

Warnings: suggestive jokes, nothing inappropriate.

It’s the summer after graduation and the beginning of the rest of your life. After moving to your boyfriend’s hometown and living with his family, you begin to realize that there may be a future in Twisted Wonderland for you after all.

Part One (HERE) || Part Two (Malleus, Silver, Sebek)

Four years have passed since the Dark Mirror beckoned you forth. Your time at Night Raven College and as the Ramshackle prefect have come to an end. You and your high school sweetheart have made the decision to move back to their hometown and build a new life together, starting with the summer after graduation…

Kalim Al-Asim

‘The Asims are a generous family that love and cherish their son and future daughter-in-law. In tradition with our past, you and your lover will spend the summer at  Port Ormos, a seaside village off the coast of the Land of Scalding Sands. Don’t worry about transport or living situation- it will all be taken care of for you. We love you, Kalim, and we’re so proud of you for graduating!’ 

That’s what the letter from Kalim’s mother and father to him read. Right after graduating from NRC, you and your boyfriend were swept up in a gaggle of servants and guards. Jamil had packed all of your belongings already, and a bashful Kalim informed you that you were on your way to something he referred to as the ‘Asim pre-honeymoon vacation.’ It’s a tradition in my family for newlyweds to spend some time together at the village, he laughed. I guess they were just super excited to know I had someone as wonderful as you by my side, and got a little hasty! I hope you don’t mind.

With that, you were off through the magic mirror and on your way to your new summer home.

Kalim’s parents weren’t kidding when they said everything would be taken care of. Not only had servants transported all of your things neatly and carefully to the Asims’ manor overlooking the town, but a parade and festival had been thrown in honor of your arrival. Why, you might ask? Because the Asims owned the entirety of Port Ormos. You knew they were wealthy, but this was a whole other level. 

Immediately upon arrival, Kalim was dragging you into various shops and restaurants around town. Each time you walked through a door, you would be greeted warmly by eager staff and ushered in to have a look at their finest goods. Point to any one you like, and an attendant will be by your side, packing it into a bag for you or loading it up to carry it back to the manor. Only the best for Lady Asim, you hear managers whisper to their employees. 

In fact, it seemed like everyone in the harbor town treated you like you were part of the Asim family already, even though you were an ordinary student at Night Raven College not even a week ago. For the duration of the trip, you would take on the family name and honored titles. You don’t miss the happy, flustered grin that Kalim gives you every time someone calls you Miss Asim or Lady Asim. You’ve even caught him browsing jewelry shops for rings on more than one occasion… What could he be planning? 

Jamil, as usual, had been chosen to accompany you and Kalim on this trip. However, he wasn’t staying with you two in the manor- he and his own family had been given a beachfront home to stay in. While Jamil did check on you and Kalim from time to time, he mostly gave you your space, and for good reason. His eyes were still scarred from the time he walked in on you two in the dressing room… He’ll stay in his own home, thank you very much. 

Mornings in the harbor town with your boyfriend are much like those in Scarabia dorm, but with a lot more privacy. Kalim likes to sleep in late, and get up whenever he feels like it. So you two will be cuddled up in bed together for a while, even after waking up. If you do try to leave early you’ll be met with arms looped around your waist, and a sleepy Kalim mumbling in your ear, five more minutes? By the time you manage to roll out of bed, it’ll be noon. 

Your room in the mansion is just as luxurious as you could expect from the Asim family- a king-size bed with crisp white sheets, sheer curtains, and a gorgeous view of the sprawling port town far below. Breakfast consists of light sandwiches and wraps to start off your day, plus fresh-squeezed fruit juices or coffees to compliment the meal. It’s all cooked by Jamil of course, and brought up to your rooms by him as well. The Al-Asims weren’t taking a risk with the food prepared for you or Kalim- they would never forgive themselves if the newest member of their family were to get sick. 

Kalim is a very spontaneous person, one of the reasons you love him so much. Every day he’ll think of something new and fun for you to do. The world is his oyster, and you’re the pearl! You could stroll along the docks, holding hands and greeting every sailor along the way, or browse the street markets for artisan goods. Any time you stop to look at something for more than a few seconds, Kalim will drape himself over you and join you in ogling it over your shoulder. Anything fascinating to you is interesting to him too! There won’t be a boring day anywhere in your summer. 

When your time in Port Ormos comes to a close, you can’t help but feel a little sad. You and Kalim will spend one final day around town, enjoying your time together. Another festival is held in your honor- this time, in the evening- and Kalim will bring you out onto the balcony of your room to watch fireworks being launched into the sky. 

When the first round of sparks explode high above your head, you’ll notice he has a ring box in his hand. He even might trip a little as he gets down on one knee, he’s so hasty in trying to get everything right. 

I know this was supposed to be just a little taste of what life together is supposed to be like, but I want this every day with you, for the rest of my life! You bring me so much happiness and my family just adores you, too- not to mention, we’ll get to come back here! So please… won’t you marry me?” 

Deuce Spade

Moving into Deuce’s childhood apartment after graduation was a quiet but well-managed affair. You didn’t have much to transport anyways. However, formal introductions would have to be made when you arrive in the Kingdom of Hearts- you had never met Deuce’s mother before. You already knew what a generous and kind person she would be, though. Deuce spoke highly of her at all times. Her greetings to you are warm, and Deuce’s cheeks are dusted with pink. He looked as if his heart was going to explode- The two people he loved most in the world were finally meeting! Everything was all coming together now. 

Deuce’s family’s apartment is cozy and well-kept. The shelves are dusted and everything seems so homey. Looking down the hallways, you notice small, faded marks low on the wall- crayon scribbles. Frayed edges of carpets and photos on the walls make it clear- your boyfriend had been raised in such a loving environment. It’s not very big, Deuce tells you with an embarrassed look, but it’s the best we can do at the moment. I promise we’ll get a bigger home in the future. You look back at him with love in your eyes. It’s perfect, Deuce. Just take things one day at a time- little steps.  

Though Deuce tried his best in school, he wasn’t able to make it onto the honor roll. Still, the moment his mother saw his diploma from Night Raven College, she gasped and pulled him into a tight hug. His diploma and graduation photo were framed and hung on the wall- and with your permission, Deuce’s mother would frame and hang yours as well, right next to his. You and Deucey are first in our family to graduate, she would tell you proudly, admiring the papers on the wall. I’m so proud. Thank you for looking after him…

Well, you could say the same back to her. 

Within just a few days of returning home, Deuce had to start work. He had been hired in a mechanic’s shop halfway across town, and was gone on long shifts for most of the day. He’s not around much, but when he is, he tries his best to spend time with you. No matter what he’ll kiss you good morning and good night, even if you’re asleep when he leaves or arrives home. On his rare days off, he’ll make sure to take you on a date, even if it’s just eating a meal together in the park on a picnic blanket. He’ll bring you small gifts from the shops around town, from extra tips he’s collected over time. You will never feel unloved under his watch. 

During the day while Deuce is out working, you help his mother around the apartment. She’s perpetually cheerful when her son is around but sometimes, when it’s just the two of you at home, you’ll notice her having to sit down often and rub aching joints. The poor woman has worked herself to the bone trying to care for Deuce by herself all those years. When you ask her about it, she’ll confide in you- I haven’t told Deuce about this, she says with a rueful smile. I don’t want to worry him. But I’m so happy my little Deucey found someone so lovely and kind. I’d be proud to call you my daughter. 

After that conversation, you write a letter to Riddle Rosehearts- an old friend of yours who is studying to become a magical doctor. He agrees to have a look at Ms. Spade, and give her a trial medicine he’s been working on, free of charge- hopefully it will help with the pain. Deuce’s mother tries to protest- There’s no way I can accept such generosity! But in the end, she caves. She’s not quite ready to tell Deuce yet, but that’s alright. It’s just like you told him; things might take a while- we’ll start with little steps. 

Trey Clover

Living with your boyfriend’s family is hard work, but rewarding. Trey is expected to inherit the Clover family bakery when he gets older, and he works tirelessly to keep business up and running. His parents had doubts about you moving in at first- since the Rose Kingdom is on an island, they weren’t able to meet you previously. But with a bit of hard work and effort, they’re willing to look past your inexperience and see you for the wonderful person their son has come to love. 

During the day, when Trey is busy with work, his mother or father will help teach you the basics of running the shop- how to work the ovens and give orders to the employees, as well as use more advanced equipment they use to make the delectable treats they sell. Don’t mind the little ones when they ask for a sweet, Trey’s father tells you, sending a disapproving glance at his two younger children. Chances are they’ve already stolen one or ten from the back counter when you weren’t watching. 

Speaking of Trey’s younger siblings, they absolutely love you. His little brother has a bit of a puppy crush on you and will hang around the bakery when you’re working there. He’ll often have a little gift in his hand when he returns from playing outside. Look, I found this flower on the trail near the stables!  

Trey’s younger sister is just as adoring of you as her brother, but in a different way. She’s so used to roughhousing with two boys, and is super excited to have a sister around now! She’ll chat your ear off about anything and everything, and is always willing to help you out if you don’t know what to do with certain ingredients or bakery customs. 

Though Trey works long hours, the Clovers live above their bakery shop and he never has to deal with long travel times. That leaves him with a decent amount of time to spend with you. He’ll often ask you to accompany him on strolls around the village, where he goes out of his way to help neighbors. You learn that Trey has a bit of a reputation as a heartthrob in the small community where they live- they’re so excited to know someone has finally won his affections! The town’s golden boy is growing up so fast… 

At home above the shop, you and Trey are mostly left alone to your devices. His parents trust you enough not to monitor your every move- but Trey’s father has one rule. You two sleep in separate rooms, and no closing the door when you’re in the bedroom together! We have enough little sprogs running around underfoot already. You have to promise him that no funny business will be going on in the home. (Well, at least for now- but don’t tell him that!)

Epel Felmier

Having visited Harveston once before, the trip to Epel’s home village was like returning home after a long vacation. Epel’s grandmother, Marja, welcomes you back as kindly as ever, all the while nagging Epel for not visiting home more often! You should think about your lonely old granny from time to time, Epel. You aren’t in the village for long, though- for the summer, you would be visiting an entirely new place- a town a few hours south of Harveston, where the rest of Epel’s extended family resided. 

Epel’s aunts, uncles, cousins, and more have yet to hear about you. When you first step into the large farmhouse where the family has gathered, you’re immediately swarmed by dozens of blue-eyed, lavender-haired relatives, all gushing- Epel! Who is this young lady, and why didn’t you tell us about her before? She’s so cute! How did that sailor-mouth of yours manage to snag you someone so lovely? 

Epel might be a little sour over their comments. He gets a bit possessive at times- he wants your attention on him as much as possible, and there are so many people to compete with! I’m not rough all the time, y’know! I can be a gentleman when I want to be. Now hands off’a her, she’s mine. He’ll ease up a bit when you remind him to overstep. 

It’s a bit impressive how similar all of Epel’s relatives look. They’re all a bit on the short side, with the same hair and eyes. Small differences are evident in separate branches of the family, but overall they look very put together. You might feel like a bit of an outsider at first, but don’t worry! The feeling won’t last for long. It’s hard to feel lonely among such a boisterous crowd. 

During the warm months, the apple orchard is still in full capacity. While most of the apples aren’t ripe yet, a small sect of trees, the summer orchard, is ready for harvest. Everyone in the family pitches in to pick apples. Though you’re not as practiced, you join in on the fun! At least, you try until Epel’s youngest cousins grab your hands and pull you away to play with them. Marja tells you not to worry about work- they can handle it. Go have some fun!

Epel glares at his cousins as they retreat, dragging you in tow. Marja pokes him in the back with a smile on her face. Go on, boy, she tells her grandson. You can have the day off- spend some time with your lady love before those little rascals steal her away. She pauses. I wouldn’t mind having a granddaughter in law before I leave this earth. 

Red to the tips of his ears, Epel scurries after the children to find you. He joins you laying in the grass watching the kids nearby and mumbles in your ear- Y’know… I’ve been thinking- maybe it’s not a bad idea to get hitched after all. 

A/N: The Kalim favoritism is so obvious here… 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 

[wellofdean]

OK, I was going to reblog this excellent post by @luckshiptoshore so go read it, because yes. Yes!! YES!!! But then when I got started my post got super long and I felt bad tacking it onto her post and decided to make my own in response to these tags:

#i am actually a bit obsessed by the whole hunting as queerness metaphor#it’s so clearly something everyone involved in the show is thinking about#supernatural

Gurl, me too! Like go back to the start! By the time Supernatural began, the backlash against the Joseph Campbell Monomyth-style mode of storytelling had already begun in the hallowed halls of USC film school, and yo: I was there at the time of Kripke's graduation, and my best friends from college are full scale big giant time filmmakers now, whose names I will not share on main because it's uncool, and I don't want that attention, but... yeah. I am referencing FIRST HAND SOURCES on this.

But, for a real source? The Oxford English Dictionary places the first use of the term "Queer Theory" in 1990, with Queer Studies as an option in the academy by 1992. I know the kids think it's a new-fangled thing, but Kripke graduated USC in 1996 (I graduated in 1995) and it was ALL THE RAGE by then. My friends read queer theory in their Critical Studies courses in the Film School, I read it in the College of Humanities getting my degree in Literature. By that time, you could not get through that school with any degree in any non-STEM subject without knowing about ye olde postmodern lenses, queer and feminist theory, and without knowing how to employ those lenses.

Queer refers to sexuality, yes, but the word's earliest use (again, according to the OED) is in the 1500's, meaning: strange, odd, peculiar, eccentric. Also: of questionable character; suspicious, dubious.

So, ok, in 2005, Enter Supernatural, episode 1:

Presented? Two brothers. One actively seeking credit in the straight world that is not available to him in the bosom of his family: Stanford, law school, hot co-ed girlfriend, the other bound to his fractured, wounded family by duty, yes, but also by love, living on the fringe, alone, fighting monsters, and chasing after his father's approval, and who has long since given up any dream of being 'normal'. Episode 1 presents Sam's call to adventure, which he refuses when it's just familial duty, honor and love calling him, but accepts when the show takes a very straightforward and very telling path by classically fridging his woman. Ok, now he's on board. Like John, whose motivation is another dead woman, his motivation is revenge. So far so straight!

Dean though: he's different. He is already on the adventure and he was not 'called' or given the option of accepting or refusing because he had no agency when his feet were set upon this road. He does not fit the straight world at all, because he is cobbled together out of love, duty, deep guilt, striving, desperation and fear. This is who he is now, in some elemental, incontrovertible way. It was not a choice for him, he was born to it. His mother is dead, and we later learn, she made the choices that brought them all to this fate. Dean remembers her idyllically, but he is not motivated by revenge, more than any other thing, he wants to be worthy. He wants his father's approval, his brother's love.

Enter Supernatural's main theme: fucked up relationships between men enmeshed in patriarchy, which will eventually expand to include fucking GOD HIMSELF.

And like, there are SO MANY CLEAR STEPS ALONG THE ROAD in season one, and I am not even talking about sexuality and gender here, but there is SO MUCH TO SAY about it in season 1. But I am not talking about that -- I am talking at a structural, narrative level, the whole thing is just fucking all the way queered, yo.

The big climax?

At the end of the season, Dean says: "I just want my family back together. You, me, Dad... it's all I have." He is Sam's mother, John's partner! His vulnerability and emotion is feminized and contrasted with Sam and John's more overtly driven by their more masculine/straight heroic revenge quest. John: "Sam and I can get pretty obsessed, but you always take care of this family." Only that's not John talking, it's Azazel, and Dean knows it is because his father would never forgive how soft he is, how he will always choose love and family over revenge. Then, in the end, the show makes a huge point of telegraphing that Sam is finally aligning with Dean by refusing to shoot Azazel because he's possessing John, and Sam just can't do that to Dean.

Sam and Dean are thus bound together and cemented into a marginalised path, living on the road, haunting liminal spaces and cheap motels, confronting the monstrous everyday. Sam is presented as the brains of the operation, he does research, logics his way through things (masculine) while Dean is the heart who acts impulsively and on instinct and intuition (feminine).

It later transpires that Sam has a piece of the monster inside himself, and Dean has to learn to love the monstrous, he has no choice, because Sam is his brother and then Cas... and, and, and!

Like... I could go on and on, citing ENDLESS EXAMPLES. This could be a literal book. Maybe one you need to read with a magnifying glass like my condensed edition of the OED. LIke, the queerness of Supernatural is DIZZYING and MYRIAD.

But basically? FROM THE START, hunting is a queered version of family, and within that, Dean is a queered version of a Campbellian hero. Hunting is a metaphor for otherness and liminality, and that's even before you say a WORD about sex. It starts in deviation from the norms of family, masculinity and expands from there on so many levels both in story and on a meta level. The story is flesh on queer fucking bones.

I'm so sorry, but anyone who thinks queerness was not BAKED INTO Supernatural and more specifically into Dean from DAY 1 has clearly never seen Dean's insane lip gloss in season 1, and vastly underestimates the cultural awareness of people who write shit in Hollywood, and also the other people who put pink lip gloss on pretty boys in Hollywood. Nothing that gets on your screen wasn't a fucking choice made and approved by a LONG LIST of people who know what they are about.

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 2.5 (Hyunjin)

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

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Hyunjin: “We can’t wait for you to be just like us.” 

Legacy. It was a word that I had known inexplicably well, though I’ve always had a hatred for it. For as long as I could remember, my parents were always forcing strict standards of their idealized perfection onto me. Starting as early as elementary school, I was enrolled in every advanced-level gifted course and extracurricular activity you could think of. My schedule was packed to the brim, and I was always expected to excel. 

I started to feel the burn-out when I got to high school. That overwhelming feeling weighing down my shoulders that it was too much. I did what any kid my age would have done: I rebelled. 

A girl in my class asked if I wanted to skip class with her to go to an amusement park one day. I had never skipped class before, Hell I had never even missed school. But something, that pressure cascading inside of my chest that ached to be relieved told me to say yes. For the first time in my entire life I skipped a day, and it was amazing. I didn’t have to worry about doing everything right and I was just able to be myself. Let go, feel free, be a kid for once. 

When I returned home I knew that everything was fucked. They knew. Of course, they knew. I received the verbal lashing of a lifetime, forced to go to bed without food and with my phone taken away for a month. “We’ve given you everything and yet you blatantly disrespect us,” my mother had said. “If you want to be a deadbeat who hates his family, just say so,” said my father. He told me if I ever did anything like that to disappoint them again, he would beat my ass. My father had never threatened me before. To be fair, I’d never given him reason to but I had no reason to believe he was lying at that moment. 

I knew that if I ever told anybody about it they wouldn’t believe me, anyway. My mother was a detective and my father was the head chief of police, both well-respected and well-known by all. Any lies they decided to weave would be believed. I had no choice but to follow in their paths. 

I graduated top of my class, though it was really no competition. My resume was extraordinary at only age 18, and I was well-respected and revered by all. It’s no surprise I was accepted into the top school in the nation. Partially because of my exceptional academics and skills, partially because of my legacy. 

I enrolled in criminology and literature in my undergraduate. Reading was something I had always had a passion for, though it seemed like I never had the time on top of everything else. Soccer practice, piano lessons, extra exam preparation courses, art classes, yearbook committee, honors societies after honors societies… the list had just done on and on. So I indulged in my passion for literature during school simultaneously with my criminology degree. Of course it was expected that I would follow my parent’s lead and go to law school. It was no surprise that I was, of course, top of my class again. All I did was study and prepare for my courses, after all. 

I had been accepted into the top law school in the nation, which was an incredible prestige to have. 

I didn’t accept the offer. 

While I was in my undergraduate, I had realized something that felt so out of my depth; I had no desire to be a lawyer. None. Sure, academia and criminology were both things that I excelled at, but when I thought about following in my parents footsteps and living that drab, boring life until the day I died…? It’s enough to drive a man mad. 

The day of my graduation party was a disaster. My parents had set up an elaborate get-together, inviting everyone in the town to celebrate my getting into the best university. I hadn’t told them yet. As everyone congratulated me, clinking together expensive bottles of champagne arranged in a neat array by my mother, I was told to give a speech. 

“Thank you to everyone for gathering here today to celebrate my many accomplishments,” I had said. “Your attendance is noted and appreciated. For me to get this far, I really have to thank my parents. If not for them, I would not be where I am today. I actually have a special announcement to make for everyone, if I may. I will not be continuing my studies at university.” A gasp and low murmurs could be heard throughout the room. “I know, I know. But is it really a surprise? Dearest mother and father, you have put me into a box since the day that I was born. It’s no surprise that I would end up just like you, is it? That’s exactly what you wanted. That’s exactly what they wanted, everyone!” I say, addressing the room. “I have never had a chance to explore life for myself. What do I want out of life? It’s not to be a fucking lawyer! I’ve never wanted that. I don’t even know what I want! My parents, who you all know and love so dearly, will probably never speak to me again after this. Because if I’m not who they want me to be, they won’t want me! Mother, father, I hope you have the greatest life. Ladies and gentlemen, if I may excuse myself.” And with that, I put the mic down and leave the room. My mother and father’s spluttering faces left behind, and that life I had worked so hard for completely in the past. 

After that night I started renting a dingy apartment in the bad side of town. It was all I could afford with the money I had saved up doing research in college, but it was certainly enough. That first night was the most refreshing night of my life. I didn’t think about work or what was coming next. I laid in bed, a mattress on the floor that I hauled up to the twelfth floor of my apartment building, and read a book cover to cover. I slept for fourteen hours. It was as if everything I had ever done in life was starting to catch up to me at last. I even became physically sick right after and instead of pushing through it I just… let it work its way through my body as I rested, the way it’s meant to be done. 

Day 6 of living my new life, no contact with my parents since the day I left, I decided I would get a job. I didn’t have anything in mind but I knew that I wanted it to be something that felt freeing. Something I wouldn’t have to think about. I let my feet lead the way, and I somehow ended up in a bar. Run-down, smelling of cigarette smoke and tables that barely stood on their own. A place with no promise whatsoever, surely a horrible investment for one to make… 

“Are you hiring?” The bartender laughed from where she sat. She thought I was joking, and I’m sure in any given situation that was the right assumption to make. Why would anybody want to work here?

“We don’t get much business,” she said. 

“That’s fine,” I told her. 

“Do you have a bartending license?” she had asked. I shook my head in response. “Usually we won’t hire without previous experience, but for a pretty face like yourself, consider it done. We pay off-the-books, so you’ll get your check in cash. S’that alright?” She flicked a cigarette butt into the glass ashtray on the bar. 

“When can I start?” 

And so became my first job pursuit as a bartender. I found it easy to navigate, and talking to the patrons that frequented the bar felt so refreshing. Listening to the lives of strangers that came in and out, struggling to make a living instead of having everything handed to me on a platter, and never having to think about that forbidden word ‘legacy.’ It was everything I’d wanted and more. 

To my surprise, the business at the bar had started to pick up after the start of my employment. We had started making enough money that I was able to sit down with the owner and help them budget out renovations… starting with new tables. 

“I can’t for the life of me figure out why we have this many new customers,” I had told the other bartender one day. 

“Me neither,” she replied sarcastically. “It’s not like we have a new bartender that looks like he was sculpted by a Greek God or anything.” 

It just so happens that I was able to rise up on the management chain fairly quickly. It wasn’t like there was much of a chain to begin with, but within a month I was enacted as the manager. Maybe the current one was lazy, or maybe they had given up on the bar long before I had started working there, but nonetheless I accepted the position, so long as I didn’t work more than 40 hours a week. With the extra cash I started making in tips, I was able to build up my library as well. I was happy. 

“Hyunjin, was it?” said a patron at the bar one night. It was a Friday, loud and bustling on one of our more active business days. I had almost missed the fact that he was talking to me. 

“Hmm? Yes, Hyunjin. What can I do for you? Would you like another drink?” I asked, looking at the man. He was fit, wearing a black tank top underneath a blazer; he seemed almost out of place. His dark hair was neatly styled and he was adorned with silver jewelry. I noted how well put together he was and I remembered him being very kind to me when I refilled his drink. 

“Thank you, Hyunjin. I’ll speak with you later, after hours, if we may.” I didn’t get a chance to interrupt him or ask him what he meant before he threw down a wad of cash in his wake. 

“What–” 

“Do you even know who that was?” my coworker had asked. Furrowing my brow and shaking my head, I looked at her incredulous expression. That man had never walked into the bar before, I would have recognized him if he had. 

“That was Bang Chan!” she whisper-shouted at me. “He owns this place. Hell, he probably owns half of the businesses in this town!” The name did seem to ring a bell now that she mentioned it. What did he want to speak with me for? Continuing on with my shift, albeit with a tremor in my hands that wasn’t there before, I waited and waited for what was to come. 

It’s one a.m. when Bang Chan reenters the bar. The place has since been cleared out and I’m making myself busy by sanitizing the tables and rinsing the cups, since we have nobody else to do it. 

“Sir,” I said, addressing him as he walked in. 

“Hwang Hyunjin.” 

“You know who I am?” I asked. I didn’t recall giving him my family name. 

“Of course I know the name of the son of the head chief of police,” he said with a smile. 

“I’ve since left that life behind me,” I told him. 

“I’m well-aware. In fact, I know that you were able to bring one of my worst businesses up from the ground in only a month’s time. That’s incredibly impressive, you know.” 

“It’s just because of my ‘pretty face,’ I’m told,” I said, trying to dismiss him. 

“Do you truly think that? Because from what I’ve heard your incredible financial skills and marketing strategies had a play in that as well. I know you’re quite aware of your own intelligence, Hyunjin. That’s why I have a proposition for you.” 

“A proposition?” I asked, my movements stilling. 

“I would like for you to join my team. Surely you’ve heard of SKZ?” My blood runs still for a moment. SKZ. Of course I’ve heard of the mafia group that’s in charge of most of the city. They’re dangerous but also incredibly powerful thanks to their handlings in several businesses, including bars, casinos, nightclubs, you name it. But somehow, they’re also in charge of the significant decrease in crime since their organization. I actually know them quite well. 

I should have recognized that this bar was under his control. I should have recognized his name from my coworker when she told me who he was earlier! Am I so far detached from my past now that I seriously suppressed this important information?

“My parents… my mother is the lead detective on your case,” I told him. In hindsight, maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to tell him at the moment. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “That’s exactly why I think you would make a great addition to the team. You could help us thwart their efforts. Who better to help than the intelligent son of the lead detective? You’ve been involved in that life before and you know what it’s like, but also, you’re strong, you’re bold, and there’s something about you I really like. I think when all is said and done, you could be my consigliere.” 

The word is unfamiliar to me and it must show. “What–” 

“My confidant,” he elaborates. “My advisor. Someone I can turn to to help me make important decisions. There’s something special that I see in you, and I think you and I could work very well together.” 

“I’m not sure,” I had told him. “It’s just… I wanted more time to figure myself out. I hope you don’t find that stupid of me?” I hadn’t even considered that my parents would be extremely disappointed and enraged in my decision. As far as I was concerned, I had burned the bridges from that relationship months ago. But to make a commitment like this so soon after deciding that I wanted to take the time off… I wasn’t so sure. 

“Think about it, Hyunjin,” he had said. He gave me his card with his name and number. “I think it would be a wise decision for you to make. Working together… we can make anything a reality.” He had left me alone in the bar at that to close up. 

I couldn’t deny that there was something appealing in being his confidant, of having my opinions both heard and respected. 

However, I was a shell of myself when he found me. I didn’t consider the fact that he may have been preying on the very recent destruction of my relationship with my parents, still a new and fresh wound. All that mattered when I spoke to Chan was the prospect that maybe I could find a new purpose, one where I’m well respected and it’s not because of my legacy. 

When I was a child, there was something that I never had: A voice. I didn’t talk much, and for a long time I didn’t think of my opinions and my sentiments as my own. I was a carbon copy of my parents, a smaller version of them created to carry out their will. Leaving them, leaving school and finding myself was the first thing that I ever did on my own. Little by little I started to find that voice and discovered new things about myself that I had never known before. 

The more I thought about it, the more attractive it was to pursue something the complete opposite from my parents. Even better if I could thrive at it, to make them regret turning me into something I’m not. What else could I do to bring them shame and guilt over what they did to me? 

I realized something that night at Chan’s offer. While I was out trying to find my voice, he was giving me the opportunity to make me sing. 

I texted him that very same night. 

“I’m in.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: first mini-chapter done!! I appreciate you all that ended up guessing who you thought it would be! Did it come as a surprise? We're eventually going to get a mini-story for all eight members!! I can't wait to see what y'all think!

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

@rylea08 ; @the-sweetest-rose ; @oddracha ; @kapelover ; @goldenmellow ;

@zerefdragn33l ; @uhh-awkward-rightt ; @astudyoftimeywimeystuff ; @kaleigh-2002 ; @thatonexcgirl ;

@mindfreecreator ; @linoalwaysknows ; @velvetmoonlght ; @minahaeyo ; @crystalchuuu ;

@hash2013 ; @skzswife ; @b0bbl3s ; @thecutiepieme ; @bear8585 ;

@moss-the-man ; @softkisshyunjin ; @sylveonitesworld ; @m00njinnie ; @nicoleparadas ;

@starsofasteria ; @klopez01 ; @luvlinos ; @hyunjinnnnnnnnnnnnnn ;

[octuscle]

Dear Support-Team,

I just downloaded the App for my mobile but I guess I'm too overwhelmed with all these settings. Thats whyy I am asking you for help.

I'm 25 years old, german. Just finished university and now I'm working a boring job, but at least good income.

Sometimes I see old classmates (the cool kids, most of them are Moslem and with Arabian (?) family backgrounds) on Instagram and I wonder: where would I be today if these People where my friends at school and today...

I don't know how to program the app to find out. Hopefully you can help.

Thanks a lot!

What a cool car! Your father-in-law was really generous. But when you marry his son tonight, when your new brothers and cousins block the inner-city ring road of Dortmund honking their horns, when you dance in the streets and shoot your guns in the air, then everyone should also see that someone is getting married here who made it. An alpha Arab. And you, his German husband.

Damn, you wouldn't have thought that twelve years ago. You were only 13 years old. And a car fanatic. But your father was unemployed and your mother had to work as a cleaning lady. In life, you would never be able to afford one of the cars that stood at the luxury car dealer in the industrial park. That's where the soccer stars of Borussia Dortmund bought their cars. And other people you didn't even want to know where they got their money from. You always stood in front of the shop windows with wide eyes. And then you took heart and asked if you could have a student job. To be allowed to be close to the wonderful cars. And then you started vacuuming floor mats, polishing rims, cleaning air vents with a toothbrush. Always on time, always hardworking, always thorough. The boss's eldest son quickly noticed this, and as a result he gave you more and more errands to run. And more and more responsible tasks.

You must have been about 16 years old, you had just finished secondary school and changed to high school when the Aouns invited you home for the first time. And that's when you saw Chafik for the first time. A cool man. Well built, well dressed, disarming smile. It was probably love at first sight. Even if you had to keep your love a secret for a long time. But in the years that followed, you earned the unreserved trust of the Aouns. At the latest, when your mother died of breast cancer and your father later of his alcohol consumption, you were the sixth son here. And at some point it was clear that there was more than brotherly love between you and Chafik. Mr. Aouns was furious. But at some point he accepted that he could not imagine a better son-in-law than you.

After graduating from high school with honors, you joined the family business and took over the fitness center division. And you made the business flourish. In the meantime, more pharmaceuticals were sold in your gyms than in the pharmacy of the nearest university hospital. And you were always clean. Even if you didn't convert to Islam, you didn't drink alcohol. Of course you would have liked to decorate your muscles with tattoos. But that would not have been godly. At some point, you fit perfectly into the clan. As one of the area leaders. You were only always the only one without a beard and with a smooth chest.

You turn into the underground car park of your mansion at the Phoenixsee. Now you have to hurry. In an hour you will marry Chafik dressed in a suit. Then suddenly you are Christian Aoun. Although no one calls you Christian anymore anyway. Because of your radiant smile, you're just Bassem to everyone here!

Thank you, @jacobadler2 for the perfectly fitting picture!

[literallyjusttoa]

Very interested in the story of concussion Apollo's dad gave him

👀

-@ukelele-boy

Yes yessss let me explain! I think I’ve covered this incident before but I’ve changed it a lil bit so here we go!

Apollo had spent years being his father’s “golden child”. He had  perfect grades, joined every honor’s society, was top of all them sports teams, all that jazz. Any failure, or even just Apollo expressing that he was tired and burnt out, led to passive aggressive (or just straight up aggressive) attacks from his father. Apollo had to be perfect, and he had to be happy about it too. All of this was extremely damaging to Apollo’s psyche, but he pushed through his rapidly worsening mental state and any injuries his father gave him, bc he reasoned that he was just putting on a happy face to help keep the family together, or keep his father calm so that he didn’t lash out at any of the other siblings. 

Everything kept building up until Apollo graduates high school. Apollo really, really, didn’t want to go to law school, which his father was pushing onto him. Instead, he applied to a nearby med school, hoping that the prestige of such a job would pacify Zeus. Instead, Zeus became enraged that Apollo went behind his back about this, and the two of them got into an incredibly violent row. For the first time, the rest of the family got a view of how Zeus treated Apollo behind closed doors, and the fighting escalated until Zeus ended up pushing the stairs of their home, giving him a severe concussion alongside several other more minor injuries (two fractures, and a lot of bruises) Honestly, if Apollo was in peak condition he might not have gotten so hurt, but the stress of this entire situation had made him skip meals and lose sleep, so he wasn’t able to catch himself in any way. The whole thing got Apollo hospitalized. This was the straw that broke the camel's back for Apollo, and when he woke up in the hospital, he told the nurses he didn’t want any visitors, and began the difficult process of cutting off the rest of his family.

As I said in the last post about this, Apollo now suffers from fits of insomnia and narcolepsy, migraines, and vertigo, but he also suffers from a lot of short term memory loss, which is really kicking his ass when it comes to med school. ALSO, like I said before, Apollo doesn’t actually want to go to med school. He just feels like 1) he’s already started, so he has to see it through, and 2) he’s still a bit caught up in the ideal of perfection that’s been pushed on him his whole life. It’s only through seeing his own past reflected in Jason, and fearing that he’ll get hurt in the same way, that Apollo is truly able to self-reflect and see how much he’s still living in a very self-destructive way. 

[writtenonreceipts]

Hi friend! How are you? I hope this sparks some ideas for your secret santa: N.12 for Elorcan, please?

Hi! I've been alright, I survived my holiday weekend and am back to the usual grind! I hope you're doing well! Thanks so much for sending me this, I really did enjoy this one!

from this prompt list

Prompt: "H-how long have you been standing there?” - “Long enough.”->I tweaked it just a little.

AO3 Link Here

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Tear In My Heart

The gritty scent of cigarette smoke was the first thing Lorcan noticed when he entered the bar.  Being this far out in the middle of nowhere Colorado led to no one caring about enforcing the law about indoor smoking, especially not the owner.  Mort never seemed to care about that sort of thing and it showed.  Lorcan doubted any sort of deep cleaning would ever rid the place of the stench so there was no use banning smoking.  Especially not when it was accompanied by the sharp tang of alcohol and vomit.

Unfortunately, there was nowhere else to get a decent drink around here unless you sat out on your porch with your own.  And even Lorcan didn't drink alone.

But there was another reason to come to the bar.

Eighties rock played through the speakers adding to the grungy atmosphere.  Dim lights over the counter set everything in an orange haze.  Even the neon lights of the different beer logos and other paraphernalia didn't add anything.  Two pool tables sat in one of the back corners along with a dart board.  No matter how few people were seated at the bar or various tables, it always felt overcrowded and tonight was no different.

All Lorcan focused on, however, was the woman behind the bar.

Her black hair fell around her shoulders in loose waves, framing her face.  He'd always found her beautiful, striking really, with her onyx eyes and pale skin, that sarcastic twist of her lips when she made a quip. 

She hadn't noticed him yet, which was good, he didn't need to be caught starting.  Instead, she was focused on pouring out a drink for the man across the counter from her.  She laughed at something he said, though he didn't know what.

Lorcan felt his own blood heat at that and he strode across the hardwood floor in just a few quick steps.  When he approached the bar, Elide finally noticed him and a smile lit up her entire face.

"Well, well," she said, sliding the drink to the other customer.  "If it isn't Salvaterre."

"Lochan," he said.  He took a seat a few stools down from the other man.

"Let me know if you need anything else, Dan," Elide said to the other man.  She moved down the bar until she reached Lorcan.  With her arms crossed she leaned against the polished wood so she could properly examine him. "You look like hell."

Lorcan rolled his eyes.  It was true enough.  This past week had been miserable.  The small shop he ran had been struggling a bit and things at the ranch were not better.  It shouldn't have surprised him, things always slowed down this time of year, but summer had been slower as well.  And then there was the fact that he had feelings for the girl he could never have.

"I always look like this," he said.  And because he was a bastard, he leaned forward, drawing closer to her.

"Yeah, you should do something about that," she said.  Her endless black eyes stared directly into him as though she could see to his very soul.  Then with a laugh she pulled back. "You want your usual?"

"Yeah, sure," he said.  He watched her go as she turned for a new glass, a bottle of whiskey. 

Elide had always been the sort of woman he knew he could never have.  She was good, first off.  She came from a good family with a good background.  She'd graduated high school with honors even though she had pretty bad dyslexia.  Then when her dad got sick she'd dropped out of college and left everything to move back home and help her mom out with bills by working at a crappy bar that probably doled out even crappier tips.

As she assembled the drink she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Just you tonight?"

"Nah, the twins'll show up eventually," he said. "And Rowan if he can drag himself away from another fight with Galathynius."

Elide snorted a laugh and she turned back to him with the drink. "Aw, upset your best friend actually has a life?"

"You know how annoying that woman is," Lorcan groused.  He accepted the drink.

For the last year and a half, Aelin had been working at the Whitethorn ranch as a trauma specialist in youth and children for kids needing help in various forms of therapy.  Rowan had inherited the business from his parents and for some reason thought it was a good idea to keep it running.  Even if he and his lead psychologist did not get along.

"Yeah, that's why she's my best friend," Elide said drily.  "She's a good person."

Lorcan doubted that but he'd shut up.  There would be plenty of other chances to put his foot in his mouth tonight.

"I'll take your word for it," he said instead.  He took a long drink, ice clinking gently in the cup.

"Well I am a very reliable source," she said. 

And then she was gone to fix another round for a couple at one of the far tables.  Lorcan watched her go, unable to look away from the sway of her hips or the sliver of skin that peeked out between the edge of her shirt and her jeans.

He only managed to tear his gaze away when the door of the bar opened and Fenrys Moonbeam entered.  Lorcan knew it was him without even looking because Fen, annoying as hell, always made sure his presence was known.

"Lochan!  How's it going?" Fenrys called, looping over to Lorcan.  Behind him was the more subdued Connall, eyes glued to his phone.  Lorcan had the sneaking suspicion that Connall was about to start dating someone.  But being who he was, wouldn't talk about it until it was an actuality.  Even quiet and distracted, Connall still managed to balance out his twin.

"Hi Fenrys," Elide called back.  She kept with her current task of drink refills and checking the kitchen on a food order.

When Fenrys dropped into the stool beside Lorcan he smacked a hand on his shoulder.

"You know you're getting obvious, right?" Fenrys asked.  "What's this?  Three nights in a row?"

"He's not that much of a psychopath," Connall spoke, he dropped into the seat on the far side of Fenrys. "He puts a day between the visits."

"Shut up," Lorcan growled.  He took another sip of whiskey, relishing in the bite as it slid down his throat.

Somehow, in some pathetic and sad twist of fate, his friends had learned of his crush on Elide.  He blamed it on a night a few months ago involving too much tequila and spur of the moment round of truth or dare.  It was pathetic enough that he was a thirty-year-old man playing truth or dare but to follow that up with the admission of having a crush?  Pathetic. 

He really had to get a life.

"You should make a move 's all I'm saying," Fenrys said.  He snagged a half-filled bowl of pretzels from down the bar and dragged it closer so he could snack.

"He's right," Connall added, finally looking up from his phone. "She's not going to stay single forever.  I heard Archer Finn wanted to ask her out."

Lorcan couldn't help his scowl.  Finn was best described as being a player.  One night stands, ghosting, playing games.  He wasn't a good person.  It was the one thing he could agree with Aelin Galathynius about.  He certainly didn't deserve to even talk to Elide.

"Yeah, the scowl's real convincing about your feelings," Connall said.

"Archer's an ass," Lorcan said.

Fenrys laughed. "So are you and she still talks to you."

Lorcan kicked his chair. "Shut up."

"Man."  Fenrys shook his head, brushing his blond curls from his eyes. "You've been obsessed with her for years.  At this point it's your own fault if she gets picked up by someone else."

"I'm not--" Lorcan began.

"You have her shifts memorized," Connall said, "know her birthday, her mom's birthday, dude you got her flowers on her dads anniversary."

Lorcan was never telling Rowan anything ever again.

"Didn't you fix her car for free too?" Fenrys added, mouth full of pretzels.

In the last five years of knowing Elide, having moved to this town on a whim after school, Lorcan had indeed done all of those things.  There had just been something about Elide and the first time he'd met her.  It had been at this very bar, just a few months after her dad's passing.  He hadn't been in the best of moods, admittedly that was usual for him, and she'd called him out on it.

Their friendship slowly developed from there where he'd learned all those things and more about Elide.  He'd been in love with her as long as he could remember.

He couldn't say anything of course because he was Lorcan.  He was the town miscreant who usually stayed on his property unless it was to come in for a drink.  He managed the stables for the Whitethorn ranch and ran a side mechanic shop.  Really, the jobs weren't stable and would likely only get worse from here.  His father was an alcoholic, his mother gone since he was eighteen--he wasn't good enough for someone like Elide.

"She's going to figure out you're in love with her eventually," Connall said, "and what are you going to--"

Connall abruptly cut off with a rather colorful curse and Lorcan felt his blood freeze.  He abandoned his drink and spun in his stool to find Elide standing behind them, half empty tray of drinks and plates in her hands.

Her eyes were too wide and her lips parted in shock.

"I-" Her gaze bounced between the three of them before settling on the floor. "I'll be out with drinks in a minute."

She dropped the tray on the nearest table and immediately left through the front door of the bar--not through the kitchens.

"Hell,” Lorcan muttered.  He stood and punched Fenrys' shoulder for good measure. "Thanks for that."

"Connall's the one that actually said it!" Fenrys shouted.

Lorcan ignored him and launched himself out and across the bar to the door.

The cool air of the night immediately washed over him, clearing his senses of the heady scent of the bar.  Overhead, a waning crescent hung in the sky with patches of stars filling the inky darkness.

He spun, looking for where Elide had gone.  He knew she was still on shift and wouldn't take off without a replacement.

It didn't take long to spot her.  She'd walked down the length of the sidewalk outside the bar a few yards away.  Overhead, a streetlamp burned with pale light, illuminating her as she paced with quick, uneven steps.  She tugged one hand through her hair, holding it out of her face as she muttered under her breath.

When Lorcan's boot scraped on the ground, she looked up.  Her eyes were still wide and shock remained cleanly written on her face.  Lorcan kept enough distance between them so that if she really wanted she could skirt around him and head back to the bar, but close enough that he could reach out to her too.

"How much did you hear?" he asked, because really that's all he really cared about, how much damage control he needed to do.

"Enough."

If there was one thing that Lorcan knew about Elide it was that she didn't shirk away from a problem.  Even if she didn't like the situation or what may come with it.  Just like now.

Her dark eyes met his and, for once, he couldn't read her.  He'd gotten so used to knowing her little quirks that the radio silence unnerved him.  Or maybe that was how it was supposed to be.  Maybe he didn't actually know her and everything he thought he did know was more or less a facade, an illusion.

"Is it true?" she asked, voice soft and far more vulnerable than Lorcan was used to hearing from her. "Or were they just talking shit, I know how they are."

"I--" Lorcan scrubbed at his face, looking away.  He didn't know if he could tell her the truth.  If he did there was no guarantee of how she would respond.  And he didn't know if he could take the rejection.  Because something like this?  It would ruin any semblance of friendship between them.

"Lorcan."

She wouldn't let him get away with the silence or the pretending to ignore what she had heard.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" he asked.

"Yes."  The hard line of her voice drew him back to her.  With hands on her hips and the way her hair swept over one shoulder, Lorcan knew he wouldn't get away with delaying any longer.  

The thing about it was that he didn’t like not being able to control the outcome of a given situation.  And he knew more than anything that there was no controlling Elide.  She was exactly who she was and would yield to no one.

Lorcan often put his foot in his mouth over so many things--especially when he had been younger.  It simply became easier to act.  Which was what he did then.

In two sweeping steps, he reached her.  Lorcan cupped her face in his hands, feeling how soft her skin was against his own calluses.  Her dark eyes gleamed in the streetlamp overhead, her full mouth opening in surprise.

Lorcan acted without thinking when he kissed her.  All he was really focused on was wiping that look of mixed hurt and confusion from her face--to show her exactly how he felt.

A part of Lorcan thought she would shove him away, but instead her hands gripped the front of his shirt, fingers digging into the fabric to pull him closer.  Her lips were soft against his, soft and warm and everything he’d imagined in all these years.  And when she exhaled a soft moan, Lorcan nearly broke at that sound alone.

One of his hands slipped into her hair, the thick locks like silk in his fingers.  His other hand went to her waist as he tugged her closer.  He could feel her warmth and her soft curves and all he could think that he wanted more.  More of her and more of what they could have.

“Lorcan,” Elide whispered against his lips.  She broke away only to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling heavily as she met his gaze.

He leaned in close enough to press his forehead against hers even though all he could think about was kissing her again and memorizing the way she felt against him.

“I’m in love with you,” he told her, voice soft.  He’d never said these words to anyone before and they felt strange on his tongue.  But he knew they were true and he knew that he had to say them at least once.  And it would only be for her.

He felt her tremble in his arms and listened to the sharp inhale of breath she made.  When she didn’t try and pull away from him, Lorcan felt a bit of hope rise in his chest.  Instead, Elide tilted her chin until her lips brushed against his.  The touch was barely there and hardly even a kiss but Lorcan swore he came alive with that simple act.

“It took you long enough,” she replied.  Her dark eyes stared into him with a spark of that same fire that had first caught his attention five years ago.

When she kissed him she held nothing back.  Her mouth was firm and insistent, her hands moving with determination until her fingers curled over his shoulders keeping right where she wanted.

And for the first time since he’d moved to this town, he felt like he’d finally come home.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

tagging still is not functioning properly, so if you'd reblog/comment I'd really appreciate it! Y'all are so great <3

[springzy]

hello again darlings !! sage (s/h) here to introduce the lovely han jieun aka julie. julie was created to fulfill my true crime cravings, so i apologize in advance for any crazy themes you may or may not come across. she's quite the girl for someone her age anyways. with a high iq and the luxury of a golden spoon, she's everything you'd expect—pastel pinks, diamond jewelry, short skirts, straight hair; yet a blunt attitude underneath all the glitter that puts herself in the wrong situations. especially since she works as an administrative assistant in the town hall. so, i'm sure you'll be seeing plenty of her pretty face if you enjoy it or not.

♡ 정보 𓂃 ⋆ profile & memories & connections.

like this for a dm or reply to this for a starter.

— the tl;dr

han jieun / julie • march 13th, 1999 • second born by han junseo, hanul ai founder & bae saran • top of class oxford graduate • ex-nis agent intern and author, current administrative assistant • floor 9, unit 3 • pisces, rabbit, intj-a, true neutral(?)

tw: abuse (mental and physical), cheating, murder, death, underaged victims, and mentions of serial cases.

— the story

unfortunately given birth in a family that expected the most. she was intelligent, sure, but the good grades and awards wasn't enough to please her father. everything revolved around her older brother, han jiwoo, who was set to run the company.

presented herself as a typical rich girl, most likely for attention than anything else. from high heels, perfect makeup, attractive looks, expensive brands, and a no-can-do attitude—at least her classmates could give her the attention (and drama) she craved.

took up tennis in middle school via her mother. probably one of the only things she actually grew attached to.

but then in high school, her best friend who also practiced tennis, was killed at a competition in the locker rooms. julie saw the whole thing and who did it, but she didn't have the courage to stop it from happening. the culprit got away. in the end, she developed a strong fear against blood and a slight ptsd from witnessing that at her age.

luckily she found her calling through that event. she got shipped off to oxford then decided to study law and psychology. her goal was to work on understanding the human mind and why they do what they do (yes.. this is basically criminal minds lol).

met her best friends there, went to a lot of parties, gained honor's through oxford, was an overall well rounded student. this was the time of her life she felt most like herself.

oh yeah, did i mention she got engaged?

after returning to korea she managed to score an internship with the nis via recommendations and her high iq score. here she worked on a lot of serial or extreme cases with her team. she even anonymously wrote a book called "under oath" about some of the cases.

but then got murdered by the lover of one of the brutal killers she wrote about. it happened in an alleyway with a hammer. how fun, am i right?

— the sequel

arriving in ansong she doesn't remember much of how it started. the first thing she can really put together is: standing in front of the apartment's desk that already had her unit prepared for her.

by a month later and she's managed to capture a job at the town hall. she just felt most inclined to work for the city. an easy office job where she simply works with files and paperwork all day.

eventually she put the pieces together that she used to attend oxford. all of her friends and memories there feel nostalgic, but also confuse her too much. she honestly tries to avoid thinking about it because the entire concept makes her feel sick to her stomach.

she likes to spend her free time at the library, book stores, coffee shops, or flower venues. she likes pretty things or trying to avoid all the bad things in her head by using those items.

there's not a whole lot since she's still very new to town. all she can 100% understand is that she wants to stay in ansong for quite some time. she has no want or need to remember her life. it scares her anyways.

— the connections

anyone that loves her fashion taste and wants to learn.

maybe floor neighbors she’s not familiar with.

a best friend she talks to everyday!

someone to share work drama/complain about boss with.

strangers meeting at bad moments.

a food employee that she’s a regular for.

group of friends that sees movies every week together.

give me more negative based relationships!

or go to her connections page for more in depth ideas.

besides that: more to be added eventually.

[catalina-g]

and it's in the sea of green I lose control

Name: Catalina Jade Gomez

Age: 29

Birthday/Zodiac: April 21st, 1995 — Taurus

Face Claim: Eva De Dominici

Occupation: Firefighter

Neighborhood: Downtown

Gender & Preferred Pronouns: Cis female & she/her

Brief Bio (tw parental death)

Catalina Jade Gomez is the middle child of three, and was born in Avellaneda, Argentina.

At age 4 she and her family moved to Briar Ridge, her father had found a better job here in construction while her mom was able to stay home with, at the time, only her and her older sibling.

Growing up was a bit rough for her, her older sibling was the prized possession of her mother and father, constantly she was compared to them as if whatever she did was never as good as what they did.

It affected Catalina by causing her to act out, though she was smart, she was always getting into trouble at school.

Catalina was known as a hot head among her classmates, and some tried to test her to see if she was really as crazy as they described—and she proved them right every time.

All throughout elementary and middle school she was able to get away with most things by using her sweet smile and soft, seas of green. It made most people believe she was just 'misunderstood', that she wasn't meaning to do the things she was doing.

That stopped in high school...but her behavior soon got worse with news of the arrival of another sibling she knew she'd be competing with.

From ninth grade up until her senior year Catalina had been suspended at minimum seven different times for fighting on school grounds. Other discrepancies that followed her was cutting class, cussing out one of the teachers, and a few other small things that had her sitting in ISS for most of her school days.

Regardless, she still graduated with a 3.8 GPA, her knowledge never wavering behind her terrible conduct.

Her little sister, Emalina, looked up to her and her oldest sibling, no matter how often her parents told her that Cat was no good.

After graduating she went off to college and lived the best life she could, never calling home, and just partying the weekends...hell even the weekdays away while working towards her degree.

She had chosen Criminal Justice, and despite the many classes and exams attended with a hangover, she managed to graduate with her bachelor's with honors.

The next two years flew by as she came back home, soon getting a simple job as a bartender while she was indecisive on if she wanted to pursue a career in law enforcement or not—she had a ton of time to grow up, right?

Wrong. Her parents had left Catalina in charge of her then 11-year-old sister so that they could go to celebrate their upcoming wedding anniversary—and asleep on the couch she was when she heard a knock at the door that would deliver the worst possible news she could have imagined.

Her parents had been killed in a drunk driving accident, and she was left with taking over guardianship of her sister while her older sibling was nowhere to be found.

Knowing she needed to leave a lot of her way behind; she decided to join the fire academy and worked her ass off to graduate and secure a job that would keep the two of them afloat.

Catalina hasn't moved out of the downtown home her parents had brought her up in, and unsure of if she wants to or not—and now she has a fifteen-year-old to keep from following mostly in her footsteps.

Which also means less bar fights, so she keeps her job...but she's always ready to throw down.

[thefactsofthematter]

u asked and i will deliver. if u want to write this feel free to change literally anything but

model davey! he graduated college with honors, has a degree in poli sci, and was literally about to go to law school before being signed to a modeling agency- thus starting a turbulent relationship with his family. he starts doing runways and soon moves into print works and even in his short time of modeling he’s become a frequent in some of the most well-known fashion magazines. this is great, this is amazing- but it has an impact on his mental health that he wasn’t ready for.

enter jack kelly, the makeup artist that somehow always seems to work with davey; jack is known for his bold editorial looks and impeccable work, yet he has quite the image in the industry. he’s stubborn, he’s unorthodox, he’s got quite the temper, but his work speaks for itself. jack is the guy who never wears makeup to shoots, he never dresses up unless it’s something important, he’s got piercings and tattoos and a list of bad habits following him wherever he goes.

anyway blah blah they fall in love they indulge in bad habits and reckless things they get better and boom they’re everyone’s favorite powerhouse couple!!!

ohohohoho JAC!!! i’m obsessed!!! god a model au just tickles my brain the perfect way and this is everything @we-are-inevitable

here’s a fun (or possibly fucked up? idk those are synonyms to me sometimes) little one shot! tw for some mentions of disordered eating - as one might expect from a model au

-

David Jacobs is a nice person.

For all twenty-three years of his life so far, he’s told himself that. It’s been mostly true— he’s never had much of a temper, he treats people with empathy and kindness, and he’s never been demanding or high-strung. He’s normally a pretty chill person who’s easy to please, and who genuinely likes to help people and make them happy.

Nothing about the past year has been normal, though, and he’s starting to realize it might be messing with him a little. Just a few weeks ago, parents were bitching about how much he’s changed, and he thought it was bullshit… until he suddenly catches himself storming away from his personal assistant (which he has now, by the way,) after shouting:

“Just stop talking and figure it out yourself! Can you fuck off and leave me alone for two fucking seconds? Oh my god.”

And then he’s off, out the back door of the set, to sit on the fire escape and try to cool down. He knows he’s being an asshole, but he’s at the end of his rope— he hasn’t eaten an actual meal in three days, there’s makeup caked all over his face and too much product in his hair, he’s sick of people touching him and telling him what to do, and fucking Romeo won’t stop reminding him how busy he is by asking stupid questions about his jam-packed schedule for the next few days. He has a runway show tonight that’ll go to at least midnight, and a 5 AM call time for a shoot tomorrow, and then an afternoon flight to Paris— he doesn’t care which of the two hotels Romeo booked he actually stays at, because they’re both five stars anyways, so it shouldn’t be this much of a hassle to pick one and cancel the other, and it’s something that should be able to get taken care of without needing to bother him about it.

He instinctively goes to rub at his eyes once he’s outside, but he freezes when he hears:

“If you fuck up your makeup, I’m not fixing it for you. I hope you’re done shooting in there.”

His head snaps to the side, and he sees none other than Jack Kelly.

He’s leaning against the wall, with half of a foil-wrapped bodega breakfast sandwich in one hand and a coffee in the other, obviously on a break. He’s still wearing his makeup-stained apron over his clothes— comfy-looking joggers and a t-shirt that shows off his tattoo-covered arms— and he’s got a Givenchy beanie perched almost precariously high on his head. He doesn’t seem pissed, mostly amused, but Davey has heard rumours about his allegedly quick temper; fucking up his work would be a good way to get on his bad side.

“Sorry,” Davey sighs. He folds his arms over his chest to keep his hands away from his face. “I think I’m done— they might want more shots once they look at what we’ve got, though. I don’t know. I have to get out of here soon for a fitting uptown either way.”

It was Jack who applied the fancy, editorial eye makeup that Davey nearly ruined— his apprentice does the base layers of foundation and whatnot, but it’s Jack’s artistic vision and skill that people pay for when they book him for stuff like this, so he does the important parts himself. He takes his sweet time, snapping at people when they try to rush him, which is why Davey spent over an hour in the makeup chair this morning.

It’s probably the tenth or-so time Jack has done his makeup, but they’ve barely ever conversed, both of them too busy being pulled in a million different directions by everyone else on set.

“Busy day, huh?” Jack chuckles. His nose crinkles a little when he laughs, and it makes his septum piercing wiggle. He takes a bite of his sandwich and then talks as he chews. “What were you yelling about in there?”

Davey very nearly rolls his eyes.

“Nothing,” he mutters. “It’d just be nice if my assistant would fucking assist me sometimes, instead of asking me a million questions about every stupid little thing. He drives me insane, I swear.”

Jack quirks an eyebrow.

“Fire him, then.” He shrugs. “You’d have to start calling your own Ubers and picking up your own coffees, though… might be tough.”

Davey is pretty sure he’s joking, but he does have a point— Romeo takes care of a lot of the day-to-day shit that Davey himself doesn’t have time for anymore, everything from posting on his social media to ordering his groceries. He does a lot more than anyone gives him credit for.

“I’m not gonna fire him. He’s a good kid,” Davey sighs. “I’m just… pissed off right now. I needed to get outside and breathe for a minute.”

Jack finishes his sandwich, crumpling up the foil and shoving it into a pocket of his apron. He then reaches into a different pocket and procures a joint and a lighter.

“Here.” He holds them out to Davey. “Chill out a little.”

Davey blinks, staring more at Jack’s tattooed fingers than what’s held between them, and then quickly shakes his head.

“Sorry, no. I don’t smoke.”

Jack laughs.

“You’re a model, and you don’t smoke?” he teases. “That’s funny, tell another one.”

Maybe it was a good thing he hasn’t talked much to Jack before— he’s really fucking annoying.

“Fine, only cigarettes,” Davey ultimately concedes. “I’m not into weed.”

Jack shrugs and lights the joint, taking it to his own lips for a puff.

“Suit yourself.”

It’s quiet for a second as Jack exhales the smoke. He’s a real picture of effortless beauty— he’s obviously not thinking about his appearance right now, but there’s something almost untouchable about how casually gorgeous he is.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Davey ends up adding, “but I get so hungry when I’m high. I’m on a diet right now, so I can’t do that to myself.”

Jack shakes his head.

“Models… maybe that’s why you guys are brats. You’re hangry all the time.”

“Hangry?”

“You know, hungry and angry. You get all irritable because your agent convinced you a human can survive on, like, three almonds a day, when any sane person knows that’s bullshit.”

Davey’s stomach grumbles annoyingly, as if on cue. He’s not even that hungry. He already had a coffee this morning anyways, which should’ve been enough to get him through to dinner time.

“You’re kind of a dick,” Davey remarks. He wouldn’t typically be so blunt, but his bad mood is making him lose his filter. “What’s your deal?”

Jack shrugs.

“I’m tired. People think I’m an asshole for trying to take my time and do my job right, but when I rush it and cut corners to keep people happy, they get pissed that it doesn’t look good. There’s no winning, and it’s fucking exhausting.” He takes another puff of the joint. “Pays the bills, though.”

Davey rolls his eyes.

“That hat you’re wearing retails for, like, five hundred dollars. I think it pays more than your bills.”

Jack laughs, and it’s not that cynical chuckle from before. He actually smiles, caught off guard by the remark.

“Fair point. In my defence, I got the hat for free from a photoshoot. Another perk, I guess.”

Davey finds himself smiling too.

“How long have you been doing makeup?”

“I’ve been playing with it forever,” Jack replies, “but professionally, about five years. How long have you been in the game?”

“Almost a year.” Davey pauses. “I was in school— I actually finished undergrad and got into law— but it wasn’t right. I got scouted in August, and thought fuck it, I might as well try. It worked out pretty well, I’d say.”

Jack eyes him sort of curiously.

“You gave up law school for this?”

“Got out of going to law school, more like. I didn’t want to do it.” Davey shrugs. “It was more my parents’ thing. I wasn’t that interested.”

Jack blows a ring of smoke, almost absentmindedly.

“How do they feel about your career change?”

Davey shakes his head.

“I haven’t talked to them in, like, a month, if that tells you anything.”

“Damn.” Jack offers the joint to Davey again. “You sure you don’t want some?”

A pause.

“Fuck, I guess a couple hits couldn’t hurt.”

Jack grins and passes it over.

“I knew it.”

Davey silently takes a breath of smoke. It’s been forever since he’s indulged this way, and it feels good. He coughs a little on the first hit, but his head almost immediately feels clearer, so he goes for another.

“Feel better?” Jack asks, after a long moment.

“Yeah,” Davey breathes. “Thank you.”

He passes the joint back to Jack, who stubs it out on the railing— there’s just enough left that he could relight it for a few more puffs later, once this little buzz wears off.

“We should hang out sometime,” Jack offers. “I’d like to get to know you, Jacobs.” He pauses. “Any relation to Marc?”

“Nope. I walked for him in the spring, though.” Davey laughs softly. “You’re right, we should hang out. I’m going to Paris tomorrow, but I’ll be back in two weeks— let’s plan for then.”

Jack picks his coffee up from where he set it on the windowsill.

“I’ll bring the weed, if you bring home some cool European snacks for us to try.”

Smoking and snacking are both habits that Davey should be trying to avoid— but god, would it ever feel good to unwind when he gets home from this work trip. Maybe he deserves a night to relax with a new friend.

“Sounds good to me,” he replies, against his better judgement. “I should go, but I’ll DM you, okay?”

“Perfect,” Jack says. He waves as Davey turns to head inside. “Have a great trip. Take it easy on your poor assistant, okay?”

Davey laughs.

“Will do. I swear I don’t normally yell at people like that. Just… running low on patience today, y’know?”

That’s a stretch— he runs low on patience pretty often these days, and Romeo tends to take the brunt of it, but Davey pays him to deal with it, so he doesn’t feel that bad about it. When you’re a star, there’s certain things you can get away with: Davey’s occasional bitch fits are no worse than Jack’s famous temper tantrums. When you’re at the top, who’s going to give you shit about it?

“Oh, I know.” Jack winks. “I think we’ve got a lot in common, Dave.”

Davey smiles coyly over his shoulder as he heads back inside. He knows he looks good— he revels a little in the way Jack’s gaze stays glued to him. Maybe he’s admiring his own work, but maybe he’s admiring the canvas underneath it.

“I think you might be right. See you around, Kelly.”

And then he’s immediately being hurried back into a makeup chair so someone can clean his face, in order for him to be whisked off to the fitting that he’s already late for— at this point, people know better than to expect him to be on time.

Again, he’s a star, he does what he wants.

If he wants to waste time smoking outside with Jack Kelly, nobody’s going to stop him. Maybe he’ll make a habit out of it.

[andnowanowl]

My step-brother-in-law gets really emotional about football and will call his mother to cry about his team losing. I thought that was sad and still do, to be honest, but what must that be like? To be able to call up your parents to talk about trivial things without fear of saying something that they'll weaponize against you? Or get mad at you for? To share your fears and frustrations with? I stopped talking to my parents about things that happened at school when I was fourteen. They didn't know who I had a crush on, just one guy for three years. They didn't know anything.

One time at an honor student dinner, my art teacher approached my dad and asked him to come in to show some pointers. I had told her that he was a really good artist. He had smiled and been polite, a real Dr. Jekyll. I was hopeful. And then we got outside, and he became Mr. Hyde, like he always did when it was just my mother and me. He made it very clear that he thought even coming in to my favorite class in school would be a waste of time. By extension, I was a waste of time. And I just gave up. That was my last attempt to try to connect with him. My mother took a little bit longer for me to reach this point, but it happened with her, too.

I wasn't an honor student after that. I gave up academically, too. What point was there? I graduated, but barely.

[aries-writingblog]

Enemy Fire: 10

Summary: There's a new kid in town, and she's got a city to usurp.

Pairing: Jason Todd × F. Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: language, weapons, threats, violence, stressed family relations, mentions of parental death (maybe a couple sentences)

AN: photos are from Pinterest

YN exhaled slowly, attempting to settle her nerves.

The cafe was mostly quiet— soothing music playing over the speakers, paired with the scent of coffee and tea mingled her senses.

It had been too quiet after the attack in the market. No raid on her apartment, no one gunned her down in the street. Not a single sign that said they were still there.

She had almost come to the conclusion that it had been some nightmarishly real terror. Some hallucination.

But she knew better. He taught her better.

‘Wait out your target. Make them nervous. Your patience will be what makes or breaks a kill.’

Her fingertips were numb as she clasped her cup of coffee. She knew why his methods were so effective, now.

YN scanned the cafe again. A businessman, speaking quietly on his cell phone. Two guys sitting in the corner, enjoying their time together. A college age girl with headphones on. Her hands steady typing on a laptop.

Taking a sip of her coffee, YN eyed the girl. It could’ve been her, she supposed. Graduated high school early, taken college classes, graduate with high honors. Go for a doctorate degree, perhaps.

She had been doomed from the start. Her circumstances were never the right ones for that child to grow.

“Hello, sweetheart.” YN froze. Her cup nearly slipped out of her grasp. Her knee jerked, her body working faster than her brain, already trying to escape. The man clicked his tongue, sliding into the seat across from her. “I wouldn’t move. There’s a sniper trained on you from across the street and your dear old pops doesn’t deal without holding.”

Something hard pressed against her kneecap, demanding her silence.

She was a fucking idiot. She should’ve taken more precaution— what the hell was she doing, drinking coffee out in public? YN leaned back against the booth, her lips settling into a line. Displeased with herself and the situation.

“You aren’t my father.” She snapped, her lip curling.

Adrian laughed; His smile was bright and easy, like he wasn’t holding a gun to her. Like he wasn’t threatening her.

Like they were truly father and daughter, sharing time over a coffee.

“I’m the closest thing your sorry ass has for a parent.” He corrected her.

She crossed her arms over her chest, her lips curving even further downwards.

“I don’t think parents hold their children at gunpoint. Or hire assassins to kill them.”

Adrian shook his head, reaching over to the bag of pastries. Fishing out a cookie, he snapped it in half and took a large bite.

“No, no, sweetheart, they weren’t meant to kill you. Just teach you a very valuable lesson.” He explained, chewing the remainder of the stolen treat.

YN shifted, finally gaining enough sense to put her cup back down on the table. Placing her palms face down before her, she straightened her spine.

A feeble attempt at making herself bigger than him.

“Who’s to say I don’t light this shit up right here and now, all just to burn you?” She hissed, leaning forward.

Adrian raised a brow.

After his brother met an unfortunate end, he decided to help his dear sister-in-law and niece. It had been quite a shock for the woman to learn of her husband’s brother. Once the initial shock and despair of losing her husband, but gaining another male figure, she accepted his offer of help.

But she was concerned about her daughter meeting new people.

When he met YN, her mother had warned him she might not accept him immediately. She had terrible trust issues, and just awful people skills.

But, the more he was around, the more he took note. She didn’t have terrible people skills. She just didn’t care. The empathy wasn’t there.

Sure, she handed out baskets to the poor, participated in food drives and donated. She never used her powers in public spaces if she could help it.

Her mother had made such a point about teaching her daughter the correct path. Guiding her down a path of a good spirit. Because she knew, deep down in her kind heart, that her daughter would always be hunted because of her abilities. And her daughter could not differentiate good or evil without being told.

She had always been the same. Apathetic. Disinterested. She wouldn’t change. She couldn’t.

“You won’t.” He assured her. Not with her mother’s warnings so heavily in mind.

‘You’re different, sweetheart; They will chase and persecute you for these abilities. Even if you were doing the right thing, you will be blamed.’

YN glanced out to the cafe. It wasn’t badly crowded for the time of day, but soon, it would be. Schools would be let out in thirty minutes. But there were still people around. People she shouldn’t kill.

People who would point fingers and blame her for killing a man who does nothing but evil.

“I won’t be your weapon.” She shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek. “I know my worth now, Adrian, and it’s too high for you to pay.”

“Pay? Now that’s an interesting topic.” He agreed, his voice edged near furious. The click of the safety being taken off somehow echoed over the noise of the cafe. “Because you, my darling daughter, you were filtering money from my accounts. Enough to make a dent and for me to notice. That’s what the hunters were for. And my visit today.”

He was bluffing.

YN stared at his eyes. A glint sparked off the deep, rich, brown color of his irises.

Wasn’t he?

“What do you want?” She demanded.

“Either you come home today, with me, and I’ll reinstate you as the Jersey manager, or you walk away right now and I’ll have your head as payment for your crimes.”

“They weren’t crimes.” She protested through clenched teeth.

“They were to me.” He snarled, lowly.

The tension was thick and cloying. But she refused to back down.

Not anymore.

Even though her fingers were trembling and her skin felt like it was alight, she would not be under his thumb again.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She warned.

Adrian shrugged, wiping his fingers on a napkin. He reached over and snagged her drink. Sparing a precautionary whiff, he took a hesitant sip.

Strong notes of spices and dairy. All sugar, barely any coffee.

“Then you stay here and die by my hand.” He reasoned.

YN’s lips curled into a frown.

Adrian’s face didn’t move.

Clenching her hands into tight fists, she tilted her chin up. Anger curling into a ball in her belly. Sparking along all of her muscles.

“If you’re gonna kill me, you’d better do it now, while you still have a shot.” She advised, inching her foot closer to his, extending her kneecap. Welcoming the bullet.

He hummed at her faux bravery.

“No….” He answered. He turned to face the window, using his free hand, he held two fingers against the glass. YN swallowed, bracing herself for the bullets to penetrate the glass. They never came; Adrian dropped his hand. “No, I think I’d like to see you squirm first.”

Adrian pushed himself to his feet. Her eyes slipped down to his hand.

She wasn’t sure why, but seeing the handgun there was more unnerving than feeling it press to her skin.

He brought his hand up to the magazine, loosing it. He pushed a single bullet from it and let it clatter against the table.

Then, he turned and walked out.

YN’s breath left her lungs in a rush; Lightheadedness overtook her senses, leaving her with vertigo and nausea.

She hated that man.

She hated he made her feel like a kid again.

But she would not cry. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t cry, or throw up, or scream— nothing. Her fingertips moved across the table shakily. Barely touching the cool metal of the bullet.

Rolling it into her fingers, she stared at the gold plated gunpowder. She stared at certain death.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Straightening her spine, she glanced around.

She locked eyes with a man, standing across the cafe. Waiting for his name to be called.

He was staring right back at her.

A cruel scar curved upwards from his mouth, jagged across his cheek.

Fuck.

He pushed off the wall and started over to her table. YN turned her head to the window and blinked, rolling her eyes upward to prevent any tears from escaping.

He slowed to a stop at the booth table’s edge. Before he could speak, she turned back.

“Well, seems you’re getting your way after all, Todd.” She nodded to the booth seat across from her. “I need your help.”

“So, this Adrian guy is your…”

“Uncle. More of a ghost, nowadays. Runs a crime ring in New York.”

Jason hummed, tapping his fingers against his cup. YN shifted in her booth, her eyes moving constantly. But never landing on him, it seemed. They would flick behind him, to the shop’s entry, then to the windows, on the streets, then back into the shop to glare at patrons.

“And you were running Jersey for him until he caught you laundering?” Jason confirmed.

She had explained, in very minor details, as soon as he sat down, what kind of trouble was hunting her. Now, he was attempting to piece together the fragments he was able to catch from the rapid, one sided conversation.

YN tilted her head. She tapped the end of the bullet against the table. The metallic noise was muffled by her fingertips.

Would he ever believe her, even if she told the truth? Not that it mattered much. Her plans were shattered now.

“I was relocating funds for a necessary purpose.”

“Can I know what that purpose was?” He pressed.

YN frowned, her gaze switching between his different colored irises.

His face held a strange, masculine beauty. Thick, dark brows paired with equally dark lashes. Tanned skin and a mop of unruly black curls, his signature white streak flopped against his forehead.

His scar across his cheek, one sliced through his eyebrow. His eyes were the true beauty; Strange and uncommon. His left was a pale blue, the right was green with a sliver of blue.

He reminded her terribly of an alley cat. Someone who has lived too many lives all in a single lifetime.

“Care packages.” She admitted, finally lowering her eyes to the table. Fiddling more with the bullet, she kept her eyes focused on the gleaming gold. “Jersey has a decent sized homeless population. It’s only worse when there are crime rings.”

Jason took a long drink of his tea, his gaze never leaving her face. On his own, he doubted he could have ever guessed that information.

Dick had admitted to him he had seen her in the Narrows, giving out bags. She had apparently been doing it in New Jersey, too.

He hadn’t found much information on her— and he still wasn’t sure how she avoided his first facial search all those weeks ago. But once he had a full face, and access to the BatCave’s computers, he found her after a couple hours.

Granted, he only found a learner’s license, a fake passport, and a couple of past addresses.

But here she was, giving him more information. Willingly.

“And now he’s in Gotham.” He summarized.

“To kill me.” She confirmed.

Jason nodded once.

Her story was making more sense, and simultaneously, less sense. There were certain holes that he supposed were meant to be left unexplained. Her own insurance.

And as much as he hoped to have the full idea, he doubted she would give it up. Though, he would still try.

“So you were trying to stack defense here.” He clarified.

YN hummed, pushing her own cup around the table. It left a water trail of condensation.

“Until you started fucking up my plans.” She divulged. She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Then he arrived earlier than I’d anticipated. Guess I was being predictable.”

Running from a guardian. Fighting against their grip.

That he had some experience with.

“What do you need me to do?”

She almost seemed surprised by his open offer. Not a backhanded, quid pro quo deal, no strings apparently attached.

“I need manpower.” She admitted, cautiously moving forward with his offer. Waiting for the shoe to drop. “You have control over the largest portion of Gotham’s rings. I just need some backup. And firepower.”

A deal. She seemed to have learned some things from her uncle.

Jason sat back, staring her down. YN didn’t waver. She kept her own gaze level. Giving no more information than she had to.

Finally, Jason sighed, running his tongue along his teeth.

“I don’t want a shootout in the middle of the street. Even at night, civilians are still around.” He explained, his arms crossing over his chest. “Besides, a broad attack won’t be good enough. You’re scrambling and he knows that now.”

YN growled, threading her fingers into her hair, pressing her elbows to the table. She took a moment, several deep breaths, regaining her control.

“What do you want me to do, then? I only have so many options.” She admitted.

He bit the inside of his lip.

He was taking away more and more of her options and not giving much in return. She was willing to do things his way, he couldn’t make her regret that.

A prominent buzz against his thigh drew his attention to the clock on the wall.

Shit.

He was dead. He was completely dead.

Pushing himself to his feet, Jason fumbled through his pockets for a pen.

“I have somewhere to be. I’ll give you my address, stop by tomorrow.” He instructed. Snatching a napkin, he scribbled out barely legible numbers with his initials at the bottom. He glanced back up, to see her doubtful face. Brows drawn together and eyes narrowed. “I’m not gonna kill you.”

“Sounds like what I’d hear just before I’m killed.” YN snipped, carefully pulling the napkin toward her.

“You have my word.” He promised.

A disbelieving laugh broke free, leaving her lips curled in a mimicry of a smile.

“That means jack shit.”

Jason huffed, rolling his eyes.

“What do you want me to do, handcuff us together?”

“No.”

He nodded, collecting his cup.

“Then you’ll have to find some morsel of trust in your shriveled little heart.”

“Jeez, I was joking. No need to go Rambo.” YN muttered, watching him back away from her booth.

“That goes both ways.” He added. “You’re not allowed to kill me, either.”

“Allowed?” YN questioned. It was too late to argue any further, as Jason had already ducked out of the doors and was headed down the street. The wind ruffled his hair, flapping at the hood of his sweatshirt. The black fabric stretched over his broad shoulders— YN scowled. “What a dick.”

She looked down at the napkin. An apartment? Now that was surprising. She figured someone that had the Red Hood as his alter ego, he would live somewhere more secure. More controlable.

YN hummed, the ever present crease forming between her brows again.

Tomorrow.

[flfverse]

on the subject of historical worldbuilding, i bring you the two tidbits i actually do have.

the first tidbit: in Cross the Line (chapter 2, specifically), katsuki and izuku watch a series of bad all might movies. the second movie gives all might a fiction sidekick unsubtly based on a real historical figure—the first submissive hero, morioka kaida. [she still needs a hero name. and a quirk. shh]

the second tidbit: kurogiri is a sub in this universe. i had two options there: either oboro was initially a dom or switch, and the nomu-creating process made kurogiri a sub anyway, or oboro was always a sub. i went with the second route and decided to give oboro the honor of being the first submissive at UA.

so. that means that the ban on submissive heroes would’ve been lifted right before oboro (and aizawa, midnight, and mic) came to UA, making morioka only a few years older than them.

speaking of her, let’s extrapolate from izuku’s rambling about her portrayal in the film. she was a submissive posing as a switch going through hero school (not UA, i said it was UA in the fic and that’s wrong/will be changed, but somewhere).

morioka was an excellent student, fourth in her class. but after being outed in her third year, she was expelled and immediately became the center of a national scandal. she spent several months fighting the expulsion, eventually being granted the right to graduate and become a hero. [when i have free time i’ll look up law stuff and flesh out the exact legal timeline more]

an agency took her on as a sidekick, but she spent most of six months resigned to menial work and search and rescue. after she made a minor, but public, mistake during a rescue, she was unceremoniously dropped and no other agency wanted to risk taking her on. morioka reluctantly retired from hero work, turning to activism instead. some conspiracy theorists argue that she became a vigilante as well, unable to fully give up her career, but surely she would never do something like that….and even if she did, it’s not like you can prove it!

ahem. anyway, all of that was happening when oboro and co. were around 13-14, just before they started at UA. obviously he had been following the situation closely, and looked up to morioka as a hero. he may or may not have had a phase where he tried to prove she was still out there as a vigilante.

the movie bkdk watch in Cross the Line comes out about two years after submissives are allowed in the hero program, so late in the kids’ second year. it’s a very unflattering portrayal of a submissive sidekick that ends with morioka’s stand-in choosing a more “suitable” career and giving up heroism. the kids would have absolutely hated that. oboro in particular vowed to be the best hero possible and prove that morioka was right.

then, only a few weeks later, he dies.

[yeah, i know, i’m crying too, don’t kill me.]

and that’s about all i got, historically, which isn’t even great because it all occurs within 20 years of the “present” timeline. still, might be something of a jumping-off point

[sassypotatoe1]

Bro as a journalist this is especially important but also especially easy. While studying my honors degree I got a winter internship with a major national newspaper because my media law professor worked there and put in a good word for me, allowing me to add some fantastic articles to my portfolio attached to a huge media company.

Immediately after graduation the same lecturer offered me a job as the Twitter manager for the africa edition of university world news for 180zar an hour. That my friends is 9 times the federal minimum wage here. Granted I get between 3 and 5 hours of work in a month but it covers a tank of gas and some additional internet costs.

Within my first 3 months of working at my current job (writing for 2 papers proofreading 3 writing email newsletters for 4) three different people offered me jobs. The first was a politician with a political party that has some pretty intense white pride, and though I would earn 5 times what I earn now I didn't take it on principle.

The second was another journalist from a different community media company, who offered cost of living pay and benefits including a company car, medical aid and a much better pension plan. At that point I still had weird loyalty to this job so I rejected it but I wish I had taken it now.

A school also offered me a cushy marketing position, but I didn't like the school's vibe so I turned it down because I knew my mental health wouldn't make it.

These all happened because I was in their orbit for news coverage, they liked my vibe, and they wanted to poach me based on that. If I didn't prefer attending even minor stories or boring events in person to get a better feel for a story I would never have been in their orbit.

Anyway the next time someone tries to poach me with better pay and benefits, if their company culture or political activity doesn't go against my values and principles, I'm taking it, and I would not be surprised if it happens within the next year, simply because the nature of my job requires frequent and constant networking.

young me especially would have hated hearing this but networking is literally the most important thing you can do to improve your situation like forget economic barriers to education etc just keep making friends with different people and eventually someone will offer you a hand up just because they dig your vibe and that is exactly all that's happening when undeserving people surpass you anyway