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contemplatingoutlander · 1 year ago

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The former Republican David French does a good job of explaining what keeps MAGA folks continuing to support Trump. It's all about the "culture" of MAGA and the sense of "belonging," combined with years of propaganda that have painted anyone even slightly on the left as being "bad" and "out to get" conservatives and their families.

And if we don't understand that, we won't know how to combat it. Here are some excerpts:

I live in Tennessee outside Nashville, a very deep-red part of America. According to a New York Times tool that calculates the political composition of a community, only 15 percent of my neighbors are Democrats. I’ve been living here in the heart of MAGA country since Donald Trump came down the escalator. This is the world of my friends, my neighbors and many members of my family. That is perhaps why, when I’m asked what things are like now, eight years into the Trump era, I have a ready answer: Everything is normal until, suddenly, it’s not. And unless we can understand what’s normal and what’s not, we can’t truly understand why Trumpism endures. [...] It’s no coincidence that one of the most enduring cultural symbols of Trump’s 2020 campaign was the boat parade. To form battle lines behind Trump, the one man they believe can save America from total destruction, thousands of supporters in several states got in their MasterCrafts and had giant open-air water parties. Or take the Trump rally, the signature event of this political era. If you follow the rallies via Twitter or mainstream newscasts, you see the anger, but you miss the fun. When I was writing for The Dispatch, one of the best pieces we published was a report by Andrew Egger in 2020 about the “Front Row Joes,” the Trump superfans who follow Trump from rally to rally the way some people used to follow the Grateful Dead. Egger described the Trump rally perfectly: “For enthusiasts, Trump rallies aren’t just a way to see a favorite politician up close. They are major life events: festive opportunities to get together with like-minded folks and just go crazy about America and all the winning the Trump administration’s doing.”

[See more below the cut]

[...] Why do none of your arguments against Trump penetrate this mind-set? The Trumpists have an easy answer: You’re horrible, and no one should listen to horrible people. Why were Trumpists so vulnerable to insane stolen-election theories? Because they know that you’re horrible and that horrible people are capable of anything, including stealing an election. At the same time, their own joy and camaraderie insulates them against external critiques that focus on their anger and cruelty. Such charges ring hollow to Trump supporters, who can see firsthand the internal friendliness and good cheer that they experience when they get together with one another. They don’t feel angry — at least not most of the time. They are good, likable people who’ve just been provoked by a distant and alien “left” that many of them have never meaningfully encountered firsthand. Indeed, while countless gallons of ink have been spilled analyzing the MAGA movement’s rage, far too little has been spilled discussing its joy. Once you understand both dynamics, however, so much about the present moment makes clearer sense, including the dynamics of the Republican primary. Ron DeSantis, for example, channels all the rage of Trumpism and none of the joy. With relentless, grim determination he fights the left with every tool of government at his disposal. But can he lead stadiums full of people in an awkward dance to “Y.MC.A.” by the Village People? Will he be the subject of countless over-the-top memes and posters celebrating him as some kind of godlike, muscular superhero? [...] Trump’s fans, by contrast, don’t understand the effects of [the MAGA] fury because they mainly experience the joy. For them, the MAGA community is kind and welcoming. For them, supporting Trump is fun. Moreover, the MAGA movement is heavily clustered in the South, and Southerners see themselves as the nicest people in America. It feels false to them to be called “mean” or “cruel.” Cruel? No chance. In their minds, they’re the same people they’ve always been — it’s just that they finally understand how bad you are. And by “you,” again, they often mean the caricatures of people they’ve never met. In fact, they often don’t even know about the excesses of the Trump movement. Many of them will never know that their progressive neighbors have faced threats and intimidation. And even when they do see the movement at its worst, they can’t quite believe it. So Jan. 6 was a false flag. Or it was a “fedsurrection.” It couldn’t have really been a violent attempt to overthrow the elected government, because they know these people, or people like them, and they’re mostly good folks. It had to be a mistake, or an exaggeration, or a trick or a few bad apples. The real crime was the stolen election. It’s the combination of anger and joy that makes the MAGA enthusiasm so hard to break but also limits its breadth. [...] The battle and the booze cruise both give MAGA devotees a sense of belonging. They see a country that’s changing around them and they are uncertain about their place in it. But they know they have a place at a Trump rally, surrounded by others — overwhelmingly white, many evangelical — who feel the same way they do. [...] During the Trump years, I’ve received countless email messages from distraught readers that echo a similar theme: My father (or mother or uncle or cousin) is lost to MAGA. They can seem normal, but they’re not, at least not any longer. It’s hard for me to know what to say in response, but one thing is clear: You can’t replace something with nothing. And until we fully understand what that “something” is — and that it includes not only passionate anger but also very real joy and a deep sense of belonging — then our efforts to persuade are doomed to fail.

#maga america #rage and joy #understanding trump's appeal to his base #donald trump #gop #david french #the new york times

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ukrfeminism · 2 years ago

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10 minute read

Thousands walk past every day without noticing it or knowing anything about the lives being transformed inside. Nestled behind the sunflower-hued door of a Georgian terraced house, on a busy Brighton street, the Brighton’s Women Centre (largely known by its acronym the ‘BWC’) – is home to those facing unique difficulties, in particular those at risk of reoffending.

The need for a place like this is great: statistics show that compared to men, women who receive a custodial sentence (prison time) are more likely to be complex and vulnerable individuals, who’ve experienced trauma and abuse – and while 95% of male prisoners’ children remain in their own homes when their father is incarcerated, the same can be said for only 5% of children whose mothers are jailed.

One woman who knows about this heartache first-hand is Hayley*, an evidently caring and straight-talking 43-year-old mother of five, who has been engaging with BWC for six years.

“I’d reached the point of no return when I first came here,” she tells me, as we sit in a quiet meeting room in the centre’s attic, leaflets about the help on offer scattered across a nearby table. “My life was a mess, a shambles really.” Hayley, like many women who’ve been to prison, has dealt with addiction issues, abusive relationships, and unstable housing, all of which contributed to her committing an offence and serving time whilst pregnant. When she left HMP Bronzefield six years ago, Hayley describes herself as ‘broken’.

“I’d started to wake up when I was arrested, but when I came here, it was the first time I really felt I was being listened to and that there was hope of change. I was pregnant again, with a set of twins, and I’d already had three daughters taken off me. Was I really gonna go through that again?” she shares, reflecting on how far she’s come since first walking through that sunshine yellow door. “When you go through the justice system, you meet a lot of people and go to a lot of places. You meet probation officers, and they’ve got your file in front of them… you instantly feel judged.”

She adds, “You’re scared to be totally honest about your situation in case it comes back to bite you later on. People get scared they’ll lose their children if they ask for help [with a substance abuse issue]. You feel you’re drowning. But it’s not like that in BWC, it’s a women’s only space that has a different energy. There was no chaos in the building, it was just calm.”

Hayley was first referred to BWC under court orders via her probation officer following a pre-sentence report, which she says is what ‘saved’ her from another stretch in prison. She now also credits her case worker, Marion, for also ‘drip feeding’ her information about the signs of coercive control, narcissism and abuse too, during their chats over cups of tea. “I started to feel a bit empowered and could recognise behaviour that wasn’t right for the first time.”

Unlike a refuge or shelter (accommodation for those fleeing abuse), the function of a women’s centre can sometimes be confused – which is understandable, given that the likes of BWC seem to… do it all, for anyone in need of help. As well as having staff on hand for practicalities such as housing issues, financial problems, mental health support (counselling and psychotherapy is available) and food poverty (the latter being the service that’s seen the biggest increase in demand over the past year), women’s centres provide a safe space to talk – which can ultimately be the biggest game-changer for many. There’s also a cheerful nursery on site, Toy Box, so that mothers can attend appointments without fretting about childcare.

All of which is why the newly announced £15 million government cash injection into 40 women’s charities and centres in England and Wales, like the BWC, that support those at risk of reoffending, is so crucial. But is it enough, given that a recent Women In Prison report found nearly half of all women’s centres are concerned about their survival? What else can be done to stop women – and mothers in particular – from going to jail, and tearing apart families in the process, traumatising a new generation? Why are 3,219 women ending up in prison each year in the first place, with most having committed a non-violent, low-level offence?

Victims before perpetrators

“We often say that women who’ve gone to prison were victims before they were perpetrators,” says Damian Hinds, Minister for Prisons, Parole and Probation, who joins me at BWC. “We know female offending is typically driven by factors such as drug and alcohol abuse, domestic violence, and mental health issues. Around 60% of women in prison have experienced domestic abuse and about half have some kind of drug problem, so we need to tackle those underlying issues with earlier intervention and better support, to stop the cycle of offending.”

He praises the Female Offender Strategy that began in 2018, with the aim of tackling the root causes of female offending and reducing prison numbers (Hinds’ team also shares that between June 2018 – June 2022 the number of women sentenced to immediate custody fell by 37%).

However, whilst news of the funding is a welcome step in the right direction "that provides a much-needed respite for organisations working tirelessly to meet the needs of at-risk women, or those in contact with the criminal justice system”, there's still a long way to go, says Sonya Ruparel, the Chief Executive of Women In Prison (a charity that has supported women in the criminal justice system for 40 years). Their work sees them have a presence inside prisons, in the community and ‘through the prison gate’ as they help women to resettle in their communities.

"The money is providing a temporary solution to a long-term problem, and this £15m available pales into insignificance when compared, for example, with the £200m the government are investing in an extra 500 prison places for women," she explains. "Despite the government’s commitment to reducing the women’s prison population, they are projecting it will rise by up to 35% in the next three years.

"Without real investment in services that support women to address the root causes of crime such as domestic violence and abuse, debt and homelessness women will continue to be unnecessarily swept into the criminal justice system."

Female inmates, the majority of whom have been convicted of fraud (14%) or shoplifting (19%), also have to grapple with being incarcerated by a system designed with men in mind, and it is estimated that women sent to prison are seven times more likely to self-harm than men. Each year, 17,000 children are impacted by maternal imprisonment too.

Helping women to break the cycle of trauma is something that Lisa Dando, Director at BWC, and all her staff, are passionate about. They explain that a ‘trauma-informed’ approach is key when dealing with any woman living with multiple disadvantages [something that can be lacking during arrests, for instance, if officers haven’t been specially trained] and that a shortage of decent emergency accommodation sees women who’ve recently left prison instantly set up to fail.

Too many are housed far from home – away from their support networks that help them to stay sober and happy – and are forced into mixed gender living situations, with shared bathrooms, toilets, and broken locks. All of which see their fight or flight responses fire up, particularly if they’ve been victims of domestic abuse or sexual violence. It’s much harder to stay sober when you’re scared and lonely.

The UK also continues to put pregnant women in prison, when other countries don’t. “Women give birth in prison here,” Dando adds. “I don't understand why the children are being punished for a crime their mothers have committed. The prison system is damaging in so many different ways and I'm also not convinced that the rehabilitation work that takes place inside, especially for women on short term sentences, which the majority are, has enough time to really make a difference.”

She adds, “It seems illogical [to break families up in this way] when there are alternatives, like women’s centres and non-custodial sentences, that are proven to work.” Dando, of course, caveats that this does not mean she supports people who’ve committed violent or very serious crimes going without punishment.

It’s a sentiment that Hinds seemed to agree with during our interview too, along with the need for better trauma support training to be instilled across the justice system as a whole. “Trauma-informed services and spaces for these women are vital,” agrees Marion Taylor, Manager of the Inspire project at BWC, who has worked with Hayley. “It’s about working with women in a way that recognises they have trauma in their backgrounds, that shapes the way they’ve developed and react to certain things.” Consistency is also key; BWC is able to offer twelve sessions with a therapist, whereas the NHS offering typically hovers at around six to eight.

Part of the newly announced funding, of which BWC has received £761,280, will also be spent on creating better links between women’s centres and the police, which (as suggested by the Casey review) is rife with misogyny, racism and homophobia. “[The review] is a big part of why we wanted to form a partnership with the police, to divert women away from contact with them if possible,” Dando explains. “We want to step in early and provide a different model of support, to protect women from having to experience being in a police cell or the damaging effects of a service that is struggling. We’d like to bring a different view and educate the police on a new way of working.”

In terms of feeling the impact of previous government cuts to services, Dando diplomatically says that since she “joined fifteen years ago, it’s been peaks and troughs” and that currently, the centre looks set to be financially ‘safe’ for the next two years. She highlights the financial gains of custodial sentences being a last resort too, pointing out that incarceration costs around £42,000 per inmate compared with a community sentence coming in at around £2,000. Around 87% of women given a non-custodial sentence do not go on to reoffend either. Dando adds, “And really, we’re all at risk of needing a women’s centre if our circumstances suddenly change.”

When asked by Cosmopolitan UK as to whether the new £15 million funding allocation is enough for women’s services, Minister Hinds said he feels it’s a “substantial investment” and that the scheme will reduce the £18 billion overall cost of reoffending for the taxpayer. “Female offenders also benefit from other support the justice and health systems provide, like the Probation Service and Government’s £3 billion 10-year drugs strategy investment.”

Coming back from darkness

Someone who is a prime example of a non-custodial sentence working is Sarah*, a 60-year-old animal lover who explains that she snapped after a long-running dispute with her neighbour escalated during lockdown. The neighbour, she says, made an illegal roof garden on their building, that Sarah repeatedly said wasn’t safe – and her point was proven when a dog later fell off and was injured. Later on, whilst in the vet’s surgery, an argument between the neighbours grew heated and Sarah admits that she pulled her neighbour’s hair.

Her situation, Sarah points out, is a prime example of circumstances changing in an instant – and to her credit, she repeatedly acknowledges that she shouldn’t have become physical in that scenario. “I do sometimes wake in the night and think how could this happened? I pulled her hair. Yet I've been punched in the past, and it never goes to court. It was all just blown completely out of proportion… I used to work for probation, I spent five years working with one parent families.”

Ultimately, after sleepless nights spent imagining how she’d survive in prison, Sarah was given a non-custodial sentence of community service work, which she completed in a PDSA charity shop, “I was put in a position in court, where if I opened my mouth and tried to stand up for myself, I knew I would go to prison,” she reflects. “So I stayed quiet and left it to my solicitor, who managed to reduce my sentence down to 50 hours of non-custodial work.” Alongside her sentence, Sarah was also issued an eviction order, which is what led her to BWC to seek help with housing.

“It was last chance saloon,” she shares. “I’d tried to access other services but found they weren’t able to move fast enough for me. It had reached the stage where my family were exhausted with it all too. My kids are older – my daughter is a doctor and my son's a respected musician – they came with me to court, but they didn’t have the facilities to help me, whereas women’s centres do. Even things like utility bills, I've brought them here as I just couldn’t have handled them alone.”

Now, Sarah is in a much better space – both mentally and physically – having found alternative accommodation with BWC’s support, and once her 50 hours in the shop were up, she decided to stay on as she found it good for her confidence and sticking to a routine.

Hayley now says she’s now able to be there for all of her children and is clean and sober. She is also single, having broken free of her pattern of repeatedly entering into abusive relationships, and tells me she’s teaching her 17-year-old daughter to spot the red flags that she missed early on. “My kids have seen a lot of things and experienced a lot of trauma, they've seen me beaten up, drug dealers come through the doors, windows being smashed… But now it's like, mum's not that person anymore,” she says. “They can see I'm not running to men, or looking for a man to fix me, or putting up with being spoken to in a certain way. I can finally set the right example.”

For now, it sounds as though the likes of BWC and the forty other women’s centres that have received funding at least have a little space to breathe – but is allowing them a moment to pause and catch their breath really enough? Especially given that new stats show one in five people in the UK are living in poverty right now, and that debt and homelessness are precursors to potentially committing an offence. Is it right that women’s centres have had to fight so hard – and wait so long – to receive adequate financial support in the first place, given the incomparable work they’re doing? And whilst these forty centres can feel short-term relief, plenty of other incredible organisations around the UK are still struggling. Let’s hope this is only the beginning of the recognition, and that the pressure all women’s centres are feeling will be eased on a more permanent basis in the near future.

*Name has been changed

You can donate to Brighton Women's Centre here and Bankuet, the food bank association that work alongside the BWC, here

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theartfulmegalodon · 1 year ago

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Well dang it, I've had a nibble of engagement, and I'm finally letting it tempt me. Wanna read my comic scripts? I'm really hoping you do!

It is planned as a 30-issue comic series. I have chosen to write the entire thing and make it as good as I can before I attempt to draw any of the actual pages. Partly this is perfectionism, and partly it is because I know how long it would take me to attempt to draw it, and how unlikely I'd be to ever complete it. I wanted to focus on completing something, and I've chosen the writing.

I have written 15 (half!) of the 30 issues, and they have already seen many, many revisions. (Much thanks to the three people who have read them and given me feedback!) I am quite confident that these first 15 issues are very close to their final forms, and they are definitely good enough for me to share with you all.

I have also done a few sketches and bits of standalone art for the characters*, so while I have no comic pages drawn yet, I will occasionally include some of these sketches in with the script, just to give your optic nerves more of a workout. It's the least I can do! I'm thinking I can post one issue script per week? That's 15 weeks of new content for ya, with more to eventually follow!

*All designs subject to small changes down the line.

I post these issues mainly to share them. My experience has been that people almost never want to read a comic script, but sadly, the writing is as much as I can do right now, and I am in fact proud of what I've done so far, and very much looking forward to tackling the second half. However, I am always looking for feedback, and I will be WIDE OPEN for questions, critique and suggestions. Not saying I'll necessarily change things based on your feedback, but I do welcome it! Also, of course, I'd love it if you shared these around, talked them up to your friends, if you like them!

Read on for more about the story itself!

River & Ash is a slow-burn supernatural gay romance, set in an alternate version of our real world. The material is treated maturely (I like to think) but with only about a PG-13 rating. (No smut, no super-strong language.) There is angst in parts of it, but there is also a lot of wholesome shmoop. And while the focus is mostly on the evolution of the relationship between the two main characters, there is also plot, and mini-arcs, with minor superheroics, alternate history pop culture, and an original mythology and history that is teased and then slowly revealed over the course of the story. It also happens to have a very proactive, driven individual for a main character (River). I say this just in case, like me, you don't love when magic/the supernatural just sort of happens to the protagonist to kick off a story.

Ripped from the introductory page that begins every issue…

"Once, the world was full of magic… because humanity once shared the world with demons. History tells that for thousands of years they coexisted, sometimes happily, sometimes not, but one truth never changed: any human who made a deal with a demon would be granted incredible power of their own… for a price.

But in the Middle Ages, during the rise of the Catholic church, a small pocket of humanity attempted to purge these magical beings from existence. The details were lost to time, but what is known is that the demons who survived collectively renounced mankind and disappeared, removing themselves and their influence. 1101 became known as the year magic vanished from the world.

Centuries later, on the same day he suffers a horrifying loss, River McAllister is given what appears to be a real demon book. These rare, indestructible relics have been mostly hoarded away, and there hasn't been a confirmed demon sighting in over a thousand years. It seems impossible. He knows it probably won't work. But if he can find a way to translate it, he might just be able to summon the demon that belongs to it… and maybe make a deal of his own."

The first will be posted forthwith. Thank you in advance so very much!

#River&Ash #comic writing #comic scripts #really hoping to find even a smidgen of an audience here #Godlings? never heard of it

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write-it-good-imagines · 11 months ago

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Nothing More(M) - Three

~5k words, in this chapter we see how Mark and Sam navigate being apart from one another and how rain washes over the souls. Enjoy and don't hesitate to let me know what you think about it!

Don’t you want to try it? Are you scared to start? There’s no one you’ll find that’s quite like me.

Do you wanna take my broken heart?

Fame, music, concerts, freedom, artistry. In a fruitless attempt to sum up all that being an artist meant to Mark, the ability to walk up on the stage in front of as many as 60,000 people was exhilarating. It never stopped being meaningful. To inspire another person enough to have them watch and admire thyself was not only a privilege but also a responsibility.

Each concert began with the same mantra, it would be safe to assume for each of the seven members was the same. Each time they would walk on and make sure they enjoyed themselves to the maximum, as much as they made sure they would do their best. In the tumult of the shows, there was now something different.

All the love songs sounded a little different.

When the love song was hopeful, Mark performed happier. When the love song was desperate, Mark performed sadder. It all played a bigger part in the tapestry of each performance, but it would never go unnoticed by those closest to him. With each show, the emotion grew little by little. And as much as Mark tried to dismiss it to the back of his head, it sneaked right back in when the lights turned down.

It always came back when he wanted to forget.

When the lights turned down over Jakarta, the boys were still bowing to the audience. Under the ravenous applause and the avalanche of confetti, the platform on the stage brought the boys down under the concert set. Another night ended in complete success.

Mark was the last one to dispose of his ear set. He stretched his arms above his head and felt a cramp starting to settle at his nape.

“Mark?” Jackson traced behind the group to match his pace with the other. “You good?”

“Yeah,” sighed Mark, massaging the tense muscles in his neck. “Just a little tired I guess.”

“Huh, we still have one week and a half to go, if you’re tired now... “ Jackson joked and nudged Mark with his elbow. “Getting old?”

Mark threw an arm around Jackson’s shoulder in a friendly hug. “No chance.”

“Passionate out there I’d say.” Jackson began, fidgeting. “Each concert getting only more passionate.”

“Yeah? Thanks. Aren’t we supposed to be like that?”

Silence.

“No?”

“I mean, sure.”

Jackson shrugged his shoulders. That’s when it hit Mark.

“Should’ve asked me to my face, Jackson.”

Jackson sighed. “I’m not good at subtleties!” He cleared his throat. “But you haven’t told us nothing in… ever since we left.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Jackson.”

Jackson stopped dead in his tracks, looking at the other with a much softer expression than he would have liked.

“There really isn’t.” Mark concluded, walking ahead of Jackson. “I am the sex. She was the sex. That’s it.”

Mark grabbed a bottle of water from an adjacent table to drown out the words, and the apparent reality. Spelling out loud that they never spoke after he flied out left a burn to his throat.

A couple thousand miles away, Samantha was jerking her body to the other side of the bed. She extended her hand to grab a hold of her phone. 2:15 AM. With a light groan, she threw her feet into her bed slippers, rose from the bed, and hugged her body into her bathrobe. Murphy perked an ear up in response to the sudden movement, but he was not interested enough to follow Samantha from his nest.

Samantha opened the kitchen window to fill her lungs with a breath of fresh air. When she unlocked her phone, she realized that her latest google search was still pointing to Mark’s band’s latest concert.

Jakarta: more than 20,000 fans delirious after boyband’s successful stop.

Live pictures from the concert were quick to flood the internet. Samantha’s finger hovered over a very flattering picture of Mark, half-naked on stage, his chiseled abdomen contracting with whatever movement he was making. One arm was lifted in the air to hype the crowd, the other holding up his microphone. The tattoo reaching over his right set of ribs was vivid to the eye.

The kiss in the locker of the club flashed into Samantha’s memory.

Samantha locked her phone and slid it across the kitchen counter, leaning herself against the window frame, with one arm hugging her side. To the contrary, what should have come to mind should have been the dirtier times, all the times her fingernails drew over his tattoos, reshaping them into muscle memory.

She sighed, her eyes fixated on the shimmering full moon. If she called, would he pick up?

“Probably not. He has all those girls to keep him busy.” Samantha lied to herself, unable to resist the urge to pick up her phone. She hesitated, reading Mark’s name on the screen over and over again. Until she tapped on it.

Once, twice… “Mark?”

The call went to voicemail. Her voice deflated in disappointment.

“All those girls to keep him busy.”

The next dawn, Samantha was already ready to leave for the hospital. Sleep was light and uncertain, and she tried to mask it with concealer and foundation. In a haste to leave the house, she grabbed her motorcycle helmet, to catch a ride in hopes of easing her mind.

Sun was cracking out on the horizon, tangerine hues intertwined with tamed shades of red. Samantha took a longer route to the hospital to enjoy the scenery. Chestnuts strands tossed out of the helmet were gliding freely in the wind in an enduring antithesis with her thoughts.

‘You’re going to have to find a replacement for me.’

Unbeknownst to her, Samantha’s hand switched another gear.

‘I cannot make love to you and leave the next day like I am the worst scum to have ever walked this Earth. I am not that guy.’

The motorcycle revved once again.

‘You are irresistible, you know that?’

Samantha reached the hospital faster than she anticipated. She took off her helmet and shook her head to the sides, ruffling her long strands in the process. She locked the bike and put her helmet under her arm, a high-pitched whistle distracting her from her thoughts.

“Nice suit, cat-girl,” Jonathan smirked, locking his Yamaha super sport bike some paces away from Samantha. “We should ride out together next time.”

“I’ll think about it.” She stated simply, taking the lead towards the entrance of the hospital.

“That’s it? No smart reply, no anything? Wow, did I do anything to offend you?”

Samantha threw out a chuckle. “Not necessarily, just didn’t get that much sleep.”

Jonathan caught up with her, entering the hospital at the same time. “Oh? Mind me asking why?”

“Yes.”

“Touche. But I can take a wild guess.”

“Don’t take a wild guess.” Samantha offered a polite smile to the nurse’s station, grabbing the medical documents of a case.

“How’s Romeo doing? Wait, is that a—”

“Yes Jonathan, I’ll take a consult today.”

Jonathan put a hand over his mouth in a mocked attempt to hide his shock. “No fucking way, are you actually coming back?”

“Wait and see!” Samantha chirped, walking away to her office, the bounce in her hair leaving Jonathan with a smile imprinted on his face.

“And I told him he should have bought Rome! If he’d bought Rome, he would’ve won that trade on the airport with you, Jinyoung!”

A hearty laugh filled the room as Mark and Jinyoung entered Mark’s hotel room. The sun was well up in the blue of Jakarta sky, sending its shimmering beams across the universe. A sleepless night passed for the seven boys, fighting one another to the death to the Monopoly title. Their departure was set in a couple of hours to Kuala Lumpur that left them at liberty to let a night’s sleep go by.

“Bambam’s sweet tooth for money, what can I say.” Jinyoung threw his body on the bed, eyes glued to the ceiling to revisit his winning strategy. “Truth be told, he never had a chance to win.”

“You just led him on.” Mark chuckled and walked to the bathroom. “I am going to take a shower to wash off the defeat.”

“You bet.” Jinyoung rolled over on his chest, hand reaching out for the phone in his pocket. His movement on the bed caused Mark’s phone to light up. The water in the bathroom was not running yet.

“Hey, Mark,” Jinyoung shouted for the other. “You have a missed call.”

“Yeah?” Mark’s voice echoed. “Text Joey and let him know I’ll call back.”

There was a delay in Jinyoung’s response. “It wasn’t Joey. It’s Samantha.”

The next thing he heard was the faltering sound of the water running in the shower. Mark stepped under the rapid droplets, closing his eyes. It had been 11 days since they’d last spoken and she only left an unpicked call behind. It was not like Mark was expectant of something else entirely to happen, but he did not know how to feel. Happy that she had reached out? Bitter that she had not tried more?

Mark slapped his hands against the cold tiles to steady himself. As vehemently as he tried to distance himself from Samantha, something tugged him closer. Mark felt like he walked one step ahead, and two steps behind. He kept reciting to himself that it was not real, the feelings he rejected to feel. He couldn’t allow himself to miss her.

Still, I miss you.

The bathroom door opened, and Mark walked into the room with a towel ruffling his damp hair.

“So?” Jinyoung spoke, thumb scrolling lazily on his Instagram. “Are you going to call her back?”

“Probably,” reacted Mark, almost choking on his own spit. Would it be pitiful to acknowledge to the other that, in fact, he was not as nonchalant as he wanted to let on? “when we leave later for the airport.”

“Huh.” Snickered Jinyoung, jolting himself to his feet. “Here I thought I’d get to hear that conversation.” He pursed his lips, tapping at his chin with an index. “Maybe some sort of a clarification for why she had not reached out until now?”

Mark rolled his eyes with a small smile on his lips. It wavered when Jinyoung stopped in the doorframe. “But I guess fuck buddies don’t really get such clarifications, huh?”

Two and a something hours later, the boys were prepared to leave the hotel and embark for the next stop on their tour: New Delhi. The lobby of the hotel was swarming with staff, luggage, and security, preparing for the group’s very public departure. The journey to the airport was as chaotic as ever for the boys, in a joyful and brotherly atmosphere which always eased Mark’s mind and heart. He was always beyond thankful for the company and friendship of all the boys. Each held their own piece of Mark’s.

While waiting for the private transport from the gate to their plane, Mark stepped aside from the group to make the call he owed. It should have been around 4PM in Seoul. He took an anticipative breath in his lungs and tapped on Samantha’s phone number. There shouldn’t have been a singular reason why he felt so expectant.

‘You aren’t making love to me Mark. We are having sex, it is just sex.’

“Do you really think about us like that?” he whispered under his breath, a hand reaching up to cover his face better with the mask.

Mark did not receive his chance to hear the voice of the person whom he wished to hear the answer from because the call got interrupted to voicemail. “Fuck.” The breath in his lungs rushed out, leaving blooming traces of disappointment attached to his veins. All at once, the 10-hour flight became burdensome. Mark switched his phone to airplane mode to join the boys, a wee piece of his heart shattering from the expectations that failed to come alive.

In an empty common room, Samantha was flipping through her patient’s chart, examining and re-scanning what the laboratory results and the obvious common sense were reiterating. Because of an unforeseen and tragic natural complication, her patient would have to choose to lose her pregnancy to save her life.

“How do you tell someone this?” Samantha mumbled to herself, resting her face in the warmth of her palm. She flipped the chart and sighed, closing her eyes for a loose second. She had grown too soft in the big shoes of a surgeon. But it ultimately was what made her a better surgeon.

“Hey,” Leena stopped by, in a rush to reach somewhere else entirely. “Did something happen? I was in a hurry to prepare for surgery, but I couldn’t ignore you here all sappy by yourself.”

“Yeah. This patient I saw today… I have to tell her she has to give up the baby to save her life. This is why I sometimes am at peace with my decision to step back from being a surgeon.”

“And all the other times when you are not at peace?” Leena seated herself by Samantha.

“All the other times are when I miss going in the OR. Like last time I went in with Jonathan. It was the thrill crawling back, until it made my fingers tingle.” Another sigh. “Then I try to heal and come back, and I have to tell a mother to kill her child. Is this fair?”

“No, it’s not. It’s not. But you must remember how many lives you’ve saved and how many you can save, still. Young lives, who don’t even know they are about to live.”

Samantha tilted her head to look at Leena who had a softened look on her face. “Yeah.” She concluded as Leena rose from her seat.

“I gotta go now, Sam. Think about it. We miss having you around the OR. My girl power team lost all that power.” Leena gestured dramatically with her hands. “Maybe it’s a stretch but I think Mark would say the same to you, if he were here.”

“What?” Samantha exhaled. “Why are you thinking about Mark?”

Leena perked in the distance, as she was walking away “Because you won’t!”

And true she wasn’t. Samantha leaned back down in the chair, eyes obsessed with the ceiling of the office. It pained a little, both her ego and her wishes. Reason would say he couldn’t have picked up in the middle of the night, through the thousands of little things he had to attend to in the middle of a world tour, on top of probably the fatigue kicking in. Against reason, Samantha would tell herself anything to keep herself from hurting. Lies were always easier. Truth was always justifiable.

Truth was, Mark was everything she didn’t picture him to be.

Samantha gathered the scattered chart off the desk and mustered her courage to fill the big shoes of the surgeon she knew herself to be. Ever since Mark stumbled in the bar that night, to curl her hair through his fingers in a cheeky endeavor to rescue her from a vulgar stranger, with the smooth smile and the glimmer in his eye, Samantha’s life felt like it finally took a seat, on a vast green plain under the night sky. When pausing for oneself started to matter.

The rest of the day felt differently after Samantha decided to take charge. She went ahead and had the talk with the family whose happy hope vanished from their fingers. Then she offered to take lead of the surgery. The way she used to carry herself was slowly returning, with all the responsibility and the dignity. It was then she realized she did miss saving lives.

“So I guess it’s time to ask again about riding together? On the bikes, of course.” Jonathan laughed at his own joke, which brought a smile to Samantha’s own lips.

“You know what?” Samantha said, turning up the engine and securing herself atop of the seat. “I’m going to say pass for tonight, but let’s do it some time. It’s just been a full day today.”

“So I’ve heard,” Jonathan said, climbing in his seat and undoing his helmet. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

Samantha chuckled. “I know I don’t really take you at your word, most of the time. But I do appreciate you being in my life Jonathan.”

Jonathan threw his head away to veil his content expression. There were times like that one when Samantha wished she knew what was going on through his head. “Someone has to stick around, until prince charming rides back from his tour. Saw he got all naked and whatever up there. Not cool.”

“Mhm. Not cool for someone who asks prince charming how sex with me is.”

Jonathan almost dropped his helmet to the ground.

“Why would you ask him that?”

He raked his hair with his fingers, the previous content expression fading into a longing one. “Because it is part of why I made that bet with you when you were hopelessly drunk and so was I and I hoped we’d wake up and forget.”

It was almost puerile that they both remembered an inebriated bet to sleep with one another when they both had the desirous impulse of the body to do that on the spot. And, somehow, they did not go through with it.

“Jonathan—”

“You should have lied to me and told me you forgot. I would’ve made allowances for how your skin felt against my own. You didn’t even kiss me on the mouth you know?”

Jonathan kicked the jack of his motorcycle. “And trust me, I am actively working on giving up on you but it’s one hell of a job. So yes, that’s why I asked him how sex with you was, to get some closure. And Romeo proved to be almighty with it.” He threw one last look at the girl, and it caused Samantha’s breath to hitch in her throat. Under the alabaster streetlight, Jonathan looked so vulnerable. “Bear with me as I’m giving up on you.”

Keys rumbled against the glassy surface of the living room coffee table. The helmet bounced on the cushions of the sofa in a hasty attempt for Samantha to undress off her riding suit. Samantha plopped into the depth of the couch, skin getting goose bumps from the cold material. It was already the depth of the night when she finally managed to catch a stable breath. The roughness of the day found refuge in her nape, pressing unpleasantly in her muscles. Murphy came running towards her, jumping in an agile motion on the couch beside her. The contact of his fur against her skin eased the pressure in her body. Samantha twirled Murphy’s coat through her fingers, and the dog snuggled closer into her side. He perked up at her, always receptive of her mood.

With the other free hand, Samantha hastily searched for her mobile phone. The silence in her house echoed loudly, in sync with her accelerated thoughts. Jonathan’s confession ripped a band-aid which she did not believe she had. She felt guilty for the impulsive decisions she took a long time before, which still reflected into their present. Almost like a butterfly effect. Had she chosen Jonathan back then, would she have suffered the same heartbreak by his side? Would they have parted, or would they have thrived? Would she have avoided the public humiliation in the hospital?

Would she have met Mark?

The silvery radiance of the moon tiptoed into the living room through the crack of curtains, settling on the black screen of Samantha’s phone. It was repelled by the quick motion to turn the gadget on, an even quicker one to reach Mark’s phone number. A very late observation that he had called her back.

Would she have felt the same need to reach out to any other man, same as she did to Mark? A sliver of a breeze trembled through the thin material of the curtains, disturbing the lull of the house. In that natural equilibrium, the moonlight painted Samantha’s features in an artificial calm. Her heartbeat picked up in her chest.

Samantha drew her breath in sharply when the call connected.

“Mark? Hey, I know it must be late wherever you are, I wasn’t expecting you to pick up. How are you?”

She must have spoken fast, precipitated, in a much too evident surprise and much too little preparation for the feelings raging in her ribcage. All the stupid childish reasons of Mark being and keeping away took the reins.

“I’m sleeping, babe.”

Mark’s voice was low and coarse, at times breathy. Unbeknownst to him, Mark played with her heartstrings, with the ease with which he called her that affectionate name. He could not have meant that.

“Sure, no I’ll let you sleep, I’m sorry I disturbed you—”

“…don’t go. Missed your voice.”

Samantha took her phone away from her ear reflexively to double-check it was indeed Mark whom she was speaking to. On the other line, a faded puffing sound confirmed he was still there, as if he was adjusting his position.

“You there?”

“Yeah, I am, I just… you took me by surprise.”

“Mhm. You, too.”

A gust of wind played with the calescent air in Samantha’s living room. Through Mark’s groggy voice she couldn’t tell if he was upset, sad, or even remotely happy with her for contacting him.

“Just know I’m kinda drunk, so I might say shit.” Mark snickered, which caused Samantha to emit a giggle of her own. She had a palpable reason to blame Mark’s drunkenness for her heart’s quiver. “Drank our minds off with the boys. Middle of the evening.” Another snicker.

He was devastatingly alluring.

Samantha’s voice eased to Mark’s, a lonely index tracing the naked skin of her abdomen. The moon shifted, as if following the movements of the hand in a trance. “You’re too coherent to be drunk. Any special reason for the celebration?”

“Guess we felt like. Don’t know about them but I had a reason.”

Samantha took the bait. “Oh? How so?”

A sharp breath echoed on Mark’s side of the line, closely followed by another sharp exhale. “Promise you won’t get upset with me?”

Samantha’s eyebrows rose with curiosity, yet the heart in her ribcage threatened to stop beating. “I won’t.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you.” But Mark stopped himself once again to prolong the anticipation Samantha prepared herself for. Maybe he would tear the scar open and confess he’d slept with others, that he went ahead and made good of their agreement, that he did not care. Or maybe that he was enough of a good guy to at least let her know he’d touched other women, that he’d heard other women scream his name in the intimacy of his sheets—

“I missed you.”

The sound of thunder reverberated in the infinity of the sky and a glim of lightning flashed in the darkness of the living room to put a halt to Samantha’s life. A strong current awoke goosebumps on Samantha’s skin, akin to Mark’s tender touch whenever he pulled her body to hide into his own.

Mark continued. “But I know you don’t miss me cause heck, you would’ve called a lot more than once, so cheers to me. You’ll say, ‘why are you an asshole cause you didn’t call either’, and you could be right.” A short pause. “I actually could be the asshole.”

What was Samantha supposed to say? How was she supposed to form coherent thoughts in her mind when Mark singlehandedly went and kicked away all rationality had to offer? In the tone of his voice, Samantha felt resentment. A resentment directed at himself for wishing he’d done better.

I should have done better, Mark.

“No, Mark, don’t say that about yourself. You could be anything but an asshole.”

I missed you too, Mark. And I didn’t want to.

“No, it’s fine. Absolutely fine. I’m just sex. You’re just sex. We’re just sex, nothing more, right?”

A sudden downpour started falling over the horizon, in a ghastly chase to envelop the night sky of Seoul. The sound of droplets played in a staccato rhythm, brushing against the tall glass windows of Samantha’s house. The restless curtains danced however the wind dictated, to cast shadows of the moon over her features, now rigid from the amalgam of emotions pirouetting through her being.

If she hadn’t met Mark, would she have wished to grant herself a second chance so easily?

Samantha rose lazily from the couch, leaving Murphy behind to meditate in his calmness. She carried herself to the windows, gripping the handle to open one of them, and ultimately seated herself on the windowpane. She extended one leg to feel the rain. “Do you hear that, Mark?” she spoke ultimately, tears gathering at her eyelids.

“Is that rain?” replied Mark, accompanied by a hissing sound. “It’s pouring in New Delhi, too.”

“It feels so cold on my skin.”

Another thunder trembled in the sky.

“I’m so jealous.”

“Jealous? Jealous on what?”

“All this rain is getting to touch you and I’m not.”

Samantha brought one knee to her chest to lean her cheek against it. If it was raining in New Delhi, it meant that maybe, just maybe, her and Mark could both look at the same sky.

It took a considerable amount of effort for Mark to push himself straight outside of bed. He couldn’t remember at what time the boys got back to the hotel, at what time he fell asleep, and he couldn’t remember why he recognized Samantha’s voice without even knowing it was her who called. With each reply exchanged between them, Mark was driving back to reality, a reality where both him and Samantha were looking at the same sky.

He walked over to the window of his hotel room, peeling it open to fully pick up the song of the rain. There was a tiny table adjacent to the window where he prompted his body, head leaning against the pane, and the free arm toying with the beads rushing down from the sky.

A reality where he was catching feelings for a woman who did not feel the same.

“It feels so cold on my skin too, beautiful.”

Maybe it was because of the same sky they both were watching but it felt like Samantha was smiling. “Why would you be jealous?”

“I should be, shouldn’t I? When something other than me is touching my fuck buddy.”

There was a pause on the other line. Rain was feeling tougher against Mark’s forearm.

“No one has touched me since you left, Mark. Don’t think anyone will.”

It was too good to be true. He did not believe her, could not believe her. Mark retreated his arm and raked his fingers through his hair. The coldness of summer rain made him flinch.

Mark was playing a game he knew he’d already lost.

“Do you think about us? Do you think about me, how I’m touching you?”

“Yeah, I do. I did today.”

Mark’s mind replayed their kiss in the club’s locker room.

Samantha’s mind replayed their kiss in the club’s locker room.

“Do you like the way I’m touching you?”

Mark’s mind replayed their hug in the club’s locker room.

Samantha’s mind replayed their hug in the club’s locker room.

“I do.”

“I guess you still want me to fuck you, then.”

Samantha’s lack of response gave Mark the opportunity to glue his eyes to an outward building which still kept its presence through the water veil. The buzz of the alcohol was still messing with his head, and with his emotions. He shouldn’t had gotten so attached to a game plan, he should had cared enough back in the club when Samantha stated she was not interested. There was just something about her that kept reeling him in, which only amplified with each touch they shared, doubled with each kiss, tripled with each moan she’d mewl, calling out his name.

At the end of the day, the heart wants what it wants. And the heart shuddered at the thought of her moaning any other name than his.

“Hey Sam, I gotta go. I’m supposed to be waking up in 3 hours to rehearse the setting for the concert.”

This time, it was Sam. Not ‘babe’, not ‘beautiful’, just ‘Sam’. Bleak, obscure, a name. Samantha feared a simple name that carried no meaning. It was supposed to carry a meaning.

“Are you frustrated with me, Mark?” she breathed out, the tears rolling down her cheeks at the thought.

“What? No, I’m not. I’m not. Promise.”

“How long will you be gone, still? I hope it’s not that long because I’m naked and I am sitting on the windowpane, hoping that this rain will make me recall how your hands felt against my skin, and it’s not you and I cannot recall how your hands felt against my skin, Mark.”

Clouds wrecked into one another to release a rambunctious roar.

Mark sighed, and it almost broke Samantha’s heart. Then he laughed, and suddenly, the world came alive.

“Okay, let me guide you to remember, hmm?”

“Guide me.”

“If you lay your hand to the side of your neck, cupping it, but not too tight, and a bit far back, you’ll remember it is my favorite spot to hold when we hug.”

In thorough obedience, Samantha did just as Mark instructed her to. She closed her eyes, picturing Mark’s silhouette right by her side.

“Now, if you lower your hand to your side, not too low on the hip, and drum your fingers against the flesh, you’ll remember it is my favorite spot to tickle you.”

The action made Samantha giggle loudly, almost the same as Mark used to. “I am ticklish there, yeah.”

Mark laughed, and Samantha couldn’t see, but he laughed heartily. “Yeah, I know. Now, if you go further and caress a trail from your lower belly all the way to your clit, you’ll remember it is my favorite spot to make you pant. Right before I slide a finger inside you.”

Samantha followed Mark’s voice until her middle finger caressed over her womanhood, a loud whine erupted from the back of her throat. “Oh no, no, don’t even think about doing it. The last part is left for me to do.”

She unexpectedly stopped, Mark’s charm still working strongly. “How did you know I wanted to do that?”

“I know what your body is telling me, angel. It’s just you I need to know more about. I’ll be back in a week and a half, can you hold out for me this long? I can always talk you through it if you think you can’t.”

Samantha scoffed jokingly, draping her hand around herself instead. A week and a half felt to her like an eternity. When Mark had her wrapped around his finger like a marionette, when he knew when to go back to calling her endearingly, when he so easily confessed it was hard on him, as much as it became hard on her, the time stopped dilating as fast. Another bolt of lightning pierced the night sky, casting a porcelain light over her body.

“When you come back to me, Mark, I’ll tell you about the more you want to know.”

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rhees-rapture · 2 years ago

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Tw rape/abuse

Some character background

Keep in mind I'm not defending/downplaying any actions the character committed.

Lore wise the character was groomed into working in shows (red room, torture) starting at age 13.

He was Sexually/physically/mentally abused

From the age 4-18

Neglected and not given many instances of affection from birth.

He was forced into performing many awful things in these shows. 13-15 he was used as a victim for clients, usually done as punishment for being rebellious.

He was taught to use dark magic in these torture sessions for the most prestigious clients. He endured torture, rapes and humiliation to avoid hurting children. (Video act 2 fractured past)

At the age of 15, he was forced to conceive a child that was later sacrificed in a dark ritual (Act 3 video: "The Letter"). It was one thing he couldn't bring himself to do, and it caused him to suffer from extreme PTSD. In moments of intense anxiety and panic, seizures could occur.

You might wonder why his body didn't respond the same way to adults. Well, the brain is complex. Even though he had a similar repulsion towards what was happening, his body did not shut down in the same way. This was a subconscious reaction beyond his control.

The cult believed that over time, they could break him and compel him to commit this final act of human cruelty. They believed that by accomplishing this, the dark magic being performed would grow stronger, and the person would also become immune to its dangers (Act 2 video: "Fractured Past").

However, because the leader of the network went against his dark lord (mentioned in Act 4 video: "Recourse Part 2: The Past"), Rhee humiliated himself in exchange for his freedom.

After this, he was no longer abused for refusing. He could also choose when and how often he worked. He received a hefty payout (500 million) followed by thousands with each job he did. During this time, he attended university and engaged in other activities (the prequel will provide more details). He often helped children he encountered to escape. Vector often turned a blind eye to the murders he committed within the organization, although they did have arguments.

He continued to work in this organization as an adult for a few reasons. The biggest reason was to eventually set into motion a way he could take them down which is what the ARG is about and where it begins.

As an adult the character compartmentalized his work from his own interests. (Referenced in the Rhee's rapture game in his journal)

Personally he did not care to SA others, it didn't make him feel a sense of power considering he was so much stronger.

He liked prostitutes, telling them what to do was more satisfying than forcing anyone. (Referenced in his journal)

Especially when they got off before he killed them. It was more challenging, he enjoyed seeing euphoria turn drastically into fear.

A play on the concept "The little death"

He did SA men/women when he worked for the network in shows. Depending on the clients wishes. It wasn't always in the usual sense, SA isn't done for pleasure in these shows. It wasn't done in a pornographic "sexy" way. It was done in a gore, vomiting inducing horrific way. Because people who seek to kill people tastes are what others consider nightmares.

Often it was done in wounds, their arms and legs would be removed. Guts and gore, terrible stuff.

What's worse is that I reference actual case stories. So his actions and what the network has done to people are based on true events.

He was shot with a medication that forced erections. He felt detached from his body, not feeling like it belonged to him.

He's a complicated character, and not everything is black and white.

Not to say he didn't enjoy hurting others; by inflicting harm, he unleashed his anger and hatred. He was indifferent to their suffering. He killed people outside of work for pleasure, feeling as if he had earned the right to do whatever he wanted.

He was not designed to be likable; that was the challenge. Despite being portrayed as evil or a monster, he still had a small glimmer of light within himself.

At the end of the series, he comes to realize that he has always had this light. The people he met online, the players, helped him realize this.

He also had a difficult time going into his past and details of it. The prequel will go into this along with other characters Vuk, vector, rook and some others.

I'll go back and correct grammar/wording later on. I just felt compelled to write this lol

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musicandwordsandheart · 1 year ago

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Carry On

This is in no way going to be a unique post. There have been hundreds, probably thousands, of others just like it. All the same, I'm going to add mine. Because like all those thousands of others, this show means something to me.

It took me just over a decade to finish the entire series. That doesn't seem like long when talking about a TV show that ran for 15 seasons, but I finished the first 8 seasons in a single summer.

That summer. I can't hear Kansas or any of the show's other cues without immediately being transported back there, to that little post-college apartment in Vegas. Being the only one in a 4 person place because all the others had finished their student teaching and left. I stayed behind, deciding to finish out the semester at the school I would be taking over that fall, getting my last bit of training in, stepping into my big-girl shoes.

So I was alone. Just recently had my first root canal, which meant I was still addicted to the "chocolate-covered strawberry" shake I found at the nearest Sonic. I had no plans that night. I made a pot of instant flavored rice and took it, my shake, and my laptop to my room; being in the living room of an empty and un-lived in apartment wasn't appealing anymore. I remember starting with most of the lights off, all except my beat-up little Target bedside lamp. I'd heard about this show for ages, wasn't ever sure it was for me, but decided I'd try it that night. Why not?

Within minutes, I had every light in the entire apartment blazing. Door locks were triple-checked, rice abandoned, and I was hooked.

What happened next was the final and real transition from college to adult-life. I went home for the summer and, in between prepping for my new challenge ahead, I squirreled away in my parents' cool basement, bingeing this show as a way to calm my (then undiagnosed) anxiety. I stayed up too light, sobbing into the night by myself over Sam's (first) death. Then Dean's. Then the perfection that is Season 5. Then everything that followed. At some point that summer I began investing in the DVD sets, some scrounged from eBay, some purchased straight off Walmart shelves or Amazon. I finished season 8 with 2 weeks to go before I made the big move--2 months before the 9th season would premiere.

In my new life, I DVR'd every episode, had Pinterest boards and Tumblr posts full of SPN fandom. I went to a convention. I loved it so, so much.

But life is tricky. I watched religiously until halfway through season 13, when things became unmanageable and I was pulled too far under in my battle with anxiety. I pressed pause for a bit. I got my mental health and my life together, I found other things that I loved so much. And then I moved across the world.

Couldn't access the final 2 seasons while they were airing live, and sometimes the VPN wouldn't even let me tune in to catch up on Netflix, so I was sort of forced to let it go.

Last year, I started again, back home for another summer in that same house. I started from the beginning. This time, I made it through the first 12 seasons before moving back, before relying on a VPN once again.

By now, I knew the ending. I had seen the spoilers, the controversy. I had seen the real-life stuff between actors, been disappointed by certain choices, baffled by others. I had been out of the diehard fandom for years now. I had also, like all of us, lived through a global pandemic. I knew so many were disappointed with how this show had gone out. Still, in the back of my mind, I knew I needed to finish.

And today, finally, thanks to a typhoon-forced day off, I have.

For me, I get the complaints. Well, not so much the complaints, but the sense of... 아깝다. 아쉽다. What a shame. It's a shame that a show like this, that means so much to so many people, had to go out with a Covid-induced whimper, not the bang it deserved.

But I still cried. I still felt that sense of loss. This show....it means so much to me. It got me through some tough times. It walked with me through the transition to adulthood. It was my everything for so long.

Although...it's been freeing in a way. Knowing I have finished, seen it through to the end. Now, whenever I'm feeling that urge (it should be no surprise that it usually hits me every summer, when days start getting hot and I crave chocolate-strawberry shakes) I can start wherever I want. Stop in on all my favorites, or binge it all. It's always gonna be there, just like it always was.

It may have taken me a decade, but I'm so glad this show exists.

#SPN #Supernatural #Winchester Bros #brotherly love #sam winchester #dean winchester #season 1 #season 15 #carry on #carry on my wayward son #Kansas #love

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anniekong · 2 years ago

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1) I saw the job posting and expressed my interest in applying to S.

2) S knows the hiring manager and makes the introductions via email. ( I've also reached out to others who may know him to gain insights)

3) Admin schedules the introductory meeting on the same day-it was a snow day too

4) I went to this initial introductory meeting a little underprepared to meet M

5) I went home and worked late that night. E saw that I was online and we had a quick catch up call. I told him about my day and my job search process and it turns out that M was his mentor during his time in the US. E offers to put in a good word for me.

6) I wrote a thank you note to M and inquired about the predecessor to learn more about the role.

7) It was SA and I write him a cold email and set up an initial call. I met with him to gain further insights on the role such as the day to day.

8) S puts in a good word for me explaining my performance rating in 2022 but M expresses his concerns due to lack of marketing experience and leadership skills.

9) I applied for the job and resumed working.

10) I went to Zurich to give a workshop and I saw the interview meeting pop up on my calendar for the following week. It’s a panel interview of three people in total. I shared the news with J who was co-hosting the workshop with me. She was extremely happy for me and offered to help shape my stories during my time in commercial operations. "All you have to be is yourself," she said. I wish it was that easy. We are both big believers that things happen for a reason so a rejection would not be the end of the world.

11) Exhausted after a long week, I crafted and practiced my stories on the plane ride back and continued to practice until the night before. ( Everything from my tone, hand gestures, eye contact, eyebrow twitch etc).

12) It was D-day and my first hybrid interview. I have not had an in- person interview since 2019. I had to balance looking at the screen and addressing the folks in the room. It started out well just as I've practiced. However, I was stump on questions like why should we pick you over someone else, what does success look like for you in this role, most people start from sales and work their way up to global/corporate- why are you going in the other direction, what do you hope to deliver in 18 months. I must’ve looked like a deer in headlights. They were asking me what my favorite color was and I answered 28. The interview took an hour vs the initial 45 mins meeting, which further portrayed how inefficient I was in conveying what they wanted to hear. They were challenging me and I wasn’t given them the right answers. I might have redeemed myself with the questions I’ve asked towards the end but felt defeated completely.

13) I was pretty sure I didn’t get the job at this time and shared my experiences with my work besties starting with I and sharing the questions that had stumped me and my tired and jet lag brain. “The why would they choose you is a personal branding question! You are supposed to showcase your strengths”, she said. Well it makes sense now, since you put it like that wishing that I had known that 20 minutes earlier. I took it as a learning opportunity.

14) The day after, S asked how the interview went. The corporate response for I bombed it is "This helped me understand the level of detail that is necessary to really standout in those interviews."

15) I caught up with N at the cafe and M sees me and waves at me walking in one direction. S comes walking from the opposite direction and they meet in the middle. S had asked how the interview went then and there…not awkward at all. (I found out about this later but somehow I had a feeling they were talking about me and shared my uneasiness feelings with N since it was too soon!)

16) S shared that he’s still interviewing and there’s a McKinsey consultant that they are also considering. Well that's nice… I thought. He/she will definitely be a thousand times more polish than me. S also recommended that I ask L to reach out to M to endorse me on my performance.

17) I’ve never done this before and had to double check with someone who has worked with HR to see if this is normal (I realized how risk adverse I am during this process). She convinced me that it's not only normal, but a necessity when applying internally. I wrote an email to L, having saw her and caught up with her in the office the day before.

18) L replied and to my surprise, said she was proud that I was asking for endorsement when most people shy away from it. She mentioned that she had already put in a good word for me.

19) I started applying for other jobs because I was coming to terms with not getting the job.

20) S follows up with M the following week. I’m embarrassed at this point because he was pushing for an answer and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have an answer because I got rejected.

21) 8 days from the interview date, I’m sitting at lunch with a neighboring finance team and shared my interview experience during this busy time at work. When I got to my desk, M pings me and asked if I have time to chat. I replied asap and he called me right away.

22) “I got some feedback for you,” he said. “I welcome any feedback you have,” I replied, having already made peace with myself that I will have to resume the job hunt. “ You got the role,” he said….and I haven’t stopped smiling since that moment.

I wanted to highlight the amount of effort it took to apply for one role. I could have easily gotten rejected and this process would have to occur again before I land on my next role.

I understand the power of networking, sponsorship and personal branding.

Although the future is exciting, I’m even more touched by the amount of people who are willing to help me, expecting nothing in return throughout this process- most notably, all of my sponsors ( S, L, A & E), E who is an informal mentor to me, D who consistently sent me job postings, AD who offered to help with interviewing, I connecting me to everyone she knows on the Global Oncology team. The countless number of coffee chats with the oncology marketing team who took time out of their day to educate me with nothing to gain.

I pinged I when I received the good news and she was so happy and excited for me. "You did all the magic," she said. "Not at all, it felt like a teamwork." It sure wasn't because of my stellar interviewing skills.

I’m so thankful for them and will continue to pay it forward.

As J and I agreed on, it's this cycle of good karma and positivity that will continue to expand.

“Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity”

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reviewrating · 4 months ago

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0 notes

cdevroe · 2 years ago

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Blogging is alive and well

Oh man am I happy! People that hadn't written on their blog in a long time are blogging again. Websites that hadn't been updated in many years, some over a decade, are being spruced up and published to again. And popular news outlets are publishing articles about blogging.

Of course, those of us that have kept our focus on blogging know that blogging never died. The activity of publishing just moved around from platform to platform. In some cases behind a wall like on Facebook and Instagram, in others, into data silos where the content couldn't flow out onto the open web like Twitter.

Perhaps you're reading this and you totally ignored blogging over the last few decades or you're a young person just starting to venture into the blogging world. I won't cover the entire history of blogging but let me sum up what happened in just one paragraph.

The weblog exploded onto the scene in the early 2000s. Many websites were being frequently updated prior to that, but the blog format really jumped into the mainstream during that time. There were millions of active blogs. Then, social networks sprang up to help make publishing on the web easier or more approachable. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram - all of these began to see enormous growth in popularity and the amount of content that is published on them. Today, hundreds of millions of posts (which, are not unlike blog posts) are published on these three platforms daily. So, in a way, blogging is more popular than ever. The thing that changed was where people published.

And, that was a shame for a variety of reasons.

Having your own personal website is still not as easy as signing up to Instagram. And the fear of publishing to a blog paralyzes some people. However, the advantages to having your own website are myriad. You own it. The content that is on it can be visible to everyone on the web. The fate of your blog isn't tied to the fate of a public or venture backed company. Etc.

I think the resurgence we are seeing has been caused by many variables. Two primary drivers over the last few months has been the upheaval caused by unhinged billionaires and privacy invasive business models. But I think there are other factors at play too.

One possibility is that the same people that desired a much more simple publishing tool in the early 2000s are now older, wiser, more patient and desire more control, ownership, and features. When I started publishing on the web I was 15 years old. I'm 42 now. I've changed a lot over that time period. So, some of the recent surge may be that people are willing to put in the time to have a home on the web they can be proud of and that scratches their particular itches.

Then there are those that already had blogs that laid dormant for a few years. They found their audiences on Twitter and so they saw far more engagement there. And, for those willing to admit it, they became addicted to the feedback loop of having large followings on social media platforms. When they publish to their blog it sort of feels like throwing a ball into a black hole. But publishing onto social media, when you have tens of thousands of followers, feels like playing table tennis. Even with that addiction to engagement, they desire to own their audience rather than build one for a tech giant. And so they reach for their blogs hoping to bring that audience from social media onto their own platform.

Some of them will succeed. Some of them will crawl back to social media once the dust settles over the protest du jour.

Whether or not blogging is alive or dead is not a new topic of discussion. It is a topic that reoccurs every few years. I've written about it dozens of times. But the current push seems slightly different. I believe we will see many more people blogging again or, at the very least, publishing on a platform that compliments the web rather than chafe at it.

Ten years ago, I wrote:

A set of protocols or standards will need to come along to help connect all publishing platforms together. The incredibly useful features we find inside of networks like Twitter will need to find their way out onto the world wide web. This means bringing actions like following or subscribing, mentioning, citing, link previewing, etc. to the independent web and have them be completely separate from any single service.

The IndieWeb set the standards for some of the tools and protocols we now see finding footing. ActivityPub has been a boon for modern day platforms, like Mastodon, to give people the best of both worlds -- you can have your ease of publishing and be web friendly too. I hope we see a lot more platforms built from the priciples of the IndieWeb so that people don't need to think about federation, microformats, syndication feeds, webmentions, etc. People do not care about these things. Developers need to.

I'm so very happy that blogging is getting a shot in the arm.

Here are a few links worth looking at:

The Year of the Personal Website - Matthias Ott

Bring back personal blogging - Monique Judge for The Verge

Personalsit.es - By Andy Bell, a showcase of personal websites

Ooh.directory - By Phil Gyford, a directory of blogs

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enbyhyena · 1 year ago

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This has been very fascinating and enlightening to read, thank you!! I'm definitely still happy to see new opinions coming in; I knew that my poll wouldn't be set before too many eyes due to my small following, so I don't mind new people trickling in over time after the fact. :>

(More below the cut for me as well, as I also get a bit long-winded.)

It's definitely interesting to see how the fandom's treatment of the ship(s) was so formative for so many people, especially the younger audiences. I've been in the fandom since February 2016 (about 5 months after the game came out), and I've never left, so I've seen this fandom mutate and evolve drastically (but gradually) over the last 8+ years. I was 16 in 2016 (just barely still 15 when I first got into Undertale), so while I was still technically a minor, I was pretty set in my ways by that point I think. And though I do agree Undertale definitely has a VERY unique approach to the concept of selfcest, making it easy to support/ship it, this wasn't where it started for me.

For me it started in the Homestuck fandom. You know, that really weird place where things make so little sense that they come right around full circle to being something that makes sense again, yet also still doesn't. Because of all the timeline shenanigans and weird logic, it became really easy to ship things that, on the surface and to an outside viewer, seem questionable, but are ultimately nontransferrable to realworld society. Shipping Karkat Vantas with Kankri Vantas is one such example—uncommon but not unheard of—technically Kankri is a long-in-the-past, alternate universe version of Karkat. To see shipping it as weird in the context of troll culture and society (which is to say, trolls lacked any human equivalent of a "typical" family structure; trolls are forcibly made to donate their genes to an insect that reproduces for them, and their young are raised by hybridized beasts who are, for all intents and purposes, just a step above animals) did happen, but only for people who tried to shove troll culture into human-shaped boxes. Which Karkat himself repeatedly reprimanded the humans in the story for trying to do (due to their polyamorous romantic structure). Trolls have no genetic or social concept of family, and to add another layer of weirdness to it, they're [Karkat and Kankri] technically not even from the same timeline. More like if one turned left and the other turned right, plus give or take a few thousand years time gap.

Or Davesprite and Dave. Technically Stridercest. Davesprite is a Dave from a timeline where he sacrificed himself to become an NPC for the game they were fighting to escape. Dave, as a character, dies many times; perhaps hundreds. This leads to many offshoot versions of him and some pretty wacky interactions. But Davesprite, like Karkat, is not Dave, just like Kankri isn't Karkat.

Or Dave and Dirk. Could also be seen as Stridercest. But again, Dirk is from a future timeline where Earth was conquered by Trolls. The characters only meet each other due to their game sessions intersecting. They could be seen as mirror versions of each other, but they're moreso mirror versions of the older brother figure each boy had.

All of this to say, Homestuck and its shippers rode the line very hard when it came to its ships. It just became one of many bizarre facets of an already bizarre fandom. And in a way it was a pipeline for me and my mindset once I headed into the Undertale fandom. Which when you think about it, it almost feels like this outcome was doomed to occur from the start—seeing as Toby Fox helped here and there with the Homestuck webcomic, and both he and Andrew Hussie lived together in the same space for awhile. When Undertale first launched, MSPA promoted it on their site—leading to a lot of Homestuckers moving in and founding the Undertale fandom.

Homestuck taught me that it was okay to ship whatever the Hell I wanted. Even an in-universe character was guilty of just that (Nepeta, maybe Meulin). Even if the scenarios the characters encountered from within the setting are not nearly replicable to anything grounded in reality, the takeaway was the same: "It's okay to ship things. Even if other people don't agree with/like it." And to that end I suppose you could call me a proshipper. But like you, I hesitate to adopt labels because they're broad and tend to carry with them preconceived notions; notions that I may, or may not, agree with. There's a lot of misinformation and I don't like having my identity reduced to a single word when there's a lot more to me than that, especially not before I can add an asterisk* and explain my personal definition/distinctions. At one point I even did consider myself confidently proship, just didn't talk about it outside of my circles. But with conversations like this, I doubt myself. What does it mean to be proship? What does it mean to be antiship? Why does what I like have to run the risk of ushering me into a corner, slapped with other labels that I don't agree with? I know that I ship Sanses with each other. And for that I thought that meant I was proship. But with people coming in, saying that it doesn't have to be that way, that there's loopholes—it feels like a pillar of my identity has kind of crumbled a bit. And maybe that sounds dramatic. But when you spend literally a third of your overall life in one space, like it or not it becomes integral to who you are as a person.

I don't really know what point I'm trying to get at here; I just know that I was very touched by your thought-out response to my silly little poll, and I wanted to reciprocate a bit with some of my own thoughts. Even though they're probably way more disorganized than yours, lol. I do appreciate you sharing your perspective and I definitely wouldn't mind hearing more—for that matter, consider this as an open letter for absolutely anybody who reads this to share with me what they're passionate about at literally any time. I love seeing other people excited and happy about things, and having mature discussions in general (they feel so few and far between these days). Please rope me in. It makes me happy, too.

I hope you have a wonderful day/night, whenever you read this. And to whoever else may see this, as well. :>

I thought all Sanscest shippers were just. Proship by proxy. But I saw an antishipping account on Discord today that ships AfterDeath and asked people who hate the ship to DNI. So now I'm just confused. Are these just proshippers who don't want to admit they have exceptions/are actually proship or something? Or do some people just ignore the 'cest' written on the tin? Lol.

Please reblog for a larger pool. ^^

Also, note: No shipping discourse anywhere on this post please. Keep that to yourselves. I'm just curious what people think about the SHIPS, not each other. Be nice.

#nexysmusings #shipcourse #shipping discourse #discourse #but also not really?#discussions #undertale #homestuck #sanscest

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waka-chan-out · 3 years ago

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#quick rant::#not to be ungrateful #but like #where the fuck is everybody #i have over a thousand followers and it’s the same set of like 15 people liking and rbing all of my posts #i get that people aren’t on here constantly and obviously timelines can get a bit jumbled #but i mean……how is that even possible #i’m grateful for every note i get #and no one is obligated to interact #but it’s discouraging and i feel like i’m allowed to say that #i’ve talked about this once before #and i’m saying it again #i don’t know if it’s how tumblr has been working lately or a fandom problem or what #but like………please fucking interact so we don’t feel like we’re shouting into the void #i get so many fun asks that make me extremely happy and have formed some great relationships on here #but damn that doesn’t make it any less frustrating to have a post that i put a lot of time into run at like 20 notes #so yeah. where is everyone. what’s happening. am i the only one having this problem??#let me know because shakbdjdjd i’m gonna keep posting obviously i just want y’all to know that the lack of engagement does not go unnoticed #meg’s thoughts

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kte-alxxndr · 2 years ago

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I promise this is a Tommy Shelby Imagine.

Plane rides aren't really my thing - from watching too much action and horror movies I believed I had developed some sort of aerophobia, or maybe I was just imaging it, I don't know. I've been flying several times a month and look I'm still alive.

"Y/N?"

Yes, that is me. Y/N.

"Y/N L/N?" I haven't been called L/N for sometime now.

"Y/N L/N, it's really you!"

I try to open my eyes. First class should have privacy and not crazy fanboys.

I drag myself to open my eyes only to be met by dark colored eyes similar to mine.

"Yes?" Whoever this person was - I have no idea. He looks neat, sharp in his suit, a killer smile and eyes that I'm almost certain can catch a cabin crew by the end of this flight. A fuckboi.

"It's me, YEx/N L/N." He proudly introduces himself; but introductions are far too gone, I know the man sitting and smiling at me. I know him too well that I'm willing to bet he hasn't changed a bit over the years. "How are you? It's been so long since I last seen you."

"Yeah.." It was all I could say. I try to take deep breaths because in my imagination the plane's air suddenly wasn't enough to keep me alive before we could land.

"20 years," he started. "20 years and you haven't changed a bit."

20 years. I haven't realized it had been that long.

It was a lie, I changed.

"So business or pleasure?" I shot him a look of disgust and he just kept on smiling. "You're going to Boracay, right? So its either of the two: business or pleasure."

I couldn't believe that someone who I haven't seen in over 20 years haven't aged mentally in 20 years. Business on the front and pleasure on the side.

"I'm all about business actually, got an offer I couldn't refuse. It pays well to have connections. I come to the island every once in a while, I'm a consultant for hotels and restaurants."

I never asked yet he tells me his life story. His arse was through the roof, and I could do him a favor if I threw him out the plane just to see if that arse of his have wings. But I chose to be the better person, I decided to keep my silence and nod my head pretending to be amazed by his achievements.

From the side I could see how his eyes would travel up and down on me, until he set sight on a certain thing he found interest to open a new topic on this dreadful flight.

"Big ring," he didn't sound pleased. "Engaged?"

I followed his sight and there it was, a diamond ring and a silver band resting on my left finger.

"Married," I said proudly.

His lips pursed, his eyes looking down on my ring. Disappointment and anger was clearly written on his face, only a idiot head over heels with this fool would misinterpret that look and sympathize for his pain.

Silence was brewing and I knew him too well to know that there wasn't going to be any good in his silence. And I was right.

"With looks like yours and a body like that, you could get any man you want. And by looking at the size of that ring, you've hit the jackpot!"

I didn't know if it was destiny or what but of all the people in this planet, the universe had decided that it would be best to have him seat beside me. I was never the type to make a scene, especially in public, but if it wasn't for the crew announcing the plane would land and everyone must stay on their seats, I would have sworn to the gods that this man would already be dead.

Strangling him wouldn't be enough, stabbing him a thousand times wouldn't be enough, any form of violence and torture wouldn't be enough to satisfy the rotten feelings I harbor for this man.

A bus took us passengers to the port, I had been on this island as it was the starting point of my life, it was also the end and the change. Clear blue crystal waters and fine white sand awaited as the boat crossed the sea.

A five minute sail from the main land to the island and there a shuttle from the hotel awaited at the port exit, and the universe was testing my patience. It seems that he will be staying at the same hotel as I am. 15 minutes of ghastly trip with him seated by my side; I could see how he would turn to smile from time to time or how he would accidentally brush his hands against mine as the shuttle would turn on every intersection.

"Aren't you married?" I asks, as I stepped out of the shuttle. He wasn't amused by my question, as I too with his flirting.

"Unhappily," he says.

I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't. A man who cares about looks and a woman uncontented of anything.

The staff started to unload the luggages from the shuttle to the hotel. The place was breathtaking, from the grand lobby with high ceilings over to the crystal water pool to the white sand beach upfront I could see from where I stand. I had momentarily forgotten a certain someone until I felt a hand grabbed me to which I was pulled back to reality.

"I was wrong," he started. "What I did was wrong and I regretted letting you go. I shouldn't have done what I did, if you could give me a second chance I promise I won't screw up, and I could give you much more than that man of yours can give. Please, give me a chance to fix us."

There was a high pitch sound ringing in my ears, a stinging pain in my hand and as if all the ranging feelings that I had been harboring were slowly escaping my body.

He was stunned by my sudden action, but so was I. It had been one hard of slap for him to keep his hand on his cheeks. A slap was nothing compared to the things he did. Some of the staff and guests were already staring but I couldn't care less.

"A chance is only given to someone who deserves it. The way you looked at me the entire flight and the accidental touch of hands was your way of flirting since then before until now, even when you are married and I told you I was. Do you think you deserve to be given a chance? Even if you did, even if others did give you that chance I. Will. Not.

I gave you chance after chance back then, when you flirted with Gale. When you got drunk and slept with Joan, or when you were forced to kiss Eliza over a stupid game of spin the bottle! You used all your chances and you never got any left since you walked out the door."

He was about to say something but I wasn't through.

"You want to fix us? There is nothing to fix! You left me, remember? You just left without giving a fucking explanation! And I was responsible for picking up the broken pieces of me.

You choose her, because I could never uphold to your stupid explanations and now you see that I'm happy, suddenly you want me back? Don't you think I deserve happiness too?

Do you really hate me that much to want me back and break me again? I never deserved you. You never deserved me and you deserve whatever is happening to you know.

I had always thought that there was something wrong with me, so I changed. I stopped drinking, stopped eating my favorite food to lose the weight, wore fucking dresses and heels to make me more ladylike. I even stopped hanging out with boys even though they were the ones I'm most comfortable with because you always say that people will think that I'm a whore if I continue to be with them!

And I just should have let people call me that; I lost my friends because of you. I lost myself because of you. Some part of me drowned and couldn't be saved because of what you did."

"Then why didn't you fight?!"

He must be joking.

"Fight? Why would I fight in a battle that I already lost halfway? I knew you were seeing her. I knew You. Were. Fucking. Her. And yet I fucking stayed!

So you have no right to ask if I fought, because I did even though I lost. It was you who didn't fight!

You chose Zareena, because she was more pretty, rich, sophisticated, something that I wasn't. And after you left I realized why you chose her, because I was never good enough for you."

People were looking, but I didn't care. I went straight to the bathrooms to fix myself, as I look at the woman in front of me I could say she is damn strong, she's someone I want to be when I grow up. Tears were useless, I already cried for that bastard many years ago and I'm not doing that again.

After fixing my makeup and clothes I went straight to the front desk. Some of the staff were still looking but I confidently made my way, I had carried that weight in my heart for over 20 years wondering what I did wrong, having it all out out was finally shutting the box and throwing it out to sea to drown.

Well of course he will be staying at where I'm staying, I might have forgotten that. I could hear the other front office associates giggling, saying something like how they were excited to work with him.

"I'm looking for Marie," I told the FO Associate.

He must have heard me because he was coming towards me, "If you have trouble with your reservation, maybe I could help you-"

"I'm not." If I did he wouldn't even be an option to ask for help. He must have gotten the message as left going to the other side of the hotel lobby.

"Welcome back Ms. Y/N," Marie, the Front Office Manager came out from the back office; and a dear friend of mine. She was the only one who never made fun of me or called me names when I started as a Hotel Manager in this same hotel, and I made sure to repay her kindness with everything I got. "I already had someone send your bags to your room."

"Mummy!"

A small voice echoes through the entire hotel lobby. I knew it too well that the moment I turned around I see my 3 year old son running towards me with open arms. I scoop him in my arms, and he immediately wraps his arms around me, his head sinking in my neck.

"I missed you, Mummy." He whispers, we only haven't seen each other in two days and my heart would melt on how my son misses me.

"I missed you too, Charlie." I say as I kiss his head and rubs his back.

"I want ice cream."

"We'll have ice cream after lunch. Where's Daddy?"

Charlie then makes this gestures as he brings his hand to his lips and blows an imaginary smoke.

My husband and his habits. He's at the smoking area then.

"Daddy!" I set Charlie down and watch him run towards his father. I couldn't help but laugh as he excitedly announces that we were having ice cream after lunch than tell his father I've arrived.

With our son in his arms my husband came to my side and gave me a kiss to welcome, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Tom." Like father, like son. God I love my two boys.

"I'd like to introduce you to someone, Y/N." Tommy says, he looks over and I saw the person in view. "Love, this is Mr. YEx/N L/N. He's the new hotel consultant."

No wonder those FO Associates were giggling, YEx/N is the hotel consultant who will be overseeing every operations from the front and back.

"Mr. YExL/N, this is my ever beautiful and amazing wife Y/N Shelby and our son, Charlie. My wife is the CEO of the Shelbreeze Resorts and Hotels."

I gave him my most beautiful smile. Oh have the tables turned.

"Welcome to Shelbreeze Crystal Sands, Mr. YExL/N. I'm afraid we won't be needing your services after all." Tommy looks at me with a questioning look, but he knows better. "I'll have Marie send someone to fetch your bags and drive you back to the airport. A ticket will be ready when you get there. I'll assure you that you'll be on the first flight back."

Terrified. That what he looks like. I'll make sure that his connections get burned to ashes and he gets an offer he couldn’t refuse.

"No hard feelings, Mr. YExL/N. I just don't want someone to screw over my husband's company then suddenly leave for no apparent reason. I'm afraid I won't live up to your expectations as your boss, after all I will never be good enough, right?"

Tommy placed his hand over mine and holds it tight. I never told him a name, only the story, and I think he got the message.

"I would appreciate it if this will be the time we'll be seeing each other, Mr. YExL/N." says Tommy.

Marie immediately stepped in and assisted YEx/N on his way out.

"Oh, Mr. YExL/N before I forget," Tommy calls out. "She's more than enough."

Boracay Island is truly an amazing place to be, and I decided to set my story there thinking it would be a perfect place for a Tommy Shelby Modern Imagine.

[ MASTERLIST ]

Note: Thank you again for the 100 followers. I hope you like this story. Comments are deeply appreciated.

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #shelby reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #charlie shelby

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kkusuka · 4 years ago

Note

omg!!! i was like🥵🥵w the kuroo x bokuto threesome

could u do a suna x kenma x reader one?😳

of course~

The Ladies Room

Professional Gamer AU

Suna Rinatrou x fem!reader x Kenma Kozume

genre: smut

Cw: degrading, slight choking, slight orgasm denial, photography

a/n: i had no idea what to write for this, than all of a sudden it was 1,000 words and i was like :0. this is such a cool pair too, not one i would have thought of and i love that.

----

Of all people to join your Fallout stream, you had not expected Kodzuken and Sunarin’s usernames arguing in the chat. About your attitude towards the vault experiments nonetheless.

You had no idea they even watched your streams.

Your 700 thousand followers seemed minuscule compared to Kodzuken’s 31 million and Sunarin’s 29.7 million. Them watching just made you feel important, nevermind the fact they were blowing up your chat.

Finishing your goal for the night, mind consumed by elaborate fangirling, you ended your stream. Taking a second to breathe you check your phone, almost having a heart attack when you see a request to directly message Kodzuken.

Kodzuken: join the discord

Kodzuken: we wanna talk with you about some games

In your shock you clicked the link he sent, placing your headphones back on your ears, entering the call.

“Hello?”

---

“He said he was going to be here 25 minutes ago,” Kenma gave you a hum of recognition at your statement, it was true, Suna was always late, “we should tell him to come 15 minutes before.”

Just the fact you knew that Suna was always late was amazing.

Thinking about how your twice-a-week calls became everyday video chats turned to you meeting at different restaurants, sometimes arcades, almost three times a week was insane.

Kenma looked almost identical to how he looked in streams, pristine and calculating. Abit a bit more lively, he was far louder than where you first met. But now he seems to have opened up, loudly telling Suna off when he finally shows up.

Suna, on the other hand, looked almost ethereal in person. The cameras did him no justice, he was tanner and his eyes were far more captivating in person. He was much more exuberant with you, actually, they both were.

They were everything they were on the screen and more, Suna’s teasing smiles and Kenma’s observant stares were far more personal when you were sitting right in front of them.

“No, I’m serious (y/n), he did it all wrong. He had to go to the back of the bar and speak to the barmaid before going back into the town.” You also had no idea that Suna really liked to debate about the games he was passionate about.

“No I don't, there’s no specific way to do it, that’s a time-wasting side quest” Kenma bit back at the man sitting beside him. You hadn’t played the game but they always bugged you for the input,

“Sometimes side quests are really helpful, Ken! They might help you level up, the better the stats the better chance of beating the game!”

As you spoke both pairs of eyes shot up to yours, Rin’s turning as he let out a triumphant smirk and Kenma’s downturned scowl, frowning back at his switch and seemingly turning back to do as Suna suggested.

Slurping down the rest of your drink you had the overwhelming urge to use the bathroom came over you. Voicing your need, Suna mocked and watched you leave.

Trying to hurry out of the bathroom, the sooner you get out the less complaining Suna will make about his “separation anxiety.”

Coming out you could see a small line that had formed, one woman towards the end being, from what you could see, pressed against that wall with a man towing over her. She was clearly uncomfortable, and something in you just made you need to save her.

“Sir? She is clearly uncomfortable, you should leave, this is a line for the ladies' room.” now standing before you, he looked you up and down before completely turning towards you. “Well little lady, I’ll leave the line if you come back with me.”

Face flushing at his obvious uncaringness, you were never given the chance to respond before an arm wrapped around your waist and a voice called from behind you.

“No, she’s busy.” Kenma’s voice rang as he led you out of the small hallway to where Suna stood at the doorway. Eye’s following you all the way.

Both leading you to Kenma's car, Rin pulling you to sit with him and the blond drove.

-------

“You think we were just going to let another man flirt with you like that?”

Turning your head to where kenma’s sat watching as Suna bounced you along his cock. Your mind was in overdrive, the same men who watched you bouncing along his cock are the ones who had not let you cum for hours before.

Attempting to reach a hand to your throbbing clit, Rin smacked your hand away harshly thrusting up into your cervix. Using that same hand he wrapped a hand around your neck, pulling to his face.

“Bad fucking cunts don't get to cum” he snarled out sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

“Please, R-Rin, I need to, places, want to cum, so bad.” he seemed to like your begging, as his fingers meet your clit, rubbing small circles, making your hips buck into his.

As Rin pressed your body to his, you could hear Kenma rise from his char and slowly make his way to you. Latching fingers around your chin he pulled your tear-stained face to look at him.

“You're going to be good for me right Kitten? You've done so well for Suna, so you have to be good for me now.”

Tugging his shorts down he released his cock from its confinements and pressed your mouth open, wrapping your lips around his tip. Suna continued his assault on your clit, now flicking a pebbled nipple, chuckling at your little moans.

“You make such sweet little sounds, face stuffed with cock. You love this, don't you? You should just be our little cum-dump from now on.”

By now Kenma had lost his patience on your slow pace, still trying to handle Suna’s rough pace.

Placing a hand on the back of your head, shoving his dick to the back of your throat, setting a brutal pace, balls slapping your chin. Grabbing your hair, pulling your head to face you up, a better angle to face-fuck you.

“Suna- picture” Moving quickly he bent his waist to grab Kenma’s phone, which was laying on the nightstand to your right. “Smile, Kitten”

It was a joke on you, tears streaming down our face, approaching your orgasm, mouth filled with cock, trying to smile as Kenma records you, guaranteed to go into a private folder on his computer.

Thrusting up, Suna hit a spot in you that made you fall apart on his cock, pulling your mouth off Kenma to let out a gasping moan of release. Hand gripping the plush of your hips fucking up into you, aiding his own release before pushing you off.

Pulling your back to his chest he grasped your thigh, pussy on display for the recording. Pressing your stomach to push the remainder of his cm out of your clenching hole, ending Kenma over the edge, painting your thighs white.

Setting your legs down, Suna snuggled into the crook of your neck as Kenma flopped down onto the bed wrapping his arms around your legs.

“No, we have to clean up, ‘m all sticky”

“Round two?”

#kenma kozume #suna rintarou #suna x reader #kenma x reader #kenma smut #suna smut #kenma kozume x reader #suna rintarou x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut

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atinydise · 4 years ago

Text

Ateez reacting to their s/o crying in front of them for the first time

❦ Genre: Fluff, a little bit angsty.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 3K4.

❦ Requested: Yes, thank you! 🦋

HONGJOONG

It had been 2 weeks since you had nonstop these hating comments on every social media. Your friend and Hongjoong warned you that the beginning will be hard, but you never imagine it would be like this. Before sleeping, you did your best to delete most of the meanest comments because you didn't want Hongjoong to be upset. To reassure yourself, you were telling every day that it would stop someday, but you were wrong. It was worse the next days. Just to enjoy your boyfriend's presence, you went to his studio. He would be busy, but his presence was enough for you. That's the only thing you wanted right now.As he was adding another beat on his production, you were deleting the comments again. Every time you tried to suppress one, another one came up. It overwhelmed you more than you imagined.

"I'm almost done babe! After that we can go watch our movie." Said Hongjoong, turning his chair around. His heart missed a beat when he saw tears sliding from your red eyes. His smile faded quickly. Your boyfriend immediately stood up and kneeled just next to you. "What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?" Of course, when you heard that, you busted in tears, sobbing crazily. Hongjoong was shocked and confused to see you crying like this. In fact, he never seen you crying. "Y/N, look at me." He whispered, holding your hand. Despite your blurry vision, you stared right at him. "What's wrong?" He repeated. "What's ruining my usual sunshine's mood?" You took your time to explain the situation; that you are wasting your time on deleting a thousand of comments per day. You added that reading them, made your feel really insecure. "It's really hard Jong..." you sobbed, your lips shaking. "I'm sorry that you went through all of this, alone." He lifted himself a bit to hug your little figure. Face buried on his hoodie, you just gave it up and cried again. "The company is protecting me, but no one does it for you. I’ve failed." He patted your back, trying to comfort you as he could. "I'm really sorry Y/N." He whispered. You stayed at least 15 minutes in his arms, gripping the hem of his hoodie like your life depended on it. Hearing you being so sad made Hongjoong realize how much you suffered and kept everything for yourself. "You won't be alone anymore. We are going to find the perfect solution, so you won't get hurt once again. Okay?" You nodded, making him slid his hand on the back of your head to keep you closer. "Everything will be okay love." You ignored if it was your boyfriend's warm presence or the tears you finally let out, but you felt so much lighter.

SEONGHWA

"Okay babe. Are you ready?" Asked Seonghwa, face buried behind a history book. "I think I should study a bit more." You replied. "But you've done this the whole week. I'm sure you are ready." He smiled. Not sure of yourself, you shrugged. "Let's give it a try then." The next week, you needed to pass the most important exam of your entire life. Compared to an "idol life", it's like the last audition which will determine if you can debut or not. The one you are not supposed to fail. That's why you set and organized a complete and strict revisions schedule since these past weeks. To be honest, it had been pretty intense, and you were pretty exhausted now. "So, first question from when lasted the 2nd World War?" "1940 to 1945?" You replied not sure of yourself. "1939 to 1945." Rectified Seonghwa. Good. 1st question and already one mistake. "Next one: in which year did the USA joined the WII?" You knew this date; you had an entire sheet on it. So why the answer wouldn't come out? "19-" you paused, thinking hard about the answer. "Y/N, we studied together this date and this chapter." Said Seonghwa, trying to help you. Mad at yourself, you closed your notebook and buried your head in your arms. "Y/N-" "I don't remember!" Your voice cracked and your shoulders started to shake. "I'm useless and stupid!" Seonghwa was surprised to see you like this. You were not the type of person to cry. In 1 year and a half of relationship, he never saw you cry. "Just let me fail this exam!" You sobbed, tears dripping o the blue ink of your notebook. "Y/N. You are one of the smartest people I know." Whispered your boyfriend resting his head just next to yours. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders. "You just worked and studied so much these weeks that your brain needs a break." "I have so many chapters and topics to learn." You sniffled, lifting up a bit, but to hide your face behind your hand. "You are having a mental breakdown babe. Just take a break you won't fail." Seonghwa's voice was affecting you in the right way. You could feel yourself calming a bit, but the stress was always there. "Let's watch TV for the rest of the night so tomorrow you can focus back on your task." "But I need to study." You wiped your tears with your shirt. "If you continue today, you won't remember anything tomorrow. That's what you want?" You shook your head. "Good. Then let's go watch a movie. I'll order a pizza." "Thank you." You whispered, still sniffling.

YUNHO

You had a pretty mad argument with a close friend. You couldn't even call her this way because what she did was wrong. In a short resume, she hangs out with your other friend's crush. The worst part was that she never apologized or realized that her actions were bad and could hurt someone else. So, since this day, you've been pretty alone. The trio you formed with your friend was over. Nobody talked on the group chat like you usually do. Your girl trip was cancelled, and you had no choice but to accept it and cancel all the reservations you've done. It could be childish and ridiculous to be sad over a friendship but it as a particular one for you. They were the first ones to talk to you when you arrived in Korea. The language barrier never had been an issue. Thanks to them you improved more than you could imagine. When you had an argument with Yunho, they were the first ones to get you out, just to change your mind. How could a good friendship finish so badly? "Y/N? Are you listening to me?" Asked Yunho, sitting on the couch next to you. "Huh sorry, I was deep in my thoughts." You smiled shyly. "It is because of-" started Yunho. "Don't." You stopped him straight. "Don't pronounce their names." Your boyfriend was staring at you. He never thought it would affect you so much. "I tried my best to stay strong," you sighed. "But i can't lie to you. This is pretty hard." "Babe..." "I've been with them for so long. A bit like you and the guys." You smiled sadly, thinking about the old and good times. "They were my family here, in South Korea. Yunho was looking at the decomposition of your face. You were completely devastated. "I miss them so much." You finally let out, head bending, and eyes closed to avoid tears to fall. "I'm sure it will be fixed soon." Whispered Yunho, ignoring what to do. A light laugh escaped your lips. "Nothing will be the same, and it's better if we stay apart." Your boyfriend was secretly thinking the same thing. It was a pretty good issue. He left his thoughts when you whined of sadness before sniffling for the third time. What to do? What do you need? He never saw you like that. You always said that you hated to cry. It makes you feel weak. "Do you want a hot chocolate? I know you like." He offered. "If you don't mind, I really need a hug right now." You stared at him; face completely wet. "Yes of course." He didn't hesitate and pulled you closer to him. He assumed that you felt better because you cried a bit more. Losing friends can be really painful sometimes. Yunho hoped that you would be okay. He would be there every time you need someone to talk with. However, at the same time he hoped to never see you crying again. That was too painful for him to look at your usual bright face, changing into a sad one.

YEOSANG

Yeosang's phone buzzed on his pocket. He stared at the clock hanging on the wall. 11 PM. By that, he guessed that you were calling him because you missed him. Without waiting any longer, he sat down on the floor and picked up. ["Hello!] You waved at the screen. ["Hey boo! What's up?"] He asked, fixing his hair at the same time. ["I miss you."] You pouted. ["It's been pretty hard to catch up these times."] Yeosang's scratched his nape, nervously. ["Yeah... We've been busy 24/7. I can't tell when the last time was, I had enough time for myself."] ["Keep some time for you. It's important."] You replied, looking at his little dark circles. ["I will try to-"] ["Hello Y/N!"] Waved San, appearing on the screen. ["It's daytime for you?] You smiled at him. He was always so energized. ["Hello San! And yeah, it's 3PM here."] ["Can you let me talk to my girl in peace? I can't do it often already!"] Scolded Yeosang gently, flickering San's forehead. At this comment, you felt all the emotions and feelings you kept during these 7 months, submerging you. Before you could realize it, a tear escape of your eye, followed by another one. ["Yeah yeah! Leave us alone!"] he pushed San out of the screen. ["So, what you- Y/N? Are you crying?"] His face approched the screen phone really fast. ["Oh!"] You said, surprised. ["I didn't even notice."] You chuckled sniffling. ["What's wrong. It's the first time I see you crying."] Asked Yeosang, worried something bad happened. ["Nothing. This week had just been stressful, and I really miss you."] You looked up to suppress the other tears to come. ["We are going yo see each other soon I promise."] He said, feeling mad to be so far away from you. ["Sorry, I didn't plan to cry like a baby 'in front' of you."] You air quoted. ["It's just so hard Yeosang."] Your voice cracked, causing your boyfriend to feel sorry. ["I promise we will see each other faster than what you think."] You nodded, still avoiding looking at him. ["Don't cry Y/N. I hate seeing you like this."] He sighed. Forbidden you to cry made you do it even more. You put down the phone so he could only see your ceiling. ["It's okay. I'll calm down."] You said between 2 sobs. Yeosng was staring at the phone, hoping to see your smile back. ["I want to see you."] ["I look terrible."] You positioned the phone back, wiping the bottom of your eyes. ["No. You look like Frankenstein’s wife."] He teased you. ["So, you are Frankenstein?"] You giggled. ["Ouch, you got me."] You laughed at his disbelieving face. Yeosang was the only one who could make you cry, and in the next minute, make you laugh crazily.

SAN (⚠️this one can be a little bit triggering since it’s mentioning the lockdown)

"Finally! Some time for myself!" Claimed San, holding your hand tighter. "Since a long time, he had or find an empty time on his schedule and rushed to spend time with you. San invited you at the restaurant and for a quick walk before heading back to the dorm. No matter how hard you tried to stay focus on your boyfriend and the conversation, you zoned out time to time. San ignored what was bothering you. The lockdown had been pretty hard for you and your mental health. You lost your self-esteem and didn't find anymore any good compliments for yourself. For several months, you documented yourself to find something which could lift your mood. Most of the time, you spent your day on TikTok, but it messed up more than it should. Thanks to San, he was the only one who avoided you to end depressed completely. He still ignored that you were going through a lot. You always acted like everything was totally fine. "I can't believe we are already in February." He looked at the stars. "Yeah." You smiled. "Time flies." "It's been almost 2 years that I've met you too!" He giggled. "I'm so lucky. Many girls would have run away with an idol as boyfriend." He started. "But not you! You are still here. The rock of our couple." More he was talking; more you were realizing that you were not that strong anymore. "I'm really lucky!" He repeated, kissing your hand lovely. You didn't have enough time to suppress the sob coming from your throat. You slapped your free hand on your mouth, even if you couldn't know if you were really crying, tears felt right on your fingers. "Y/N? Are you-" he stopped, realizing how stupid the question was? "What's happening baby?" The soft tone he used to talk, made you bust in cry a lot more. "Wow wow! Y/N, what is going on?" He asked, completely worried. You hesitated to tell him what was going on, but you couldn't let him with no information. "I'm just so done." You started. "So tired, so sad, so depressed, every fucking day." "Why?" You shrugged, picking a tissue of your pocket. "I don't know. I just feel like that. I want to be happy and strong again, but I'm always overthinking. It makes me doubt on everything." San pulled you in a warm and safe hug. He ribbed the back of your head to comfort you. "Don't worry. I will help you to pass this hard period." He whispered. "I really don't know what is going on with me and I don't like that." You added, tugging on his hoodie. "It's okay. Everyone goes through difficult moment. But I’m here to help you. I will give you everything."

MINGI

Mingi got out of the sleeping state when he heard a sniffle. At first, he thought that he was dreaming. Even though his dream was completely crazy, no one was crying. He just let it out and tried to sleep completely. Until he heard another sniffling. This time Mingi cracked an eye. The room was plunged in the dark. Exactly like how he fell asleep. "Did you catch a cold?" Asked Mingi, with his deepest voice. No answer, but still the sniffling could be heard. "Y/N." He repeated a bit louder. His body was still facing the window so he couldn't see you. No answer. Mingi thought that you were deep in the sleep to not hear him. So, he sneaked his arm under the sheet to squeeze your leg. "Get up and take a medicine at least, bec-" He stopped when he had nothing to squeeze. Finally, he sat up and looked at your usual spot. Empty. The sheet was cold. So, you were probably awake since a long time. Mingi walked to the hallway, looking for any light or any shadow hid in the dark. When he saw the one coming from the bathroom, he rushed there. Without knocking, he entered making you jump by surprise. "What are you doing here? It's late!" He raised a brow. Feeling the tears coming back, you hid your face behind your hands. Mingi's face softened immediately. He turned you around, so you could look at him. Just by seeing you crying, he understood what was going on. "You saw the article?" He whispered. You nodded, your shoulders shaking at each sob, like a baby. "You should have told me that it made you sad." He pulled you in a warm hug, trying to comfort you. "How? We made a deal." You wrapped your arms around his waist. "This deal sucks if you end by crying like that." He kissed your forehead. "I just wanted to protect you from every crazy fans. But I had no idea, people would start assuming that I'm dating the entire world." "It's not your fault." You sobbed. "I accepted to hide our relationship too." "I'm going to fix it Y/N." Claimed Mingi. "I hate saying you like that. I've never seen you crying yet." You smiled shyly at him. He wasn't the best man on this earth, he barely knew how to comfort you, but he has this strong and safe aura. It was everything that matters. "Stop crying please. I hate that." He pouted. You wiped your eyes quickly and gave him a warm smile. "Thank you Mingi."

WOOYOUNG

You were sitting on the dance practice's couch, looking at your boyfriend and San joking around. It was not a big deal. The atmosphere was really good, and everyone was in the right mod. Except you. Why? Because you had a secret interview with the CEO and the group manager. They made you understand that your relationship with Wooyoung was prohibited. It's been 3 years that you were dating, and they never had a problem. Until the group gain more and more attention and that journalist were following them around. One of them already threatened KQ to reveal an article few days before the comeback, just to ruin it. That's why, while the group was singing and dancing along, you were slowly getting sadder. To not ruin the mood, you got up and exited the room. The more natural possible. Even though you thought that nobody spotted your sudden sadness, Seonghwa noticed that something was wrong. And since you put a foot in the room. "Wooyoung." "Yeah?" "You should check after Y/N. I feel like something is off." He said. "She just probably went to restroom." He shrugged. "No, something is really wrong." Insisted Seonghwa. Without saying anything, Wooyoung rushed out of the room. He didn't last long to find you. His heart missed a beat when he saw your face. Tears were storming on your cheeks. Your nose was running, and your entire body was shaking also. He stayed there, without moving at all. Wooyoung never saw you this way and he was completely freaking out. His brain finally functioned again when you started to choke, hands on your chest. "Babe babe! Calm down." He kneeled in front of you, embracing you as much as he could. "I'm here. Calm down." He repeated. You gripped the back of his shirt, still completely devastated. Wooyoung rubbed the back of your head. Your face as buried on the crook of his neck. "Baby. Breathe." He whispered. Your boyfriend never asked once why you were crying. He stayed 30 minutes, in the same position, waiting for you to finally calm down. The most important think was you to be 100% ready to talk about it. "No matter what, I'm here." You are not alone."

JONGHO

The room was plunged in the dark. A light flame coming from the center of the table was lighting things around you. It been 2 hours that you were sitting there. Your eyes were locked o the big window, which is usually help the moon reflection to enter in the apartment. Your entire house was quiet. But you were annoyed by the loud noise coming from your mind thoughts. Jongho has left since this afternoon. Just after, probably one of the biggest argue you ever had. "Oh, you are so annoying! You know what? I'm leaving." This sentence was stuck in your throat. Jongho was really mad this time and was probably not ready to forgive you. Your head lifted up when you heard footsteps in the hallway. You prayed and hoped that your fiancé was coming back home. But few seconds later, the neighbor's door slammed and resonated in your ears. At the edge of a mental breakdown, your lips started to shake, and your eyes were getting itchy because of the tears forming in your eyes. Quickly, a sob escaped of your lips. Followed by another one. Before you could realize it, you busted in tears, crying loudly. All of your fear and pain stuck in your head, made you cry. Your dog, not understanding the situation, put his head on your lap, trying to comfort you. "Y/N!" Your heart missed a bit when you heard Jongho's voice. For a short second, you thought that you were dreaming. But your boyfriend was really standing there, hands full of your favorite restaurant food. In no time, you gently pushed your dog and rushed to Jongho. Arms wrapped around his waist, you felt like living again. He couldn't answer to your hug or otherwise he would drop the food, but you felt like his warm aura around you. "Ah," he smiled. "I might have been a little bit too harsh with you. It's the first time I see you crying." "You are dumb." You sobbed, still wrapped around him. I really thought you left." "Aye, come on. I can never do that." Probably because of the relief, you cried even more. "You are acting like a strong and independent woman but here you are, sobbing like a baby." He kissed your head. "I hate you." You replied. "Yeah. I love you too." He giggled.

#ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez writings #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez x atiny #ateez x you #ateez #ateez kpop

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