#i might. fix this up a bit better later. have been procrastinating a long time on it though so trying to get it out.
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The Birds That Fly At Dusk 2023 Revised vs 2020 edition differences
Only one post for this because there's far fewer changes here than in Stars, just 3 scenes and a few of the epigraphs, and the changes that are here are much more minor changes too, but some stuff that really gave me a big !!!!! to compare.
Once again, new revision changes in bold and deleted old version bits in red
First, in chapter 7, "Will this angel ever stop talking?":
Revised version:
ââ Still canât believe They of all people couldnât imagine how to fix how flaming sad Lucifer was for so long! A couple of times I even tried to tell Them like, hey girl, I mean not really girl because You have no idea what a gender is, but girl all the sameâ" Something else. Anything else. That river, flowing so gentle. The feel of clay in her fingers. Softness. Softness under her feet⊠ââgirl, there are some flaws in how Youâve set things up. And They were just kind of like, shrugging with Their mirrors and fire like whatâs better? I guess I thought that was rhetorical, you know how it is with Them and words, though of course you know me, or youâre getting to know me, so I did try to answer anyway but I guess my thoughts just werenât as impressive an answer for Them as what Lucifer did, you know how it is with Them and arguments.â
The previous version read like this:
ââ Still canât believe They didn't notice how flaming sad Lucifer was for so long! A couple of times I even tried to tell Them like, hey God, my man, I mean not really man because You have no idea what a gender is, but man all the sameâ" Something else. Anything else. That river, flowing so gentle. The feel of clay in her fingers. Softness. Softness under her feet⊠ââman, there are some flaws in how Youâve set things up. And They ⊠well, the way They are, They basically only responded by just being fire, you know how it is.
INSANE how massive a difference just a few lines makes!!!! The insufferable dehumanization (de-personing?) and 6,000-year-long stagnant incuriosity about another thinking being that Jibril displays in the first version mostly vanishes, replaced by the poignant and knotty small tragedies of miscommunication in hindsight, and more interesting/evocative, stuff to chew on. foreshadowing Lives of course, but also just generally affording G-d the dignity of personality (desire for arguments pushing against them, unsentimentality, impressedness at dramatic and prideful actions rather than useless verbal platitudes) and internal experience, and plans that change and progress linearly when They learn something they didn't know before. And the change from 'man' to 'girl' -- just a little clever jarring of expectations that defamiliarizes from the pickle juice of dominant culture.
Second, in chapter 12, "One way to change":
The interaction between Yairen and g-d is subtly different:
âTheir wheels are twisting oddly, Their wings pointing to another thousand mirrors, blinding in their fire-upon-fire reflectionsâthough not blinding enough, YairÄn can still see her room just fineâthereâs people, there have been so many, saying Them and touching Them and dancing Them. Dancing? She doesnât see how anyone could dance a person but here God is showing her images of those who have, their legs catching fire or crisping or both, the burn of Them in each cell, the nerves lit andâ And thatâs what sheâs supposed to do, then? Thatâs what Theyâre telling her? She standsâshe doesnât know when she fellâand⊠and laughs, hoarsely. Because this is one more thing she canât do, isnât it? A different wing-twitch of irritation as if this burning, shining, searing person is hiding Their face from her. If thatâs not what They meant, then what is? Tell me, she begs, show me how to let You make me better. Or havenât They already? She should what, stamp her legsâno, that feels wrong, itâs all wrong somehowâ And there's wing-pressure and fire-twitches and then thereâs⊠words. Words from God, who almost never thinks in words. Make⊠you? Make? You? Make? You? Make you? [...] âMakeâŠ? Being, being, being, They are-are-areâare remembering the creation-of-expansion-of the universe and itâsâand itâs singing-so-loud-itâs-screaming like a thousand points of light all at once and sheâs holding her head but her eyes work and her ears work so this isnât her becoming Holy, this is an explanation, but of whatâyes, They made that, thatâs what she saidâjust like They made those Holies, right? Made like⊠being, wanting, bursting, exploding, being⊠yes, thatâsâ They shake Their head though of course They do not have a headâat least not one that contains anything other than wings and eyes, so many eyesâall shaking, eyes and flames twitching until those flame-twitches become words, words it feels like They can reach easily because theyâve been said so many times, words quoting Them: I the flame know not⊠But thatâs why Iâm telling You! But itâs like hitting a hard wall, Their wings crossing Their wings crossing Their wings into a thousand Xâs meaning noâ What is she not understanding? And another thought, an infinity of flame filled with chimes that feel like the meaning of two specific words, over and over again, I am, I am, I amâand how those chimes, that flame, that person, can be⊠brought? Called? Opened? They are, They are, and maybe They're trying to say that thatâs⊠all it is? That somehow she was asking for more? A nothing-person and still presumptuous about what she deserves, she canât help but laughâ A rush of wrongness and anger, wings beating out a long tumult of images that finally resolve into more words, clear as if Theyâve also had to say these ones before: not-Me, not-Me.â
This is also really cool, in the emphasis on the difficulty of communication, and the subtlety of the way g-d understands holies and dislikes Yairen's inaccurate request, but most of all what hit me in a surprising hurt is the -- implied to have been repeated many times -- statement by g-d that They are being misunderstood and are having words and ideas put in Their mouth.
Third, in chapter 25, "Planning to stick around":
âYouâre not completely wrong, but then, some of us never did play much to begin with, so they never got good. Speaking of Lucifer, though⊠I almost regret that xe fell before some of the really cool games got invented, xe was always a great opponent. Itâs too bad, too, that seeing what xe once was still bothers xyr so much. Even just a chat is basically impossible, even if I made something like that manifestation I gave Celyet and gave it to xyr and talked from really, really far awayâhow could I be absolutely sure that a bit of God didnât wander in, into anything I make? Then again itâs not like xe even answers letters from me, so.â Jibril sighs. âMaybe someday.â
HOW COULD I BE ABSOLUTELY SURE THAT A BIT OF GOD DIDN'T WANDER INTO ANYTHING I MAKE!!!!!!!!!???????????????????
Okay and now the epigraph changes:
Chapter 6, the epigraph about the messenger roles of angels has been deleted and changed to: âWe must stop assuming the moral superiority of demons. They may be innocent victims, and they may have done countless good works, but they are still only human. âÄrpela Rel-sĂ€, principal of Äkal-ne Northmost Secondary School, attended by some demonsâ
I FUCKING. LOVE DEFAMILIARIZATION. there's a similar casual one in the revision of Stalking that tickles me to an insane degree. Obviously 'demons' are those morally superior child-rescuers who run orphanages in the woods. duh!
Chapter 8: there is an entirely new epigraph that, because i guess the author likes to overachieve, a full ghazal about genesis chapter 1 from the pov of the navigationally-impaired spacefaring angel Mikha'il (previously written as michael, the english rather than arabic form of the name):
In the beginning who asked, I am?, just invited to be? You, expert here, told me there was me, You, excited to be. Even today we scream in wonder: where did You reach, with what, to call us all, so brightly not-You, here, incited to be? So distinct, I and You: such made distance clear. Time, You defined as the gap between I and am; so You, delighted to be. We were tongues to speak the concept of tongues, breath to make the air. To leave the sky caused the sky (and ground, once alighted) to be. I am became name became whatâs yours? Mikhaâil, I said, but You overflowed each name You chose, You, You recited: to be! âthe angel Mikhaâil, And It Was Goodâ
It's more pat than the more uh, ambiguous jewish and japanese buddhist/taoist inspired poetry in Stars but also an ideal islamic ghazal form, LMAO.
chapter 17: an epigraph from later in the book is moved to earlier, and expanded:
âA soul is easily shown to be infinite in at least complexity. But then there is the world, which each soul interacts with, and in the world, each other soul living at the same time. What is, then, the sum of infinite complexity interacting with infinite complexityâinteracting with any of hundreds of millions of such other infinite complexities? And what, then, is the sum of each of these infinities changing each other as they interact? A mirror catches the light and reflects each other mirror which reflects each other mirror which reflects eachâwhat becomes of the light? âMetinian the Old, Signpostsâ
this purely epistolary "Metinian the Old" figure has no autobiography, but the couple of times they've popped up in epigraphs seems to echo a buddhist type of worldview, emphasized by the fact this appears to be a clear reference to the brahma net metaphor (but additionally interesting due to the way it seems to clash on the face of it with the conception of souls laid out in Stars and Birds so far, and certainly with common in-universe cultural understanding).
chapter 19: the epigraph about Lilith's motives has been replaced by another, better epigraph about Lilith's movitves:
Interviewer: Why did you do it? Lilith: I wanted to. Interviewer: Because you wanted to help the children with no one to turn to, or because creating the first city wasnât enough, or because becoming a more regular type of Holy wouldn't be enough, orâŠ? Lilith: Yes. âExcerpt from the radio special Lilith Tells All!, with the demon Rihat Lilim interpreting for Lilith
(the 'i wanted to' echo of Tamar in in Stars is T_T)
#the birds that fly at dusk#sehhinah#i might. fix this up a bit better later. have been procrastinating a long time on it though so trying to get it out.#sehhinah revisions tag#coal sings
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Discipline is one of those things we all know we need, but rarely talk about in a real, no-nonsense way. Itâs not about perfection or having everything figured outâitâs about how we show up, especially when things get tough. In this piece, we're cutting through the noise and breaking down some practical, grounded strategies for building and maintaining discipline in everyday life. No fluff, just straightforward advice you can actually use. Think of it as baby steps toward a more disciplined lifeâsmall actions that add up over time. Whether itâs pushing through challenges, setting clear limits, or learning how to embrace failure, these insights will help you take control of your mindset and habits, one manageable step at a time. Letâs dive in.
1. Embracing Learning
The idea here is to go beyond just surface-level knowledge. Think about it like this: you donât just study to pass a testâyou study because the information could be crucial when you least expect it. Itâs like being the mechanic who knows every part of an engine, not for show, but because one day that knowledge might be the key to solving a real problem.
How Iâd use this:Iâm not going to just cram facts. Iâll take time to understand the material deeply so it sticks, especially in subjects where real understanding matters long-term, like chemistry or biology.
2. Becoming the Character
Instead of looking up to characters or people who seem to have it all together, what if you just became that person? Itâs like putting on a new mindset, the same way youâd wear a suit that makes you feel more confident. You act the part until itâs real.
How Iâd use this:When Iâm feeling unsure or unmotivated, Iâll flip the switch and act like Iâm already the disciplined, focused version of myself. Itâs about adopting the mentality, even if I donât feel it yet.
3. Honest Conversations
We often dodge the truth about where weâre slipping. But nothing changes until you face it. The sooner you admit to yourself that youâve been cutting corners, the sooner you can fix it. Itâs like finally cleaning out a messy roomâitâs tough to start, but afterward, everything flows better.
How Iâd use this:Next time I catch myself skipping workouts or studying less than I know I should, Iâll stop and call myself out. No more pretending everythingâs fine when itâs not.
4. Overcoming Adversity (Sisyphus Mentality)
Think of discipline like pushing a heavy boulder up a hill, knowing it might roll back down tomorrow. Itâs not glamorous, but itâs a daily choice. You either keep pushing or let the boulder flatten you.
How Iâd use this:When things get overwhelming, like with exams or back-to-back assignments, Iâll focus on just moving forward. One task at a time, knowing every little push counts.
5. Embracing the Furnace (Letâs Skip the Dungeon)
Instead of shying away from challenges, face them head-on. Itâs like stepping into a furnace where you get refined, not burned. The more time you spend dealing with hard things, the stronger you get. Avoiding discomfort only holds you back from leveling up.
How Iâd use this:When Iâm avoiding something toughâwhether itâs a hard concept in class or just dragging myself to the gymâIâll remind myself that pushing through now makes everything easier later.
6. Friction and Greatness
Every day starts with friction, that resistance that keeps you in bed or makes you procrastinate. That resistance doesnât just disappear. The trick is to recognize itâs always there, but every time you push past it, you get a little stronger.
How Iâd use this:Next time I feel like avoiding a workout or putting off a difficult study session, Iâll push through the friction, knowing that every time I do, it gets a bit easier.
7. Embracing Failure
Failure isnât the endâitâs part of the process. Think of it like learning to ride a bike. Youâre going to fall, scrape your knees, and maybe even get frustrated, but thatâs how you learn. Without those failures, youâll never figure out how to balance.
How Iâd use this:If I mess up a quiz or struggle with a new concept, I wonât dwell on it. Instead, Iâll treat it as feedback, figure out what went wrong, and try again.
8. Set Clear Limits
Knowing your limits isnât about being lazy; itâs about being smart. If you try to run full speed every day, youâll burn out. Itâs like running a marathonâyou need to pace yourself to make it to the end without collapsing halfway through.
How Iâd use this:Iâll stop glorifying overwork. Instead, Iâll set manageable study sessions and take breaks when I need them so I can keep going strong in the long run.
9. Declare Your Limits
Once you know what you can handle, itâs important to communicate that to others. Itâs like drawing a line in the sand, setting boundaries so you donât overcommit and end up exhausted.
How Iâd use this:When I feel overloaded, Iâll be honest about it and set boundaries with myself and others. No more saying yes to everything just to prove I can handle it.
10. Prevent Overexertion
Whether itâs at the gym or in your studies, overexertion doesnât help anyone. Going too hard too fast is how you end up injured, either physically or mentally. The key is to build gradually and pace yourself.
How Iâd use this:When Iâm tempted to do a marathon study session, Iâll pull back and focus on balance. No need to kill myself over one dayâs workâsteady progress is what counts.
11. Find Passionate Work
If youâre not passionate about what youâre doing, discipline becomes a grind. But when you care about something, discipline becomes easier. Itâs not about forcing yourself to grindâitâs about genuinely wanting to put in the effort.
How Iâd use this:Iâll focus more on the parts of my studies Iâm actually excited about. That way, Iâm working hard because I want to, not because I have to.
12. Clear Goal Setting
Without clear goals, youâre just wandering around aimlessly. Goals act like a map, keeping you on track. The clearer and more specific your goals, the easier it is to know what youâre working toward.
How Iâd use this:Instead of vague goals like âstudy chemistry,â Iâll break it down into something actionable like âreview 3 chaptersâ or âcomplete 10 equations.â It keeps me focused.
13. Routine Development
Discipline becomes easier when itâs part of your routine. Think of it like brushing your teethâyou donât debate whether or not to do it, you just do. Building a routine takes the guesswork out of discipline.
How Iâd use this:Iâll create a daily study routine so it becomes automatic. Same time, same place every dayâno negotiating with myself about when to start.
14. Environment Design
Your environment matters. If youâre surrounded by distractions, youâre setting yourself up to fail. Itâs like trying to run through quicksandâyouâre not going to get far.
How Iâd use this:Iâll make my study space distraction-free by clearing clutter, silencing my phone, and making sure everything I need is within reach so I can focus better.
15. Regular Reflection
If you donât stop to reflect, youâll never know how far youâve come or what needs adjusting. Reflection isnât about patting yourself on the backâitâs about checking the map and making sure youâre still on the right path.
How Iâd use this:Every week, Iâll take a few minutes to look back at what went well and where I need to make adjustments. It helps keep me on course.
16. Self-Reward
Discipline doesnât mean you canât enjoy the process. Small rewards along the way help keep you going, making the grind more manageable. Itâs like giving yourself little checkpoints to look forward to.
How Iâd use this:Iâll give myself small rewards after hitting certain study milestonesâwhether itâs a break, a snack, or something I enjoy. It helps keep the momentum going without burning out.
#producitivty#100 days of productivity#productive#self development#self improvement#self care#self love#girlblogging#david goggins#study motivation#motivation#aesthetic#self help#health & fitness#healing#discipline#femininity#girl blogger#mental health
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it's me - a flaming trash pile! flaming as in gayer than you. you welcome.
i had things to write about but depression my brain and demanded seconds.
this post is to say that i might be offline for a few days, because i'm finally able to solve a phone issue. for once it isn't me overusing technology and setting it on fire but it's my mum who kills mobiles for breakfast. i mentioned it before - her device kicked the bucket a year or so ago and we had to buy a whole arse newish phone as a backup because our drawer of nokias can't run whatsapp. hotels in glasgow would collapse without that precious app where everyone sends passive-aggressive emoticons or david beckhams and babies (like my mum).
she broke the backup phone without even trying. it sort of works but the cpu is very close to leaving for greener ... silicone pastures (i'm so funny). sounds simple right? yeah, not if you're your average group of people and we know what happens with those... we created an unholy ouroboros of phones. i can't even tell why we ended up like this, because it sort of doesn't make sense. the dead piece of fancy metal and glass was actually my mobile and i know that i didn't have it for long, because ... my mother had murdered her older phone which had been replaced after she had brutally killed her ex's spare phone. and why did she have that? my older device was with my own ex's dad while he was with his stepfather. anyone understands any of this? you're better than me, because i was using my mum's phone for the last two years :) . if anyone wonders why would we buy a spare phone if there was one - i dunno. did i have two phones and give her one while i retained the other one, which later was replaced?
maybe. all i know is that it was around the time i had a heart failure. neither me nor my mum remembers much from that riveting time and yet we somehow managed to buy a car at some point or rather - we stared at the walls while the staff at the local garage did everything. i would side-eye that to as who in their right mind would switch off thinking when doing business with the scammiest industry? we happen to have a garage with a good dealership and i shit you not - people there are honest and helpful, which means that we are spoiled.
back to my boring rambling - the missing phone from the circulation was my own. mum had a contract glitch last year when her phone died and everyone was too tired to fix it while mine was fine. we fixed it last month. so, have i been procrastinating for a month? nope - my missing phone got properly lost in the mail. i ordered it with a load of parts to replace, because i used mum's phone like a computer and it overheated loads therefore i need to replace the casing and the screen. i have em and i have spare ones and all those dull protective bits and bobs. did not have the unit, though and it took hours of weeping to customer service but finally managed to resolve it and now i have everything with me in bed. yes, i'm sleeping with all of that. i deserve a little treat - a little victory nap.
in other news - my left eye decided it dislikes astigmatism and half-fixed itself by reversing in the direction it is meant to be on (the lens did). it's weird. it never happened to me that my eye was better. i'm waiting for it to explode.
and we're meant to have guests in september. double-guests as friend i saw few posts ago will also be in town.
i'll see you soon internet. hopefully. did i mention that i was meant to update the router because bt said so and the new one is just ... in the hallway? still laminated and boxed along with half of my life that exists in other boxes. me and my mun will just throw them out (not the router!) as glasgow lacks any honest and transparent donation centres. mcmillian is okay in england but dunno how it's in scotland. there's thing there that i like but ... i'm too traumatised - if i gave up on a whole pc (it also had industrial cooling), then it says something.
we also currently work the best at 4-5 am, because. my mum yesterday exclaimed that what ex done was actually illegal (overall, i don't mean anything related to stuff - i did write to his family to just take it and use it or sell it or burn it. things are just things) and without getting into even more details - yeah, she's right and I knew that. considered it at my worst, before i confirmed that he is alive - if he had a court summon, he'd need to respond to it, so it was a method that i thought about but even if his actions were beyond horrid - i'd feel petty. i have a tiny, tiny, little pixel of pride left. not that i'm nice - i just want to have that classic revenge of being fabulously happy and making him jealous. i wouldn't need to see it, i'd just know. it is unlikely but maybe one day... when i am 99.
okay, the invisible audience of mine - signing out and resting my frizzy hair. it needs its beauty sleep.
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Okay yes sorry for like putting in another but my goodness youâre great!! I hope itâs okay if I ask another but like, what would happen if the guys of your choice saw their partner hurt? Platonic or romantic up to you (:
No problem at all! Ideas are always welcome. Especially since I've had a bit of time on my hands! (aka I'm procrastinating on my other stories but shh)
Anyway! Here's Engie, Scout, and Soldier when their S/O is hurt because I put names onto a wheel and they popped up so yeah.
These are gonna be general headcannons that can be taken as either romatic or platonic.
Engie
If Hurt By Your Own Stupidity
Chances are you were messing around with a machine he told you not to touch.
If it's a small injury he'll scold you, telling you to listen to him next time. He won't help you. You have to learn your lesson somehow and if that means you have to drag your way to Medic, embarrassing yourself in the process, then so be it.
If it's a rather big injury he'll be rightfully angry. He's picking you up and carrying you to Medic with a string of mumbled curses at how stupid you had been and that you're lucky he was watching otherwise you might be dead. Even though he's angry you can still see the very clear concern on his face. Once you're all fixed up he's not letting you into his workshop for a while and becomes rather paranoid every time you have to.
He just doesn't want to see you hurt over a machine he built. He would probably never forgive himself if that's the way you ended up dying.
If Hurt By Something Else
Probably while helping him. Grabbing tools, maybe fixing up some wires if you're experienced enough.
Small injuries happen all the time. I mean you're messing around with electric wires and sharp objects here, it isn't exactly the safest thing. He always has an extra medkit in the room and won't hesitate to help you with a small cut or electric burn.
Larger injuries are an entirely different story. He goes blank, immediately carrying you to Medic. He won't leave until he knows you're 100% fine and afterward he'll be deathly quiet. You can see rather clearly that he blamed himself for you getting hurt and that he wasn't about to just forgive himself for it. Afterward he has a hard time letting you help again and finds excuses for you to do something else.
It might just be better if you stick to smaller ways of helping, not just for your own sake, but his.
If Hurt In Battle
If he sees it happen he knows it's better to ignore it. That's what happens in battle and at least during battle you guys have respawn. He'll most likely move his dispenser to where you are to help you out as best he can. He likely won't think twice about what happened...
That is unless whoever hurt you did so in a rather cruel way, enjoying seeing you in pain rather than working to complete an objective.
If that happens the person who harmed you becomes his main target. He won't compromise the battle with the urgency to kill them but it's pretty obvious that given the choice between them and killing anyone else, he'll choose them.
If he were to get close enough, and no one else is around, he'd hurt them and then just kinda sit there, letting them be in pain a moment while he maybe sets up one of his machines. If caught doing this he has about a hundred likely excuses. It was a Spy and he didn't want to deal with his dead ringer, he thought they were dead, another person came along that he had to deal with, pretty much never getting caught for doing it. Basically one of the only things that keeps him calm when he sees you hurt is the thought that he's going to make them suffer later.
Engie's a calm man but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to dish out revenge or hold grudges.
If Hurt By Someone On The Team
Ooooh boy, this isn't going to end well.
It was most likely not meant to be you who got hurt. Being Engies right hand(or left hand rather)meant you always helped him to de-escalate fights. Which meant you were probably only hurt in the crossfire.
That, however, does not stop the anger flowing through Engies veins.
A small thing is enough to get him angry. He rarely yells but in that case he will, silencing everyone immediately before going on an absolute tirade about how stupid they were all being. At this point people would be shocked enough to stop, meaning the goal was achieved but not without some sacrifice.
If you get really harmed though...
Engie's a calm man but he has limits. That just so happens to be one of them. He won't even stop the fight. He's immediately taking you to get fixed up. It's afterward that the consequences come.
He will talk to whoever was involved alone. No one's sure what happens but no matter who ends up seeing that side of Engie they always come out a bit shaken up and not willing to talk about it, though seemingly unharmed.
It's likely to never happen but if it does everyone will become just a little bit more cautious when around him or you.
Scout
If Hurt By Your Own Stupidity
You were trying to toss a baseball as high as you could into the air and catch it to try and impress him.
If it only managed to hit just a little bit of sense into you, aka your throw is weak, then he'll most definitely laugh, telling you to leave it up to the professionals.
If you managed to knock yourself out because your toss was godly but your catch was dogshit then he'd burst out laughing for a good five minutes. It's only after his laughing fit that he thought to help you. You'd have to give him a matching bump to keep his mouth shut about it.
If Hurt By Something Else
You two were probably setting up a prank and something went wrong along the way.
If only a little hurt he'd hold in a laugh and ask if you were alright, to which you'd glare at his hidden grin and say you were fine.
If you were actually hurt he'd go into a bit of a panic, quickly bringing you to Medic. The two of you most defiantly had to lie to get away with what you two had been doing. Unfortunately you were both really bad liars. Medic wasn't convinced but he also didn't care, thankfully.
You'd often bring up how scared he looked when you got hurt every time he tried to act like he didn't care about you that much. It never failed to get his tongue stumbling.
If Hurt In Battle
He's not one to care about a few bumps and scratches. He'll likely tell you to try to be as tough as him(he saids as he calls for medic over a splinter). He sees his job more as a game then a battle so it's rare he holds a grudge against anyone. He's maybe a bit more competitive from that point foward but not obsessively so.
Larger injuries and he's quick (litteraly) to dive into the heat of battle to help. More than often he ends up dead beside you but when he does manage to save you he's super macho about it. He'll say stuff about how much you needed him and how you'd never survive a day without him Even though most of the times you're the one pulling him out of those situations...
Just let him have his moment.
If Hurt By Someone On The Team
It was most definitely because you had annoyed someone, most likely Soldier or Heavy. This happens quite often.
If it looks like you're winning the fight he'll cheer you on. No need for him to get involved if you've got it handled.
If something really starts to go down though, he's on your side. There isn't a time where only one of you was beaten to shit, it always had to be the both of you.
Soldier
If Hurt By Your Own Stupidity
You were trying to rocket jump.
Literally just...Why did you think you could do that?
A small injury and Soldier won't even acknowledge it. Be that a bloody nose or a sprained ankle he's going to act as if you were perfectly fine, mostly because he seldom felt pain anymore and he had a hard time trying to recognize it in other people.
If severely hurt he's most likely going to explain to you everything you did wrong and you'll have to either scream for Medic or wait until he carries you there after his lecture.
You do dumb shit you deal with the consequences.
If Hurt By Something Else
Likely a sparring match that got out of hand or possibly a malfunction of a rather precariosly built weapon.
A small injury and he isn't going to care. If you make a big deal out of it he'll tell you to 'man up' and deal with it though it's more so in good fun rather than antagonism.
A large injury though and he's quick to help. He's calling for Medic and asking you to count how many fingers he's holding up. You'll say three, he'll begin to panic, saying that you must have broken your eyes.
He was, in fact, holding up three fingers...
Just don't question it
If Hurt In Battle
Small injuries are victories to him. If you're not at least a little banged up then are you really in a war?
If you for some reason can't walk though he's the first person at your side. Doesn't matter how many bullets he takes as long as you're brought to safety. He'll say something to the effect of 'don't die on me soldier! No, I am not talking to myself!'
After you're taken care of it's revenge time. He's gonna rack up a killing streak, your injury giving him the last bit of encouragement to win the round most of the time.
If Hurt By Someone On The Team
Defending honor! Whether it's yours or his, you are there to defend it and if that means getting a bit rough in the process then so be it.
If you're less injured than whoever you're fighting then, like Scout, He's cheering you on with probably a few insults to the other person as well.
If it looks more like you're losing he's still not going to intervene. He believes in you! You've got this!
If you end up knocked out though he's going to beat the shit out of whoever it was that defeated you. For your honor! (And because he just likes a reason to beat people up)
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The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book
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I recently discovered the work of couples therapist Esther Perel, and Iâve been fascinated by her work on erotic intelligence. In her book Mating in Captivity, she proposes that what kills desire and eroticism within a couple is proximity and familiarity. From there, she argues, it goes that instilling a dimension of distance and mystery in a relationship is the best way to reignite the flame of desire. By doing so, we learn to look at our partner in a different light, we discover new sides of them and all that unknown sparks attraction again.
This got me thinkingâŠ
Iâve been working on my second novel, The Dhawan Brothers, for a little over a year now, and it feels to me that my relationship to my manuscript has evolved over that time. From intrigue and mystique working on the initial drafts, to excitement and enthusiasm polishing and editing later versions to, slowly but surely, a sort of âbeen there, done thatâ attitude that makes me prone to procrastination. Iâm at a stage now where little in the story will change, or at least not dramatically. I know the characters and the plot, and I love them dearly,but they just donât make me feel those same stomach flutters I had in the beginning.
And so I wonderâŠ
Could our relationship with our writing be affected by proximity and familiarity the way desire is in our human relationships? Is it that, the moment we get too close, when we know everything there is to know about the other entity, it loses some of its appeal?
If thatâs the case, is the key to making sure we remain excited about our writing diligentlycreating distance from it every once and a while?
To Take a Break or Not to Take a Break?
In a highly unofficial poll I ran in my Instagram storiesrecently, I asked the writing community about their experience. 94% of respondents said that, in general, they find it useful to take a break from their WIP. Whether itâs because âsometimes you just have to rechargeâ, because itâs âlike refreshing your mind to be able to focus betterâ when you get back to it, or because it âhelps your brain work out problems behind the scenesâ, writers seem to think a little distance goes a long way.
I was intrigued by the manyresponses that indicated taking some time off their WIP gives writers a chance to get back to it âwith fresh eyesâ. By stepping away from our work, we gain the perspective needed to look at it again from a different angle or through a different lens. That time and space away from our manuscript spark new ways of looking at our stories that we might have been too close to see before. We meet it again under different circumstances and in a different mindset, and it helps us rediscover it entirely. This, in turns peaksour interest and eagerness again.
Too Close for Comfort
But then⊠Isnât that exactly what Perelâs theory is? That proximity and familiarity lessen desire in a relationship, whilst distance, mystery and fresh perspectives reignite it? When it comes to a writerâs relationship with their work, it feels to me like an interesting similarity.
In that same unofficial Instagram poll, when asked if there tends to be a stage at which they lose interest in their WIP or find themselves procrastinating, 75% of respondents said thatâs indeed the case. The additional answers people gave as to when that happens were incredibly varied, for instance:
âIt depends if the passion for the project stays strongâ
âDuring the first draftâ
âIn the middleâ
âIn the editing process probably around the fifth or sixth draftâ
âThis happens a lot because of self doubt. I struggle with it in all my lifeâ
âWhen things are not going the way I want them toâ
âThereâs no particular stage, it just ebbs and flows. But I always come back to itâ
âIt depends on the bookâ
There were as many distinctive responses as there were respondents. When I think of my own experience, I find my interest in my own work flaking right about the time the manuscript is polished. That moment where whatâs mostly left to fix are stray typos and minor details, but the core of the story is there to stay. Thatâs the stage where thereâs nothing in the writing process thatâll take me by surprise.
When I think of it, thatâs exactly how I view and react to everything,in my relationships and in life in general. I like variety, and excitement, and adventure. The moment I get too familiar with anything, my attention starts to stray, until and unless I can find a way to make that situation or relationship appealing again.
Writing as a Relationship⊠With Ourselves?
I tend to believe that what we write says a lot about who we are as writers. Iâm now also tempted to think that how we write says almost as much about us.
What if our relationship to our writing revealed what turns us on as people? And what tells us more about a person than their inner desires?
Yes, there seems to be a trend amongst the people Iâve heard from, in that most writers find distance from their work to be beneficial, and a large portion see their levels of interest in their WIP dwindle at some point or other. When and how and why, however, varies.
If there are as many ways for it to manifest as there are writers out there, I wonder if this becomes less about a relationship with our craft as it is about ourrelationship with our inner selves. A situation where observing how we treat our writing is like holding a mirror back at ourselves, reflecting our approach to any other of our relationships â and life â in general?
Know Thyself
In her book, Perel explains that exploring and understanding your own underlying desires sheds a great deal of light on how youâll show up in your relationships, what will make you do the things you do, and what might cause you to stray. That sometimes your actions say less about the other person, or the situation, than they do about which of your buttons are getting pushed.
I think looking at how we deal with our writing follows the same logic.
So, if youâre like me, someone who craves new experiences and mystery and excitement, you may find yourself bored when things stabilise and all thatâs left is maintenance and housekeeping. On the other hand, if youâre someone who thrives on stability and certainty, you may find the first draft excruciating, but the later stages more enjoyable.
And Then What?
What does that even matter, you might say? Just like any relationship, writingâs a journey and there are bound to be ups and downs we all need to navigate. Right?
Right. But Iâd argue knowledge is power. Knowing how desire works, in any form of relationship â with others, with writing, with yourself â helps you understand that, not only there will be ups and downs, but also what specifically triggers your own ups and your own downs, and why. And that, in turn, can greatly help you smooth out those otherwise dizzying curves. If you know your buttons, you donât have to let them control you. You can take charge.
The writing journey can be fraught with surprises and pitfalls, and every little helps. Understanding how your approach to your writing reflects your own inner tendencies can help you predict when an up or a down isabout to start. With some introspection, you can better prepare for these, capitalise on the highs and give yourself some kindness on ïżœïżœïżœ or even minimise â the lows.
If it can help make the journey that little bit easier, isnât it worth a try?
#writingtips#screenwriting#creative writing#writers on tumblr#writers#writing#writerblr#writing advice#writing community#writing resources
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First Love | 12
Yoongi x reader | 18+ | college au | tattoo artist au | angst | fluff | alcohol | swearing
Word: 3.8k
You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, youâre pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi
Chapter Index
Ari opens the door, tossing her backpack to the floor. You werenât expecting her to come back so early that when the door loudly creaks from the force of the door opening, you jump in surprise. She looks to you with a triumphant look on her face as she practically yells with the door still closing, âI got an A on my fucking paper!â The door slams shut as she does a weird and awkward dance.
âGood job. I knew you could do it,â you congratulate, saving your work on your computer.
Ari kicks her backpack with no care in the world as to what she has inside. âLetâs celebrate,â she extolls, pulling off her hoodie and tossing it on her bed.
You turn your body to the left where she stands, picking up her backpack and putting it on her bed. âCelebrate?â
âYeah. Itâs Friday, I got a well deserved grade after almost breaking my wrist, and I am in the mood for some good food and a drink or seven.â
âWhat about Hoseok?â Ever since Hoseok and Ari got together, theyâve been inseparable. You sometimes wonder if youâll be like that when you get a boyfriend. All couples eventually spend time separately, right? You sometimes feel really disappointed in yourself for not knowing a lot when it comes to relationships.
âHeâs staying after class with some of his classmates to study for a test that ends tonight,â she says, disbelief evident in her tone.
âWhy hasnât he taken the test yet?â
âI donât know? He seemed really nervous about this test, so all heâs done is study like thereâs no tomorrow. I hope he takes it soon because the longer he waits, the harder it will be to answer questions as time ticks by.â Ari shakes her head, walking to her closet and opening the door. âAre you going in sweats?â She looks at you through the mirror.
You blink at her. âWeâre actually going?â
She scoffs, âYeah. I wasnât joking, Y/N.â She pulls out a red spaghetti strap and a black jacket. Removing her shirt, she slips on her top. âI want food and some drinks.â
You sigh, âCanât we just order takeout and sneak some alcohol in?â
âAnd get in trouble?â
You stare at her, contemplating if sneaking alcohol is really worth it. Groaning, you get up from your seat. âHow far are we going?â You walk to your closet, opening the door to grab your jeans and whatever black shirt you first grab. There is no patience when it comes to picking outfits. You just blindly pick and go and hope it looks nice on you.
âItâs only down the street,â she exclaims, taking a set at her desk to fix her makeup at her little mirror. Changing clothes, you realize you put on a turtleneck. You didnât know you have this type of shirt in your closet. Youâve seen a lot of professional looks with turtlenecks, but you canât remember buying this and found no reason to wear it. âThatâs a cute look,â Ari suddenly says, her body turned towards you. You watch her get up from her seat, making her way towards you. She unbuttons your pants and pushes the lower half of your shirt in your pants. âYouâll look even cuter like this. Plus you have a nice ass, so show it off.â Your hands unconsciously go to your butt, suddenly feeling self conscious. Ari buttons your pants and tells you, âNo one will look. Youâll be sitting the whole time.â She pulls your shirt out just a bit to give it a baggy look. âThere. Now your cute ass will get attention, but youâll just look like youâre not interested and theyâll be sad not to have the opportunity to speak to the gorgeous Y/N.â
Ari just seems to have a way with words.
After a few more minutes of double checking for everything, the two of you leave your dorm and head the usual route towards the front parking lot. As you pass Yoongi and Hoseokâs door Ari yells, âLetâs go get you drunk and a boyfriend, Y/N!â
You place your hand over her mouth. âWhy are you yelling?â you whisper, checking behind you to see if anyone heard her.
Ari removes your hand from over her mouth. âIâm showing Yoongi youâre better off without him,â she replies, the two of you walking past the stairwell and into the hallway where the exit to the front is.
âWhat makes you think Yoongi is even in his room?â The two of you are halfway down the hall when the sound chatter can be heard as you pass a group of doors.
Ari shrugs. âThe dude never goes anywhere besides class and his room right?â You donât know yourself. A majority of the time you spent with him was either in his room or somewhere else that not many people from campus went to. âI want him to know youâre about to get dicked down and heâs missing out on a fine ass girl.â
âIâm about to what?â What does that even mean?
Ari laughs as the two of you exit the building and head down the stairwell. âNot today obviously, but itâs to make him jealous.â
âWe donât even know if he likes me,â you counter, following a group of students walking towards the front gate entrance.
âOpposites attract, Y/N.â
âIâm attracted to him, but that doesnât mean heâs attracted to me.â
Ari loops her arm through yours. âYou never know. He might have a crush on shy, innocent types.â
âWishful thinking, Ari,â you say, shaking your head as the two of you reach the sidewalk and make your way up towards the bar that sits at the corner. There are a few other students a bit up ahead making their way towards the bar as well, their loud chatter can be heard from where you and Ari walk.
âSo, howâs your project coming along? Donât you have like two weeks left?â The two of you pass a hotel. The neon light hanging on the window to the reception flickers every few seconds. Everything is quiet in that building until you pass the seafood restaurant where you can see a few people laughing from the window. It looks more lively than the hotel.
âItâs going great surprisingly.â You rub your arm for a little more warmth. âI just have to finish my body and conclusion and then sum it a bit more for the poster.â
âDamn. So youâll have it done earlier than anyone when it comes to projects,â Ari whistles.
âPeople finish their projects a week or more before the due date,â you say, the two of you are now closer to the bar where you know heat will be.
âPeople who are smart finish weeks before. The rest of us procrastinate,â she laughs, shaking her head. The bar is now within a few feet when Ari says through chattering teeth, âWeâre running. I canât do this anymore.â You donât have much of an option as she begins to jog towards the building, dragging you with her. Pushing through the door the smell of nachos and burgers invade your senses, your stomach rumbling in hunger. Ari removes her arm from around yours, pushing you towards the seating area. âGo find us a table. Iâll grab the food and drinks.â
Walking further into the building, you look around for an empty table. The walls where the tables and booths occupy are yellow while the brick wall has the kitchen and cashier against it. You scan the room in search of someone leaving, but to your luck you donât have to look long until you find an empty booth at the far end of the room. You make your way over as another group of people get up from their table, gathering their backpacks after what looks like studying. You take a seat just as Ari makes her way over holding two bottles.
As Ari takes a seat across from you, she hands you the clear bottle with a green substance inside and says, âFlavored alcohol tastes so much better. Plus youâll want more.â
Thanking your roommate, you take the glass and take a swig of it. It tastes like apples. âHas Hoseok started his test yet?â
âYeah. When I last texted him, he was getting ready to start the test. Heâs nervous and I told him you said "good luckâ. He gave me one of those crying faces.â
"I hope he passes,â you mutter as you bring the rim of the glass to your lips. After another drink you add, âIs he coming here after his test or will he just go back to his room?â
Ari thinks for a moment, opening her mouth to answer when the speaker above says, âAri, please come to the front. Your order is ready.â
She gets up and makes her way to the counter at the front where your food is waiting. From afar you watch her grab the tray, say a few words to the worker and make her way back to your table. âHeâs just going to go back to the dorms. He sounded tired over the phone when we last talked,â she answers, putting the tray down and taking her seat.
On the tray is a plate of a greasy cheeseburger and fries; the other plate has nachos with jalapenos. âYou got a burger, too?â
âYeah. I was just going to get nachos for the both of us because itâs a lot, but I was craving a burger, too.â She shrugs. âWeâll share both and have the night of our lives.â You chuckle, grabbing a chip with a jalapeno barely hanging on by the string of cheese thatâs attempting to escape from your mouth.
You grab the plate that holds the burger and fries, pulling it towards you. Picking up the knife thatâs placed between the fries and greasy stack, you cut the burger in half, careful to not give one side more than the other. âMidterms are starting in two weeks, do you know if all your classes will have them or just some?â you ask, pushing the plate back to the middle for Ari to reach.
She groans, âAll of them are going to have a midterm. One of them is a fucking paper that has to be seven pages long.â
âSeven? Which class is that?â You also wonder when she was given the information about the paper, and how long she originally had to write it. Ari is a big procrastinator. If she can avoid doing work immediately, she will and give herself a few days to work on it with all the stress jumping at her.
She shoves a few fries in her mouth in an aggressive manner. âModern Asia,â she answers, mouth full of chewed up food. âHe gave us this big list of documents we need to pick from and watch. Then we have to write a paper on it and answer the questions he has for them. There are seven documents on six different countries.â
âWhich one are you picking?â You grab a few nacho chips, flipping it so that the cheese wraps around and coats the chip more.
âUzbekistan.â She grabs half of the burger, taking a bite out of the corner. âThe People, History, and Culture of Uzbekistan to be more specific. Itâs on YouTube so it wonât be a mission to find the video, but a big distraction because itâs on YouTube.â Ari takes another bite, bigger this time, of her burger. âThis is really good.â She looks up to you. âShould I buy another one?â
âWe havenât made a dent in the nachos yet. Plus we still have the fries to finish,â you inform, clearly shocked that Ariâs ready for more.
âTake a bite of the damn burger and youâll know what I mean,â she commands, gesturing to your half that sat on your plate in all its glory.
You roll your eyes, doing as told. You canât deny that it smells amazing and your mouth waters at the endless possibilities as to what itâll taste like. When you take that bite, itâs like taking a bite out of heaven. Sure youâre being over dramatic, but you totally understand Ari wanting to buy another one. âIâll go get one,â you tell her, getting up from your seat and taking your bag with you while Ari laughs.
You get to the back of the small line, opening your bag and pulling out your wallet. âNext in line,â a voice calls from behind the counter. You take a step forward, now being two people behind before youâre called. You have to double check to make sure you brought your money with you. There were a few times when you just leave your money at home and have to go the day without eating when youâre stuck on campus all day. You get lucky sometimes when Ari would bring you your missing items. The worker calls for the next customer to come up.
âY/N?â You look behind you to see a familiar face. A familiar face with a name you cannot remember. Itâs your partner during beer pong. The handsome guy who any person would want to date. Heâs easygoing and funny and friendly, and you cannot remember his name.
âHey,â you say, trying your best not to sound lost because his name is not coming to mind. âHow are you?â
âGood, good. A friend of mine and I were tired from studying, so we decided to come here for a few drinks and some food.â A voice calls for the next person; the two of you move up. âWhat about you?â
âMy friend got an A on her paper. She wanted to go out and celebrate.â
âThatâs awesome! Iâd do the same if I were her,â he laughs, his smile actually making your heart race as he runs his fingers through his jet black locks.
âHey, Hanbin,â a male voice calls, coming up to the line. Hanbin. Thatâs his name. âThereâs no empty tables. You just wanna eat outside or bounce?â
âReally? Ah, man.â You watch as Hanbin looks around the building in hopes of someone leaving their table.
âYou can eat with us,â you say before you can even stop yourself from letting the words escape your mouth.
Hanbin and his friend look at you. âReally?â the stranger asks.
You canât say no. You already messed up, and saying no will only make you look like a jerk. âYeah.â Good job Y/N.
âWe donât want to impose,â Hanbin tells you, looking a little nervous.
âItâs okay.â Where is all this false confidence coming from? âItâs up to you if you want,â you say, turning around and pointing in the direction you and Ari are sitting. âWeâre over there if you want to join.â
âNext in line.â
You turn back around and make your way up to the cashier. You give your order for the second burger you and Ari are about to devour, paying and making your way towards your booth where Ari finishes her half of the burger. âI messed up,â you rush, grabbing your drink and placing it on her side of the table.
âMessed up? Whatâd you do?â Ari asks, suddenly being pushed further in the booth as you scoot in. âWhat are you doing?â
âRemember Hanbin? The boy I told you was my partner at the party?â You grab the plates and pull them closer to the two of you.
âYeah?â
âWell he was standing in line behind me and we had small talk and the next thing I know, I invited him and his friend to sit with us,â you profess in a shaky voice.
âYou just invited two guys over?â she asks in an ambivalent tone.
You can see her from the corner of your eye staring at you as you babble, âYes.â
Her hand moves to her chest. âHas my little Y/N grown up?â
You turn to look at her in surprise. âYouâre not mad?â
She laughs, âNo. Why would I be?â
âBecause youâre dating Hoseok and itâll look bad if someone saw you chatting with a guy?â Isnât that how it works? Youâve seen it in movies and it always leads to problemsâeventually solved.
âHoseok trusts me just like I trust him. Iâd never cheat on him, and weâre not stopping each other from having opposite sex friends.â She shrugs, looking behind you. âIs that them?â
You turn to look in the direction her eyes are focused on. Hanbin and his friend stand by the soda fountain, getting their drinks. âYeah. The boy with the green jacket is Hanbin and I donât know the other guyâs name,â you confess, wondering if itâs rude to not introduce yourself. Then again, he didnât either.
Ariâs voice is now closer to you as she speaks, âDonât tell Hoseok but heâs really cute. Why not date him? Tall, fit and handsome? Thatâs a whole package.â She suddenly gasps, âHis package must beââ
You cover her mouth with your hand. âDo not finish that sentence,â you sputter, glancing around to see if anyone heard you. To your luck no oneâs paying attention to you and your perverted friend.
Aris swats your hands away. âHeâs cute, Y/N. And if he comes over and sits with us, then heâs interested in you, too.â
âOr heâs looking for a seat because there is none,â you counteract, grabbing a nacho and shoving it in your mouth. âAlso, Iâm not interested in him.â
âGuess weâll see.â A voice speaks over the speaker, calling your name. âTime to devour a delicious burger.â She slaps her hand on your shoulder, pushing you out of the booth.
Groaning, you get up and make your way to the pick-up counter, telling the person your name and getting your order. âAre you sure itâs okay?â Hanbin asks, suddenly appearing next to you to grab his own order.
You almost jump, gripping the plate tighter. He looks to you unsure if heâs allowed to follow. You can feel your heart racing. This is strange. Ariâs words are just getting to you. âYeah,â you swallow, looking anywhere but at him. âItâs fine.â You are not growing feelings for him.
âThank you so much, Y/N. I really wanted to eat some chicken strips,â he laughs, his voice sounding smoky.
Oh God you like him.
You, Hanbin and Matthew, he tells you, shaking your hand so enthusiastically, make your way towards your booth. Ari is busy stuffing her face with fries to even notice you three until you set the plate down and take a seat next to her. She looks up, eyes wide and fries sticking out of her mouth. Thankfully she waves rather than talk with her mouth full of food. Matthew gets in first followed by Hanbin.
âUh.â You glance at Ari who quickly chews on her food. âThis is my friend and roommate, Ari.â You point to Matthew. âAri, this is Matthew and this is Hanbin,â you finish, pointing to the boy in front of you.
âHello,â Ari starts, once sheâs chewed and swallowed her fries, âIâm really hungry, and these fries are good.â
Matthew gasps, âThey are.â He turns to Hanbin. âI told you this place has some fucking good food.â
Ari looks to Hanbin as if he offended her. âYouâve never been here before?â He looks at her with a lost expression. He clearly doesnât know how to respond. To his luck, however, he doesnât have to as Ari adds, âItâs a good thing you have a friend like Matthew to introduce you to nirvana.â
The brunette haired boy snaps his fingers, pointing to your friend. âExactly.â
âWhatâs your major?â Ari asks, grabbing the second plate that has the burger to cut it in half.
âBiomedical sciences,â he answers, taking a bite out of his taco.
âOh? That sounds interesting. What exactly do you study?â Ari rests her arms on the table, leaning forward. The burger no longer exists to her.
âJust kind of the understanding of biological and chemical systems of the human body. What about you?â
âLinguistics, and Y/N here is a photography major.â
Matthewâs eyes are now on you. âOh another art type.â
âArt type?â you question, finally taking bites out of your half of the first burger.
âYeah. Photography creates art; stand-still pieces. Thereâs art galleries for photography, right?â Matthew glances between you and Ari.
âYeah, I believe so,â Ari replies, popping a fry into her mouth.
âPlus Hanbin here is also an art type,â he begins, nudging his friend with his elbow, âFilm.â
âYouâre a film major?â You look to him, completely invested in his stories you want him to tell.
He gives you a shy smile. âYeah.â
And just like that the rest of the night is a blur. You four eat and definitely drink. Ari and Matthew are drunk while you and Hanbin are buzzed. You mainly have conversations with Hanbin half the time the four of you sit. The two of you talk about film and photographyâthings you do and try to make your work look better. Eventually Matthewâs girlfriend comes and picks him up. Ari gushes at how cute she is and you have to apologize for how⊠gushy she is. Matthewâs girlfriend doesnât seem to mind much as she smiles and walks a drunk Matthew out of the building.
After a while you and Hanbin decide itâs time to head out. Hanbin offers to walk you back to your dorm, and rather than politely decline his offer you say, âPlease.â
Now you and Hanbin are chuckling at Ari as she whines about how much she loves Hoseok. Reaching your room you unlock the door for Ari to stumble in and get ready for bed. You keep the door cracked open as you look back at Hanbin.
âThank you for the walk back.â
He shakes his head. âNo problem. With everyone being drunk, you never know whoâs trying to start something.â
You smile. âStill, I appreciate it.â
His smile is even bigger as he points to the way you just come from. âSo I can head back the way we came?â
âYeah.â
âOkay. Guess I should head out. Be sure to give Ari some water and medicine for her headache if she gets one.â You nod. âWe should do this again,â he says, scratching the back of his neck.
âDefinitely. Goodnight and have a safe drive home,â you say, voice quieter than before.
âGoodnight, Y/N,â he mumbles, and itâs so sudden.
An instant that makes your heart race and realization hit as he presses his lips to your forehead, leaving before you can say anything. You touch the spot where his lips met your skin.
You have a crush on him.
#bangtanuniversity#bangtanarmynet#thebtswritersclub#btsgoldnet#btswritersguild#bts#bts x you#bts x reader#bts fanfic#bts fluff#bts angst#bts au#min yoongi#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#yoongi fanfic#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#yoongi au
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Sindria's Prophet #16
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15]
[AO3]
~POV Sinbad~ Mori wasn't just a Prophet, she had immense knowledge of her own that was going to make Sindria untouchable. Sinbad was going to achieve his dream much sooner than he had ever imagined. Mori was special; intelligent, clever, capable, and she could read the waves of Fate. Was there any other woman as attractive? The unknown craving that had plagued him for the past week was placated. Delicious wine, beautiful women, delicious food -none of his normal pleasures had fulfilled whatever that feeling was, but for some reason this moment with the his Beautiful Prophet was. "And now you're *my* kind and generous King Sinbad, ... Right?" Mori's bashful confidence was always endearing, but hearing her call him 'my King' in person made something snap in him. They were in a corner and Mori is small; he could easily block view of her in case any of the magicians turned around. He wouldn't even have to lean that far to get a taste of her. "DO EITHER OF YOU Have an ounce of self awareness??â Ja'far popped the bubble that had formed around the two.
King Sinbad froze. Everyone in the room was watching them. Sinbad stood up straight. He shouldn't exactly continue his plans with an audience. He removed his hand from the window and crossed his arms. Yam was practically shaking the magician next to her. "I wasn't the only one to see it this time!â An older magician with a beard laughed and said something like 'to be young.' Another said something a long the lines of "So it's like that then." Ja'far was still grumbling about his King's behavior -he should know better by now, he promised he wouldn't, etc. but 1. Sinbad didn't do anything wrong, and 2. he said he knew what he was doing -he knew how to handle flirting with Mori; he never said anything about not flirting with her. "And you, Lady Prophet," Ja'far changed targets. 'Oh?' Sinbad didn't expect Mori to be reprimanded for his flirting -although, she did flirt back. Ja'far continued, "You said that you knew about Sin's habits so wouldn't fall for him or-" "AAAAAH" Yamuraiha yelled over the other General as she crossed the room as fast as she could, and clapped a hand over his mouth. She turned to the King and Prophet with wide eyes and a forced smile. "Your Majesty! Mori! Would you like to see the spell again with our new changes?!" She didn't let go of Ja'far. The group of magicians started supporting her suggestion with "Let us show you," "I'm sure we've got it this time," and reciting the changes to the formula. They were clearly trying to stop Ja'far from discouraging Mori. Sinbad had no idea why they suddenly decided to become his wingmen, but it was convenient for him since he planed to do more than flirt with her later. Mori walked up to the Generals, although she only addressed Yamuriaha. "Yes, please! Even if it's not perfect I'd like to see your progress!" She spoke with the same forced enthusiasm as Yam. Sinbad only got a glimpse before Mori's back was to him, but her face was definitely a brighter red than it had been a moment ago. She was getting better at flirting with him, but she couldn't hold her composure for long. The King laughed as the head magician practically body checked Ja'far out of her way and left him out of the group before they preformed the newly revised spell. This time it produced a mostly clear stone. It wasn't a high quality diamond, but they had done it. They would have to be careful with this though since it could lower the market value of whatever they make. As they figured out the specifics for every substance they needed, Sindria could become fully self sufficient -they would still deal in trade so as to not completely leave the rest of the world behind. It was amazing. His magicians were amazing for being able to figure this out in such a short time, and his Prophet was just as -if not even more- amazing for knowing all of this and being able to explain it to them. When the excitement around the magic spell died down they finally showed him the microscope. It was a prototype so they had to be gentle with it. Two pieces of glass with water squished between them were slid under and when Sinbad looked through the lenses he saw the strange small creatures that Mori had written about. Seeing them forced him to accept that what Mori wrote about 'germs' had to be true too -and those were even smaller than these things. Looking at those things squirming around and knowing they were everywhere made his skin crawl. The King stopped looking through the device. "They really are real." "Yup." Mori responded plainly. "And now that you all know and have proof. There's going to have to be a lot of changes. The way illnesses are handled is obvious, but there's going to have to be a lot more changes to how food and housing and things are handle to better maintain sanitary environments. I know a bunch of sanitation procedures so I can help there too." Ja'far was rubbing his temples. "This is going to be a logistical nightmare. Do you realize that we are going to have to fix all those things and get all Sindrians to understand without having it affect our production or
trade??" "It's not like we're doing this alone." Mori tried to comfort him. "We'll figure something out." The conversation moved to this new problem. His Beautiful Prophet really was something else. She had solutions to problems they didn't even know they had. Mori had a habit of using her hands whenever she talked -even more when she was excited. She was cute and deserved to know, but she was in the middle of helping his people so he would hold his tongue and just watch her. If Sinbad was honest, he had stopped listening to the conversation a while ago and was just looking for an opportunity to finally ask Mori -and Yam of course- if they would join him for dinner so he could get all of his Generals more aquatinted with her. Someone mentioned a specific scroll in one of the libraries. Before the whole group could drag Mori out of the room, King Sinbad raised a hand and got everyone's attention. "I know there's a lot to do, but I have some things to discuss with my Beautiful Prophet as well." Mori looked back at him. "What is it?â It seemed that nickname wasn't as affective as before -hopefully it was just the timing. "Is it something we can talk about here?â "I was thinking we could talk over dinner," Sinbad paused to see how she would respond to the implications. Mori's eyes widened and her shoulders tensed, and best of all that blush came back. "With all of my Generals, of course." Mori blushed harder realizing he was messing with her. Yam looked disappointed at first -his Generals cared way to much about him finding a wife- but then she looked content with being a part of the plan. "You might have met them, and know them from reading Fate but they still don't know you yet." He finished. Yam spoke first. "This is a great idea. Pisti was just telling me that she wanted to get to know Mori." Mori regained her composer. "I'd like to get to know everyone personally too, so I'm find with this." It was a roundabout way of saying 'yes.' Her blush was gone but she was still embarrassed. With that settled, Ja'far let Yam and Mori know when dinner would be ready. It was a little earlier than he normally ate but this would give them more time to mingle before they'd be completely out of sunlight. "Well then," the King turned to his Prophet, "since we have some time beforehand-" "OH no you don't!" Ja'far cut in. "You've already had a long enough break *and* you plan on ending early today? The least you can do is work your butt off until then." --- ~POV Mori~ The King was pushed out of the room by his right hand man. I had a mix of relief and longing watching him go. "You'll see his Majesty again soon." Yam had a sweet smile on her face, but I knew better than to trust it. All eyes were on me and they were no longer the eyes of academics; they were hungry for gossip. I was not ready to explain why shipping us was a bad idea. "So about that scroll you mentioned earlier..." I completely shifted conversation back to the eventual rebuilding effort and luckily one of them obliged me.
I was lead to one of the libraries and handed a few scrolls on the construction used in the country. I had read a little on ancient construction methods out of interest and some on modern methods since my uncle worked in the industry. I had a little bit of experience with construction when I worked at a community theater, but it wouldn't be anything the people here wouldn't know. That paired with these documents showing how magic was used in the process made what little I did know completely useless. 'Can't know everything I guess.' I turned my head up towards the ceiling. I wasn't sure how much time I had left and I decided to use it soaking up the ambience of the library. The smell of paper, the maze-esc layouts, the quiet feeling; it's like a gentle space separate from the rest of the world. The libraries of the Black Libra Tower also had huge windows to let in a ton of natural lighting. I was really going to enjoy working in this place. --- Yam and I ended up lost in conversation, so someone ended up being sent to bring us to the dinner. When we finally arrived and opened the doors to the dining hall my nose was filled with the smell of herbs and delicious food. This was my first meal that wasn't paired with bitter medicine. I might have been procrastinating subconsciously to avoid the medicine I was no longer taking. Everyone was already there chatting. The long table was covered with food, but I couldn't make out any of it from the door. King Sinbad was sitting at the head of the table at the other end of the room with a goblet in his hand. Yamuraiha started in ahead of me and called into the room. "I'm sorry we're so late! We were talking about magical proofs and," she rambled in her explanation. I heard a few comments of congrats for getting better and said "Thanks" reflexively more than consciously. As I got closer, I ignored the Generals at the table to look at the spread. There were a few different types of fish, meat of some kind, a bunch of vegetables, and bread. It brought tears to my eyes; It was so beautiful. The Imuchukk laughed at my obvious interest in the food. "What are you waiting for? There plenty for everyone." He was sitting closest to the door. I didn't look away from the food when I answered. "I'm small with a small stomach so I'm going to need to pace myself to be able to eat a little of everything. If I save the best for last like I normally do then I might not even get to eat it." That garnered laughs and comments. I ignored them; I was too busy weighing my options. As the guest of honor I was placed at the opposite end of the table from King Sinbad. Thank goodness, because I didn't think I could handle being super close to him all evening. Even with the direct line of sight, I had distance to protect me. Yam sat on the other side of Hina from me. Pisti was on my other side. Sharrkan was across from Yam. Spartos was between Yam and Ja'far. Drakon was across from Ja'far. And Masrur was between Drakon and Sharrkan.
I picked up my plate to get food. "Alright. I've decided to just grab my favorites. If I have room later then so be it!" I was used to being watched while I eat so their stares didn't bother me. I covered my plate in all of the types of fish and some vegetables. "I take it you like fish?" Sinbad asked while I was taking some of the fish that was on his end of the table. "It's my favorite!" I answered excitedly. I could tell as I placed the grilled fish on my plate that it was going to be heavenly. It was already flaking and letting the smell reach me faster. I couldn't wait to get back to my seat and took a bite of the fish. It melted in my mouth. I let out a squeak of approval as I grabbed another bite. After a moment Sinbad asked me another question. "What do you think of greasy foods?" It felt pointed. "I'll eat it if it's the only option, but I'm not a fan." The Generals made some comments that amounted to, "They have the same taste." I was too busy enjoying my food to think about what they were saying. Pisti asked me her own pointed question as I sat down. "Do you like alcohol?" They were comparing me to Sinbad. I suddenly remembered the Official Character Encyclopedia. According to it, Sinbad's favorite food was fish, his least favorite was greasy, and his favorite snacks were the types that paired well with alcohol. "I'm not a big drinker, but it's not like I dislike alcohol. I'm just allergic to sulfites." "Huh?" The group asked in unison. Time to explain one of my allergies again. "Sulfites are a very useful preservative so it was also added to a lot of foods back home including alcohol. All grape wines produce sulfites naturally. When I ingest about 2 shots of a drink that contains sulfites I will struggle to breathe for about an hour." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the goblet of wine I didn't realize was in front of me was grabbed by Hinahoho. They all looked panicked at each other like they had just dodged a bullet. In an attempt to relieve the tension, Sinbad asked Yam to catch everyone up on the meeting from earlier. Yam started ranting about the progress we had made with the alchemy magic. While they focused on reclaiming the mood, I focused on the delicious food. I tried a root vegetable on my plate. It was a little earthy with a subtle sweetness. The seasoning added to the sweet, but also had a little spice similar to cracked pepper. It had been streamed so it wasn't crunchy. I was asked to repeated what I told Sin and Ja'far earlier about the tech of home, Their questions had me explain more about my world and many of the things I had done: volunteer work to get scholarships, marketing for some networking organizations and some other companies, an assistant and teacher in out of school programs for 6 years while also working at a theater to pay for my own education. I only mentioned some of the places I had traveled to. I didn't even get to the things I did as hobbies or in working toward my dream of being a full time writer&artist. "I'm surprised by how much you say you've done." Drakon commented. I had heard similar before when talking about my past. "Is it really that shocking? Considering my age, I think it makes sense for me to have done a bit." It's more shocking that I was doing all that while getting so sick from my chronic illnesses that I would be fully bedridden and need a machine to breathe at least once a year until I turned 15. But I had also ate up inspiration porn as a child as a motivation to not let my body hold me back if I could. "Aren't we around the same age?" Yam asked me in response. I laughed. "Do I look 23 to you?" I've been mistaken for much younger than I actually was for as long as I could remember. It 1st became a problem when I turned 18 and got told I was clearly 12 with a fake ID when trying to buy an M rate game (Devil May Cry btw). "You're not?â âNope.â I rested my elbows on the table, interlocked my fingers, and I placed my chin on top with a smile, "But I'm curious how old you all think I am now." At 25 I was mistaken for a 14
year old. At least, a few months back someone thought I was legal (they guessed 19). Most realized I had to be older the more they talked to me, but their impressions never fully dissipated. As frustrating as it was, I found amusement in times like this by turning my age into a guessing game. Sharkkan had the face of someone fearing they had hit on someone too young. "You are at least 20, right?â They all suddenly looked worried. "I'm definitely older than 20." I answered. Pisti laughed. She was also short with a baby face; she knew my struggle. "Maybe she's older than Ja'far!â Of course she would make the closest guess. "There's no way she's older than me." Ja'far scoffed. "I am older than 25 though.â I could have teased him but I held my tongue since he already seemed annoyed with me. "How old are you then?â Hina asked. "I'm 29.â I smiled at everyone's surprise. I might only have surface levels similarities to Sinbad, but when you're a simp for a fictional character does that really matter? "I was born on April 7th so I should only be 5 days younger than King Sinbad since he was born on the 2nd. However, I don't know if there's a time dilation between my world and this one. The day we met was Oct 3rd for me back home. It wasn't the same date here, was it?" Sinbad is 29, Ja'far is 25, and Masrur is 20 during the Balbadd arc; their 2nd set of ages are 30, 26, and 21 respectfully. Ja'far's birthday is Aug 30th and Masrur's is Dec 27. Those 2nd ages listed can't be for right after the 6 month time skip because no matter how you calculate it the shortest distance between those 3 birthdays is 8 months. I was really interested in how the current arbiter of this world was going to figure this out. "It was Oct 3rd here too." "Oh. Well, that's convenient," was what I said while my thoughts were cursing the arbiter. 'That lazy son of a bitch synced the worlds so they wouldn't have to deal with a time dilation. I can feel it. Hold on... I arrived on Oct 3rd; the coup was 4 days later on the 7th. 6 months later would mean Sinbad arrives back in Sindria on my birthday. Did some 'real me' somewhere plan a b-day present for myself in some self-indulgent fanfiction??' ((Yes. Yes, I did UwU & I plan on making Mori panic then too.)) King Sinbad had that smile on his face that told me he was ready to flirt. "I didn't realize we were so close in age." No colors got in my way when he talked. That was good. I was desensitized again, and wouldn't have to deal with unnecessary distractions. I couldn't tease Ja'far, but I could tease his Majesty. "I know, right? It's amazing what the difference of 5 days can do for one's complexion." Sinbad froze and his expression went blank. Something that was probably wine sprayed across the table as Sharkkan had a spit take before erupting into laughter with Hinahoho and Pisti. "Oh my" Yam murmured with a hand over her mouth. Drakon , Spartos, and Ja'far stared at me in disbelief. Sinbad still wasn't responding... Maybe teasing him about his age was a bad idea. So far, unless it was something important I flirted with Sinbad since that was the best way to get on his good side; hearing something like this from me must have hurt a bit extra. I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I forgot just how sensitive he was about his age. I ended up flailing my hands from nerves, and to get his attention. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that when I know how self conscious you are." He flinched. "I don't know if this will make you feel any better, but you won't look any older than you do now 5 years from now..." "I uh.. Is that so?" Sinbad asked as he started to regain himself. "It is. You'll be just as-â "If you're willing to talk about the future, does that mean you are finally ready to explain about those calamities you mentioned in Balbadd?" Ja'far cut in with a fierce look. He had been waiting for any mention of the future to bring this up. The King spoke with a gentle but stern tone. "I don't know if this is the time for that conversation. This is Mori's first meal with
everyone after all." "I'm fine. I made a promise and I intend to keep it. As long as everyone else is willing to talk seriously for a few mins, I don't see the problem." I had been avoiding this conversation for long enough. There were things I still planned to keep secret, but I couldn't avoid having this conversation forever. And besides, I could feel in the waves that Ja'far wasn't going to let this night end unless I explained some of it. ((I have the next 3 chapters written but it's going to take me a bit to draw all of illustrations & comics. Also, good luck to all the students reading this. I know classes are starting up again. Be safe out there.))
#magi prophet fanfic#sinbad x oc#magi sinbad x oc#king sinbad#sinbad magi#magi fanfic#magi sinbad#yamuraiha
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Good Night (#little-butterfly-writes contest submission)
Heyy! I wrote the most fluffy self-insert entry I could muster for the #little-butterfly-writes contest hosted by @little-butterfly-writes! I havenât written for self-inserts for a long time and Iâve forgotten how fun it is to be self-indulgent :)) 10/10 highly recommend you to write one too! I named my MC Athena so Iâll use that name :) Â
Fandom: MLQC - Gavin & AthenaÂ
Genre: FluffÂ
Word Count:Â 1473Â
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At last, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.Â
The entire company had dealt with the high workload for weeks in order to meet the strict deadlines. The heavy pressure was finally off my shoulders after wrapping up the filming and editing for the big project.Â
The office became more quiet as the crew members left for the day. Currently, I was one of the last people there, Minor being the other. For the past few weeks, we had always been the last ones. I underestimated him and his work ethic. He would say the same phrase around sunset: âHey, Athena! Itâs getting pretty late. Think we should call it a day?â
Every day, I would encourage him to head out first and every day, heâd insist we both leave together.Â
Minor watched me lock the front doors, shoving his hands in his pockets. âSo! Any plans for tonight?â he asked.
Rattling the handle, I murmured, âNot reallyâŠâ Suddenly rewatching my favourite shows didnât seem as appealing as it did when I had been busy. The temptation of procrastination vanished when I needed it the most.
Minor glanced at his phone screen. âThatâs great! Iâll see ya later, boss!â With that, he walked away.
âHuh?â I stared at his shrinking figure until he turned the corner of the block. He really zoned out, but I didnât blame him. His expression held nothing but pride and relief that the project was finally over.
***
When I got home, I turned on my laptop. Although Minor never failed to get me out of the office, he couldnât stop me from working here. Everything was done but revising some materials wouldnât hurt. Plus, I should look over the reports that I needed to submit next week.Â
Frankly, I wasnât sure how much time passed when I got up to take a long shower. After drying off, I grabbed the first comfortable thing in the closet and realized it was Gavinâs white T-shirt.
Gavin had left for a mission a few weeks ago. The mission was highly classified so I decided not to bother him for the duration of the time. My workload started piling up then and I distracted myself as best as I could. Now that work was out of the way, Gavinâs gentle eyes were back in my mind. When I imagined him smiling, I couldnât help but do so myself. If I couldnât see him soon, at least I could meet him in my dreams.
I turned off the light and pulled the covers to my chest, staring at the balcony window as I waited to drift off. There were traces of clouds across the glowing moon and I couldnât bear to turn away from the serene view. It felt like I was staring at it for eternity until a shadow suddenly appeared. His amber eyes shone against the moonlight and the night wind rippled at his STF jacket, sweeping his hood down.
Before I knew it, I was already opening the balcony door, letting the chilly breeze spill in. âGavin! Youâre back!â
He nodded. Despite the time of day, Gavin didnât look tired. In fact, with his steady composure and uniform, he looked like he was ready for another day at the Special Task Force. âMm. The mission finished just now. I wanted to see you,â he said matter-of-factly.Â
No matter how long I hadnât heard his voice, it was distinct and recognizable. I didnât realize how much I missed him until I gave him a tight hug. It was then when I felt a sudden drop of temperature and I withdrew abruptly: âGeez, youâre freezing!â
Smiling, he tugged me close again, stroking my black hair. âDonât worry, Iâm fine. But you . . .â He furrowed his brow, noticing my loose-fitting âdressâ. Even in the dim room, the familiar shade of red on his ears was evident. He shed his jacket and I tried to stop him, but he managed to wrap it around me.
âYou need it more,â I insisted. âYouâre gonna catch a cold.âÂ
âItâs alright. I have something better.â
His hand slipped into mine. I couldnât help but hold it tighter in hopes of generating more warmth for him. I brought him to the bed and bundled the blanket around him.
âHow long were you flying? You know it gets colder at night,â I scolded, embracing him as we laid over the pillows. He wasnât shivering but I held him close, unwilling to let go.
He burrowed into my chest and I could feel his smile through the thin fabric. âI promise to be more careful next time.â
âYou always say that! Especially about your injuries. Speaking of which, let me see them.â Before Gavin could react, I yanked the blanket away, inspecting his forearms and his torso.Â
âAhem, Iâm-Iâm okay, really,â he assured, his ears burning bright again when I pulled at his button up shirt. I only found old scars that had already been engraved into my memory.Â
Gavin brought my restless hands to his face. His gaze towards me never wavered. âIâm telling you the truth,â he said earnestly and kissed the back of each hand. He wrapped the blanket around us, nuzzling into my chest again.Â
Relief steadied my heartbeat until he looked up at me and spoke in a low tone: âBefore I left for the mission, I swore I wouldnât get injured.â He paused, pressing closer. âDo I get a reward for honouring this promise?âÂ
Whether he was intentionally giving me the subtle, big, olâ puppy eyes or not, I couldnât refuse. Brushing his soft, brown fringe back, I pecked his forehead. âThere,â I said, a smile playing across my lips. âHowâs that?â
He frowned and cleared his throat. âI also made sure not to skip any meals.â
I gave a peck on his cheek.Â
âI kept my sleep schedule consistent too.â
âEight hours?â
âMm.âÂ
âWas it eight hours or not?â
He nuzzled deeper into the crook of my neck, hiding his expression. Gavinâs face seemed to have warmed up since his arrival. I started laughing when he playfully bit me.
âOkay, okay, I understand. Agent B-7 has a tight schedule and he works very hard. Here,â I leaned towards his mouth and he closed his eyes, waiting expectantly. His anticipation made my heart flutter, but I couldnât resist messing with him. In the last second, I moved lower and pressed my lips to his own neck, nibbling it for good measure and for payback.Â
His soft groan was barely audible before he pulled me back, pinning me down into the pillows. âI donât think youâre being fair, Athena. Seems like youâve forgotten about your own sleep schedule.â
I froze but I tried my best to keep my cool. âMy sleep schedule is fine, thank you very much, Officer.â
Feigning doubt, he hummed. âIâm not sure. Youâve been working overtime ever since I left.â He narrowed his eyes, carefully examining mine for reaction. âIf Minor hadnât insisted any earlier, youâd be at the office until midnight every day.â
My eyes widened. âMinor?! Aw, why am I even surprised?â Now to think of it, Minor had started to work longer hours around the day of Gavinâs departure. All this time I was hoping it was because Minor had been engrossed with the Miracle Finder project, not because of a task assigned by Officer Gavin.
âItâs almost 1 am. I shouldâve found you fast asleep by now. How do I know if this isnât a bad habit of yours?â Gavin leaned in, his proximity repelled my fleeting thoughts. His blue and black uniform made him seem so much more intimidating. âSo,â he murmured, âare you ready to confess?â
I hoped my face wasnât as red as it felt, but his grin knocked down my wishful thinking. âOkay, okay. I lied. My schedule is terrible.â
âMm.â Satisfied, he released his grip on my wrists. âLet me help you fix it. Is this okay?â He cradled me in his arms, snuggling close. âIf not, I can count sheep with you again.â
I giggled, recalling that night with all the sheep. It felt like nothing yet everything had changed. Sighing contently, I leaned into his broad chest. His heartbeat was calm, lulling me to drowsiness. âI think itâs working,â I mumbled, âas always.â
Gavin chuckled as he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. His steady gaze was genuine and pure. âI sleep better when Iâm with you too.â
My eyelids grew heavy and with the last source of energy that I could gather, I lifted my head and kissed him. His lips were soft against mine and when his parted in shock, I deepened the kiss. I could hear his heartbeat racing as I slumped against him again.Â
âThere. For everything youâve done for me.â
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Final notes: I hoped you like it! A lot of things have changed in the MLQC fandom, but I hope everyone is doing well! Reading/writing anything about comfort characters really helps me so I had fun writing this!
I also write for luciensgunsee in Instagram --- itâs mlqc x reader stuff so if youâre interested in that, do check it out! I might put the extended, uncut versions of those scenarios here in Tumblr?? If anyone is interested, please let me know :))
#little-butterfly-writes contest#mlqc#mlqc gavin#mlqc fluff#mlqc scenario#mr love queen's choice#evol x love#mlqc scenarios#fluff writing#love and producer#mr love gavin#me stuff :))#my writing#my stuff#beyond-the-birthday-massacre
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Indirectly a Hero
This fic is inspired by my prior doubt about ever being able to even reach 5BC let alone get anywhere close to beating it. So basically thinking about what that would look like in universe brought along the question of what would happened if the Collector decided to just make the Panacea without Beheaded there because they're too weak ever get that far?
Just for the record I now know I can beat 5BC even if it is with a a little bit of help from one of the new aspects in the beta patch (I feel it's technically possible without that but is a very tall order). I reached the Collector for the first a little while ago only for him to glitch. T.T Once he's fixed though it's only a matter of time before I get that 1st 5BC win. Perhaps for the 2nd 5BC win for the true ending I'll insist on doing it without the help of an aspect, depends on how I feel though because this game is hella hard.
~
The door opened with little more than a creak of its hinges, signaling the state Beheaded was in even before theyâd entered the room. Which they did rather slowly, hunched over as they clutching at wound in their side, blood leaking freely through their fingers. That wasnât their only wound either. Various injuries marred their body and tattered their blood-soaked clothing. They left a dripping trail behind them as they walked further in.
Collector watched them make their slow, painful way over to him. âYouâre going to fight the Hand of the King like that?â His tone was mocking but it was hard not to feel a little pity for them given how often heâd seen them in such a state by now. Especially in comparison to their usual swagger. Though at least this way they didnât destroy the door as they entered.
Beheaded lifted a hand to flip him off. They were still as rude as ever though, that was good to see.
Despite that, as always, they handed over all the Dead Cells theyâd collected since last Collector had last seen them. Heâd long since run out of stuff to give them in return but they thankfully still handed them over without even needing to be asked to. Seems it was just habit for them at this point and Collector wasnât going to question it lest they stop doing so.
They then moved on, heading off to fight the Hand of the King again. Given their state, they would almost without a doubt lose again too. Theyâd only managed to defeat him a grand total of three times now. The last time had been quite a while ago too. But given how many other times they struggled long and hard against various other obstacles and enemies, theyâd probably eventually prevail again. Unless Collector found that cure for the Malaise first.
He turned to looked at the container behind him now brimming with fresh Cells. Thanks to Beheaded, he had no shortage of Cells to experiment with and thanks to Time Keeper, no shortage of time to do so either. As a result, he was starting to get close to⊠something. Whether that something would actually be an effective cure was impossible to say. At this point he doubted it, but it was the only thing he had left to try so he was going to. Just a little bit more and heâd have it.
~
Time was impossible to measure in a time loop and thus there was no way to even guess how long it had taken but Collector finally had the ability to create a panacea. A mythic cure from a childrenâs tale, it wasnât likely to work. But if it failed, there was no hope left for the island anyway so it wouldnât change anything. Now all that was left to do was to wait for Beheaded to show up and heâd reveal it to them.
Except⊠Beheaded never showed. Despite Time Keeperâs best efforts, the Malaise was still getting worse, increasing the amount of undead roaming the island, making them more aggressive as well. Beheaded, already having a hard time, was struggling even more now. Rare was the attempt they got anywhere even close to the castle, let alone to it and then all the way here.
So as much as he wouldâve preferred one last dose of Cells from Beheaded as well as the opportunity to show them the panacea, he couldnât wait forever. And really, he was only procrastinating because this was the islandâs final hope so if it failed there was nothing more he could do. It was about time he just got this over with though
After one last look around the empty observatory, he turned to look at the Catalyst. Heâd been planning to use fresh Cells from Beheaded for this but they clearly werenât up to the task of reaching this point so heâd just have to use some of the spare Cells left over from all the experiments that had led to this. Most of them heâd used up in said experiments but there was still enough left to do this at least once or twice.
He left to get a Cell storage container from the other room. Upon returning it didnât take long to hook it up and transfer the Cells over. He then positioned a flask underneath its spout and turned it on.
The Cells spun and danced within the machine, condensing down into a liquid form and pouring into the flask. It glowed blue, coming up to almost the halfway point. He hadnât used quite enough Cells. Not that it mattered a whole lot anyway as it wasnât likely to work.
So with no one to share this experiment with â and what a vast shame that was â he grasped the flask by its neck and unceremoniously lifted it to his mouth to take a small sip. The liquid had the consistency of honey and had a sharp bitter medicinal taste. Unpleasant but not too bad really. Now if onlyâŠ
The surge of energy that shot through him surprised him enough to send him to his knees. Oh! That felt good! With a chuckle, he stood back up and⊠nothing. He did nothing because despite the sudden pressing urge to do something there was nothing to do. So instead he growled and strode over to pound a fist onto his desk, making the glass beakers on it rattle as if in threat of breaking. He growled at them, barely resisting the urge to swipe them off the desk to shatter onto the floor.
He needed more Cells! ⊠Well it was a good thing he knew where to go to get more.
***
After bursting through the door, Beheaded paused because Collector was back. He was standing there just as if heâd never left, his equipment operational and glowing with Cells once more. The fellow whoâd taken his place was still there too. The two of them looked to have been having a conversation that Beheadedâs arrival had interrupted as they both looked over at them.
âHello,â Not Collector said, their voice even cheerier than usual. Yeah, they idolized Collector or something, didnât they? Beheaded had never cared enough to pay attention nor would they start caring now.
So ignoring them, Beheaded strode up to the Collector. They pointed at him and then gestured around before lifting their arms in an exaggerated shrug to make it a question. Theyâd assumed heâd died but apparently not. So where had he disappeared off to and more importantly why?
âGreetings. I apologize for my absence. However, I trust out little arrangement is still in place.â His voice sounded almost a little⊠strained? There was certainly a different energy to it than before. Something had changed. What though?
Out of spite and sudden renewed distrust, Beheaded was tempted to refuse and keep the Cells for themself. With Collector being even more suspicious than usual, giving him what he wanted might not be a good idea. Though⊠theyâd never trusted him much to begin with so not a whole lot had really changed, huh? And they had literally no use for the Cells and thus had no real reason to want to keep them on top of the fact that if they ever came across another blueprint, his services in making it for them would be welcome. They couldâve possibly given them to Not Collector but doing so wouldâve most likely been just a roundabout way of giving them to Collector. So with one last warning finger shake, Beheaded handed their Cells over.
âThank you.â
Even if Beheaded were capable of replying they wouldnât have bothered as they moved on, resuming their quest. It was still early but they had a good feeling about this attempt. They were going to see what was on the other side of that door behind the Hand of the King for sure this time. ⊠Hopefully anyway. Really just reaching the damn castle again would be an achievement at this point. But they were for sure going to get through the door eventually and whatever was on the other side better be worth all this pain and effort.
Many, many failed attempts later. Long enough for Beheaded to hand over enough Cells for Collector to make enough panacea to cure the Malaise entirely
The relief Beheaded felt at finally making it through High Peak Castle was dashed almost as soon as they were entering into the passage because now theyâd have to fight the Hand of the King. They hadnât even so much as seen him in so long and had never been great at handling him and theyâd been royally sliced to bits in the castle. Leaving them with an empty potion flask and far more damage to their body than they were comfortable with. Unless a miracle occurred, they were going to fail against the Hand. A shame but⊠at least theyâd made it this far, pushing the bar just that little bit more. Perhaps next time theyâd fare well enough to stand a chance though. ⊠Not likely. Eventually though they would⊠eventually.
As always they went to Collector, giving him all their Cells without a word from him. But as they turned away to head for their âdeathâ, he spoke. âI must thank you for your assistance.â
They paused and turned to look back up at him.
âThe Cells youâve brought me have been invaluable in my experiments. To thank you let me assist you in your endeavors again.â He pulled out a vial filled with an orange liquid; a health potion.
It was very possible this was a trap or trick of some sort but if it somehow wasnât, it was their only hope of beating the Hand of the King, even if it wasnât a large hope, and at least seeing what was behind that door. In the worst-case scenario, they could always detach from their current body and slink off to find another, as theyâd have been doomed to do very shortly anyway. So as he extended the vial towards them, they snatched it out of his hand and tipped it back.
As their form absorbed its contents magic rushed through all their tendrils throughout the body, repairing the damage that had been done to it in a flood of pleasant warmth. Dropping the vial, they looked up at Collector again to give him a thumbs up and a nod before heading off, reenergized and ready to take on the Hand of the King.
Except they took only two steps in that direction before darkness encroached on their vision. Their control of the body faltered, making them tip and fall to their hands and knees and then even that was too much as they flopped over onto their side. Of fucking course it had been too good to be true.
âSorry friend.â Collector maybe even did sound a little apologetic. âBut I need you out of the way for a while. You will come to no harm though, I promise.â
Beheaded wanted to lift a hand to flip him off but unconsciousness dragged at them, pulling them down towards nothingness despite their best efforts to fight it. When they woke up though, they were so going toâŠ
~~~
They were lying on a bed, a soft one too with a blanket thrown over them. The ceiling above them was nothing special but as they stiffly rolled over to look at the room, they recognized it. The room in High Peak Castle with all the beds. They were on the one closest to the door.
Exhaustion had driven them to taking naps in all sorts of strange and dangerous locations but theyâd never felt even tempted to take one in this room. It was too dangerous and too close to their end goal for them to feel even remotely capable of relaxing here. So how come they were waking up here? ⊠Collector! He betrayed them with a drugged healing potion.
They threw off the blanket and rolled out of bed, moving with far less grace and precision then they shouldâve. Whatever theyâd been drugged with hadnât completely worn off yet. It was affecting their control of the body which made them angrier. As soon as they found Collector, he was going to get a piece of their mind.
As they made their awkward way towards they door they reached for where their crossbow shouldâve been hanging on their back. Of course it wasnât there, else how would they have been lying so comfortably on the bed? A quick check revealed it wasnât anywhere else on their person either. A look back confirmed it wasnât lain out near the bed or anywhere else in sight. All their other gear was missing as well. Leaving in them in the middle of one of the most dangerous places on the island without a single way to defend themself.
What was Collector even trying to accomplish with this stunt? Theyâd just âdieâ and head back to get a new body and come hunt him down. Maybe they shouldnât even try to fight; just abandon this body here and head off for that new attempt now. ⊠But no, if possible they wanted to know what was up here sooner rather than later. And who knows, they might get lucky and find a weapon or two nearby.
So shaking themself a little they continued onward out the door and into the castle hallway. They were in luck, it was empty. Perhaps all the monsters theyâd cleared out on their way through earlier were still gone. The time loop hadnât brought them back yet or no new ones had come or whatever else happened that normally brought them back hadnât happened yet. It was long shot but they could hope.
As they made their way through the castle, they became more and more sure that was the case. The halls were empty. There were blood splatters here and there and chopped up monster remains but thatâs it. Which was nice, given their lack of weapon and the fading lethargy from the sleeping drug but⊠strange. Something was different here. ⊠Beheaded didnât like whatever it was.
Having even just a rusty sword and a barely functional shield wouldâve made them feel quite a bit better about this situation. If they could find even a single enemy maybe they could steal its weapon? A hard feat for sure but better than trying to fight with just their hands and feet. Though if push came to shove, theyâd gladly just punch Collector in the face. Not that trying that was likely to work out in their favor. Anyone who could move around the island as much as he did, had to be quite good at one form of combat or another and thus not someone to be taken lightly. If they took him by surprise though perhaps they could get away with a solid hit or two before he stopped them. He deserved nothing less for tricking them andâŠ
They paused as they came upon a large door theyâd never seen before. Which honestly wasnât too surprising, theyâd explored the castle far less than the rest of the island â other than the distillery anyway because fuck that place, theyâd rather not have to deal with barrels exploding in their face every time they turned a corner. Other than its slightly larger than normal size though there wasnât much special about the door. So with nothing better to do, they kicked it open and were met with the loud satisfying crunch of wood cracking as it swung around and slammed into the wall.
Inside was⊠the Hand of the King! What was he doing inside the castle!? This was no fair! They didnât even have a weapon. Oh, they were so fucked! But wait even though heâd snapped around to face them he was unarmed! His lance leaned against the wall nearby. Beheaded sprang for it. Defeating him with his own lance would be so sweet! What better vengeance for all the times heâd ruined their day?
Their hand was within inches of its hilt when the Hand caught them by their forearm. He yanked them rough back and around, twisting their arm to force them to face him as he pulled them up so they could barely stand on their tippytoes.
Welp, theyâd tried, got to give them credit for that, right? They tensed, prepared for the pain of being sliced or speared through or perhaps he would just tighten his already painful grip and crush the bones in their arm and then go through break all their other bones too. So they should probably just detach from the body now andâŠ
âWell, you certainly know how to make an entrance.â Collector stood at the Handâs side, looking down at them. âAlways kicking and rolling through doors. However, given your obvious goal just now, I must warn you if you insist on remaining violent, I have a glass jar in my lab that would be the perfect place to securely contain a specimen such as you. Understand?â
Would a glass jar be able to effectively contain them? ⊠Depends on how tight the seal on it was. And on how tough the glass was. Both of which Collector could probably easily ensure were more than strong enough for the task. Also, he no doubt could find a way to prevent them from pushing it off the table or whatever too. So such a threat was actually threatening and given Beheadedâs less than ideal position of being weaponless and held firmly by the Hand, it probably wasnât a good idea to risk it right now. So⊠they nodded, even lifting their free hand to give a halfhearted thumbs up.
âVery good,â Collector said with a nod.
The Hand didnât let go of them yet though. Instead, he tightened his grip a little before speaking. âThe Alchemist told me what you are and where you came from. Perhaps if I had known before, I wouldnât have attacked you immediately.â There were certainly instances were that wouldâve been nice and wouldâve resulted in far less pain and failure. Overall though it wouldâve been less fun. âItâs too late for that now though. You killed what was left of the real King. Iâd snap you in half for that but the Alchemist has asked me not to so I shall refrain⊠for now.â With that, he let go of their arm at last.
They stumbled, barely keeping themself from falling. They shook it off, backstepping as they pulled their arm in. Putting them closer to the lance but⊠something had clearly changed.
Tearing their gaze from the Hand, they quickly scanned the rest of the room. It was a map room; a table with a model of presumably the whole island sat in the middle of the room, taking up most of the space. The blacksmith and his little backpacked buddies sat at the other end of it. Time Keeper was here too, standing on the other side of Collector. She was watching them intently but also seemed uninclined to attack them for some reason.
Even if they grabbed the lance or had any other weapon, they were at a huge disadvantage here if things went sour. Or more like if they went more sour since this was already quite an uncomfortable position to be in. Fleeing was an option but they needed to know what the fuck was happening.
âIâm sure youâre quite confused,â Collector said. âLong story short, using the Dead Cells you provided me, I managed to create a cure for the Malaise. So congrats, you are indirectly a hero. We are currently discussing what we should do next with so few people left alive.â
âAnd weâve already decided,â Time Keeper added, glaring daggers at Beheaded, âthat regardless of whether you are still technically the old King or not, youâre not getting the role back ever.â
Unable to return her mean look, Beheaded lifted a hand to flip her off instead - they should be able to be King again if they wanted to. But⊠it was halfhearted and quickly dropped because⊠was the Malaise really gone? Just out of nowhere like that? What did that mean for them? All they really knew was fighting the Malaise infected monsters. And⊠the time loop, that had to be over now too, right? So what was going to happen next?
And theyâd never reached their goal! Theyâd been going to defeat the Hand of the King and then go through the five Boss Cell door and then probably fight whatever was on the other side. Theyâd been pushing for that for so long and now all that was just over? That was so unfair!
Their whole life was over, wasnât it? Because the run through of the island, killing all the monsters was all theyâd ever really done. With the time loop happening theyâd blindly assumed itâs all theyâd ever do. What were they suppose do now?
â⊠donât even need a new King,â Time Keeper was saying as Beheaded tuned back into the conversation. It had apparently resumed while theyâd been reeling.
They didnât really care though. And itâs not like they could contribute to the conversation or anyone would welcome it if they tried so⊠they turned and left. No one tried to call them back.
The Malaise being cured and presumably eradicated from the island made the strange emptiness of the halls as they strode through them make much more sense. It made traversing them a lot less exciting and a non-accomplishment. But⊠getting sliced to bits, stabbed, exploded and all sorts of other things did hurt quite a bit so this development wasnât all bad. That didnât make it any less aggravating that it hadnât happened on their terms as it shouldâve. Nor did it make the idea of finding another way to entertain themself any easier.
They paused as they finally found the outdoor throne room. The fire that had been around the throne had finally been put out or had been allowed to peter out on its own. They continued on, going past it and beelining for the little room behind the fountain. Even if the glory and achievement of reaching it the way theyâd intended had been stolen from them they were still going to see what was behind that door.
It was already open and hanging ajar as they approached. They kicked it the rest of the way open, making it slam loudly into the wall. Doing so provided nowhere near as much satisfaction as reaching it after defeating the Hand wouldâve but it was still better than just pushing it open.
And on the other side was⊠a small room and an elevator. The elevator went up a long, its chains rattling loudly the whole. At top was another safe passage room. On the other side was⊠a lab. No monsters though, nor the sound of any nearby. There probably had been though, right? Before Collector cured the Malaise and fixed everything. It wouldâve been nice to see some new enemies even if said new monsters probably wouldâve quickly destroyed their body. But no, all that was over and now⊠What were they supposed to do next? ⊠Even if theyâd had any real interest in returning to their prior existenceâs role as King, they wouldnât be allowed to. Leaving them to do⊠what? âŠ
Shaking off those thoughts once more, they continued on to explore more. Much of the equipment was now broken shards of glass and debris on the ground. Despite that, it didnât take long to determined that the lab had clearly belonged to Collector before it had been taken over by monsters. Which no doubt was cause of the destruction.
Way up at the top of the tallest tower was a large room that seemed to be the only part still functioning as a lab. Amongst other smaller equipment stood a large cylindrical machine with a lot of weird parts coming off it and a spout on the front as if to dispense something. Its inside still had a glimmer of blue something coating them. Undoubtedly this was where Collector had concocted the cure, using all the Dead Cells Beheaded had gathered and given to him.
With an internal sigh, they walked over and turned around sit on the ground and lean back against the machine. What would have happened if theyâd reached this place before Collector fixed everything? Probably something interesting, right? They would never know for sure though. It couldâve also been boring, just Collector finally telling them what heâd been working on all this time.
Which if they had known what he was using the Dead Cells for they probably wouldâve continued giving them to him. Though if they had known they couldâve demanded their right to finish their self-assigned task before he did his thing, cutting off the supply entirely if need be.
Even as it was though, he surely couldâve waited just a few more attempts, right? However many it took for Beheaded to reach this point on their own. Which to be fair probably wouldâve been a lot given how prone they were to getting their ass handed to them. But with the time loop happening, it wouldnât have changed anything. He couldâve waited.
It was too late now though and probably no going back. They had no choice but to move on and figure out what they were going to do next. Maybe they could leave the island and head off in search of another adventure. Or maybe they should try to return to their former life and insist on being King. Perhaps they should do something else entirely. ⊠Ugh, making important decisions sucked. They had to though⊠eventually. For now though they were going to just sit here be bitter about their victory being stolen from them.
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Clouds of Cream
Pt. 1
Summary-Â While taking a day to run weekly errands, you take the time to stop at your local cafe where a certain handsome barista happens to work...
Pairing: Mark Tuan x Reader
Genre: Fluff
authorâs note: This part is mostly to establish base story, also later parts will contain sexual themes; however, i COULD also produce watered down versions for those of you who enjoy the story but donât care for those kinds of things. lemme know. Anyways, enjoy <3
WC: 2342
Part. 1- I Never Got Your NameâŠ
Your eyes pried themselves open as the morning sun snuck into your studio apartment. With a heavy arm, you reached over to the tiny bedside table and grabbed your phone. 8:00 a.mâŠ. You groaned, tossed your phone onto the table and pulled the blanket over your face. It was Saturday, your day off work, so you could in theory sleep in. However, you knew if you didnât get up now then the To-Do list tacked to the cork board above your desk would go unattended. Plus⊠You thought, sitting up haggardlyâŠI could stop at the cafĂ© while Iâm outâŠ
You had gone to Downtown Brews for the first time a few months ago with a close friend who swore up and down it had THE best coffee. He was right. Now you were all but addicted. The roasts were divine, and the pastries were nothing to scoff at. And often by chance, you were helped by the same barista who, if you dared to say so, was not too hard on the eyes. The baristaâŠYou felt guilty not knowing his name by now. Even though you saw him every time you walked through those doors, you never managed to read his nametag. You were always tooâŠdistracted.
You let your feet hang off the bed for a few moments while your mind began to wander. As you stood and made your way to your tiny bathroom, you wondered if he even really noticed you. Of course, he recognized your face. You were there all the time. At the counter, he would give a casual smile and in his cool tone say âHey, y/n, nice to see you again? The usual?â They took names for orders, so yeah, he knew that too. He knew your regular order because it was well... your regular order. But that didnât mean he really saw you. The cafĂ© had a lot of regulars, he probably knew a few orders and names by heart. While brushing your teeth you became even more lost in thought⊠You leaned close the bathroom mirror, analyzing your face. It was still puffy, showing the aftermath of a late nightâs sleep. You frowned a little. Maybe he has a girlfriend. Maybe you just werenât his type. You fed into your dismay while taking a longer than usual shower.
With fresh breath and a newly showered body, you walked to your closet and pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans, an oversized t-shirt with your college mascot on the front, and a grey dad-hat. You might as well be comfortable while running around all day. You grabbed your backpack and tossed in your phone charger, wallet, and keys. You quickly snatched the list from the board and hurried out the front door before the demon that was procrastination could set in.
You groaned as you walked to the end of the hall, anticipating the journey you had to make down the stairs. The elevator was down and had been for months now. The landlord kept telling you someone would be in to fix it next month, but it seemed like next month never came. Instead, you frustratedly stomped down the stairs, each time cursing past you for wanting to live on the third floor.
The building you lived in was nowhere near fancy. But it was home at least. Unlike the buildings uptown, the lobby wasnât big and beautiful with potted plants and delicate light fixtures. It was more of an extra wide hallway. The walls presented a sickly grey-green on the upper half, the bottom being slowly warping wood paneling. A large portion of the space was dedicated to old metal mailboxes and contained ceiling lights hanging on their last legs; more than half of them flickering or entirely dead. You decided to check your mail later. You never really got anything anyway.
Outside, you were met with a clear sky and smiling summer sun. A warm breeze danced through the branches and the sweet smell of mature flowers blessed your nose. You felt more energized by the perfection of the day and with newfound eagerness, began your walk to the cafĂ©. You breathed easily, taking in your surroundings. It was around 9:00 a.m. now and most of the city was already awake. Busy men and women walked as fast as their legs could carry them. Some to their respective jobs and others you presumed, to use the day the same as you; going off to clear a long list of errands. The start of summer vacation also meant children with time to kill. Kids ran up and down the sidewalk, getting what you deemed an early start to their dayâs mischief. A couple walked hand in hand, giggling and smiling. You could overhear them mention something about grabbing lunch later and maybe seeing a movie. Seeming them happy together sent you into a vivid daydream.
You saw the baristaâs warm smile and kind eyes. You confidently sauntered up to the counter, cool as ice. You flashed a cheeky smile that caught him off-guard. âHey there, whatâll it be?â he said with a fully flushed face. You leaned in real close and looked him in the eyes. With a stolen velvet tongue, you said âA tall, dark, and handsomeâŠâ
The cheesiness of the line snapped you out of your trance with a quiet laugh. Before you knew it, you found yourself standing in front of Downtown Brews. It sat gingerly on the corner, beckoning you inside. The coffee cup logo printed on the glass door a sight for sore eyes Through the large window you noticed that almost every seat was full. No big deal since you just wanted to grab something to eat while you walked. You pulled open the door, a small bell jingling overhead. You placed yourself at the end of the line, grateful that it wasnât too long. The early morning rush had pretty much passed already. You scanned the peaceful scene. Even though it was full, the loudest noises were the clinking of mugs and forks. It was always like this no matter the time of day.
Downtown Brews had that affect on people. The café created a sanctuary away from the loudness of the city. It had a minimalistic look. Plain golden-brown wooden floors, beautifully simple wooden tables and chairs, and small hanging lights that seemed to float in the room. On each table was a centerpiece containing small purple wildflowers in cute white vases that looked like fine china. The walls were mostly windows, save for the left wall that made contact with that of the bookstore next door and the gray brick wall behind the counter. It was decorated with shelves lined with mugs, glasses, and more white vases with various plants and flowers scattered about. You noticed that every week, there was at least one new one. The owner of the place must have had a real love for flora.
You stood for what felt like ages, listening to some poor young intern order complicated coffees and various treats for what seemed to be an entire office. You anxiously switched your weight from one foot to the other, wondering if maybe today you would order something new. And then you saw him. The man who made your face hot and your head cloudy. He was always here when you were, not that you were going to complain about it. He looked so suave in his uniform. The white shirt, black slacks, and black apron on his waist seemed custom made for his slender frame. How could such simple clothes look so good on someone? Your hands felt clammy and your chest went tight. You hated and adored this feeling all at the same time. Taking a few quiet deep breaths, you set your sights back on the menu, busying your mind with deciding about what to order for breakfast.
You studied him as he switched places with another staff member and prepared his customerâs order. The cafĂ© had a lovely practice. Whoever took your order would also prepare it. This allowed for a more personal experience that resulted in fewer messed up orders. The baristas took turns instinctually; based off who was the least busy.
You gawked at him, transfixed on his form. You watched as he grabbed a few pastries from the glass case in front of him, slid them into a small toaster oven and began fixing the drinks. Every movement was smooth and graceful. He was like an angel. His face was lit up with a precious smile as he handed over the massive order and with a nod chirped âHere you are! You coworkers better say thank you for this. Hope you have a good day.â The intern gave a rushed âYes, thank you, you too,â and fixed her gaze on the cardboard trays of drinks stacked onto boxes of patisserie. She shuffled away with a sense of urgency youâd never seen.
The baristaâs skin was almost glowing. It looked soft and flawless, almost like it had been airbrushed. But it was all too real. You heart began to race as the last person between you and the counter wandered off. You shook your head lightly, trying to snap yourself back to the now.
âCan I help whoâs next, please?â the honey voice flooded your ears.
You nearly stumbled up to the register, eyes barely leaving the chalkboard menu hanging above. Even though you werenât really looking, you could still feel the warmth of his smile. You met his eyes. âHey y/n. Howâs it going? Medium iced coffee with vanilla creamer, three sugars, and cocoa powder on top, right?â You felt the heat rising in your face.
âHey, uh yeah. I mean, no.â Your voice was almost imprisoned in your throat, impulse taking over.
âOh, did I get I get it wrong?â he let out a small chuckle and ran a hand through his beautiful hazelnut curls, âSorry about that, guess I must be a bit tired if Iâm forgetting-â
You didnât mean to, but you cut him off âNot at all. I just wanna switch it up a bit. Today I think Iâll have a medium iced cold brew with sweet cream and caramel this time. And could I also have a cranberry muffin, please?â you smiled shyly, embarrassed knowing that you were obviously flustered.
He smiled wide and clasped his hands together. âWell I see weâre mixingg things up now,â he giggled quietly while punching your order into the automated screen, âGotta keep me on my toes somehow.â Damn that smile- you took off your backpack and quickly pulled out your wallet. âIs that for here or to go?â He peered up at you, eyes doe-like. âTo go, please.â You choked a little and could have sworn you saw a bit of disappointment in his eyes but passed it off. He told you the total and you handed him the cash. âAlrighty, Iâll have everything ready in about ten minutes.â You nodded and gave a small hum as he gave you your change.
You stepped off to the side and let your eyes follow him as he skillfully crafted your drink. His smile was replaced with a stern look as he focused on his task. You wondered if your mouth was watering from the aroma of coffee and hot muffin awaiting you or something else. Suddenly, it hit you that once again you avoided looking at his name tag. You instinctively avoided looking at one part of him too long. As a child mom had taught you it was rude to stare, and that sentiment stuck with you even now. You chastised yourself. It felt as though after you missed it the first time, it felt impolite to check now. But it was ruder to just not know. You always wanted to ask, but avoided it, thinking he would think you were a moron since he clearly has a nametag on. You silently huffed in frustration and made attempts to get a better look. However, you couldnât get a clear view. If it wasnât a machine in your way, it was one of the other baristas, or he was simply moving too much or he was turned away from you. Though you couldnât deny that you enjoyed looking at his back almost as much as his front.
âY/n, your orderâs ready.â His smile had returned as he stepped up to the pickup area.
He held out a small brown paper bag and your drink. âHere you go. Have a good day, and Iâll see you soon.â His face was warm, his smile genuine. You beamed at him and gently took your things Your heart fluttered. Without even thinking, the words flew from your lips. âIâm sorry, I know I come here all the time, but umâŠâ he leaned forward, placing his hands on the counter, âwell I donâ actually know your name and i keep forgetting to askâŠAnd it feels rude to not know since youâre such a good server.â He chuckled, raised an eyebrow and smirked. He shook his head lightly and let it drop to the side. âTsk tsk tsk. And I thought we were friends.â His smile melted your heart. He stood tall and folded is arms.
You apologized again, telling him you knew he had a nametag on but you always forgot to look and began to ramble about feeling nervous to ask and the whole thing. He gently cut you off. âDonât worry about it. Itâs Mark. And now that you know, you better not forget.â He pointed a playfully stern finger at you. The name rang in your head. This man who occupied so much headspace finally had a name. A beautiful one. At least to you. You grinned, âI wonât, I promise. Iâll see you later, Mark.â You turned to leave and as you did, you were certain his smile had grown bigger and his cheeks pinker.
Mark....
#got7#got7 mark#got7 jaebeom#got7 jackson#got 7 jinyoung#got7 youngjae#got7 yugyeom#got7 bambam#got7 fluff#got7 smut#kpop#mark tuan#got7 imagines#got7 scenarios#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#fluff#kpop smut#kpop fluff#smut
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Interim Fic: Chaldea Commons
I finally finished it! This is pretty short, around 2000 words, but it was still fun to write! And it sets up something thatâs going to basically be a central location for future slice of life stuff, so... Yeah. I hope everyone enjoys this!
Iâll be doing Orleans next, so look forward to that!
âPlease tell me thereâs something for me to do today,â I sigh, leaning on the wall just outside the command room. Itâs been almost a week since we finished up the summonings, and while getting to know all of the Servants has been interesting⊠I can only sit around chatting and reading and asking things and such for so long before I start to feel like Iâm procrastinating.Â
âNope~!â Da Vinci responds. âWeâll let you know if anything pops up!âÂ
I sigh again, pushing away from the wall and starting to head back to my room. âThanks.âÂ
With nothing to do, my mind races in circles, trying to identify anything worth doing. Gather more materials? I already spent most of the morning doing that. I checked the logs. Iâve got more than Iâll probably need until the next batch of Servants gets summoned. More practice fights? Thatâs a bit useless when I already know how to use all of my Servants.Â
Something. Thereâs got to be something.Â
Iâve already read through the books I borrowed. Should I get more? Thatâd be redundant. But what if in the next singularity I end up needing specific knowledge on a field of magecraft I didnât refresh my memory on? Well I mean, itâs possible. Not likely, but possible.Â
How many fields did not read up on? I canât even remember at this point. Probably only 1 or 2. Letâs put that on the back burner for now, we can always ask for info over comms while weâre on the field, right?Â
Okay, so, no point to fighting, no point to reading, what else is there?Â
âSenpai?â Iâm snapped out of it by Mash, who I hadnât even noticed. âIs there⊠A reason youâre standing in the hallway staring up at the ceiling?âÂ
â...Not really,â I admit. âBut Iâve got nothing better to do at the moment.â I glance around the hallway to find it just as empty as usual, before turning to Mash. âYou got anything interesting going on?â
âActually, I was looking for you, Senpai.â
âOh? What for?âÂ
âThere was a place you didnât see on the tour I wanted to show you!â
âSounds great, what direction?â I reply, immediately feeling less tired.Â
âUh⊠this way,â Mash says, and begins walking the way I assume she must have come from.Â
We walk through the halls, none of which look any different from one another. Despite having been given a tour after Fuyuki, I still get lost at least once a day while looking for a specific room. Iâve got no idea how the rest of the staff seems to know where everything is⊠And from what Iâve heard, it seems like the Servants agree with me.Â
It would be easy to deal with if people tended to get lost in a predictable fashion, but if someone gets lost, it seems like youâre more likely to get lost yourself than to find whoever was originally lost. âUh⊠Where are we going Mash?â
âThere,â she says, pointing to a large set of double doors at the end of the hallway. The walls right in front of them arenât like the rest of Chaldea - instead of the pristine white walls, theyâre hewn from rock, as though the passage was carved out of the mountain Chaldea sits on⊠It probably was.Â
Mash pulls open the doors, revealing a huge cavern with stone walls, illuminated by balls of light floating near the ceiling. On the other side of the room, part of the cavern has been further sculpted to form a sort of stage. Itâs mostly empty, with the exception of some folding chairs in the corner, a cart with a projector on it, and what appears to be a drag-down projection screen attached to the top of the stage area. There are several other doors around the edges of the circular room⊠They probably lead to all the empty housing quarters or the labs or something.
âThis was Chaldeaâs assembly room before⊠Before Fuyuki. There isnât really much use for it anymore, so I was thinking we could turn it into some sort of common area, since Chaldea doesnât have one at the moment.âÂ
âThatâs the best idea Iâve heard all weekâŠâ I say quietly, gazing around at the lights, and the sheer size of the place. âWhat did you have in mind?â
âOh, uh, well, I was thinking that maybe we could carry some couches in from some of the staff lounges that arenât being used at the moment, and look through the storage closets for blankets and such, and see if we could find anything else after that.â
I start bouncing on the balls of my feet. This is just what I needed.Â
âAll right then, letâs get to it!â I say cheerily. âItâs make-a-big-cave-a-hangout-space-time!âÂ
As weâre walking over to the first lounge area, I start sorting through all of the ideas suddenly flooding my brain.Â
âWe donât have like⊠A board game closet or something, do we?â
â...Board games?â
âMash, donât tell me youâve never played a board game.âÂ
âIâm sorry to say I havenât, Senpai,â she responds.Â
âOkay then, weâre fixing that, one way or another. If I have to storm into Da Vinciâs workshop and demand Monopoly or Sorry or whatever, so be it.âÂ
â...What?â Mash asks, clearly a little lost.Â
âDonât worry about it for now, itâll all make sense once I take care of it. And itâll be fun! Probably. It could also be frustrating. But itâs both! I should see if thereâs a way to get video games⊠Does the internet even still work?âÂ
âIn here, Senpai,â Mash calls, opening a door into a small lounge area. For the most part, itâs just as bare as the other rooms in Chaldea, but along one room is a single couch, big enough for maybe 4 people at most, with teal cushions. âWeâre going to have to carry it, is that okay?âÂ
âActually⊠That might be a bit of a problem,â I reply.Â
âWhy?â âI⊠How do I explain this? Iâm weak, physically. And not just, like, compared to a Servant. By human standards, I am not the person you call when you need help with hard labor. I can try, I guess, but I doubt I could lift something half as heavy as thisâŠâÂ
âAll we can do is try,â Mash says with a smile. âMy strength as a demi-servant can hopefully allow you to carry one end.â
âHopefully,â I reply. âShould I walk backwards when weâre carrying it? Iâd feel more confident with you navigating.âÂ
âSure thing, Senpai!âÂ
Picking up the couch isnât easy, thatâs for sure. In the beginning, Mash is able to pick her end up off the ground quite a bit, while I can barely lift mine more than an inch. After lots of scrambling and trying to use my legs and back to lift it more, I eventually get it such that Iâm more holding the couch than lifting it, which is still difficult, but at least itâs off the ground now.Â
I walk backwards out of the room, letting Mash direct me instead of constantly glancing over my shoulder. After just 2 corners, we have to stop to put the couch down. My arms feel like theyâre on fire, and my legs are already starting to get sore. My back isnât exactly happy with having to stay arched while carrying it either⊠This would be so much easier if we had a third person or something.
âHow many of these were you planning on moving?â
âWell, I was thinking we could start with 5, and move more if things start getting crowded?â
âI donât think I can move that manyâŠâÂ
âDo I even want to know why thereâs a couch in the middle of the hallway?â
I look up to find that, somehow, despite the sheer size of Chaldea, Caster has stumbled into the same hallway as us.Â
âIâm saved!â I yell, jumping up off the couch. âWell, maybe,â I add, sitting back down as calmly as I can. âI canât carry this anymore, please bail me out, Caster.âÂ
âWhere are you even taking this?â
âThereâs uh, this cave, at the back of Chaldea. We were gonna move couches and stuff there so it could be⊠A common room or something? I dunno,â I explain through a yawn.Â
âEh, I can get behind that,â he responds.Â
âSenpai, do you think you can navigate for us, then?â Mash asks.
âUh⊠sure. Yup. Definitely.â How the hell am I supposed to find it when everywhere in Chaldea looks the same?
Surprisingly, after getting us severely off track and running into the windows, I manage to get us back to the assembly room, where we set the couch down roughly in the middle of everything.Â
âGreat, now we just need 4 more of those,â I say. âRoughly. And then itâs time to figure out what else weâre stuffing in here. But⊠Thereâs gotta be a faster way to do thisâŠâÂ
âWe have all day, Senpai,â Mash reminds me.Â
âNot if weâre playing Uno later, we donât. I know what we need to do.âÂ
And that was how I found myself storming into the command room and demanding the right to use the intercom.Â
âEva, youâre not supposed to be in here,â Roman reminds me.Â
âI know, I know, Iâll only be a second.â I grab the microphone and start fidgeting with the controls, trying to figure out how it works.Â
âJust let her,â Da Vinci says. I can practically hear her grinning.Â
âWhy should I? The last time we let her back in here, she didnât leave for 6 hours and no one else was working because she was doing the work of practically the entire command room.â
âI know that glint in her eyes. Sheâs got an idea~â
At that moment precisely, I can hear the air fill with a slight static. The intercom is on. I let out a cheer, and the entire room jumps from how it echoes throughout the building. Perfect.
âSo uh, I didnât really have a planned message for this, but I figure that everyone should know⊠Thereâs this big assembly room in the back of the building that we donât really have use for anymore, so weâre turning it into a common room for people to hang out in. But itâs gonna take forever if almost no one is working on it. So, now everyone knows⊠And uh⊠Yeah. Just find me or the room or something and we can let you know what we need help with, and if weâre lucky we can finish before tonight and play Uno! Thanks everyone!â I flip the switch Iâd hit a few seconds before, turning the intercom off again.Â
âThat was all I needed!â I say, running out of the command room, just as promised. âAnd Da Vinci! I left a list of games on your desk that I donât think Chaldea has lying around! I hope you donât mind making them if you have time!âÂ
 âNo problem~!â She yells back.Â
I get lost at least 4 times over on the way back to the new common room - if only Iâd run into the windows at the edge of the building again, it would have been so much easier. Why canât there be landmarks to make navigation easier? Maybe thatâs the next big project. Put decorations in the hallways to make them distinguished from one another.Â
I stash that idea in the back of my mind to write down and bring up later.Â
But by the time I do find the room again, surprisingly, the other couches have already been moved in, along with a few armchairs. Mash is stashing blankets in some storage containers along the wall, Caster and Saber are carrying huge stacks of pillows to set down on the newly placed furniture, and Rider is directing Emiya and a staff member in carrying an empty bookcase across the room.Â
â...What did I miss?â I ask. âHow long was I lost?âÂ
âOnly around 20 minutes, Senpai,â Mash says, walking over to me. âThings sped up a lot after you asked for help.âÂ
âYeah, I guess they did⊠Did I mention, by the way, that this was a really good idea and Iâm probably going to be forever grateful that we did this?â
âNo, I donât think you did, Senpai. But Iâm glad you think that.âÂ
âIt just kinda⊠Already feels more like home.âÂ
Oop- Tags.
@contractgreenâ @panyumâ @withaninaâ @campanulabellâ @delfinaschifferâ @princessaslanâ @armageddon25â @patproductionsâ @xviicprcâ @eldritch-flowers @rankeluck @areeta9 @bitter--edge @uncommoncritter @blackcherrybombbomb
#fgo#f/go#fate go#fate/go#fate grand order#fate/grand order#oc#fgo oc#mastersona#gudasona#Eva#mashu kyrielite#my writing#interim fic#short fic#fic section#slice of life stuff#no this does not mean she will make a habit of asking for help#sadly#it's a process#she'll ask for help more often eventually#also yes everyone will be hanging out in a cave from now on#the cave will progressively get upgraded#also there'll eventually be more hangout spaces#but the cave will stay#just wait till we introduce the bulletin boards in the cave lol#then things will really get good
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Canât Swim - EP . 8
Canât Swim 8
word count: 3.2k+
a/n: you might be questioning where I have been for the past couple of months. I have one word to say that should be a good enough answer. College. Iâve been studying none stop and found no time to write the next episode after university started. The posts will no longer be regular so just keep yourselves updated. Hopefully I will have another 2 episodes up between now and the end of the year at least but donât quote me on that. I hope you enjoy!Â
Iâm deeply sorry for my absence again x
warnings: nothing
EP . 1 , EP . 2 , EP . 3 , EP . 4 , EP . 5 , EP . 6 , EP . 7Â , EP . 8Â , EP . 9
THIRD PERSON POV
The afternoon continued with Y/N and Jinyoung discussing life and getting to know one another whilst Y/N replied to her emails.
âItâs mind b-boggling how you and J-Jackson may have crossed paths back in 2012âŠâ Y/N had just mentioned how she was training for the London 2012 Olympics to compete for swimming.
âSimilar to Jackson, I switched career paths and decided to study architecture. Dad wasnât the biggest fan until he saw the passion and success I had gained in the industry. He soon came to terms with everything.â
âWow⊠do you r-regret it at all?â The clock marked 10:30 pm. You guys had been talking for the past 90 mins, getting to know each other.
âI think I regretted not swimming after deciding to study architecture. I didnât choose to not compete in the Olympics because I no longer liked swimming so I do regret not continuing although I must say, studying architecture might be the most time consuming degree out there. Thatâs why later on I decided to apply to become a licensed swimming teacher to undergo lessons. Iâd be teaching people how to swim whilst fulfilling my love for swimming.â
âBest of both w-worlds, r-right?â
âExactly.â Y/N had now placed all her work to aside with her back against the wall, legs crossed enveloped into the conversation.
Some seconds went by and Y/N wanted to know about Jinyoungâs initial dreams.
âWhat about you? Did you always want to be a singer?â
âAlways. I took up d-dance lessons when I was around 15. Then went to a-audition and got in to JYPE. That was when I met J-Jaebeom. We actually d-debuted together as a d-duo group called JJProject to later on d-debut with the r-rest of the g-guys as GOT7. Since t-then theyâve been my f-family rather than just my m-members. I think itâs g-getting to the p-point where I might have spent m-more years of my l-life with them then I did without. Time fliesâŠâ
âI could definitely sense the brotherly love you guys all have for each other. So how did becoming an actor happen?â
âI r-requested from the c-company to find roles I could take part in a couple years b-back. First it was small roles in small d-dramas and then being c-casted by more known d-directors to p-play bigger roles. All of that has l-led me to play s-second male lead for âWhen My Love Bloomsâ.â
âWhen do the episodes start airing?â Y/N had grown eager about Jinyoungâs talents.
âHold your h-horses⊠we havenât e-even started f-filming yet and wonât be until I r-recover⊠The original airing d-dates will probably be p-pushed f-further.â Jinyoungâs words drifted into a sudden realisation for his career.
âIf only-â Y/N was about to blame herself again.
âWeâve been through this m-multiple times Y/N. None of this is your f-fault so s-stop blaming yourself for t-things you have no c-control over.â
Y/N had her mouth open ready to retaliate but if she had to be honest⊠she couldnât be bothered to fight back considering it was now coming up to 11:00 pm.
âFine.â Y/N yawned and covered her mouth. Work had been extremely busy today especially with all the news floating around now.
âS-someoneâs tired.â Jinyoung eyed Y/Nâs tired state and decided to call it a night.
âI still have so much to do. I canât fall asleep now.â
âC-could you n-not spare an e-early n-night just for t-today?â Y/N recollected her thoughts weighing up if she could possibly sleep early tonight and get all the work done tomorrow.
âI couldâŠâ
âProblem s-solved then. Clear up your b-bed and get your pjs on. I d-donât want to f-face a t-tired Y/N tomorrow m-morning.â Y/N eyed your mean comment and huffed to your orders.
âYes, sir.â
2 WEEKS LATER
Y/Nâs POV
âMiss, Jinyoung has been recovering quicker than expected. He should be perfectly fine to attend the event. If anything unsettling happens you can give me a direct phone call.â
âThank you so much Doc.â You gave the doctor a large smile and she reciprocated a reassuring smile.
You entered Jinyoungâs room with your outfit for the architecture awards festival along with you.
âAm I allowed to come?â Jinyoung asked as soon as you entered the room. You gave him a nod.
Jinyoungâs voice was more or less back to 100% and his eye had completed healed by the end of last week. There wasnât much left until being fully recovered. Possibly parting from the hospital quicker than the original 2 months the doctor had estimated.
âI knew Iâd get the green light. I even prepared my outfit because I was so sure Iâd be able to come.â You hadnât seen someone so ecstatic for an awards festival.
âAs expected⊠Iâm not even surprised. Will you be able to get dressed? Need any of my help?â Jinyoung was still a little instable since heâs been lying in bed for the past 2 weeks. His legs tend to give out for the first 30 mins.
âI think I can manage. Iâll get dressed quickly and then the bathroom is all yours.â You chuckled at his assumption that youâll take really long in the bathroom for the event.
Jinyoung heads towards the bathroom and you are left there practising a speech youâve written for all the awards you and your company have been nominated. This isnât because you knew you were going to win any of them but⊠the unprofessional scenes if you guys were to win an award and to not have a speech ready daunted you. There was nothing wrong with being prepared.
15 MINUTES LATER
You must say⊠I donât think you had ever laid eyes on someone so handsome in your life before. You could swear that this man was carved by God himself.
âHow much deeper are you going to fall into my looks?â You hadnât realised but you had been staring Jinyoung up and down for the past 30 seconds of him leaving the bathroom. Hair all styled. The suit was literally made for him. His cute bow tie was a little wonky leading you to let out a chuckle.
âWhat?â Jinyoungâs face turned serious thinking something was wrong with how he looked.
âYour bowtie is wonky.â You stood up from your seat and reached out to fix his bowtie. Your eyes were fixated in straightening the bowtie and all Jinyoung could do was analyse your face and how focussed you were.
âThere you go. Looks better now.â You lightly let go off the tie and looked up at Jinyoung who was already staring right back at you. Those bambi eyes were going to be the death of you.
âThank you. Now go and get yourself ready.â He pinched your nose and then you entered the bathroom with your dress, makeup bag and accessories.
20 MINUTES LATER
âJinyoung~~â You called out for Jinyoung. You were done with everything but couldnât reach the zipper on the back of your dress. You had been procrastinating on what to do and just gave up. Thereâs no way you could zip the dress up alone.
âYes, Y/N. Is everything alright?â You could hear his footsteps come closer to the bathroom door.
âIn a bit of sticky situation⊠could I ask you to do a favour?â
âSure, what is it?â You went ahead and unlocked the door for him. He took a step back and couldnât contain the sight in front of him. You were in a red bandeau strapless dress which had a structured skirt that was shorter at the front and longer at the back with. A very slight trail. Unsurprisingly your makeup was the bare minimum and you had left your natural hair out. His mouth was agape as you stepped out of the bathroom.
âHow much longer are you going to stare for Mr Park?â He had been in the same awe you was when he had stepped out of the bathroom earlier on.
âYesâŠright⊠the favour?â His soul re-entered his body trying to compose himself. You could only smile on the effect you had on the prince himself.
âI canât reach my zipper, could you zip up the back of my dress for me?â You saw his cheeks blush a light pink below the thin layer of bb cream he had on. Without the zip done neither of you were going anywhere so he had to do it.
He wasnât able to give a verbal response and just nodded. You turned around to have your back facing Jinyoung. He moved your hair to aside exposing half of your back to him. He was blushing so hard right now and was happy to have you facing away from him even though in a matter of seconds youâd be facing him seeing the shades of red planted on his cheeks. Jinyoung gently placed one hand on the zipper and the other hand on your back holding the fabric of your dress still. His fingers grazed your skin and they were a little cold leading you to jolt a little by the surprising cool touch. He notices.
âDid I hurt you?â His voice was a little worried. The slightest worrying reaction you make, and heâs so concerned. Heâs too sweet.
âNope, your hands are just a little cold thatâs all.â You say whilst you chuckle.
He apologises with his soothing voice and zips up the dress, letting out a quiet done when finished.
You turn back round and thank him for his kind gesture. You also noticed the flush of his cheeks. Heâs so cute, you thought. You quickly put your heels on and left Jinyoungâs patient room and entered the hall of the hospital. Expectedly, you guys received some stares and some whistles by the old women sitting outside their patient rooms. The event manager had organised a limousine to pick up each nominee for the awards hence why there was a lovely jet black limousine parked at the entrance of the hospital. The driver spotted you two and guided you the way and kept the door open for you two to enter the fancy vehicle. He ran back to the wheel and started driving towards the venue.
âAnything I need to know beforehand? Who should I present myself as?â Jinyoung had started with the questions during the car drive.
âWhoâd you like to present yourself as Jinyoung?â You wanted to fish out his intentions from him.
âPreferably your boyfriend in order to stop those punks from hitting on you but Iâd never want to force you into a relationship with meâŠâ He side eyed you as he kept looking out the window. You so wanted him to be your boyfriend.
âLogical. Agreed. If anyone asks, youâre my boyfriend.â
âWhat an honour.â You slap his thigh due to his sarcastic tone.
âWhatttt? Iâm serious. Iâm going to be the boyfriend of an amazingly talented architect whoâs bound to receive an award tonight. Itâs a genuine privilege.â You could only look at him in awe as he described the so called âprivilegeâ he was taking part of.
âIf you say soâŠâ
The humming noise from the motor of the limousine was really calming but Jinyoung broke the silence once again.
âAre you nervous?â His tone was much deeper and serious compared to how he was a second ago.
âA little. These awards happen once a year and weâve progressed so much as a company but so has everyone else in the industry. Itâs hard to tell if weâll be receiving the major validation from the institute. With or without the award tonight Iâm so pleased with my company, but it would be nice to get a recognisable achievement for all our hard work.â Jinyoung listened to you as you let out your insecurities for the upcoming night.
âIn the little amount of time Iâve met you, I think youâre the only person who deserves all the awards youâve been nominated for this year. No one can change my thoughts and itâs going to be a pleasure to witness your achievement first hand. I canât wait.â He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles trying to calm your nerves down. It was going to be a long night.
30 MINUTES LATER
Your limousine had rocked up to the red carpet laid out on the floor outside of the venue of the awards. You took a deep breath as the driver ran around to Jinyoungâs side of the limousine to let him out. Jinyoung agreed to open your door for you so he exited the vehicle first. Like he had planned, he went around to your side and opened the door for you to step out. The cameras started capturing every single moment as you wrapped your arm around Jinyoungs, and he gave you a reassuring nod. You gave him a smile and the two of you walked towards the entrance of the building slowly as you waved to the cameras and press greeting the two of you. The cameras were close to blinding, but you pulled through until reaching the entrance where the bodyguard escorted the two of you to your spaces in the main hall.
The building was full of white and gold decorations. You could definitely tell that the theme was highly influenced by Greek culture. The budget of the awards keep growing as the number of sponsors increase. The bodyguard escorted you to the table that Beck was already sat at with his fiancĂ©. Beck realised your presence as well as Jinyoung. He stood up to give you a hug and shook Jinyoungâs hand. Beckâs fiancĂ© shook both of your hands too and took your seats.
âThe famous Mr Park. Itâs nice to meet you in person. Iâm Beck, the other shareholder.â Beck gave Jinyoung a warm smile.
âItâs nice to meet you to Beck. It seems like you already know of my name, but Iâll reiterate for the norm. My name is Park Jinyoung, you can call me just Jinyoung.â You let out a scoff because of how formal Jinyoung was being with Beck.
âHeâs younger than you so you can ignore the formalities.â You said to Jinyoung and then Beck and him opened the conversation about age and their Chinese zodiac signs.
The evening began at 7:30 pm with the award winners due to be announced at 9:00 pm. Until then there was butterflies in your stomach ready to be set free any minute now.
Jinyoung came closer to your ear and whispered, âLoosen up a little. Thereâs no need to be this tense. Here hold my hand.â
Jinyoung offered his hand and you took it immediately as he gestured his open palm. Your hands were tiny compared to his manly hands. They encompassed all your digits giving youâre a sigh of relief because of the security they exerted. You let out a large sigh and continued with the discussions on your table with the new clients that were interested in your company. Having Jinyoung at the event really helped scare away the useless men who would only be interested in your physique and nothing more. His presence filtered out all the nonsense that would usually be taking place at the table.
The clock finally struck 9:00 pm and everyone went back to their designated seats in order for the awards to be presented. The event holder went through all the minor rookie awards to then move onto the company categories.
âHere are the nominees for Best Project of the Year.â The event holder signalled to the larger screen behind him as the nominees including your company are mentioned in no specific order.
âI was personally really fond of this project myself too. The meaning behind the design and the immense detail put into the façade really makes me excited for the future of this company. Iâll stop blabbing on and open the envelope.â You looked at Beck and then back at Jinyoung who was really eager to know the result.
âThe award for Best Project of the Year goes toâŠâ The event holder lifts the flap of the envelope and takes out the white sheet of paper inside. You hold your breath waiting for the result to be spoken.
âThe Chamberlain project, designed and constructed by Chevrel Architects.â The whole community around your table started roaring and cheering for you and Beck to claim the award. That was one award written down in the books for Chevrel Architects, a company you and Beck had started years back. You and Beck had decided that if this award was given to you guys then heâd give the speech for it. Beck was the reason for the Chamberlain project happening and hands down you could state it was because of him the project turned out well. You, Jinyoung and everyone else in the hall stood up clapping as Beck walked up to the stage and shook hands with the event holder along with receiving the award. He then walked up to the mic and started his speech.
âIâd like to first start off with a large thank you to everyone at Chevrel Architects. The amount of hard work that was put into the Chamberlain project is indescribable, without everyoneâs help it wouldnât have been possible to achieve such a great outcome. Iâd like to also thank Y/N for coming on this journey with me and trusting in me when I said that this company will create its own legacy. This is only the beginningâŠâ Beck continued to thank more or less everyone he knew and came to an end with another roaring applause by everyone.
He jogged back to your table and you admired the award he placed on the table. You felt Jinyoung squeeze your hand in encouragement for you to realise how much you guys are capable of although he still knew you were a little iffy because the individual architect awards hadnât been announced yet. You couldnât help but smile at the gleaming object right before your eyes. Having received this award you doubted that another award would be given to someone of the same company.
Minutes went by and the event holder had reached the most awaited award of the night. Architect of the Year. You were surprised that you hadnât left to use the restroom to throw up all this anxiety already. You were so ready to go home and relax. You wanted your normal heart rate back. You looked at Jinyoung and he gave you a look that melted your heart in seconds. He started massaging your knuckles with his thumb again and you could feel your body ease into his touch. The event holder for the last time of the night directs our attention to the screen for the listing of the nominees. Beck unfortunately wasnât nominated so he was rooting for you to win the award.
âI know for many of you this is probably the most important part of the night. Iâd like to first mention that to be able to be nominated for this award is ana achievement in itself so, you architects should all be proud of yourselves. It was a very hard decision that the committee made but we were able to make a decision. The award for Architect of the Year goes toâŠâ
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I think it was mean of me to have ended this episode here, but it is 2:30 am right now as I write this episode. I hope you guys liked this episode. I shall be back somewhat soon so make sure to come back to check if an episode has been uploaded. Like always let me know your opinions on the story line and check out the other episodes if you havenât. It would be nice to get some feedback :)
See you next time
writer-nim x
#got7#igot7#ahgase#got7imagines#got7drabbles#got7smut#got7au#got7fluff#got7ff#got7fanfic#got7faketexts#got7fakechats#park jinyoung#mark tuan#im jaebeom#Jackson wang#choi youngjae#bambam#kim yugyeom#park jinyoung imagines#mark tuan imagines#im jaebeom imagines#Jackson wang imagines#choi youngjae imagines#bambam imagines#kim yugyeom imagines#kpop imagines#Kpop scenarios#kpop#got7 fanart
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Book Notes:
This one is one of the better quit lit books Iâve read - Belle writes with blunt honesty, and I love the way she envisions the alcoholic voice in her head as a big bad wolf rather than a wine witch. Â
Below are the parts that were most helpful for me...Â
I thought, I canât start drinking now, there isnât enough. Not enough for what? To fade out. To be numb. Because despite what I may have said, I never wanted one glass of wine with dinner. I wanted three glasses. Whatâs the point in one glass? And despite what I may have said, I never drank because I liked the taste. [...] I drank to get fuzzy. I wanted to be slightly numb, to take the edge off. I spent a lot of time taking the edge off and then trying to maintain the edge taken off, but I usually ran into problems of sobering up too quickly, or drinking too much. There was no magic formula for edge-off-ness. I tried to find it. I tried having beer before wine, I tried eating first, I tried drinking on an empty stomach. There may have been a four-minute window of edge-off-ness and then I spent the rest of the night trying to find the four-minute window again.
I never want to do this again. I never want to wake up in the middle of the night both wishing I was dead and hoping Iâm not dying. Let me not vomit, please, and I promise I will cut back on the drinking. I never want to feel this bad, feel so hopeless, alone, scared, dark. I am definitely drinking too much. I should face that. I should stop drinking for a week, take a break. Iâll start tomorrow. After the work party. After vacation. Next week. After the birthday. The first of the month. On a Monday. I promise.Â
I had tried to stop drinking plenty of times on my own, but never managed to quit for more than a couple of days. Usually Iâd declare my sobriety in the morning and then open a bottle of wine by 6 p.m. that same night. Then Iâd quit again the next morning. No wine for one day. For two days. Then the voice would start. Is it time yet? You can drink now. Celebrate sobriety with a glass or two. Youâve done well. You are going to break this non-drinking stretch anyway, so you might as well drink now. Drink tonight and quit later. What about now. Is it time to drink yet? Fuck it, Iâm going to drink, this is ridiculous. Iâve already quit for a week. Letâs celebrate sobriety with some alcohol.
If alcohol was in the house, it spoke to me, then I drank it. Even if I didnât really enjoy it. I was drinking because it was the thing I did. No enjoyment. No taste. No feeling except for exhaustion. Like a hammer banging on my head. Did you ever try buying a case of wine, thinking that if it was around all the time youâd feel less compulsive about it, and drink less? Ha. Really. Who was I kidding? With a case of wine in the house, I drank more. Of course I did. We never had a wine collection or a wine rack or a wine cellar or a liquor cabinet either. Alcohol didnât last long enough to be collected or displayed or shared.]
I had lots of drinking rules and guidelines for myself, and over time, bit by bit, I broke all of my rules. Iâm only going to drink on special occasions or when socializing. Only on weekends.â But of course, you and I both know that only drinking on weekends is tricky. Because what about Sunday night? Is Sunday part of the weekend? What about Thursday? Maybe the weekend is four days long. Maybe it is, in fact, most of the week. Controlled drinking is not very successfulâyou know this already because youâve tried it. If we have to control our drinking, it means that our natural, default tendency is to have one, and then another, and then another. Any plan we make is very difficult, if not impossible, to adhere to. You tried moderation. You did. You maybe didnât call it moderation. You tried making rules for yourself. When you realized that you were drinking more than you wanted to, before you ever saw this book, you did things like alternating every second glass with water, or switching from hard stuff to beer, or trying to skip days. You tried to drink only on weekends, or only have one, or only . . . or only . . . or only.
Normal drinkers measure their alcohol consumption like I measure my corn on the cob consumptionâwhich is to say, not at all. Just like I have days without corn, normal drinkers have plenty of days without alcohol but theyâre not keeping track. I donât pay attention to whether you are getting more corn than me, and a normal drinker fills up glasses around her without worrying about whoâs getting how much. And yes, itâs true that corn on the cob is my favourite of all summer things to eat, but I have never planned days around when I can eat it. I have never gone out at 11 p.m. to get more corn. Iâve never worried about running out of corn.
A âbottomâ in the sober world describes the point where you quit drinking. If you have a âhigh bottomâ then you quit when your problems were smaller. Poor concentration, missed deadlines, an inability to take advantage of new opportunities, procrastination, crappy sleep, many days of feeling ill. A âlow bottomâ is where the micro problems have grown into larger holes, and might include health, relationship, money, or legal issues. My high bottom looks like this: drink with dinner, and after, plan to drink less, continue to drink the same amount, try to quit for a month and manage nine days, start again, not keep my promises to myself. Wonder what the hell is wrong with me. Suffer with crappy sleep, extra pounds, wasted money.
If alcohol is an elevator that only goes down, the goal is to step off, not to ride down any more. Stop drinking now. Start feeling better now. I stepped off early. But Iâm not naive. I know where that elevator was going. If I stopped âbefore there was a problemâ then I was fucking lucky, plain and simple. Because even stopping where I did, it was hard to do. Really hard.
The âDrink Nowâ voice, which I call Wolfie, will say anything to get us to drink. Nothing is off-limits. Wolfie hits below the belt. Wolfie talks smack. Wolfie with a megaphone said to me: Youâve had a long, crazy day. Have a drink. Youâll just have one. It will take the edge off. You have blown this whole thing out of proportion. You need to cut back, not quit. A hundred fucking days? Youâll never make it anyway.Â
I knew I had a very loud Wolfie âDrink Nowâ voice in my head that insisted that a glass of wine with dinner was normal. I also knew that there was another very quiet, very tiny mouse-like voice, that said: You have to stop. You know what this internal conflict is like.Â
I felt moderately stable until something happened, like if I got frustrated, or mad, or sad, or bored, or if something good happened and I had to celebrate. I had completely maladaptive coping strategies. I didnât have the skills to try anything else to feel better becauseâduhâIâd been using wine as my only coping mechanism. Iâd overused wine as a feel-better tool for so long that I literally couldnât remember one single thing I could do instead to ease my mood.
Booze isnât a solution to a problem. Itâs a very temporary pause button (manhole cover) with horrendous consequences. Itâd be like turning to heroin. It isnât the right solution for the problem. It gets between me and my life, between me and you, between me and serving, between me and fun. It affects my weight, my sleep, my enthusiasm. It blunts, fills, numbs, fills time, expands into the space allowed. Adds nothing, feels bad, sad, argumentative, irritated. Isnât the real me. My life has so much MORE good stuff in it when the wine is gone. Thereâs nothing to escape from, it isnât bad here, thereâs joy and beauty and ease here. Donât need to âgoâ anywhere else.Â
The voice that is YOU, when youâre 50 days sober, says âI know sometimes I feel like drinking but Iâm not going to because I donât want to have a new Day 1. Iâve done enough drinking in my past. I know that Day 1 is rotten.â The voice that is YOU says: âI want something different and better and I donât know what that is yet, but I know I want to try this sober thing.â We end up in a place where even if bad shit happens, we do NOT think about drinking.
Picture booze like a Big Wolf With Black Eyes, he represents the voice in your head. Now you have to very calmly starve the wolf. Or better yet, you have to dehydrate him by not giving him anything to drink. At first heâll be mad at you. âWhereâs my drink?â Youâll say: I have all this free time now. I canât talk to you, Wolfie. Iâm running, baking, singing, reading, cleaning, spending time with my kids. Iâm paying my taxes, cleaning off my desk, enjoying the weather. The wolf will taunt you. âEveryone else is drinking, why canât you?â Youâll say: Sorry, Wolfie, canât hear you. Iâm too busy cranking up the volume on my new iPad that I bought with all the money Iâve saved.â The wolf will nearly be dehydrated. Heâll try a few more last-chance, desperate attempts. âYouâre broken,â heâll snarl. âYou bitch, you canât be fixed, youâll always be a fuck-up, you suck at this, you might as well quit now.â And youâll say: You want to fight? Iâll win. Iâve got so much more energy now that Iâm sleeping through the night. I can outrun you Wolfie. Iâm light on my feet now. Iâve got so much more spunk, clearer thinking. Iâm planning to take over the world, Wolfie, me and my clear-headed genius. What is that? Sorry I canât quite hear you. Your voice is so quiet, Wolfie. Are you nearly dehydrated? Youâre going to dry up and turn to dust. Puts palm of hand up to lips and blows across the surface. Dust disperses, Wolfie is specks of grey in the air. And then gone.
Being sober is a relief. Quitting drinking is like putting down a backpack of rocks that youâve been carrying around for a long time. Itâs like a deep breath that fills your lungs. Being sober is feeling proud of yourself. Being sober is easier than drinking. Too much of our brain space is used trying to manage alcohol consumption. The âDrink Nowâ voice is exhausting. All of that time we spend planning to drinkâthinking about drinking, wondering how much alcohol there is, trying to figure out how weâre going to get out of that work obligation because weâre hungoverâall of that can stop. You have been drowning out who you really are. Literally. Banging yourself on the head with a bottle or two of wine. Thatâs not you. The real you is in there. Drinking is a way of hiding from who you really are. I can honestly say that being a non-drinker is unicorns and parades compared to drinking.
There is a point in each day when you will most feel like drinking. I call this the witching hours. Typically itâs around dinner time; for me it was 6:00 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. If you were to plot the duration of the witching hours on a graph, the period of time gets predictably shorter and less intense each day. Having a replacement drink is a good idea. Your brain is used to having something to drink at this time of day, so you can plan a lovely replacement drink. I have found that bitter drinks deal with cravings better than sweet drinks.
We are so used to using alcohol as our only treat, that we need to learn new treats. You can have bubble bath, trashy magazines, flowers, oven mitts, bad TV from Netflix, time alone, cheap earrings, or savoury pancakes. Perhaps youâll plan to have steak every Friday for the first six weeks. And if you donât eat steak, then substitute salmon or sushi or marinated tofu in that category. You spent money drinking, so you can invest some of those Wolfie dollars to support your sobriety. Here are some examples of things Iâve treated myself to: fuzzy blankets, silver jewelry, deluxe candles, essential oils, chocolate croissants, lovely beads, thrift shopping, craft supplies, gourmet ground coffee, a gorgeous teacup, a bouquet of flowers, a potted basil plant. The largest was a countertop dishwasher. The trick is to either find something that you want but donât need, or to splurge on a more deluxe version of something you were going to buy anyway. Like shampoo or lipstick. I have always struggled with confidence and my inner critic is a real bitch. The concept of self-care is relatively new to me and these gifts remind me to treat myself kindly.
One of the reasons we drink is in search of an âoffâ switch: to quiet our brains, to escape responsibilities, to have âmeâ time. If there are coping strategies that are adaptive (make things better) versus maladaptive (make things worse), then drinking is maladaptive. While it may be an off-switch, it creates many other problems at the same time.Â
We are not taught, explicitly, how to deal with uncomfortable feelings, or how to self-soothe. So we reach for available tools, however malformed. Did your parents ever sit you down and have a conversation with you about what you can do if you feel overwhelmed, exhausted, irritated, freaked out, lonely, or depressed? Did they give you strategies and tools to help you with Changing the Channel in Your Head? No. Mine neither. Did they model for you how they dealt with disappointment, their feelings of not fitting in, or how they coped with the occasional overwhelming sense of dread? If they did model for you, was it with something other than cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, or a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken? Did your parents have âself-careâ time where they made it clear that they needed to recharge batteries, to unwind. Did they lock themselves in the tub with big mounds of lavender bubble bath and candles? Did your father go for a run when he was feeling stressed, or to delineate the mark between âworkâ and âhomeâ and did he tell you he was doing this, explicitly, so that you could learn to do the same? No?Â
in your first months sober, you will get a crash course in adaptive self-care strategies, whether you want it or not. One of the most important things you will do is learn to strategically avoid âoverwhelmââI use this word as a noun, itâs a thing on the horizon, like fog. Your life is like a video game. You can see potential bombs, things advancing, that could blow up and throw you off course. Your job is to navigate them. You donât walk right into a bomb and hope for the best. You donât test yourself by repeatedly doing difficult or stressful things. Instead, you ask someone to carpool, you decline social activities, and you simplify meals. Your job is to reduce overwhelm. All around you, there are lists of things to do and when you first quit drinking you are going to take it easy. When you first quit drinking, you are going to remember that being overwhelmed is our number one trigger. You will instead do less. Learn to be slothful. Embrace the art of underachieving.
Here are my top three tools for overwhelm: exercise, tub, and bed. I probably use exercise four times a week, specifically to help with my mood. Iâm in the tub anytime Iâm feeling antsy, or as my reward at the end of a day of catering. And as far as sleep is concerned, I have been known to go to bed at 7:30 p.m. in early sobriety, because I had no other way of dealing with life. I knew I didnât want to drink, and I had no idea what else to do except âhideâ.
When we are drinking, we use alcohol to fix everythingâor so we thinkâand we donât develop any other self-soothing, comforting, or change-the-channel tools. Turns outâwho knewâthere are at least 578 other ways to shift how you feel. There are things youâve done before, perhaps by accident, things that once you remember them, and try them, you think âOK, good, I feel better.â Like when you change the sheets on the bed you feel better. And when you have a nap you feel better. And when you snuggle on the couch with a fluffy blanket and braid your catsâ tails together you feel better. Especially if you add hot chocolate. A change of location works. If youâre at home, go out. If youâre out, go home :) If youâre alone, get with some people. If youâre overwhelmed in a group, hide in the bathroom and read sober blogs on your phone. Yes, really.
I made a list of the ways to change my state. It had 30+ things on it. They included: listen to loud music, play guitar, sing, talk on the phone, write a letter longhand, take a bath with candles, light candles anywhere in the house, clean my desk, clean anything, go for a run, make tea, plan meals, test a recipe, read a magazine, brainstorm with clients, design a new logo, read light fiction, read self-help, make a puzzle, go for a walk, take pictures, go swimming, watch a good movie, go to a concert, go to see a movie at the theatre with popcorn, listen to podcasts, do volunteer work, find an audience and do some kind of public speaking, write in my journal, play cards, explore a new part of the city, go to the art gallery, the museum, write a restaurant review.
If youâre an introvert, or if youâre a non-joiner like I am, then asking for any kind of support or encouragement seems hard. But hereâs the truth. The simple act of reaching out might make you feel weak, but itâs actually a sign of strength.
When Wolfie says that being sober sucks and that itâs too much to give up, you can remind him that you are also giving up the following: âą Â feeling like death in the morning âą Â waking at 3 a.m. with guilt and dread and horror âą Â vomiting âą Â spending dumb money (like money spent in bars, expensive bottles of wine in restaurants, buying rounds for people, impulse shopping online) âą Â emailing and texting random people âą Â hooking up with random people âą Â falling down âą Â hiding bottles âą Â arguing with your partner âą Â alternating stores so they donât get to know you âą Â cringing when itâs time to take out the recycling.Â
And here are a few of the things that you can focus on instead, the things you GET by being sober: âą Â you sleep through the night âą Â your skin looks great âą Â your health improves âą Â your marriage improves âą Â your kids talk to you again âą Â your family will now take your calls after 6 p.m. âą Â you can drive the car in the evening âą Â you have the beginnings of a hobby âą Â you can read a book and remember it âą Â you can watch a movie and stay awake for it âą Â you can actually cook the food in your fridge instead of eating popcorn for dinner âą Â you lift your head, look around, and feel like things are âpossibleâ âą Â you feel proud of yourself.Â
Keep a short journal of your own, particularly for the first 60 days. By keeping a daily record you can see the grass grow. And you can more clearly identify that some periods of time are shitty but that they donât last, and theyâre followed swiftly by easier days. You can start your journal with this entry. Start with a list of 10 things: 1. The way I drink has affected my ___ 2. And my ___ 3. And my ___ 4. Itâs caused problems with ___ 5. And ___ 6. Itâs made me feel ___ especially when ___ 7. I nearly had a disaster when ___ 8. And this was just about a disaster too: ___ 9. Iâm tired of waking up feeling like ___ 10. People who will be relieved that I am sober:  ___
Itâs entirely possible to have sober fun, of course it is :) Those of us who are longer-term sober have plenty of fun. Thereâs nothing better than waking up without a hangover, without regret, without shame. Thereâs nothing better than being on a beach and being sober and watching a sunset. Thereâs nothing better than coming home at the end of a long night, or dancing until 4 a.m., knowing that you had a fabulous time, that you rocked it all without a drink. To think that you need alcohol to have fun is Wolfie talking. You were fun when you were 12 years old. Youâve had hilarious pee-your-pants laughing with your best friend and it didnât involve alcohol. Wolfie tells you that kind of shit to encourage you to drink, but itâs not true. Can you dance sober? Turns out you can. Who knew.
If you are in prelapse, then you will want to do things right away that might make you feel better. Even if you have to try things mechanically, one after the other. Youâll say âI got enough sleep that didnât work, had a nap that didnât work, went for a run that didnât work.â Then you go on to the next thing. You have a treat, that didnât work. You watch bad TV, that didnât work. You read blogs, write in your journal, comment on blogs, listen to audios, email somebody, reach out, go to a meeting, listen to something inspirationalâyou go through the toolkit. And hereâs something that will seem obvious when I say it: If the first tool doesnât work, it does not mean that the whole thing is hopeless. It means that you go on to the next tool.Â
You are more likely to be successful if you: âą Â Reach out for support. Itâs hard. Do it anyway. âą Â Sign up to have a sober penpal. Email your penpal every day. âą Â Share real stuff, donât exaggerate, and donât leave things out. Be truly honest with at least one person in your life about your booze stuff. âą Â Reach out instead of drink, cry instead of drink, walk instead, email me frustrated instead (the people who donât email are more likely to get alone in their head with Wolfie who will always say that drinking is a good idea). âą Â Remember that successful treaters do MUCH better. Itâs shocking how much better they do. Once you figure out the self-care treat thing, youâll find this whole sober experience to be much easier. If you resist treats, donât understand them, donât think they apply to you, then I worry about you (see below). âą Â Get enough support, load on a lot to begin and then ease off as time goes by and you feel stable. Be cautious. Donât fuck with sober momentum. âą Â Tell on Wolfieâshare when youâre having weird thoughts, externalize the voice, tell on your inner addict. âą Â Read stuff that supports you and turn away from what doesnât. You donât read about moderation, you donât read blogs that get under your skin, you turn away from people who repeatedly relapse if that makes you feel wobbly. âą Â Protect your sobriety, avoid situations and people that may trigger you. Your sobriety is a like a little chick that can easily get squished in traffic.
Write in a journal every day for your first 30 days sober, no matter what (can be private, or anonymous on a blog, doesnât matter).
Read sober blogs at least one hour a day, every day.
Rethink your evening routine
Have a bath/shower every evening, early, so that it sets the mood for the rest of the night.
Plan and purchase replacement drinks that you can have during the witching hours. Bitter is better.
Schedule something to coincide with Wolfie time
Get yourself daily treats for the first two weeks, and then something every two days thereafter.
Get as much sleep as humanly possible. Take naps. You will need a lot more sleep than you anticipate.
Go to bed every time you feel crappy, when you feel youâre about to drink, or when you are agitated and need a time-out. Bed is a good, safe place to hide.
Sober first. If you push yourself too hard, and load on too many goals at once, Wolfie comes in with âthis is all too hard.â
Pretend, for a while, that youâre sick, that you have the flu, that you need to take good care of youâvery, very good care.
Try to do some kind of physical exercise every day, even if itâs only for 10 minutes
Rent/stream new TV shows and movies as your sober treats, that you can watch only if sober.
Give up any ideas of a clean and tidy house for now.
Please know that crying is totally normal, required, and necessary.
Take pictures of things that youâre grateful for now that youâre sober. It can be simple things like a good cup of coffee, the view from the window, your girls playing dress-up. You can do a sober photo project.
Avoid overwhelm as much as possible. In fact, strive for âunderwhelmâ and engage in some truly slothful behaviours. Itâs OK to be in your jammies watching a show on your iPad. Youâre sober. Sometimes bed-snuggle time is required.
Pet your cat, dog, or horse. You know already that this makes you feel better.
Listen to sober audio and podcasts. Find specific topics or episodes that resonate with you. Listen to them on repeat.
Accept that sober motivation is like deodorant: it needs to be reapplied every day. Stop feeling like you should be able to do this if you âtry harderâ. You will need to âtry differentâ.
Ask for help.
Accept help.
Ask for and listen to advice from other successfully sober people.
See irritating people as people with struggles. We were irritating too. We were dealing with stuff that other people couldnât see. Drop your shoulders and see that woman as lonely, or hurt, or needy. Sheâs not trying intentionally to make you crazy.
Share the nonsensical things that Wolfie tells youâshare with another sober person who will truly âget itâ. Be shocked and then amused that we all hear virtually the same thing.
Find some small activities to do in the evenings to help occupy the empty time. It doesnât take long for regular life to flow back into the spaces that alcohol consumed, but to begin itâs helpful to have some projects. Decluttering is helpful. Itâs cleaning up, from the outside in.
Have something you can wear, some special piece of jewelry, that reminds you that youâre sober and that youâre special. Rub the jewelry. Bestow it with super powers.
Find ONE person that you can be 100% honest with about your drinking, about your thinking, your worries, your struggles, your excitement, and your joy. That might be a counsellor, sober mentor, a coach, sponsor, or a sober friend. You should have at least ONE person who truly gets what itâs like to be you.
Accept that the first time you do everything, itâs going to be a little weird.
When you are facing a shitty hard thing, or a weirdly tempting event (like a staff party), then plan a sober treat youâll have AFTER youâre home again, safe and sober. Donât skip this step. Wolfie likes to come in with âwhereâs my rewardâ after we do something hard. So you want to remember to have these treats pre-planned.
Be pretty darn proud of yourself.
You have to celebrate your successes. No one is coming in to do this for you. Itâs you. Itâs up to you.
Walk out of your office, cross the street, have a cry, get a take-out coffee and a pastry, call it a sober treat, email me that youâre doing OK, and then go back to work. Even if you remove yourself âbrieflyâ from whatever situation is making you feel crazy, you can give yourself some time to settle and feel better.
Find tools that work and keep using them. Donât drift from your sober supports. You know how people stop taking their blood pressure medication as soon as they feel better? Whatever youâre doing is working, so keep doing it.Â
Know that Wolfie wants to get us alone in our head, where he can say: âDrinking seems like a good idea. You can probably have one.â Resist this kind of wolfie-solo-nonsense-manipulation by reaching out, telling on your inner addict. Wolfie is a bully and hates it when we share.
What youâre doing is for YOU. Your partner is on their own road. You can do whatâs best for you.
#sober#alcohol#alcoholism#alcohol use disorder#recovery#healing#growth#self care#self improvement#motivation
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you and i were fireworks that went off too soon - chapter three
[ao3]
yes its me back AGAIN with another chapter imagine i took 5 years off writing fic altogether and now im churning out like 7k a day procrastination truly is the biggest motivator on the planet now i can cheat myself into feeling productive when really my dissertation is still...how u say...unwrittenÂ
The boiler is fixed a week later, and Luke returns home.Â
Despite the fact heâs always lived in this apartment alone, it feels oddly quiet without Calum shouting at him from the kitchen every five minutes and a dog pawing at his ankles for food every two hours. Luke, in all his twenty-six-year-old wisdom, decides that the obvious solution to this temporary loneliness, rather than waiting it out, is to get a dog himself.Â
âLook,â Calum coos, because Luke (in all his twenty-six-year-old wisdom), has decided to ask the biggest dog-lover on the planet to accompany him to the shelter to pick out one (one) dog. âThis oneâs so cute.â
âYouâve said that about the last seven,â Luke says. The shelter employee accompanying them laughs.
âThatâs because theyâre all cute,â Calum says, smiling big and soft at the little puppy sniffing at his finger excitedly. âYou should get them all.â Luke rolls his eyes.Â
âThatâs a great idea,â he deadpans, knowing Calumâs barely listening to him anyway. âMy four-room apartment is ideal for seven dogs.âÂ
âExactly,â Calum says absent-mindedly, moving on to the next dog and grinning widely at it. âHey, little man. This oneâs adorable, Luke.âÂ
âDo you think any dogs arenât adorable?â Luke asks, partially exasperated, partially genuinely curious.Â
âThereâs no such thing as a non-cute dog,â Calum says, and he crouches down to get as close to a corgiâs eye level as a six-two grown man can get. Lukeâs got to admit, this one is pretty cute, wagging its little tail and gazing up at them with what almost looks like a smile. Its tail starts wagging harder when Luke crouches down next to Calum, and, unlike the previous seven dogs, it elects to walk over to Luke rather than Calum.Â
âI think youâve found your guy,â Calum says, straightening back up again. âWhat is he, a corgi mix?âÂ
âA pomeranian-corgi mix,â the employee confirms. âHeâs called Clifford.â Luke looks at Calum in horror, and Calum bursts out laughing.
âI can change his name, right?â Luke says, because he doesnât know the intricacies of dog ownership. Heâs not sure whether he, like, needs to appeal to court to change his dogâs name, or something.Â
âWell, technically, yes,â the employee says, âbut Cliffordâs pretty resistant to change. We tried changing it to Chester and he refused to respond.â Luke looks back at Clifford, whoâs still wagging his tail, tongue out, looking decidedly pleased with himself. Lukeâs heart kind of melts.Â
âRight,â he says. âI mean. I guess I can just live with the embarrassment of having a dog named after Michael, right?â He directs the last bit at Calum, who shrugs, still grinning.Â
âYour call, dude,â he says gleefully, because heâs a terrible friend. Luke sighs, casting another glance at Clifford.Â
âYouâre going to be the death of me, little man,â he says, and Clifford paws at the cage.Â
 -------
 âHeâs called what?â Michael says, half in disbelief, half in delight.Â
âFuck you,â Luke says, as Clifford sniffs at Michaelâs ankles curiously. Michael bends down, scratching behind Cliffordâs ears.Â
âHey, buddy,â he says. âYouâre my son, dâyou know that?â Cliffordâs eyes close and he pushes into Michaelâs touch.Â
âGet your own dog,â Luke says, tugging on Cliffordâs lead gently. Clifford refuses to budge.Â
âI might,â Michael says. âClifford needs a sibling.âÂ
âHeâs not your fucking son,â Luke says, tugging again, and finally Clifford trots back to heel and settles down, resting his head on Lukeâs foot.Â
âDonât swear in front of my kid,â Michael says, smiling fondly at Clifford.Â
âI hate you,â Luke says, because he does.Â
 -------
 Having a dog is a lot like what Luke imagines living with Michael is like, so maybe Clifford is aptly named.Â
Clifford follows Luke from room to room, paws at the sofa until Luke lets him on, glares at Luke when heâs playing Xbox until he makes room in his lap for Clifford to sit, and starts making whining noises when he thinks itâs been too long since he last ate (which is, like, every half an hour).Â
âIâm trying to work, little man,â Luke says one Saturday morning in late November, when Clifford sets himself down on Lukeâs feet and glowers at him for having a laptop in his lap. Clifford makes a noise of disdain. âYou can sit next to me, but I need to keep this roof over our heads.â He pats the sofa next to him, and Clifford gives him one final reproachful look before trotting over to the sofa and pawing at it. Luke leans over the laptop to pick him up, because he knows better than to take the laptop off his lap and give Clifford a chance to worm his way in, and Clifford curls up next to Luke, staring across the room at the door to the hallway.Â
Luke manages to work for another hour and a half, ignoring Cliffordâs dramatic sighs (seriously, who fucking knew dogs could be drama queens?), before he canât concentrate on anything other than his growling stomach anymore and sets his laptop aside. Clifford, whoâs been dozing for at least twenty minutes, immediately jolts upright and pads into Lukeâs lap, curling up and resting his head on Lukeâs thigh.Â
âNot now, little man,â Luke says, picking Clifford up gently and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. âI need to make us lunch.â He sets Clifford down on the floor and stands up, stretching as he walks into the kitchen, Clifford hot on his heels.Â
Calum had told him to make sure he makes his own food first before feeding Clifford, because apparently the alpha eats first, or something, so Luke flips the kettle on, chucks a few handfuls of pasta into a pot and puts the ready-made bolognese sauce heâd bought into a separate pot to heat up. Clifford knows the routine by now, so he just settles down near his food bowl, closing his eyes.Â
Lukeâs a pretty quick eater, so Clifford gets his food about twenty minutes later while Lukeâs washing up his pots. When Cliffordâs finished, lapping at the water in his bowl noisily, Luke heads back into the living room and picks his laptop back up again. Clifford follows a few moments later, and this time doesnât complain about Luke working when Luke picks him up and sets him down at his side, petting him absent-mindedly as he reads a report.Â
By four, Lukeâs concentration has gone again, so he closes his laptop and stretches. Clifford stretches next to him and then jumps off the sofa, wagging his tail expectantly.Â
âAlright,â Luke says. âGet your lead.â Clifford spins excitedly in a circle for a moment before running off to the hallway, tearing back in the door a moment later with his lead trailing along the floor behind him. Luke bends down, and Clifford sits still as he waits for Luke to clip the lead to his collar. He lets Luke tug on his shoes and then starts pulling on the lead a little impatiently while Luke searches for his keys.Â
âYouâll be the one complaining if we get locked out, Cliff,â Luke says, a tad irritably, when Clifford pulls a little harder after two minutes of Luke trying to find his keys. He eventually finds them in his jacket pocket, and sets off, locking the door behind him.Â
Itâs nice outside, and Luke tilts his face into the sun as they make their way to the park. Itâs only a short distance away, and Clifford patiently waits at the kerbs of the two roads they have to cross which makes the journey a lot easier for Luke. Once theyâre in the park, Clifford beelines for the dog park, making Luke quicken his pace a little to keep up. He hops excitedly in front of the gate as Luke fumbles with the latch on it, and as soon as thereâs a sliver of a gap he forces his way through, causing the lead to get caught on the railings as he twists his way through.Â
âCliff, you fucking idiot,â Luke says, unhooking the lead where itâs got caught and slipping into the dog park himself, shutting the gate behind him. âSit, Iâll let you off.â Clifford sits, vibrating with excitement, and the minute the lead is unclipped from his collar heâs tearing off to join the other dogs running around the middle of the park.Â
Luke ambles over to one of the wooden benches, away from other people - making small talk with dog owners gets a little painful after a while, heâs found - and settles down, keeping an eye on Clifford and making sure heâs not getting involved in anything too rough with any of the bigger dogs. Heâs so caught up in watching Clifford that he doesnât notice someone sitting down next to him until they clear their throat, making Luke throw them a glance.Â
And his stomach drops, because fucking hell. Itâs Ashton.
âHi,â Ashton says, offering Luke a small, almost nervous smile.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â Luke asks stupidly, because in his mind, Ashtonâs not supposed to be anywhere Luke is.
âWalking my dog,â Ashton says. âWhat are you doing here?âÂ
âWalking mine.â Ashton frowns, looking out at the pack of dogs running around, like heâs trying to pick Lukeâs out from the group. Luke looks over too, because Ashton being here means Spotâs here somewhere, and he always liked Spot.Â
âYou have a dog?â Ashton says, and he sounds kind of uneasy about it. Luke kind of relishes it; itâs solid proof that Ashton doesnât know Luke anymore, and it doesnât sit well with him.Â
âObviously.â Ashton says nothing to that for a while, and they sit in incredibly tense, awkward silence.Â
âHow have you been?â Ashton says eventually, and Luke snorts.Â
âWeâre not doing small talk, Ashton,â he says. The name rolls off Lukeâs tongue a little easier than it had the first time, a month ago, and something about that sets his teeth on edge.Â
âJesus, alright,â Ashton mutters. âIâm just trying to be polite.âÂ
âWell, donât.â Out of the corner of his eye, Luke sees Ashton roll his eyes, but he doesnât say anything else.Â
After another five painfully slow minutes have passed, Lukeâs had enough. He gets up, fumbling with the lead in his hand, and shouts: âClifford!âÂ
âYou named your dog after Michael?â Ashton asks from behind him. Luke scowls as Clifford comes bounding over, but his stomach flips uncomfortably. Itâs yet another reminder that Ashton knows more about him than heâd like, that he still knows little things like his best friendâs surname.Â
âNo,â he says, bending down and clipping Cliffordâs lead onto his collar. âHe was called Clifford when I got him.âÂ
âOh,â Ashton says. âLike the big red dog? Kind of a shitty name for a tiny corgi.â Lukeâs scowl deepens.Â
âHeâs a pomeranian-corgi mix,â he says, a little venomously, âand yours is called fucking Spot .â He gives in to Cliffordâs puppy eyes, petting him briefly before straightening up.Â
âSheâs got spots,â Ashton says defensively.Â
âSheâs a dalmatian.âÂ
âExactly.â Luke rolls his eyes.Â
âIâm not taking any fucking criticism from someone who names a dalmatian Spot,â he says.Â
âItâs a good fucking name for a dalmatian,â Ashton says, getting up from the bench too. âSpot!âÂ
Spot comes zooming out of the group of dogs, a blur of black and white, but doesnât head for Ashton. Instead, she beelines for Luke with her tail wagging harder than he thinks heâs ever seen it go. She jumps up at him before she even reaches him, trying to lick every inch of his body, and Luke canât help but laugh as he tells her down, Spot, down and tries to pet her.Â
âSheâs missed you,â Ashton remarks. Luke doesnât take the bait, just pats Spot on the head one last time before turning to Clifford, whoâs trotted up to Spot, intrigued.Â
âCâmon, little man,â he says, but Spotâs just noticed Clifford at her feet and is also taking a great interest in him. The two of them sniff each other for a moment, and then their tails start wagging, and Cliffordâs face breaks into what Luke always swears is a grin, and Michael always tells him is probably a doggy cry for help. âCâmon, Cliff.âÂ
âHeel, Spot,â Ashton says, like heâs trying to prove Spotâs better-trained than Clifford, or something. Spot, though, doesnât budge.
âHeel,â Luke tells Clifford sternly, because fuck Ashton, and Clifford trots to Lukeâs feet, albeit a little reluctantly. Luke canât help but feel a little smug as Ashton gives up, leaning over to clip Spotâs lead to her as she gazes up at Luke, panting happily. Luke gives her one absolutely final pat on the head, because he has kind of missed her too.Â
âAlright,â Luke says, a little uncomfortable, because he has no idea how to say goodbye to someone he never wanted to see again.Â
âSee you,â Ashton says, and itâs written all over his face that he knows what Lukeâs thinking. Luke snorts.Â
âHopefully not,â he says, but itâs not mean. Itâs just honest.Â
Ashton smiles, but it doesnât reach his eyes. âWell, see you not, then,â he says.Â
âSee you not,â Luke agrees, and sets off out of the park.Â
It only occurs to him when heâs waiting to cross the road that heâs just had a semi-civil conversation with Ashton, and it sends a bewildering flash of confusion, anger and embarrassment coursing through his veins.Â
Whatever, he thinks, as Clifford trots off when the light turns green. It's not like he's going to see Ashton again, so it doesn't matter.Â
 -------
 âWhat are your plans on Thursday?â Calum asks him on Tuesday afternoon. Luke shrugs, trying to adjust the settings on his fan. Itâs too fucking hot in here.Â
âDinner, TV, wanking,â Luke says, fiddling with the controls. âWhy?âÂ
âCome to dinner,â Calum says, and thereâs an edge of something a little nervous to his tone. Luke looks up at him with a frown.Â
âWhy?â he asks, suspicious. Calum hesitates for a moment, like heâs not sure whether he should tell Luke, but then he sighs.Â
âMike and I want to talk to you,â he says. Luke looks away again, staring steadfastly at the fan.Â
Heâs known this talk was going to come for a long time. Every time he makes a comment about their soulmate status and then clams up when they try and broach the topic, he sees them exchange a Look, a Soulmate Look (or maybe just a Michael And Calum Look). Theyâre careful to avoid talking about it when Lukeâs around, to keep the touches and looks to a minimum, but the minimum is still enough for it to be painfully obvious what they are and that Lukeâs not a part of it.Â
âFine,â Luke says eventually, reluctant, because itâs been nearly three months since they found out and they still havenât spoken about it, and even Luke has to admit that at some point, itâs going to start impacting their friendship unless they all lay their cards on the table. Calum makes a noise of relief, like he hadnât expected Luke to be so easy to convince.Â
âSeven?â he says. Luke nods tightly, twisting the bottom of the fan in annoyance at both it and Calum, and it finally starts fucking whirring.Â
âI saw Ashton at the weekend,â he says after a moment, because he feels a little guilty and anything is a better topic of conversation than the uncomfortable silence theyâve lapsed into.Â
âYou what ?â Calum sounds aghast.Â
âBy accident,â Luke says hurriedly. âI was walking Cliff, and he was in the dog park.âÂ
âRight,â Calum says, concern still colouring his tone. âDid you talk to him?â
âHe talked to me,â Luke says.Â
âWhat did he say?â Luke shrugs.Â
âTried to make small talk,â he says. âInsulted Cliffâs name.â Calum looks torn, because he usually never misses an opportunity to insult Cliffordâs name, but clearly thinks now is not the right moment.Â
âHow did you leave it?â he settles on eventually. Luke can see the self-restraint itâs taking him to not say Clifford is a shitty dog name, to be fair . Maybe this is a good tactic to get Calum to stop making fun of Luke; next time Calum jokes about how long Luke takes to get ready in the mornings, Lukeâs going to tell him Ashton said the same thing.Â
âHe said see you, and I said hopefully not,â Luke says. Calum nods, satisfied.Â
âGood,â he says. âHave you seen him there since?â Luke shakes his head, and hesitates, before telling Calum heâs not actually been to the dog park since Saturday. Calum frowns.Â
âWhy not?â he asks. Luke shrugs, a little uncomfortable, fiddling with the settings on the fan again. His face is heating up, and heâs pretty sure itâs just because itâs too fucking hot in here.Â
âDonât want to bump into him,â he says. Calum gives him a long look, and Luke tries not to lose his composure under his steely gaze.Â
âYou shouldnât let him change your routine, Luke,â Calum says seriously.Â
âI know,â Luke says, picking at a stray thread in his sleeve. âItâs just- itâs easier.â Calum says nothing for a moment, and then sighs.Â
âHeâs going to think he has an effect on you,â he says, and itâs a little patronising. Â
âHe does,â Luke mutters. âHe pisses me the fuck off.âÂ
âYou know what I mean.â And Luke does, and that pisses him off too.Â
âWhatever,â he says, turning back to his computer and clicking on the email in his inbox that looks easiest to deal with. âMy problem, not yours.â Itâs mean, itâs uncalled for, and Calum doesnât deserve it, and Luke feels a pang of guilt as soon as he says it, but he canât swallow his pride to apologise.Â
Calum doesnât say anything, which Luke kind of thinks is worse than if heâd just taken the bait and risen to the argument Lukeâs sort of spoiling for, and they sit in silence for the rest of the afternoon.Â
 -------
 Thursday comes too soon.Â
Luke brings Clifford, partially because he doesnât want to leave him alone for two hours and partially as a shield or an excuse to leave, but as soon as he lets himself into Calumâs flat with the key heâd been given when Calum moved in Clifford tears off, lead trailing behind him, to find Duke.Â
âHey, son,â he hears Michael say to Clifford, and scowls.Â
âCome back, little man,â Luke shouts, kicking his shoes off. Reluctantly, Clifford comes back around the corner, and Luke bends down to give him a quick scratch and unclips his lead. Clifford doesnât hesitate, running back into the living room to find Duke, whoâs probably sleeping and doesnât want to be disturbed by an over-excited three-year-old dog. Luke hangs the lead up on top of his jacket and trails after Clifford, finding Michael on his own in the living room playing MarioKart.Â
âHi,â he says, setting himself down on the sofa heavily. Thereâs an uncomfortable atmosphere that heâs not used to having with Michael and Calum, not since Year Nine when they both hated his guts.Â
âHey,â Michael says nonchalantly, not looking away from the screen, but itâs too casual. Lukeâs stomach flips, and he swallows.Â
âCal in the kitchen?â Michael nods. Great. Now heâs making awkward small talk with his own best friends.Â
Luke watches Michael play for a few minutes, one eye on Clifford to make sure heâs not annoying Duke too much, and then Calum comes out of the kitchen and declares that dinnerâs ready and they all shuffle to the table, dogs in tow with hopeful looks on their faces.Â
They make idle, awkward chat while serving themselves, Calum and Luke filling Michael in on this stupid fucking client they had to deal with last week, and everybodyâs uncomfortable because itâs stringing out the inevitable but none of them want to be the one to bring up the elephant in the room.Â
Eventually, though, Michael sighs, and puts his fork down.Â
âThis is stupid,â he says, and Luke privately agrees. âCan we just talk?â Calum shoots Luke a worried glance, and Jesus, Luke wishes they would stop acting like heâs going to fucking break if they talk about it.Â
âYeah,â Luke says. âLetâs just get this over with.â Itâs a little barbed, and he feels bad when Calumâs shoulders slump a little, because he is happy for them, he is, heâs just also selfishly unhappy that the three of them are now officially Michael-and-Calum and Luke rather than just unofficially.Â
âOkay,â Michael says. âSo. Calum and I are soulmates.â Luke nods, putting a forkful of beans into his mouth so he wonât have to say anything.Â
âWe want you to know itâs not going to change anything between us,â Calum says, and Luke chokes, half on a mirthless laugh, half on his beans. With a little difficulty, he swallows, takes a sip of water, and then speaks.Â
âThatâs not true,â he says. âIt has to change things between us. Itâs already changed things between us.âÂ
âYou know what we mean,â Michael says. Luke doesnât like the we , the us and you implication. Thatâs exactly what heâs talking about. âWeâll still be best friends.âÂ
âWe want this to be an honest conversation,â Calum says. âAll cards on the table.âÂ
â All cards on the table?â Luke says, flicking a glance at Michael, who knows firsthand how spiteful Luke can be. Calumâs never had an argument with Luke like The Great Bedroom Bust-Up of 2019. Michael holds his gaze, and nods.Â
âOkay,â Luke says. âYou first.â Calum and Michael exchange another glance, some kind of unspoken soulmate conversation that Luke can never be a part of. A pang of something a bitter and painful hits him when he realises that not only can he never be a part of it, he can never have it himself, because his soulmate is fucking Ashton . Heâs never going to have this, and, not for the first time, he lets himself admit that itâs the majority of what makes it hurt so much.
âOkay,â Calum says carefully. âIâll just speak for myself. You know Iâve been in love with Michael since- well, uh, as long as I can remember. Thatâs nothing new. Whatâs new is that I know Michaelâs in love with me too. And, uh, that weâre sort of together now? Thatâs new.â And yeah, it is new, because Luke hadnât even known about that. Sure, heâd guessed, with all the hushed conversations and Calum calling Michael love like it was the easiest thing in the world, but itâs somehow different hearing confirmation of it. It stings more than heâd hoped it would. âOther than that, nothingâs changed. I still love you. Youâre still my best friend, Michaelâs still my best friend.â Calum pauses, clearly waiting for Luke to say something, but Luke just shrugs. He hasnât got anything to say to that.Â
âWeâre not going to be all couple-y around you,â Michael says. âWe know this isnât the most ideal situation. But weâre not going to keep tiptoeing around you like we have been, so youâve got to stop being an arsehole and actually support us. This is it now. This is how it is forever.âÂ
Luke has to swallow back the bile rising in his throat at that, at how easy it is for Michael and Calum to throw around words like forever. He only just manages to bite back a spiteful well, how do you know that? Ashton and I didnât work out, and weâre soulmates , but Michael can see it on his face.Â
âAll cards on the table,â he reminds Luke.Â
âThis isnât going to work if we donât get it all out,â Calum adds. âWeâll just build up resentment otherwise.â And yeah, Luke can kind of see his point, because his resentmentâs been building for the past six months already.Â
âFine,â Luke says, and itâs a little snappy. âHow do you know this is forever? Iâm living proof that thatâs not always the case.â The words twist in the air between them, Michael and Calum on one side of the table, Luke on the other, and Luke kind of hates himself and kind of hates them.Â
âIt just is,â Michael says simply, like Luke hasnât just taken a nasty swipe at his relationship.Â
âIâm not taking sides if it doesnât work out,â Luke says, partially to drive the point home, partially because itâs something heâs worried about since they first became friends. Some of the most stressful times of his life have been when Michael and Calum have argued and both come running to him, each expecting him to take their side.Â
âWe wouldnât expect you to,â Michael says smoothly. âBut you have to support us in this. I donât want to have to take sides either.â The Iâd choose Calum goes unspoken, but Luke hears it.Â
âSay it,â he says, because apparently heâs some kind of masochist, and all cards on the table, right? Michael folds his arms. Calum looks like heâs about to cry.Â
âIâd choose Calum,â Michael says, calm and even. The words cut straight through Lukeâs heart, even though heâd known, heâs always known, that heâs second-best to both of them. If it had ever come to it, even before all this tattoo bullshit, neither of them would have chosen Luke.Â
(He supposes thatâs part of the soulmate business, but it doesnât make it any less shitty.)Â
âAnd you?â Luke says, rounding on Calum. He needs to hear it, somehow, needs to hear the brutal honesty, needs to hear their old friendship crumble all the way down before he can rebuild it with a new dynamic.
âDonât,â Calum says, pleading.Â
âSay it.â Lukeâs tone is hard, but his voice wavers. âI need you to say it, Calum.â Calum swallows, hard, and Luke watches his mouth open and close a few times.Â
âIâd choose Michael,â he mumbles eventually, and swipes at the corner of his eye. Luke immediately feels like shit. He doesnât want Calum to cry.Â
âIâm sorry, Cal,â he says quietly, and he means Iâm sorry for all of this, and Iâm sorry for making you cry . Calum nods, sniffing a little.Â
âSo you know where we stand,â Michael says, and heâs still calm, collected, put-together. Lukeâs a little surprised - heâd expected Michael to be the one to fall to pieces, Calum to be the one to keep the conversation together.Â
âYeah,â Luke says, handing his unused napkin over to Calum for him to wipe his eyes. Calum gives him a watery smile. âGuess I know where I stand, too.â Michael looks at him, hard.Â
âWeâve tiptoed around you for six months, Luke,â he says bluntly. âWeâve put all of this aside for you.â Luke swallows down the guilt that rises at that, because itâs true. Theyâve put Luke first the whole time, ever since he found out it was Ashton, until the dinner a few weeks ago. Theyâve been careful, theyâve been considerate, and Lukeâs been a selfish dickhead, not letting them be who - and what - they are around him.Â
âI know,â Luke says. âI- I really appreciate that.âÂ
âAnd?â Michael prompts. Luke sighs.Â
âIt fucking sucks,â he says. âIâve always been second best to you two. Itâs always been you two, and then me. And now thatâs just- thatâs never going to change. I see the way you look at each other, the way you touch each other, and.â He shrugs. âIâm always going to be an afterthought.â Heâs almost willing Michael and Calum to contradict him, but they donât. It doesnât sting, though, this time, just a dull throb of hurt that Luke thinks might just actually be disguising his crippling sadness. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for his next words.Â
âAnd I- I think my biggest problem is that it hurts. It hurts because Iâm never going to have this. I know thatâs my problem, not yours, but.â He shrugs again. âYou guys really drive it home.â And because all cards on the fucking table , he adds: âIt hurts more to be around you guys sometimes than it does to be around Ashton.âÂ
The words ring in the silence of the room. Luke thinks heâs never said anything more hurtful in his life, and also thinks heâs never said anything more honest.Â
âOkay,â Michael says, and he sounds like heâs upset but trying his best to hide it. âIs that all?â Luke nods. He actually feels a bit better already, underneath all the hurt and confusion and aching sadness, because now they know how he feels and he knows how they feel and they can start to rebuild, start to move forward.Â
âIâm sorry,â he says, because he is. âBut you said all cards on the table.âÂ
âI did,â Michael says.Â
âIâm glad you can be that honest with us, Luke,â Calum says, still sounding a little thick, and Luke presses his lips together.Â
âIâm glad you can be honest with me too,â he admits. âI think- I think it shows. That weâre best friends.â It sounds stupid when he says it, like a ten-year-old on the playground, but both Calum and Michael nod sincerely, like thatâs exactly what they were thinking. Luke has to blink back the tears that well up in his eyes at that, because fuck, he doesnât deserve them.Â
âI love you,â he says, and it comes out helpless. Both Michael and Calum smile at him, and Michaelâs eyes suddenly look misty too. âI do. And I really am happy for you two, underneath all of this, I swear. It was the first thought I had when I realised you two were soulmates. I know Iâm a selfish cunt. I just- I kind of needed to hear you say our friendship was going to change to accept it, to move on. Iâm glad you didnât lie to me.âÂ
âItâs okay,â Calum says. âImagine how badly Michael would have coped with it if heâd been third-wheeling you and your soulmate.â All three of them laugh, but itâs choked and teary.Â
âFuck you,â Michael says, wiping his eyes.Â
âYou donât have to tiptoe around me,â Luke says, swallowing against the lump in his throat. âI mean, I think itâll still take me some getting used to, but thatâs my problem. Iâm happy for you, and I love you. And I donât want to be an obstacle anymore.â Heâs given up trying to control the tears now, because itâs Michael and Calum, and theyâve seen him in far worse states than this.Â
(They saw him after Ashton.)Â
âYou were never an obstacle,â Michael says reassuringly, a little choked.Â
âWe made the choice to put you first, Luke,â Calum says, reaching over the table for Lukeâs hand. âWe might be soulmates, but weâre still nothing without you.â Tears are streaming freely down all of their faces now, and Luke squeezes Calumâs hand like itâs the only thing tying him to the planet. He reaches for Michael with his other hand, laces their fingers together, and sits there for a moment, crying silently with his two best friends.Â
âI love you,â Calum says. âBoth of you.â
âI love you too,â Michael says. âMostly Luke, but yeah, youâre alright too, Cal.â Luke and Calum huff out shaky laughs at that.Â
âWe look like weâre doing a sĂ©ance,â Luke says after a moment, when he sees Calum and Michaelâs hands intertwined under the table, and Calum and Michael giggle weakly. He puts on a husky voice, and says: âOh, spirits of third-wheeling, are you out there?â Calum and Michael laugh again, stronger this time, and Lukeâs heart warms. Theyâre okay. Theyâre going to be okay. Everything is changing, but nothing has changed.Â
âShut the fuck up,â Michael says, grinning.
âWe should probably feed the dogs,â Calum says, because Clifford and Duke have been huffing every few minutes for about twenty minutes now. Luke nods, and lets go of both Michael and Calum a little reluctantly, despite the fact that Michael had been about two seconds away from crushing his hand.Â
They all get up, Calum and Luke to feed their respective dogs, Michael to start clearing the table. Theyâre in sync, theyâre working in tandem, and theyâre okay.
Theyâre okay.Â
 -------
 Luke hasnât been back to the dog park since that Saturday.Â
Heâs walked near it, walked past it, almost walked to it, but chickened out at the last minute. Calumâs words echo in his mind every time - you shouldnât let him change your routine - and he knows, he knows Calumâs right, but Lukeâs a bit of a coward and a big fan of taking the easy way out. That doesnât mean it doesnât sit uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach, though, every time he turns left instead of right into the park, but Clifford doesnât seem to mind.Â
Clifford, Luke has discovered, fucking loves the beach.Â
Itâs not too far from the park to the beach, so Lukeâs taken to walking Clifford along the water instead, letting him splash around to his heartâs content in the waves lapping at the shore. Clifford doesnât even tug in the direction of the park when they set off anymore, just bounces happily along the road to the sand.Â
Luke tells Calum, one day, who off-hand remarks that heâs never actually taken Duke to the beach, and Luke, once heâs got over his initial shock, says they absolutely have to go. Calum rolls his eyes, and Luke calls Michael to convince him to go and pressure Calum into going - which, in hindsight, not the best idea, because as Michael sensibly points out, heâll probably get sunstroke before they even make it to the beach. Nevertheless, Michael agrees, and so Calum agrees, and thatâs how, a week later, theyâre all ambling down the warm pavement to the beach.Â
âJesus, Iâm fucking boiling,â Michael grumbles, plucking at his shirt.Â
âItâs December, Mike, what dâyou expect?â Luke says, jogging a little to keep up with Clifford. âYouâve lived through twenty-seven of them.âÂ
âFuck, donât say that,â Michael groans. âIâm so fucking old.âÂ
âYeah,â Calum says, with a grin. Dukeâs padding along calmly, stopping to sniff at flowers every few minutes, much to Cliffordâs chagrin. âIâm your toyboy, now.â Michael scowls.Â
âFuck you,â he says, fanning himself wildly. âFuck. Iâm getting in the water as soon as we get there.â Luke rolls his eyes.Â
âYouâre so fucking melodramatic,â he says. âItâs six p.m. Itâs not even hot.âÂ
âAlright, just because you got all the Australian genes,â Michael snipes.Â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â Luke says.Â
âBlonde, blue-eyed, ability to surf,â Michael says, waving his hand dismissively, like itâs some kind of an explanation.Â
âWhat? I canât surf,â Luke says.Â
âWell, you can stand up on a board, canât you? Same thing.âÂ
âThatâs not surfing,â Calum says, shaking his head.Â
âIâm not taking criticism from you ,â Michael says, because Calum can barely stand up straight on solid ground, as they round the corner and arrive at the beach. The sun is slowly setting, glittering on the water and making them all squint.Â
âIâm getting in,â Michael declares, tugging his shirt off and flinging it at Calum.Â
âMe too,â Luke says, before Calum has the chance to say anything. Cliffordâs whining, begging to get to the water, and Luke hands Michael his lead for a moment while he wrestles his shirt off his sticky back. He turns his back to Calum, reaching out for Cliffordâs lead, but is interrupted by Calum saying:
âYou didnât tell me itâs grown.âÂ
âHuh?â Luke says, turning back to Calum. Calum points at his back.Â
âThe tattoo.â Luke frowns.Â
âWhat?â
âItâs grown.â Luke twists, trying to see. Fucking tattoo. Of course he got his on his shoulderblade.Â
âI canât- Iâm sure it hasnât,â Luke says. âYouâve only seen it once. You probably just donât remember.â Michaelâs walked over next to Calum, and heâs frowning now, too.Â
âItâs got a dog on it now,â he says, and Luke scowls.Â
âCome on, guys,â he says. âThis isnât funny.âÂ
âIâm not joking,â Calum says, and he sounds a little confused and a little worried.Â
âDo they do that?â Michael says, addressing Calum, like Lukeâs not even there. âDo they grow?âÂ
âMine hasnât,â Calum says, tilting his head up so the sunlight catches the black ink on his neck.Â
âNor mine,â Michael says, turning back to Luke, whoâs still trying to see his own shoulderblade in vain. âHere, wait, Iâll take a photo.â Luke stills, slightly grumpy, ready for a ha, ha, guys, I didnât even believe you, what kind of a joke is that when Michael and Calum inevitably burst out laughing, but it never comes.Â
Instead, Michael shoves his phone in front of Luke, and Luke grabs it and pulls it closer, because he hasnât brought his glasses. He cups a hand over the screen, squinting to see, and he can make out the tattoo, dark and swirling on his skin. Waning moon, bird with drumstick - and, shit. Dalmatian, gazing up at the bird.Â
âShit,â he says, and heâs panicking, pawing at his back like itâs going to come off. All he can feel under his fingertips is warm skin. âShit. Fuck. What the fuck? They donât- they donât just fucking grow, do they? Is this- is this, like, cancer, or something?âÂ
âWhat?â Michael says.Â
âLook it up,â Calum tells Michael, who wrenches his phone back out of Lukeâs hands and starts typing furiously.Â
âFuck,â Luke says, raking a hand through his hair. âCal, what the fuck.âÂ
âHey,â Calum says, soothing, reassuring. Even Clifford seems to have noticed somethingâs wrong, because heâs whining at Lukeâs feet, no longer vibrating at the other end of the lead in Michaelâs hand. âItâs okay.âÂ
âItâs- Cal, itâs not- itâs grown ,â Luke says, almost frantic. âItâs not supposed to do that. Yours hasnât done that.âÂ
âI know,â Calum says, like he wishes he could offer Luke an explanation. Luke stares at him wildly for a moment, and then pulls his own phone out of his pocket.Â
âWhat are you doing?â Calum asks.Â
âCalling Ashton,â Luke says, because deep in his gut, it feels like the only thing to do right now.Â
âWhat- Luke, I donât think thatâs a good-â but itâs too late, Lukeâs taking a few strides away from Michael and Calum, biting his lip as the dial tone rings.Â
It cuts out after four rings, to a scrambling and a surprised: âHello?âÂ
âHi,â Luke says, and he can hear the panic in his own voice.Â
âLuke? Are you okay?âÂ
âHas yours grown?â Thereâs a pause.Â
âWhat?â
âYour tattoo. Has it grown?âÂ
â Grown ?âÂ
âJust answer the fucking question. Is there any more to it?â Thereâs a rustling sound, then a thud, like Ashtonâs getting out of bed.Â
âUh, I donât know, itâs- I canât really see it unless I look in a mirror, hang on.â Thereâs the sound of padding footsteps, and Luke stares out at the horizon, watching the sun slowly lower itself into the water, counting the seconds as they pass. âShit. Shit .â Lukeâs stomach sinks.Â
âItâs grown?âÂ
âYeah. Itâs- what the fuck? Are they meant to do this?âÂ
âI donât know.âÂ
âI- what the fuck?â
âI donât fucking know , Ashton.âÂ
âJesus, alright, donât bite my fucking head off.â Luke clenches his teeth.Â
âFuck you,â he says.Â
âFuck me ? Luke, youâre-â But Luke doesnât stick around to hear what he is, hanging up and traipsing back to Michael and Calum, who are muttering quietly to each other, staring at Michaelâs phone screen.Â
âItâs grown,â he confirms, even though he thinks they all knew that. He didnât have to call Ashton to confirm it, but somehow, he needed to.
âThereâs something, but youâre not going to like it,â Michael says.Â
âTell me.âÂ
âThereâs been a study,â Calum begins, and Jesus, Luke doesnât have the time for this. He snatches Michaelâs phone out of his hand and reads - study, London, tattoo growth, separate, choice. The words scramble in his mind and he reads the sentences over and over again until they make sense - a study conducted in London, into soulmates who experienced tattoo growth, discovered it occurred when the mates made the active choice to remain separate .Â
Lukeâs stomach lurches, and he feels the blood drain from his face so fast that he goes dizzy, catching Calumâs bicep to steady himself.Â
âItâs a small study,â Calum says. âSix sets of soulmates. Itâs not conclusive.âÂ
âJesus,â Luke whispers, not even listening, mind racing. âAm I- Am I just going to end up covered in fucking- in tattoos about Ashton ?â Calum bites his lip unhappily. Neither he nor Michael can answer that.Â
Luke falls into the sand, hard, and Clifford immediately climbs into his lap, sniffing at him, quiet and concerned. Michael and Calum settle down next to him, and Calum wordlessly hands him back his shirt, like he knows Luke wants to pretend itâs not happening. Luke pulls it back on silently, and puts his head in his hands.Â
âCan I just catch a fucking break?â he mumbles, voice cracking on the last word. Two sets of arms slip around him.Â
They donât swim, and Clifford doesnât get to play in the water, but they get to watch the sun set together, and in between his spiralling thoughts Luke finds the time to think that thatâs something.
taglist: @glitterlukey @hey-its-greyÂ
chapter four
#lashton#malum#5sos fic#5sos slash#5sos fanfiction#SORRY im just really feeling this fic for some reason#feeling PROLIFIC#but realistically this will be my last update for a while probably#bc i really do need to get a move on with my diss#9000 words...due on the 4th may...unwritten#i am so unbelievably stupid that i astound myself sometimes#i also have an exam on the 1st may#which OF COURSE i have not revised for#and i have a 2500 word presentation script & slides to submit on monday#is that done? no#oxford and leeds please dont revoke my masters offers based on these tags#i promise i'll be better next year
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Remembering The Roadhouse Part 2
Hi there! Part 2 is finally ready to be read! That and I have other exciting news! I have posted that I have recently made a new block for all things Beetlejuice and School of Rock, but it kind of helps to find it if you have a name. The name of the new blog is beetles-and-rock. I will repost Part 1 as well as post Part 2 there.
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The aching Dewey woke to in his neck and back, from sleeping on the couch, made him long for the bed down the hall. the only problem was Rosalie was still asleep, and if he woke her now, she'd go right back to working herself to exhaustion. He wanted her to rest as much as he could get her to, because he was pretty sure it was the only rest she was getting.
Still the pain caused him to think of the bed, and the mornings he'd woken up there, with Rosalie at his side. Many of those times had been the mornings after nights similar to last night, when he would spend the evening with Rosalie, and play his guitar while she worked. Eventually they'd get tired and go to bed.
To his shame, there were a few mornings he'd woken up hungover at her side, and he knew it meant she had to drag him there from whatever bar he'd gotten very drunk at. Those mornings were often full of embarrassment, regret, and a ton of apologies, but even then she'd cuddle him through the hangover. And everytime it left him why she still loved and dealt with him, as well as caused him to consider himself lucky she did.
A slight movement of Rosalie's head against his chest brought his attention back to her. Her hair was down and messy, and she didn't have her glasses on. Dewey always thought this made her look younger, and often wondered if he was catching a glimpse the younger more reckless Rosalie Mullins she told him about that night at the Roadhouse. Once again he wondered if he should do something special with her, but now he worried that with all the stress she was under, they wouldn't be able to.
As he continued to throw ideas back and forth in his mind, Rosalie woke up. No longer able to hide the pain, Dewey let out a moan as she lifted her head and then sat up.
âDewey, are you alright?â
"Yeah...â He sat up and a sharp pain shot through his neck and shoulder. âNope!" He practically yelped falling back down.
Rosalie stood up, and held out a hand for him. "Come on. Let's go to bed."
Fairly surprised and relieved that she was going to continue resting, Dewey took her hand and got up from the couch with a few popping and cracking noises in his back, and followed her to the bedroom. Once in the bed Dewey wasn't able to give much more thought to much of anything. He wasn't aware of how tired he still was, and fell back asleep just after Rosalie did.
Several hours later, Dewey woke holding Rosalie. She looked up from where she lay with her arms wrapped around his middle. Her messy hair fell to the side as she smiled up at him. The pleasant feelings that usually came with waking up next to her finally ensued.
He smiled back at her, and brushed her hair back out of her face with his hand.
"Good morning, beautiful." He said.
Rosalie laughed. âI'm pretty sure it's past noon, Dewey."
He leaned up to look, at the clock. "Ow! ow! ow!"
"Aww, Dewey..." Rosalie gently pressed her hand against his chest to get him to lay back down. âI'm sorry, we should've gone to bed sooner. You wouldn't be aching so much now if we had slept in the bed."
Dewey turned onto his side putting an arm around her. âIt's okay. We both didn't realize how tired we were, and you got decent sleep.â He paused a little embarrassed. "well, at least I hope you did. I know my stomach kept making noises."
âI didn't notice a thing. I was so tired."
"I know. You've been working so hard, Rosalie. I wish you could relax, just for a night."
"Dewey..."
"I know you've got a lot of work to do, but parent's night is next week. I'm not saying you should procrastinate-â
She rolled her eyes,and gave him a smirk. "Dewey, you're always procrastinating."
"Ouch..." Dewey exaggerated a look of hurt.
"Would a kiss make it feel better?"
Dewey smiled. "It might."
Rosalie pressed her lips against his, and Dewey immediately wished he could freeze time. Though kissing between the two was far from a rare occurrence, he enjoyed the warmth or the rush he felt inside, whichever it was that came. Still she pulled back away, and just like that, it was over.
"What were we talking about?" Dewey asked.
Rosalie's smile was sweet. "Procrastination." She answered.
"Oh... yeah..." Dewey hugged her closer to him. âLet's do a little more of that.â
"We can't anymore, Dewey. I need you to drive me back to my vehicle at the school."
"I don't wanna...."
"Dewdrop..."
There it was. The petname she would utter that would make him do anything. It wasn't very cool nickname, but the way she said it made him melt. He hated his vulnerability to it.
"Fine...â He sighed. âI'll take you to the school. When I get home, maybe Ned will send ya what's left of me, after Patti has my head."
Rosalie giggled holding his face. "Patti's not going to hurt you. You'll be just fine, but if she upsets you too badly, you can always call me.â
With one final whiney noise Dewey forced himself out of the bed. He went to the bathroom to "fix" his hair, while Rosalie got dressed. When it came time for Rosalie to use the bathroom, Dewey came out with his hair more or less the same as when he entered, and waited on the couch. He wouldn't be there long though, Rosalie was pretty quick about getting ready, even on weekends.
For Dewey, the drive was too short. The whole way to the school they were blasting some of there favorite songs on the radio, but now he was parked right beside her car in the school parking lot. In a few minutes he'd be going home to Patti yelling at him about something heâd forgotten to do, and the thought of leaving this pleasant situation for that one made him feel as though some kind of weight was sitting in the center of his stomach.
"Thank you for driving me back to my car, Dewey." Rosalie leaned over and kissed him one more time.
"No problem.â Dewey sighed when she pulled back away.
"See you Monday!â She smiled.
"See you Monday...â
Rosalie got out of the van and walked around it to get to her car. Seeing her in his rearview mirror sparked an impulse in him. He opened his door and stepped out of the van.
"Rosalie... uh... Miss Mullins... sorry..."
She seemed taken aback by this sudden action, but smiled anyway.
"Yes, Mr. Finn?"
"You know...uh...Thursday night is um... Well a year ago I... um..."
"You?"
"I asked you to meet me at the Roadhouse... the night before the Battle of the Bands and um...parent's night."
Rosalie blushed a little, though it was hard to tell if she thought fondly of the memory, which made him even more nervous. Still he found the courage to continue.
"Thursday night will be exactly a year since then, and I was hoping maybe you and I could uh... maybe do something special since it was kinda the first time we went out."
She smiled again. âI'd love to, Dewey." She kissed his cheek. Excitement welled up inside of him.
"So it a date then?" He asked.
"Yeah, it's a date!" Rosalie replied.
Unable to contain his excitement Dewey hugged her. As he felt her arms comes around his middle and tighten a bit, he became set on making that night special somehow.
#dewey finn#dewey x rosalie#alex brightman#school of rock#school of rock broadway#broadway musicals#beetlejuice broadway#beetlejuice bway
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If I Could Do It All Again (I Shouldnât Still Want This) Chapter 9/? - Bellarke (exes, college AU)
âNo.â Clarke turned to face her. Her voice was steady. âBellamy should come. I donât care.â
âAlright, then,â Raven said doubtfully. Her eyes searched Clarkeâs face and Clarke made sure there was nothing for her to find. âGood.â
âGood,â Clarke replied.
Good, she thought. You dirty liar.
***** Clarke and gang get ready for formal.
ao3 or start from the beginning or
It was probably foolish for Clarke to work a shift the day of formal, but if she was honest she was kind of hoping it ran long so sheâd have an excuse to skip it. As the end of the shift grew closer and closer with no calls, she started to get a bit desperate.
âReally, Jackson, when was the last time you and Miller got to spend a Saturday night together?â
âLast weekend.â
Clarke rolled her eyes. âI mean a night out. I could cover Miller tonight, no problem. And you guys could have a date night.â
Jackson looked at her doubtfully. âYou know McCreary is working tonight, right?â
Clarke shrugged with a studied air of nonchalance, cringing internally. âThatâs fine. Heâs really not that bad.â
âNot that bad?!â Jackson choked. âSince when?â
Clarke shrugged again. âI donât know, the last couple times weâve worked together.â
Jackson narrowed his eyes and called out, âHey, Nate!â
Fuck. Clarke had been trying to avoid getting Miller involved, as he was much more likely to see through her.
Miller poked his head around the corner. âIf Clarke is trying to convince you to let her stay late, say no. Sheâs trying to get out of going to formal.â
Clarke groaned, slumping down and throwing an arm, over her face. âWho told you?!â
Miller sat down next to her, throwing an arm over her shoulders. âWho didnât tell me? Itâs cute that you donât think youâre predictable.â
She looked up at him with big eyes. âPlease donât make me go.â
âI canât make you go.â Miller patted her lightly on the cheek. âBut I can make you leave.â
He pushed her up off the couch, placing her bag into her hands. âTime to go. Vamoose.â
Clarke pouted. âItâs not even 6 yet!â
Miller pushed her further towards the door. âAnd yet Iâm here, so you donât have to be. Now, get. Begone.â
Clarke groaned and gave in. She shot them one last betrayed glance as she headed out the door.
âHave a nice night!â Jackson called after her. She flipped him the bird.
****
Clarke grabbed dinner on her way back to campus, sitting at her desk to eat. After, she flopped down on her bed, procrastinating. Slowly, she resigned herself to the idea of formal. The dress bag sat accusingly in her closet, reminding her sheâd already agreed.
Begrudgingly, Clarke stripped off her work clothes and went to take a shower. She got back to her room to find a dark mop of hair hanging backwards of her bed.
âMadi,â she acknowledged.
The head popped up. âWhat kind of underwear are you wearing?â
Clarke gaped at her, looking down at her towel clad body. Â âIâm sorry?â
Madi rolled her eyes. âNot right now, obviously. Tonight, I mean. To formal.â
âWhat?â
Madi continued, âI was thinking maybe black ones, and they have to match. Do you have any lacy ones?â
âWhy?â Clarkeâs eyes narrowed as Madi shrugged. âDid Raven put you up to this?â
âNow why would Raven do that?â a voice drawled from her doorway, and Clarke spun. Raven smirked, high-fiving Madi as she walked out.
âSee you later,â Madi called.
Raven kicked the door shut. âBut seriously, which underwear are you wearing?â
Clarke shrugged, glaring. âI donât know. Who cares?â
Raven let out a long sigh and moved over to Clarkeâs drawers, digging through them. She pulled out a pair of lacy panties and shot them at Clarkeâs head like a slingshot. âYou feel better in cute underwear. Itâs a scientific fact.â
Clarke grumbled but slid them on, catching the matching bra as Raven launched it at her. âI donât think thatâs proven.â
âBetter check Pubmed, Griffin. Besides, if youâre gonna get L-A-I-D, you might as well look hot in all layers.â
âIâm a college student, not a preschooler! I know how to spell laid, Raven,â Madi called through the door. Raven threw a shoe at the door, and it hit with a loud thump. Clarke listened as footsteps skittered away.
âWhat a little brat,â Raven said affectionately. âJust like her mother.â
Clarke scoffed as she pulled her dress over her head and zipped it. âI amâShe is notââ Raven quirked an eyebrow at her as she struggled to reach the clasp. Clarke huffed and turned her back towards Ravenâs outstretched hands. Raven clipped the dress shut. âMy child. She is not my child. And who says I'm getting laid? It's just a party.â
Raven laughed. âSure thing.â
Clarke sat down at her desk to start doing her makeup. Raven grabbed a heel off the floor, turning it over and over in her hands. âSoâŠâ
Clarke looked back at her through the mirror. Her eyes narrowed at Ravenâs suspicious look. âSo?â
Raven shrugged, trying to come off as casual and failing. âEveryoneâs invited to this pregame, right?â
âRight,â Clarke replied.
âSo itâs fine if I invited Shaw?â
Clarke shrugged. âOf course.â
Raven clicked her tongue, flipping the shoe over. âOr Roan?â
Clarke rolled her eyes. âYes, Raven.â
âAnd all of our friends, right?â Clarke could not see where Raven was going with this.
She nodded back. âOf course.â
âSoâŠâ Slowly, Raven continued,âEven Bellamy?â
Clarke froze for a second, meeting Ravenâs eyes in the mirror. The other girl looked apologetic. Clarke struggled to act natural. She shrugged. âWhy not?â
âClarkeâŠâ Ravenâs voice was soft. âDo you stillââ
âOf course not.â Clarke cut her off, her cheeks flaring pink. She broke eye contact, blending highlighter over her cheekbones almost angrily. âItâs fine if he comes. Weâre friends. Itâs only a little awkward now, anyways.â
âAre you sure?â Raven asked gently, and Clarke felt her heart squeeze. Not at all.
âDefinitely,â Clarke replied. âWhy shouldnât he come?â
She wondered if her voice sounded convincing to Raven, because it didnât sound convincing to her.
âI can tell him itâs a hall-only thing if you want,â Raven offered. âWell, hall plus me and Murphy and Shaw I guess.â
âNo.â Clarke turned to face her. Her voice was steady. âBellamy should come. I donât care.â
âAlright, then,â Raven said doubtfully. Her eyes searched Clarkeâs face and Clarke made sure there was nothing for her to find. âGood.â
âGood,â Clarke replied.
Good, she thought. You dirty liar.
****
Her hair was curled, her makeup was flawless, and Clarke was trying desperately not to spill anything on her dress. She let the general shenanigans of the pregame wash over her. Madi waited as she poured herself a drink.
Murphy slid over, fingers tapping against the table top. âLetâs play a game, little Griff.â
Clarke rolled her eyes. âThatâs not her last name, Murphy.â
Murphy nudged Madi with his shoulder. âYour momâs being a bit of a killjoy, you know that?â
Madi nodded sagely. âShe usually is.â
âExcuse me?â Clarke choked.
Madi met Clarkeâs look of betrayal with a shrug, turning back to Murphy. âSo, a game?â
âAh yes,â Murphy drawled dramatically. âMy favorite game of all.â
Madi looked at him quizzically. âWhatâs it called?â
âItâs calledâŠâ Murphy trailed off, before finishing with a dramatic flourish, âFinish Your Drink.â
Madiâs brow wrinkled. âAnd what are the rules?â
âThe rules, baby Griff, are that you finish your drink. Ready? Go.â
Clarke stopped her as she went to tip her glass down her throat. âMurphy, no. Not with the frosh.â
âWhatever, mom.â Setting his drink down, Murphy rolled his eyes then fixed her with an intense gaze. âHey, Clarke.â
âNo, Murphy.â
He continued, âLetâs play a game.â
âI swear to god if you sayââ
âItâs called Finish Your Drink.â
Clarke glared at him. âReally?â
He shrugged, his face not apologetic in the slightest. âReally. Ready? Go.â
Despite her mocking, Clarke played along, tilting her head back as she poured her full drink straight down her throat. She swallowed, and coughed, pointing an accusing finger at Murphy.
âNo more of that tonight.â
He winked. âNo promises.â
She glared at him and poured herself a new drink. âBut seriously though, donât convince my freshman to drink too much. Iâm not trying to spend my night playing nursemaid again.â
Murphy shrugged and gazed back with a serious expression. âOf course not. Youâre supposed to have fun tonight. In factââ he paused, a grin spreading across his face as he snatched Raven around the waist, âRaven and I will take care of your drunk kiddies should the need arise.â
Clarke raised an eyebrow. âYou will?â
Raven huffed and slapped his hands off of her, stepping away. âWe will?â Clarke watched as she and Murphy exchanged a series of loaded glances. Nodding, she slipped back against Murphyâs side. âOh, right. Of course we will.â
Clarke looked suspiciously between their twin shit-eating grins. âWhatever. As long as you mean it.â
âScouts honor,â Murphy said, lifting three fingers in a salute. His gaze focused on something behind her and he stiffened, rushing away. âHey, baby Griff, slap cup cups only need a tiny bit of beer, really! Itâs more fun that way!â
They turned to watch him. Raven patted Clarke on the shoulder. âHeâs gonna be great, I promise.â
Raven glanced behind them and Clarke felt her demeanor change. She looked at her questioningly. Raven gave her a one handed salute. âThatâs my cue, see ya!â
Clarke watched, confused, as she rushed off to join Murphy. âWeirdo.â
She heard a deep intake of breath behind her and spun.
âOh,â she breathed. There he was. Bellamy was dressed for formal, in a button down and slacks. His arms bulged beneath the shirt, and Clarke fought to tear her eyes to his face. It was a mistake. He was looking at her like⊠she didnât know. His curls hung slightly in his face and his gaze was so soft, so open, she justâ she couldnât.
âClarke.â His voice rasped over her name, and Clarke felt goosebumps rise on her arms.
****
Freshman year, they had lain together in her bed. His eyes had been hot on her skin, and sheâd flinched self-consciously.
What are you looking at? Sheâd asked.
His eyes had roved over hers. Youâre beautiful. Sheâd breathed in sharply and his brows had drawn together. What? Donât tell me you donât know it.
Sheâd sighed and he ran his finger along her side. I do know it, sometimes.
Sometimes? heâd prompted.
I look in the mirror and think, Iâm beautiful, then someone will come in, the boy in the room next to me for instanceâ he smirked âand then Iâll think maybe not.
Heâd frowned at her, fingers stilling on her hip bone. Why not?
I look at myself and I think, wow, Iâm pretty, but then Iâd think of himâ of youâ facetiming his girlfriend. In my head she asks if Iâm pretty. In my head he says no. Sheâd shrugged. I know itâs not real.
His hand clamped hard around her hip. Letâs say he did say that. Heâd pressed his lips to her shoulder and she shuddered. Heâd be lying.
****
She fidgeted nervously. âBellamy.â
He grinned at her, so wide and infectious she couldnât help but grin back. She caught herself and turned quickly towards the drinks table.
âWant anything?â she asked.
She glanced at him and caught his eye as he looked her over curiously. The silence stretched on for a little too long. âWhat?â
âYouââ he breathed, and trailed off. Bellamyâs eyes were intense on her and she stiffened instinctively. He shrugged apologetically and smiled, leaning up against the table next to her. âNothing. Sure, Iâll take a drink.â
Clarke hummed in acknowledgement and grabbed a cup, pouring him one. She refilled her own cup, and passed his over. She felt her heartbeat high in her throat. âHey Bellamy?â
âYeah?â
He looked at her expectantly. Clarke gulped, looking down. âLetâs play a game.â
Bellamy narrowed his eyes at her. Â âOkay?â
She looked up and grinned, holding up her cup. âItâs called Finish Your Drink. Ready, go.â
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