#it’s just not easy to advertise aha

[chaikachi]

A quick question cause I was looking through your blog just now and saw the post regarding concerns w/ inprint… would buying from inprint help you sooner than if I contribute on Patreon or Ko-Fi?

Awe thank you so much for your message 🥺💕

There isn’t any big rush, but generally the quickest way for me to receive money would be Ko-fi and Patreon being pretty much instant, where INPRNT is a 1.5 month wait at minimum.

I know that INPRNT and commissions are the most popular options because folks get a product from it (hence why I'm looking to start a Redbubble if tECH SUPPORT EVER GETS BACK TO ME >:O) but I don’t currently have the bandwidth to do commissions or open up an indie shop of my own.

I do have a tier on Patreon/Ko-fi that offers high resolutions files you can get printed at a local shop for much cheaper than what INPRNT offers, but I’m a bit behind on uploading them as there hasn’t been much demand for that tier.

I’m also happy to chat 1-on-1 with anyone that wants a print res file of something for that purpose! I just don’t know how to advertise that aha 💦

[rosenbergamot]

if you could understand me (CH.1)

Grian's voice is soft and inquisitive when he speaks. “Now, what’s this about? What’s wrong all of a sudden?” He likes when his voice gets like this, when he talks to Scar like he’s a human despite not knowing he can understand every word he says, when he treats their one-sided conversations as actual conversations, even if the language isn't there. ‘My best friend left me’, he says. ‘He’s trying to find our family. Or get rich. I don’t know, whichever comes first, I guess. And you and Mumbo are my only friends. But I can't talk to you! And I did it to myself! It's all just so...' He forgets the word for ‘annoying’ in dolphin, so he trails off. ‘Annoying’ isn’t even the right word. It hurts. It's killing him. There’s no language that can convey that. or: Scar is a mermaid. Scar has been left behind by all of his friends. Scar is lonely. That is, until he meets two humans on the beach, and decides that playing a little joke on them would be fun. So, Scar pretends he doesn't know their language. As a bit. A little prank. But Scar doesn't expect to like them so much, and once he realizes it, he's too far in to go back.

Here's the first chapter for the day 1 prompt for Mumscarian week (pranks). I'm so excited to share this with yall! First chapter is under the read more, and there is a link attached so you can read it on ao3 as well <3 MWAH

Read the first chapter on ao3 HERE !! Or read the first chapter below the cut!! OR BOTH ^^

The humans don’t know he speaks their language. 

Scar doesn’t blame them, because, well... he isn’t exactly advertising it. The moment they come onto his beach with all their silly instruments and metal things and glass tubes, scooping out water and picking up fish and inspecting clams, writing it all down on some strange flimsy pads, that's when Scar knows he has to mess with them. They're just too easy, what with their silly little faces and their "aha's" and "oho's"! 

Life’s been boring (re: depressing) ever since Cub moved south. In the brief few words they exchanged before he left Scar all alone, he said it would be easier to start an industry where there were more mermaids and less humans. He said it would be better for them, for both of them, if they were to just pack up and leave, go somewhere where it's not just the two of them, where Cub can use his brain and Scar can use his charisma, and the two of them can flourish. But Scar doesn’t want an industry! He really just wants to spend his time sinking ships, breaking pieces off of said sunken ships, and creating statues. Gem used to help him with that, finding sport in crashing ships and ripping them apart with her claws. Pearl would help him get the humans to shore. Cub would sigh at them, but help them lug the materials back to their cave. 

(Cub had also mentioned Gem and Pearl, as hushed as it was-- as if he was afraid to say their names after all this time, after they left with no trace. He had a theory that they went somewhere warmer, somewhere more familiar, somewhere that was easier. Scar didn’t know what to say to that. So he didn’t say anything.) 

That was a long time ago, though…

The first time he meets the humans it’s windy on the surface. 

He lays and watches the water. The way it’s ruffled by the wind reminds him of when he and Cub would wait for boats to pass (boats , a word he learned when he was younger and more daring, peeking his head up by the docks to listen to fisherman as they talked deep into the night) so that they could chase the waves they created; man-made waves, different from the way the water breathes on its own. 

It’s times like these when he wishes that Cub had stuck around. The sea snakes are only so interesting gliding across the sand until he gets bored and starts to fling them out of the water for amusement-- which apparently they don’t enjoy! And, jeez, apparently everyone’s a critic nowadays, can't handle being tossed up out of the water… 

He combs through his hair, ratty and unkempt, strands coming loose as he does. Pearl used to help him maintain it. Now it’s all… annoying and long. Braiding it would help him a bunch-- would also remind him of Pearl, which could either be good or bad for his mental health right now, but he's willing to take the risk. So, yeah, he’ll braid it! Might as well do something with his time. 

He starts to slowly swim through the water, searching for just the right strand of kelp to help him out. Usually the best pieces are near the shore, right where humans sometimes like to come and swim. Cub, Gem, and Pearl used to scare them away by biting chunks off their bodies, made it a competition to see who could get the most in their mouth before the humans ran away. He never participated, not as fast or as bloodthirsty as any of them, content to watch and laugh and jeer and judge. Nowadays he just nips at their toes if they're too deep in the water, sends jellyfish their way if he's feeling extra spiteful. But humans don't come around much anymore. He's not sure if that's a blessing or a curse. 

If he’s lucky maybe he’ll find a piece of fishing line that some careless human left behind. It lasts much longer than kelp. Last time he had to scour the seafloor for a sharp enough rock to cut the braid because his teeth were not doing the job. Some pretty impressive stuff! 

If Cub were here, he’d tell Scar to stop going so close to the shore, because one day a human is going to see him and not be intimidated by sharp teeth and claws, and they’re going to lure him in, and then they’re going to hook him and flay him open on the beach like they do with the fish. 

Which is ridiculous. If they hooked him, he’d just kill them! Easy as that! And then he’d eat them! Simple plan! 

(Thinking of eating a human makes his gills flare out. What do they taste like…? None of his friends would ever tell him, but they also never complained.)

In spite of the Cub in his head he moves closer to the shore, keeping his eyes sharp for a long thread of fishing line. 

Humans don’t usually like wind. They yell about how it screws up their ‘casts’, how it makes sand fly into their eyes, how it blows away their stuff. Which means he’s good to go as close as he needs to! What stupid human would be out right now? 

(Apparently two stupid ‘researchers’ is the answer to that.) 

As soon as he bursts out of the forest of kelp, right near the dock but not close enough to be obscured by it, he realizes that there are two humans standing right where the shore meets the water. Their pants are rolled up, feet bare (prime for nibbling, might he add), and they’re talking loudly about something that Scar can’t really make out. He hadn’t been able to see them until he got closer. And now that he’s closer, it seems they saw him before he saw them.

Aw, man. Rule number one of hunting: see your prey before they see you. He’s already failed.

They yell something. A commotion. He turns to retreat, but then something splashes above his head. His immediate thought is a net. His next thought is I'm going to die.

For a second, he is frozen. For a second, he sees himself caught and hooked, cut open, hung from poles and left to die and dry in the sun. He imagines Cub coming back just to find nothing in his wake. He imagines the pain he may feel at that, the regret, and maybe that gives him satisfaction for a moment, no matter how grim and disgusting it feels inside of him. He imagines giving himself up to these humans, letting them cut him open, saying Cub and Gem and Pearl with his last breaths, imagining they can hear it from wherever they went. He shakes his head, the images disappearing.

And nothing happens. He looks up and sees... a fish. A dead fish. That's weird. 

A peace offering? An apology for treading where they shouldn’t? 

Bait? Says the Cub in the back of his mind. 

The fish is different from what he’s used to. Not from around here. That’s interesting. 

That’s dangerous, dude, sneers Cub, flicking him on his imagined forehead. 

I mean, yeah… but isn’t it also interesting? 

He eyes the humans. They’ve moved back, but they’re still in his water. There’s a less conscious part of him that wants to scare them off right now, prove that this is his land, that they can’t just put their gosh darn feet wherever they so please! He shoves it aside, sighing. 

It’s been… pretty lonely around here without the others. 

Just come meet me, man! Argues the Cub in his mind-- which is ridiculous! He knew when he left that Scar wouldn’t be able to follow. He’s not made for long distance travel; Cub is. Maybe that's why he didn't even try to convince him. Maybe that's why he was gone in the morning. Maybe he knew that Scar would say no, would stay in his home, would wait for Pearl and Gem to come back no matter how long it took. 

And so that's why he left. And so that's why Scar is alone. And so that’s why Scar isn’t leaving. 

(And Scar is also curious as to who these people are. They’re not coming closer, not throwing weapons at him, and they walk around with their flesh exposed just waiting for him to take a bite out of them. Do they not know? Do they think this water is safe? Do they think they can set themselves up here, as if Scar hasn't been here his entire life? The most important question, however, is: what do they taste like…?) 

He moves himself out of the shadows, reaches up a hand to grab the fish. His claw digs into it, warmed by the sun, and then he yanks it down. 

One of the humans screams. The other one screams immediately after, an involuntary reaction. 

There’s a flailing, and then one of them loses their balance and falls face first into the water. The splash disturbs a school of fish nearby, sending them careening in Scar’s direction. He swipes his nail downwards, manages to spear one on his claws, and shoves it into his mouth. 

As he chews, he sighs. Those things barely put up a fight. How boring. Wouldn't it be more fun if they tried to bite back? Maybe hit him with their little fins? 

He looks at the human again and finds their eyes wide open. Looking directly at him. His stare sends a jolt down his spine, makes him straighten himself up, suddenly aware of things he hasn't been aware of in forever-- like the way his hair floats around him, how shiny his tail is, how his scars look underneath the water. So as not to startle him, Scar waves as gently as he possibly can. The human starts to scream, bubbles erupting out of his mouth. Just as quickly as he fell, he scrambles out of the water. 

His hand falls. He notices, then, that there is more blood on his claws than he thought there was. There must be blood around his mouth, too. Oh, dangit. Just when he's trying to be friendly and not scary, too! They even gave him this gift! Some weird new fish, all different colours than he's used to. He turns it over in his hands, claws gently scraping a deep wound in the neck. A clean wound. It was killed swiftly, not with teeth and not with claws. And, jeez, humans are so dang strange! Where’s the fun in just killing it easily? Where’s the hunt? 

The humans are out of the water now. He cautiously swims to the surface, peeking his eyes out and blinking as the sun hits his head. On the beach he sees two people screaming at each other. The one who fell in the water has a ridiculous moustache on his face, his hair short and spiked from running his hand through it. The other has curly hair, some weird circular things on his face, and a whole thing of oysters at his feet. 

They gesture wildly at each other, their backs to him. On his beach. Near his water. Oh, boy, didn’t anyone ever tell them not to turn their backs on a predator? Jeez, it’s like they’re asking for him to mess with them!

“Mumbo, I thought I told you to keep your nose out of the redstone supply! It’s not for snorting, it's for powering our equipment!” The smaller one yells.

“For goodness… Grian, you know I haven’t done that stuff since college. I-I’m not on drugs, mate, I’m just… I just… I saw something.” The bigger one scratches at his head, his hands shaking. 

He slowly slithers up closer, making sure his tail stays below the water, his belly to the sand. He drags himself up by his claws, keeping an eye on the two of them. They don’t seem to notice anything, too involved in their little argument to even question if what they saw had good intentions or not. 

And he has good intentions! Of course he does-- of course! He just wants to scare them a little bit. Maybe take a chomp out of their legs. Maybe taste their flesh. Maybe fill his mouth up with their blood. 

If it were Cub or Gem or Pearl sneaking up on them like this, they’d be dead within seconds. But Scar just wants some entertainment that’s different from staring at fish all day… actually, mostly he just wants to taste them. Like, he really wants to taste them. He’s a nice guy! Just a little bit… peckish. 

And he’s getting closer. And closer. And closer.

“People don’t come to this beach for a reason, Grian! They-- the locals said that there are,” his voice gets real quiet, "spirits in the water.” 

“Why on earth would spirits be in the water and not on land?” 

“I don’t know, man, I’m not-- not some kind of… spirit expert! Why on earth would spirits be stuck on the land, though? How does that make sense, mate? We shouldn’t apply our own logic to spirits. Honestly, check yourself.”

The small one puts his head in his hands but says nothing. Just as Scar pulls himself out of the water, eyes trained on the heel of the bigger one, the small one’s eyes flick down to him. They’re a deep brown, almost black, magnified a bit by whatever ridiculous thing he’s got on his face. 

“Mumbo.” He says. Quietly. Carefully. “Don’t look now, but there’s… something there.”

Bigger one freezes up. “Y-Y-You… Grian, this isn’t very funny. I’m not a fan of your pranks! You know this!” 

Small one is still looking at him. Challenging him.  

Instincts tell him that he failed this hunt and he is vastly outnumbered, but curiosity gets the better of him. He could probably still… take a bite. 

A pause. Then, using all his hunting instincts, he rockets himself towards the leg, feeling his fangs dripping with saliva as he does. The small one is faster on the land, though, and tackles the big one out of his reach, his jaw snapping closed onto nothing but air. 

The humans fall to the sand, and Scar slithers back into the water as quickly as possible, relief pulsing through his body. Not his best move, he’ll be honest. 

“Mumbo, you absolute spoon! ” Shouts small one. 

He sticks his eyes out of the water. They’re both staring at him. They go white as he blinks at them.

“Do you… heh, um… do you see that, mate?” 

“That’s what just tried to take a bite out of your leg, buddy.”

“Oh. Oh, goodness.” The big one’s voice trickles off into nothing. His eyes flutter, then he collapses into the sand. 

Holy shit I killed him. 

A series of clicks and trills come out of his mouth before he can stop them. Mostly curses. He learned it from the dolphins around here, way back when he was younger, when Cub said that he should probably spend less time listening to humans speak and spend more time listening to ocean creatures speak. He’s pretty fluent now. What good does that do for him, though? 

‘I just wanted a taste?’ He says to him in dolphin. The small one doesn’t seem to care, immediately dragging his companion’s body away from the water. 

Maybe I can convince him to throw the whole body into the water? Get a full meal out of it? And some cool bones! Ohhh, I’m a genius! 

And then maybe small one will stick around and he’ll have tackled two of his issues! He’ll have a new friend and a taste of human! What a perfect compromise. 

Just as he’s planning the best way to convince small one to hand over the corpse of big one, suddenly he starts to stir. Scar tries not to look too disappointed. The small one is whispering to him, brushing back his hair and bringing him things that he eats and drinks, slow and unsure. The whole time Scar is there watching them. The whole time they both watch him right back, conversing in quiet voices.

But he wants to hear them! How selfish!

He swims a little bit closer. 

“Stay back!” The small one barks.

He stops. A beat passes. 

“Do… do you think it understands us?” The big one asks, just loud enough for him to hear. 

Small one regards him with a shocking amount of unfriendliness. His fins droop at the stare. 

“Uh… I’m not quite sure, Mumbo. It’s not really a human. But it’s not really a fish either. Say, what are the odds that English of all languages made its way down to the bottom of the ocean in a country colonized by England rather early? Probably quite low, yeah? Just generally speaking."

Big one appears to be thinking. “Right. Point taken. Um. Do you… do you think maybe it’s just hungry?”

“Well, I gave it a fish, Mumbo! For goodness sake, it shouldn’t be greedy.”

“It’s bigger than a normal fish, Grian! Look! It’s like the size of a whole human!” Big one gestures wildly at him, his voice going all high pitched. “D-Do you absolutely believe in your heart of hearts that just one little fish is enough to satiate something that big?”

“So you want me to give it more fish.” Deadpans the smaller one. "You want me to reward it for attacking you? For trying to take a big ol' bite out of your leg?"

“Well, if it stops the thing from attacking me again, I’d be right chuffed about that.” 

A dramatic sigh, and the small one pulls himself up, walking barefoot across the shore until Scar can barely see him anymore. 

Amateur move. He could just kill the big one right now and be done with it, drag his body so far down the short one won’t even know what happened. His eyes must turn hungry, because the big one starts to giggle nervously.

“Y-You… right, you’re looking at me like I’m a delicious meal right now. And I see where you’re coming from! Really, I do-- I mean, I’m not a meat eater, but if I was then I’d imagine that a human would taste pretty interesting. Maybe even good? Probably dependent on their diet. Not… not that I would eat humans if I did eat meat. Because that’s cannibalism. And that’s generally frowned upon. Illegal and unethical, one may say. And they do. Say that, that is. It’s, like, a thing written into the law.” 

Alright, now Scar’s confused.

He’s wringing his hands, still talking. “Say, do you even eat humans? Because every story I’ve heard says people only really leave with a few bits of their flesh missing. Much better than being eaten whole, might I say, because at least you’re still alive, even if you are missin’ a few veins and maybe even some muscles. Pretty important, but not as important as the whole body. Or the organs.” He hums, looking like he’s genuinely intrigued himself. “Goodness, but imagine if you could just get straight to the organs. Your claws look rather sharp, you could just,” he kind of swipes his hand across his own chest, “do that. You know? Wouldn’t that be a scary thing? Gosh, am I glad you can’t understand me, because I am both speaking nonsense and giving you very good ideas.”

He is! It’s very entertaining. Scar has started to drift closer, completely forgetting about his previous goals of dragging him down and feasting on his corpse-- because if he did that, then he wouldn’t get to hear him talk! And that would be a shame! He’s got a weird accent-- both of the humans do, actually, and it’s a little hypnotic to listen to. It reminds him a bit of Pearl, but different in so many ways. And his face lights up when he talks! Even if he looks increasingly more scared the closer Scar gets. 

“A-Ah, buddy, you are… you are getting quite close, aren’t you?” He scoots backwards in the sand, so Scar stops. A click. A trill. Telling him not to leave. He bows his head in submission, hopes it makes him look pathetic enough that the human will forgive his former plan to eat him and keep talking. “You… huh, that’s very interesting. That must be your language. You have a language. And you are-- you are speaking it to me right now, currently, as I speak to you, almost as if you are responding.” 

Inwardly, he giggles. Outwardly, he clicks once again: ‘I’m a respondy sort of guy!’ 

It makes his eyes go all shiny. Cute! “Wow! You are absolutely responding to me! H-Hold on, let me get my notepad--” he trips as he stands up, sand scattering, and grabs a little slab of something and a shiny tube. He starts to move his wrist, watching him all the while. “We came here to study the water and the wildlife, environmental conservation and all that good stuff, but we really did not expect to find… whatever you are! Gosh, you’re very cool!” 

‘You really think so?’ He slaps his tail against the surface of the water, puffing up his chest. The human gets a glimpse of his tail and nearly drops his stuff, mouth falling open. He smiles, hoping his teeth aren’t still all bloody and off putting. 

As the human moves his wrist, he speaks aloud, “multicoloured scales on tail… bared teeth at me, unsure if sign of aggression? ” 

The small one is coming back now. He’s way too fast! Scar is enjoying this big one and the funny ways he speaks and how his eyes look when he’s excited and the way he admires his tail! He does not like the way the smaller one glares at him as if he’s done something wrong. He didn’t do anything! 

He only tried to do something. Very different, right? 

“Mumbo, what the heck are you doing?” He cries. He’s carrying three more fish. “The thing is right there!”

“Yeah, mate, but it’s been docile! It’s just watchin’ me! Listen, Grian, it-- it made these sounds,” he tries to imitate what Scar said, failing so miserably that he has to submerge himself to roll around on the seafloor, his laughter attracting some curious fish that he can’t even eat because he’s so busy giggling . When he comes back, the guy is still talking. “...and honestly I’m not quite sure if the previous display of submission was because it felt bad or was trying to be peaceful or-- Grian, I’m not certain how aware it is, honestly? It seems like it knows what’s happening. And… it’s got a human face.” 

“I see that, Mumbo.” Small one studies him. He studies him right back. Small one is less curious, but that doesn’t mean he’s not still curious. He just hides it well. “I… look, I’m honestly not sure what to do with it. Like, obviously let it go, yeah, but it doesn’t seem to want to leave. Animals don’t tend to stick around like this.”

“It’s not an animal!” 

‘Exactly! I’m just like you! Except only kind of. I'm missin' the whole legs part.’ He clicks and trills at them. 

“See?!” Big one is happy again. His chest flutters. “It’s-- they’re listening to us! They may not be able to understand us, but they’re still capable of speech.”

The small one comes closer to the water. He watches as he bends down, placing the fish at the shore, waggling a finger at him. “Don’t you dare attack me when I’m here to give you food, or I’ll be quite pissed off.”

Ohhh, it would be so funny if he attacked him. But he won’t! He’s a man of many talents, and one of those talents includes restraint. 

(But it would be really funny if he did it, still.) 

He swims up slowly, so as not to startle them. The small one takes a step back. He picks up a fish and stares at it. It looks equally as shocked as he is to see it, eyes frozen over in a permanent state of disbelief. Still, he’s hungry, so he shoves it into his gullet and devours it, licking blood and viscera off of his lips as he stares up at them.

“I’m gonna be sick,” the big one says. 

“Huh.” The smaller one is smiling, now, his suspicions softening. “Y’know, Mumbo… they’re rather cute, wouldn’t you say?”

His ears pin back to his head. He’s what? Cute?! 

“You-- what the heck , Grian? They just devoured a fish in front of you and you think that's cute? Your priorities are... man, I don't even know what to say."

“N-Not in that way! God, I’ve just gone and embarrassed myself, haven’t I?”

“That’s practically a human! You can’t flirt with the person we just met out of the ocean, Grian, have some tact!” 

“But they’re not practically a human! They’ve got a whole… whole fish half, Mumbo!” He devours another fish. They’re both looking a bit apprehensive now. “Um. Yeah, this is a whole mermaid situation, for sure.” 

“And mermaids are basically human!” 

“Well, we don’t know that? We didn’t know they were real until about,” he checks something on his wrist, “oh, I don’t know, thirty minutes ago?! And I wasn’t flirting, you strange man! It’s just… they looked happy to have some food.” 

He’s not wrong about that. Scar’s happy to eat! Happy to be in the sun! Happy to be talking to a few humans even if they seem to think he can’t understand them! Happy to be playing a little trick on them the most! 

“Huh.” Big one seems to relax. He looks at Scar, his head tilting. “Yeah, I guess they did. Say, do you think they’re struggling for food out here?”

“Maybe?” Small one steps closer, as if to get a better look at him, and yet it still frightens something deep inside of him. He snatches his fish and dives under the surface. He can hear him apologizing. He comes back up, a better distance away, and tries to soothe the nerves that jitter around in him.

Smaller one struggles for words for a second. “I’m sorry, mate, I-- shit… Mumbo, I think we’ve found something else interesting to observe.”

“Oh, what could be more interesting than…” he looks down at the stuff around his feet. “Measuring water contents and looking to see if the oysters have any genetic mutations? What could we possibly observe that would be more fun than that?” 

They both grin at each other, and whatever little nuanced message they communicate via their eyes goes completely over Scar’s head, but still... he’s got a feeling he just made two new friends today.

[transtalesofdoom]

Personal experiences with Gender Roles as an AFAB Transmasc

I know not everyone's big on describing yourself with your assigned gender, but for me, it is a pretty significant part of myself and my upbringing specifically. And that's kinda what this post is about.

Growing up as a nonbinary transmasc, there weren't a lot of opportunities for me to have strong feelings about my gender, whether that'd be dysphoria or euphoria.

Presenting masculine-ish as a girl is pretty easy. It's socially very acceptable. We even have a word for it. Tomboy. If there's a non-derogatory version for feminine-presenting boys, I'm not aware of it. I wasn't a full butch tomboy, I kept my hair long and happily wore dresses to special occasions. I also wasn't exposed to particularly strong gender roles. My godfather wore his hair long. My mom being a single mom meant she had to fill the dad role too. My grandparents were equal to each other, even if my grandma was the housewife and my grandpa was the breadwinner - roles that they mostly wrapped up by the time I came around. My gender expression was never about gender, really. It was about convenience. Pants are comfier and allow free movement. Make-up just takes up time in the morning. Flat sneakers are comfier than anything with heels. I wore quite an amount of pink, not by explicit choice, but because they were convenient hand-me-downs. Wearing a pink sweater was more convenient than having to go shopping. Once I got older, I cut my hair short. Also for convenience, of course. (Spoiler: That one wasn't for convenience.) So I didn't really have an opportunity for an "aha" moment when expressing masculinity for the first time. It was just always kinda happening. And it wasn't particularly special. It wasn't like presenting more feminine bothered me, either. No "aha" moments from that side.

I think it's a little more difficult for transmascs to experience and especially identify gender dysphoria. Because growing up female, you're taught over and over that what makes you female is awful, inconvenient, and shameful. Boobs are heavy, painfully sensitive, they get in the way, and give you back problems. Wearing a bra hurts. Not wearing a bra hurts. Bras are expensive, too, but don't you dare show them in public. They're only acceptable in public when they're on poster advertisement models, looking seductively for some reason. When it comes to boobs, no one actually likes having them, but a lot of people enjoy looking at them. There's thousands of jokes about dicks or dick related masturbation. Middle schoolers draw dicks everywhere. It's the height of comedy. You ever see a vulva drawn somewhere? Know a joke or even a euphemism for masturbation involving a vulva/vagina? No, that's taboo. Periods are awful. There are so, so many things I could say here about menstruation, social stigma, pain, and so on. I'm not going to. You've heard it all before, countless times. Of course you hate your period. No one likes their period. There's another whole section I could write about women's role in society as caregivers, about emotional labor, everyday sexism, but you've heard all that as well and the post is long enough already.

Of course you hate being a woman. Being a woman is miserable.

And within this atmosphere, within this external and internalized misogyny, within this misery, how do you differentiate? How do you tell apart dysphoria and the pain of womanhood you've been told is normal? A lot of terfs use this a talking point. They like to claim that trans men are just women who couldn't cope with the misery of the patriarchy. This post isn't about debunking that, but I'd like to briefly go on record and say that they're full of shit. Trans Men are Men. Trans Women are Women.

As someone who hasn't experienced a lot of gender dysphoria or euphoria, this does leave me with the occasional wave of doubt. Are these really trans feelings? Do I just hate being a woman, the way every woman does?

Then I remember that gender is an entirely fake concept and I can do whatever the fuck I want.

[theamateurartistblog]

The Sad Tale of an Artist's Burnout

I have been burnout over a lot of things but being burnout because of art hits differently. Art burnouts are the worst. Imagine just losing your passion for something or having to force yourself to do so. If this sounds like something you’re going through have no fear, I’m here. Imma tell you how to prevent a burnout and some tips that will help you get back into shape in no time.

Stop Drawing

Mcutie are you serious? Yes, I’m not joking. Stop drawing. Your brain is tired of doing the same thing over and over again, give it a break. Find another hobby, play a game, watch a movie, catch up on a comic or manga (if you want some recommendations I got you;) maybe then you will find inspiration to draw.

Ease your mind a little. What always helps me is ASMRs, find a channel you like and relax to them or put on some Lofi tunes, whatever it takes for you to get your mind out of the sketchbook. Don’t think that when you stop drawing you’re gonna lose your talent, you can’t lose talent but you can lose passion.

Stop looking for likes and views

They'll come eventually, I'm still in the baby stages myself and sometimes it's disappointing not to see any likes or views but that just takes the fun out of art. Social Media is tiring especially with the algorithm doing whatever it likes. If you run an art page why not give it a break a little, maybe the stress of putting out too much content is getting to you.

Also, the self-declared “art critics” don't help either (baby artists please ignore these people, pay attention to the ones who really give you solid advice) so drop social media for a while and post your art unless you want to.

“But Mcutie I need to advertise to get commissions!” (in a future post, I'll give you tips on how to make money with your art). I hear you, but the posts you have in your feed are already enough to tell your audience about what you do and which commissions you’ll take. My advice is to shake it up a bit, instead of Instagram try Twitter maybe art station or deviant art, they have some nice communities on there.

Or better yet create your little website and build a community around it (I'm currently trying this one on Tumblr so follow me on my journey if you want) who knows maybe you’ll find people who respect and admire what you do. ^^

Don’t Compare Yourself!

HA! I need to take my advice. It’s easy to compare yourself with others and let’s be frank there is always gonna be a better artist or athlete or dancer but there is never gonna be another you. The way how YOU draw is different from other artists, no two people are the same and no two artists have the same style unless one artist copies from another. However, it's good to try out new styles and see how you can implement them into your drawings. You may find something that can add an extra spice to your art.

Find Inspiration - Outside!!!

AHA! You thought I was gonna tell you to take up Pinterest and browse huh? Nope! I need YOU to TOUCH SOME GRASS! Look at the clouds find shapes in them, take a walk in the park or something. “But what if it is snowing?” Who cares?! Sit at your window and watch the snowflakes fall you may just find something that inspires you. Doing this motivates you to take up that pen and paper or tablet or whatever kids use these days and draw.

Sleep!! - Please Sleep...

Once again…….I need to take my advice. But let’s face it have you ever gone to bed and suddenly at exactly 3:00 am you get the urge to get creative? That’s what you want! Therefore, get some rest, take a nice bath, rub on your favorite lotion, put on your favorite PJs, and sleep it out. “I suffer from insomnia….” So do I but if it is chronic go and see the doctor maybe you need medical assistance, if not try playing rain sounds or as I said earlier find your favorite ASMRist and just close you’re eyes and fall asleep.

In Conclusion....

At the end of the day, something is gonna burn us out whether it is work, hobbies, or just life in general but the thing is we do not want to stay in a burnout. Besides if you stay in a burnout you’ll just shrivel up and die. So try my tips and if you have anything to add say it in the comments so others can benefit from them. Until next time stay healthy and stay cute.

(〃＾▽＾〃)

[dearly]

²⁹ Perfect Pitching: Bethenny Frankel and the Making of a Celebrity Brand 

Frankel would be meeting a group of life-style bloggers who had been hired by Beam to act as “influencers” for Skinnygirl Cocktails. “These are ten bloggers who are going to share with every single follower that they met you, and that you’re inspirational,” Cohen said. She added, firmly, “It’s important that you message the right things to these people. Because these people have a ton of followers.”

“O.K.,” Frankel said. “Why did they only pick ten, though?” She’s active on Twitter, but the nuances of social media sometimes escape her. (An agency called DM2 manages most of her social-media accounts.)

“Because they’re the most influential.”

“Influential of what?”

“Messaging of cocktails,” Cohen said. “Like, if you tweet something about a cocktail, it goes to 1.4 million people. One of these girls tonight—Lauryn Evarts, of the Skinny Confidential—she has half a million followers. It’s a blog. And she worships you. She’s, like, ‘I want to be the next Bethenny Frankel.’ ”

[ In fandom this would be the ‘stalkers’ who perpetuate a narrative and push certain stories, or UAs or other fans that are approached and compensated.]

³⁰ David Kamerer PHD Presentation, Plug Away: Disclosure of material connections in social media channels

[sleep-i-ness]

Insider (Part 2) (Tony Stark x reader)

Summary: Tony Stark is your only lead as a team, so you're sent right into the lion's den. Set after Avengers (2012)

Warnings: smut but not explicit, alcohol, guns but NO character death/injury

Pairings: Tony Stark x reader

Square Filled: Spy/Assassin

A/N: @avengersbingo

SERIES MASTERLIST | MCU MASTERLIST | GENERAL MASTERLIST

It was day five into your seven-day window of opportunity and your hope was all but gone. You apparently weren’t allowed anywhere unsupervised, which, although unsurprising, was a pain in the arse and really hadn’t helped with the whole hacking in thing. There was one blind spot in the room, which so far had been no help and utterly useless because Stark refused to leave you be for even a second.

And you were pretty sure his eyes had been following you around the whole time.

You glanced up, making eye contact. Yep. The super-hot businessman with a genius that intimidated you clearly had figured it out. Why else would he be watching you incessantly unless he didn’t trust you?

“I need you to clear out my emails. I don’t care what they say, what’s being advertised, or what urgent thing is happening; just delete them all.”

You nodded. This was your moment of opportunity, if he would stop watching you. Setting yourself up behind his terminal, you lowered yourself into his office chair. Of course he had a glass desk; it couldn’t be that easy.

“Tony.”

Your head snapped towards the door. Ah. That was someone you hadn’t seen here before.

“Rhodey-bear!” Stark threw open his arms, big grin on his face as his attention was diverted.

Right, memory stick, left pocket, just need to slip that into the terminal. You snuck a look at the pair, who were still deep in discussion. The program loaded up, black window popping up and you cursed yourself for not making a GUI to disguise the whole thing.

“Another one?” The man, Rhodey, in his very smart army uniform wrinkled his nose.

You kept yourself hunched over the screens, acutely aware of the shiny metal robot behind you that was no doubt reflecting everything. Nothing suspicious here, nothing wrong, don’t look too closely.

“Pepper insisted.”

Fuck. There was no way. You took another look, face dropping as you recognised the man. Of course James Rhodes was bestest of pals with Tony Stark. You just hoped that it had been so long that he had no idea who you were anymore. It’s not like you had been particularly close with him. He had been friends with Ghost, and you’d joined them on a couple nights out whilst on tour. But that was it.

“And you usually do what Pepper says?”

Okay. 83%. Not bad, not bad. Just another 17%, then you could get out of here on the pretence of fetching coffee or something and make sure that James Rhodes did not recognise you.

“No, but she was right in this case.”

Was this is what the elephant felt like? You tried to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, but your unfortunately pink dress wasn’t playing ball.

“Tony, did you not learn from Naples?” Rhodes was becoming vexed, and you weren’t sure how he had managed to keep a lid on it for so long.

“Which time? First or second?”

Aha! 100% - COMPLETE flashed up at you and you yanked out the memory stick, shutting all the application windows to ensure that you left nothing to be found.

“I’m getting coffee. Mr Stark, Colonel, do you want anything?” The men brushed you off, just as you had wanted, and you rushed to the nearest balcony.

You just had to hope that there were no cameras or microphones out there.

He picked up on the first ring. “Right, Ghost, I need you to check my laptop. Left hand corner, does it say connected?”

“Yes.”

You clapped a hand to your mouth, stifling the loud victory whoop that was threatening to break free. “I know you can’t see me right now, but I am totally doing a victory dance. I can’t believe I hacked into Tony Stark’s system.”

“I can, patita.” Ghost’s voice is quiet enough to be whispering a secret, but everything he says seems to be secretive. Something special only you’re allowed to hear.

“Right, now don’t touch the program until I get back tonight; I don’t trust any of you guys.” You exhaled softly through your mouth, trying to regulate your excitement. “I fucking did it!”

“We’ll see you tonight.” Arctic’s voice cut through your mental celebration, bringing you back to reality. You nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see you, before quickly responding with an affirmative. Way to bring the mood down.

:.

By the time you returned to the lab, Stark was on the couch, nursing a very full glass of whisky. His cufflinks were off, shirt rolled up to the elbows and unbuttoned to halfway down his chest. Fuck. Bright eyes looked at you, still sober, and you guessed that Rhodes must have only just left.

“Mr Stark?”

He beckoned you over, motioning you closer until you were kneeling in front of him, eyes in line with each other as he reclined. Stark leans forward, brown irises a mix of caramel and chocolate and every shade in between and you feel like you could drown. Your lips were close enough that even breathing might cause them to touch and you weren’t sure you’d stop him.

He pressed his lips firmly to yours, and you murmured some incoherent protests, really not wanting to break free. One hand cupped the side of your neck, promising so much more, and the other slipped down to the small of your back, resting just above your arse. He was just as good a kisser as the tabloids gossiped.

You pushed away. This was wrong.

“Mr Stark, we can’t. You’re my boss! This is – I swear that you’re not allowed to – isn’t this inappr-o-priate?” Your voice rose half an octave when Stark’ hand finally moved down and pinched your arse.

“That’s not a problem,” Stark followed you up, pressing you against his worktable. As thigh brushed against thigh and hip knocked against the edge of the table, you realised just how far this had gone. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I- I just-” The words failed to escape you as you scrabbled around in your mind for a coherent thought, far too focused on the hand creeping up your thigh. You wanted this too badly to voluntarilybullshit your way out of sex.

“You talk too much.”

Stark pushed you down against the table, and all you could see was that stupidly hot smirk and brown eyes with pupils blown wide. And then you were being kissed again.

Arctic was going to kill you.

:.

Stark looked up at you from between your thighs, smirking at you as your legs trembled and toes curled. It was like having the devil beneath you, every sinful moan and dark thought coaxed out with that silver tongue.

“Shall we take this to a proper bedroom?”

As he pulled you upstairs, you noticed the glorious view of the sunset, purples and oranges streaking across the sky and highlighting the clouds. The sunset.

“Mr Stark, I need to go.”

“Hm?” He raised an eyebrow, biting softly against the side of your neck.

You moaned, eyelids fluttering. “I really, mm, actually-”

“Jesus, just shut up!” But there was no real malice behind his words as he managed to wrangle you into his bedroom.

Stark had the biggest bed you’ve ever seen. Unsurprisingly. And, oh lord, the silkiest sheets you’ve ever felt.

His lips traced a trail of fire as they peppered over your skin, and you wished you had some way of pretending to Arctic that you really hadn’t wanted this. But when Stark found that sweet spot on your neck and sucked so hard you saw stars, you knew that anything otherwise would be an utter lie. Because Stark was a god in the sheets.

“Is this-” You cut yourself off with a muffled moan as his teeth grazed over that one spot. “Is this typical Stark Industries performance review?”

Stark paused, lifting himself up onto his hands to look at you. “I don’t usually sleep with my aides; Pepper doesn’t let me. But you don’t count.”

“Oh, I don’t?” You raised your eyebrows. “Wow, that really does wonders for my self-esteem.”

“Oh, shh, you’re special.” Stark was finally done with pulling your underwear off your ankles, and you watched as they sailed idly through the air to some corner. He had far too much ease in every move, and you cursed yourself.

Idiot. Or as Ghost would say, stupida, with that little smirk of his. You had heard of Tony Stark’s reputation, the amount of bed partners, and you’d fallen right into it.

“Take off your shirt.”

You got entangled in the sleeves and neck, as Stark snorted at you. You were far too busy figuring out what went wrong to focus on the fingers tracing the edge of your bra strap. He unclipped it, and chucks it in some direction, the strapless-ness far too helpful to him in his mission.

“F-fuck,” you stuttered, as the cold air hit your nipples.

He smirked as you achieved freedom from your shirt. “Well, that is the plan.”

“I – I don’t want you thinking I do this all the time. Well, the sex part, yes, but also no. But also I don’t usually make a habit of sleeping with my boss. In all honesty I think it’s a bit inappropriate-”

Stark cut you off. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

He pulled off his very nice silk tie, giving it an experimental tug and tying a knot in the middle. “Open wide.”

The knot settled in your mouth, and he tied it firmly round the back of your head. “Much better.”

You attempted to form some sort of protestation but all that came out was unintelligible mumbling.

Stark chuckled softly. Prick.

“INTRUDER ALERT!” What sounded remarkably like a fire alarm starts echoing in the corridors and Stark rolled his eyes, moment broken. The thing is that you can appreciate the sarcastic, incredible AI, but, as literally every movie with a house run by an AI can tell you, it’s a bad idea.

“Oh for-” Stark cuts himself off, rubbing his face. “JARVIS, give me visuals. And where’s my suit?”

The AI is practically acidic. “Do you mean the Armani suit in your cupboard, sir? Or the one whose tie is currently ruined by your aide’s saliva?”

Are you being baited by a disembodied voice? With a British accent?

“Behave, JARVIS, where is my red and gold sweatsuit?”

“Your titanium armour is in the suitcase under your bed, sir.” And you imagined you could almost hear the testiness in his AI’s voice.

Stark turned to you with that now too familiar smirk. “He hates when I call the armour my ‘sweatsuit’.”

“Now,” he murmured, lips brushing against that repeated spot on your neck. “Who are you? And how did you manage to get in here?”

The bed tilted as Stark jumped up, and it took a moment for you to regain your bearings. When you found it in yourself to sit up, you were confronted by the windows-turned-massive-computer-screen. Yep, that was definitely Arctic, Delila and Ghost.

You’d think that they didn’t trust you.

And really they could have let you finish off in here. Talk about insensitivity to your needs.

“One of my subroutines is not functioning properly due to tampering; it appears that someone has tried to hack into my system, sir.” The AI’s voice was even frostier, if that was possible, and you tried to muster a smile, forgetting about the tie in your mouth. You settled for a shrug as you pulled the silk from your mouth.

Stark was in his suit by this point, faceplate flipped up to convey every ounce of his disappointment. “I would be impressed, but knowing my own system, I would say that it’s a near impossible task. I leave the possibility for it open because I am not without humility.”

“Oh really sir? I had-” And JARVIS was cut off; the alarms stopped blaring; Arctic, Delila and Ghost disappeared from sight; and everything went dark.

“Nice job, but there’s something called auxiliary power. Which should turn back on in 3, 2, 1…”

Nothing happened. Stark frowned. Pointed an angry mechanical finger at you. “You stay here.”

You smirked.

Again, house dependent on AI? Bad idea. Just as easy to break into as any other house when you get rid of the AI.

:.

You stumbled into the living room wearing just your underwear, because when Ghost and Arctic were pointing guns at people and Delila no doubt had her knives out, you needed to move quickly. It was a bit of a miracle that you found any underwear at all, given that Stark had thrown them in opposite directions across the room.

You skidded to a halt. “Huh.”

There were definitely people here that you hadn’t seen here before.

Arctic gaped at you, and Ghost widened his eyes slightly, which in Ghost-language was pretty much the same thing. Delila, on the other hand, seemed totally unsurprised and you weren’t sure whether you hated that or not.

“Y/N?” Arctic was the first to address you.

You raised a hand weakly. “Hi Arctic.”

“You missed your check-in.” Arctic’s frown deepened. “Ghost had to figure out your program.”

You snuck a peek at Ghost, who seems totally unperturbed by the whole situation on the surface, but you were pretty sure you could see the disappointment in his eyes.

“Yeah.” You scratched your neck, heat rising to your cheeks. You coughed lightly. “ About that…”

“You know these people?” The red-head deigned to acknowledge you; although she seemed to be locked in some sort of staring contest with Ghost.

“Y/N?” Stark echoed, mirroring Arctic’s frown.

“Uh-” But you were thankfully cut off from having to explain yourself when 200lbs of pure muscle mass and self confidence comes running into the room. Your gaze raked over the suit and the shield; no fucking way.

“I heard the intruder alarm,” Captain America paused, blinking a couple times as he caught sight of you. He looked at Stark. And back to you. “Stark, why is there a half-naked woman in the living room?”

Stark groaned. “The real question is why isn’t the half-naked woman in my bedroom where I left her and told her to stay? English is your first language, right?”

You looked at Arctic for some help, but he just raised his eyebrows, seeming far too amused. You were never going to live this down. “Right, can we just lower our guns- and repulsors – and shields? And talk like proper adults?”

“Do you know these people?”

You grimaced, offering Stark a weak smile. “Yeah?”

“They broke in. Carrying weapons.” The red-head was a little less inclined to step away from the whole prospect of violence; she reminded you a bit of Ghost. In a good way? You weren’t sure.

“Yeah, they do tend to do that. I mean, my main gal Delila has pulled a knife out of her bra on me before. It was impressive. Also very scary. But no one’s going to harm anyone?”

You watched as weapons were lowered and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe you should become a hostage negotiator with how well this was currently going.

“So, I’m going to go put on some clothes and I’ll be right back.” You were itching to cover yourself up; you hadn’t expected quite so many people to be in the room.

“Oh, shame, I like how all that nothing looks on you,” Stark’s smirk was evident in his tone, and your cheeks flamed.

You made your hasty retreat.

Behind you in the living room, you heard Captain America saying, “Who’s that, Stark?” and a moment later “-And why were they naked?”

:.

By the time you had returned in Stark’s discarded shirt (in all fairness, it had been the only thing you could find), the weapons had been raised again.

“Woah, can we just please stop pointing weapons at each other?”

Captain America, (you still couldn’t quite believe that it was actually Captain America), sighed, lowering his shield. “She’s right; let’s resolve this properly.”

“Steve, they broke into our accommodation. With weapons. If anything they should be lowering their weapons.” The red-head was unimpressed with her orders, choosing to keep her pistol held high and you pulled a face.

Wait, hang on.

Their accommodation?

You whirled on Stark, accusative finger outstretched. “You lied to me; you said there was no one else living here.”

“I lied to you?” He spluttered. And in fairness you guessed that your lie had been a little bigger. But he had lied to the person you were meant to be, not to you as a liar. If that made sense.

“It was meant to be confidential.” The red-head rolled her eyes. “But Nick is on his way so it’s not like it matters; you won’t be leaving here alive.”

“Romanoff, Stark, Barton, and Odinson, stand down.” Captain America made eye contact with you, and a shiver of intimidation ran through you. “I trust that you will make sure that your teammates do the same.”

You nodded, a little disconcerted by your sudden assumed power. “Arctic, please.”

Arctic held your gaze, frowning as he tried to discern whatever was behind your eyes. Did he really think that you would betray them? He glanced at Delila and Ghost who lowered their guns. You assumed Quintus was in position as a sniper, he hadn’t shown yet, but you hoped he had got the message.

“So,” You wrapped the shirt tighter around you, the cool night air unpleasant against your bare skin. You really should’ve found yourself more clothes. “What do we do now?”

“Anyone fancy a drink?” Stark stepped out of his suit, wandering over to the bar. Your gaze trailed shamelessly over his rippling muscles, his underwear the only piece of modesty. Yeah, there was no way you were regretting doing that.

“Stark.”

Captain America’s tone was low and almost dangerous; you’d never thought he’d be this intimidating. America’s poster boy always came across as kind and gentlemanly on TV, but you guessed that this probably wasn’t the best situation in which to make an impression.

“Y/N?” Stark turned to you, the corner of his lips twitching. “Although that probably isn’t your real name.”

You hesitated, eyes flickering to Arctic, who just raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll get you rum on the rocks.” Stark made up your mind for you, pouring out that very nice expensive brand he’d given you earlier. Fuck, if you had the opportunity to settle down, you might just give everything up for this. This was the life.

As you sipped at your rum, you became aware of gradually approaching whir of a helicopter. Mostly because everyone else had started to look around; you couldn’t pretend that you had excellent observation skills. Ah shit, that was probably their boss or something.

You glanced at the amber liquid, swirling around the ice.

Was it a good idea to-?

Well, liquid courage and all that. You took a large swig, hoping that no one was watching. Stark laughed, covering it with a cough as you gave him a glare.

The doors opened, and you jumped, quickly backing the rest of your drink. Maybe you had a problem. No, that was a thought path for another day.

Their boss wore a long dark coat and an eyepatch. Like an old 16th century pirate. But a lot more intimidating than kids books made them seem. He looked like the kind of person who would order the death of his closest friends without even blinking his eyes.

You shivered.

He scanned the room, single eye roving over each of your teammates in turn, before stopping on Arctic. “Arctic, I’ve heard of you and your team.”

You frowned. You were all supposedly dead, according to official records, so how the hell did he know of you?

Arctic crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. “Well it seems that you know all about us, so who the hell are you?”

“Nick Fury.”

No fucking way. Nick Fury didn’t exist. Nick Fury was a name whispered in back alleys and in stories to little mobster kids before going to bed to scare them. The criminal world’s bogeyman.

Arctic scoffed. “Nick Fury is an urban legend.”

“So is the man you’re hunting.”

:.

Arctic and Nick Fury disappeared into a conference room for what seemed like hours, leaving the rest of you in the living room. Stark was a wonderful waiter, topping up your glass without hesitation, presumably so he’d have a companion to descend into drunkenness with.

Delila’s glare kept you from sipping without thinking, her warning enough to make you place your glass down carefully on a coaster. No need to irritate anyone further by leaving marks on the oak tables (which looked more expensive than anything you’d touched before this week.) This week was really an insight into the finer things in life, and if you could take down the guy who had ruined your life at the same time as stealing a massive fortune, you wouldn’t be unhappy. You wanted an oak table that probably had costed more than what you had made in an entire year in the army.

Maybe you could get a job here. Well that was just wishful thinking.

Stark slipped into the free spot next to you on the sofa, his bare thigh brushing against yours, and you flushed. His shirt suddenly was a lot smaller, far more evidently ending at the top of your thigh.

You glanced at Ghost who was drilling a hole into the wall with his stare. You grimaced.

You had royally fucked this up.

The door opening drew all attention, heads snapping towards the sound of the hinges creaking as Fury and Arctic stepped into the room. They shook hands. You frowned.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have a proposal for you.”

-

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[cookie-run-kingdom-story]

Herb Cookie’s Side Quest

Herb Cookie: Hello Sunshine! Hello, little sprouts! Herb Cookie: I just love living in this town! Herb Cookie: Though, I wish there were more flowers around. Herb Cookie: Ah, the weather is so nice today! Shall we go plant some?

Sparkling Cookie: Hello, Herb Cookie! I like your flowers! Herb Cookie: Thank you! My little hobby… Herb Cookie: You should try gardening too! Sparkling Cookie: But I don’t have a garden. Sparkling Cookie: Perhaps, I could look into flowers that can be grown indoors. Herb Cookie: That’s a good idea. Let me make a flower pot for you!

Herb Cookie: Oh! Herb Cookie: I didn’t even notice that I made so many flower pots! What should I do with them… Herb Cookie: That’s right! Perhaps, I should open a flower shop!

Herb Cookie: The Kingdom’s first flower shop! Adventurer Cookie: Look, Blackberry Cookie! A new shop! Blackberry Cookie: Correct. May I ask, what do you sell here? Herb Cookie: Hello! I’ve opened a flower shop! Herb Cookie: We have all sorts of potted plants and flowers here. Have a look! Blackberry Cookie: A beautiful plant. I will place it by the window in the living room. Adventurer Cookie: Yeah, I love it! We’ll come again! Herb Cookie: He he, looks like the Cookies loved my idea. Maybe I should give away some plants to advertise the shop? Herb Cookie: Let’s make some more flower pots!

Herb Cookie: Here, Princess Cookie. A flower for you! Princess Cookie: Wow! For me? Thanks! Princess Cookie: Mmmm! So fragrant! Herb Cookie: I’ve just opened up my flower shop! You should come by! Herb Cookie: I’m happy that you loved the flower. Princess Cookie: I didn’t know you liked plants, Herb Cookie! Princess Cookie: Hey, listen. This morning, I was walking outside the kingdom walls when I found something you might like. Princess Cookie: There was a plant I’d never seen before! Herb Cookie: A plant? Princess Cookie: It was so big and pretty, and no Cookie seemed to be taking care of it. Yet it’d grown so big nevertheless! Princess Cookie: I thought… Why don’t you go and take a look?

Herb Cookie: Phew, close call! It can be dangerous out here! Herb Cookie: I wonder where Princess Cookie’s flower is… Herb Cookie: Aha! That might be it! Herb Cookie: Indeed, I’ve never seen a plant like this before! Herb Cookie: And I don’t think it’s mentioned in the Great Cookie Plant Atlas… Herb Cookie: How did it end up here? Blue Pomegranate Snake: Grlll! Glrrrr! Herb Cookie: Oh no! Bad snake! Stop chewing the roots! Herb Cookie: Did you eat the other flowers here? You should think about your behavior! Herb Cookie: Give me back the last one before I got* angry!

*actual text

Herb Cookie: Phew! It wasn’t easy… but looks like I did it! Herb Cookie: Alright! Time to move you to a safe place! Herb Cookie: How do you like your new home? Unknown Plant: Hissssssss! Herb Cookie: Hm, you don’t look too pleased… Herb Cookie: Let’s go to the Kingdom! We’ll find a great spot for you there.

Unknown Plant: Grrl?! Herb Cookie: Ha ha? Did I scare you? Welcome to our kingdom! It’s your kingdom from now on too! Herb Cookie: Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you!

Alchemist Cookie: Hello, Herb Cookie! Brought a new plant? Herb Cookie: Alchemist Cookie! I found it in the wilderness! Herb Cookie: How do you like my new friend? Alchemist Cookie: Such a gorgeous color! I wonder what alchemical compound produces it… Alchemist Cookie: Looks a bit droopy, don’t you think? Herb Cookie: I thought so too! I wonder what else can I do for my new plant… Alchemist Cookie: Water and sunlight are key substances for a plant’s growth! Alchemist Cookie: Perhaps, it needs more water? Herb Cookie: Good thinking! Herb Cookie: I wish there was a stream of fresh water nearby…

Herb Cookie: Alchemist Cookie was right! Herb Cookie: Now that the plant has a fresh water source, it looks much better! Herb Cookie: Such a great change, isn’t it? Herb Cookie: I hope everyone likes my pretty flower… huh? GingerBrave: NO-O-O! HELP! Save me! Unknown Plant: GRLLL! GRRR! Wizard Cookie: A monster! Run for your life! Herb Cookie: The flower is attacking other Cookies! Herb Cookie: Such a healthy plant! Pancake Cookie: Herb Cookie! What’s that thing there!? GingerBrave: GAH! My leg! Cherry Cookie: Let’s just blow it up! Teehee… Unknown Plant: GRRRLLL! Gumball Cookie: Herb Cookie, you must do something! Custard Cookie III: Calm down, my Cookies! That poor flower must be hungry! Herb Cookie: Hm, shall I give it a sweet treat?

Unknown Plant: *Munch munch GULP* Herb Cookie: How do you like this Toffee Jam? Unknown Plant: Grlll! Grlll! Herb Cookie: Hmm, looks like it doesn’t like the jam. Clover Cookie: He he! I could take care of that! Herb Cookie: Hmm, no one wants to come near anymore… Herb Cookie: But I should make a fence, just in case! Herb Cookie: I don’t want any complaints here! Vampire Cookie: Herb Cookie, why don’t you just get rid of it?

Herb Cookie: Ah, what can I do to please you? Unknown Plant: Grl… Glrr.. Clover Cookie: Your flower looks… tired. Herb Cookie: tired? Clover Cookie: During my travels, I once met a flower who was so tired of the harsh wind, it began a rebellion. Clover Cookie: Perhaps, your plant will calm down if you cover it with a glass dome. Herb Cookie: Glass!

Unknown Plant: Grrl? Herb Cookie: The wind won’t bother you anymore! Herb Cookie: Let me sing you a lullaby! Unknown Plant: Grl… Herb Cookie: That’s it… Are you comfortable? Herb Cookie: Such a special plant! Herb Cookie: I will call you… Cookiesnap! Herb Cookie: Are we friends, Cookiesnap? Cookiesnap: Purrrl… Herb Cookie: You like me, don’t you? Herb Cookie: And I like having you here!

[bikas-eye]

-me being late? Im sorry?-

Hauntober 2021 Week 3

'You lost track of time at the library. The intercom crackles as you realize you are alone.'

Number of words : 861

TW : None? Please tell me if I should tag anything!

The first thing I noticed was that the overhead lights all turn off at once, only to be replaced with weaker buzzing lights.

The second thing I noticed, after tearing my earphones out, was the intercom waking up and screeching its message : "The library is now closed! The afterhours activities may begin." A dozen or so seconds later, soft classical music began filling the area.

The third thing I noticed was that I needed to get out. So I gathered all of my stuff, stuffing my work in my backpack hastily, and half ran towards the entrance.

It should have taken less than a minute, I always took a seat near the entrance, yet I had been walking for much, much longer. I walked through rows of books and paper and the exit was nowhere in sight.

That's when the library started changing around me.

At first, it was only the standard metal bookshelves that seemed to turn into wood. The more I progressed the more intricate the wooden structures became. The books it held also changed. The paperbacks became more and more sparse and were replaced by old-looking hardcover manuscripts. The worn, dull green carpet also changed into a much more vibrant red. Even the unpowered lights above me transformed. They slowly were changed to lanterns which dimly illuminated my path. Even with the antique looking surrounding, the melody kept playing, it seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere.

As I felt my panic rise, I suddenly heard quiet laughter coming from behind me. I quickly turned in a row, walked a little bit further and pretended to check a book while peeking towards where I came from. Moments later, a shape appeared in the row I was in and slowly crept up behind.

I was about to swing the book at them, when they spoke up. 

"Why hello!" They said, sounding jovial, "May I help you?"

Completely panicked, I managed to stutter out, "Yes, I can't find the --" They cut my words and beamed, "Are you here for the super top secret club?"

"I don't even know what you're --" They cut me again.

"Oh, hush your nonsense, it's this way, if you would follow me..."

And just like that, I was following an unknown person through an equally unknown maze, I followed them through twists and turns that they seemed to know by heart. Not before long, we arrived at the entrance of a small room, plastered on the door was 'Magic Club' and below that 'Keep out'. I was herded inside the small classroom.

It was similar to the hallway I was trapped in, candles spread around on some desks, shelves lining the longest wall filled to the brim with books, crystals and what seemed like animal skulls. A larger desk stood in front of the class, littered with various papers, and about ten smaller desks were facing it.

"Take a seat, take a seat." They told me as they went to the front desk and searched for something. I took the place closest to the door and listened to the person ramble on. "I would like to say sorry on behalf of the transmutation students, they practise in the main hall on Tuesdays. I thought I had put 'keep out' signs, but oh well, it seems you got trapped in their little games... Aha! Found it!" They said, showing me a book and placing it in front of me. "Your very own Magic 101 book."

I took the book, shyly thanked them and asked "What do we do here? And where are the other students?"

"We do what it says on the tin! Basics of magic! You'll leave here with at the very least four easy spells under your belt! And half a thousand or so more in the fancy book there." They slapped their copy of the book. "And, I guess a super secret club doesn't get much advertising…" They paused. "But it's quite fine! So anyways, we shall start with the basics of basics.How about we start with the theory behind simple spells, hand movements, proper pronunciation, and how to read spells!"

The next hours, I lost track of the time, sped by. Magic terms, which mostly sounded like gibberish to me, flowed throughout the classroom, yet I was still attentively listening. They actually showed me a couple of spells : one of them was called simple telekinesis, but I didn't get the hang of it. At least not yet. 

As the class reached its end, a realization struck me : "I never caught your name."

"Oh, it's Mosslar Ralssom, but everyone calls me Moss." My teacher answered. "And it's fine, because I don't think you said yours."

I laughed as I remembered I never introduced myself either. "I'm Estelle Fyae, nice to meet you Mosslar."

"Nice to meet you too." They replied. "Will you be back after tomorrow? The classes are on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"Maybe, I don't know if I'll have the time..."

"Oh well, it's fine, until next time then."

I said my goodbyes, left the library and thought 'it would be a complete shame if I forgot to check the time again'. 

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: pansy 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: hyodo juza/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 3.3k words 𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨: Pudding~☆ ~, Anne, & ballpoint✨

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: reader teachers juza how different flower colours can mean different things 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: this work is a part of the flower shop event, a series of unconnected flower shop AU one-shots

“Will you let him stay for a while?” Tsumugi asked you, your eyes immediately shifting to the tall, purple-haired man beside him. Though his expression was tough, he refused to even spare you a glance save for the when he first entered the store.

“Well…” you trailed off, still a little conflicted on what decision to make. On one hand, it was hard to refuse one of the flower shop’s regulars— especially when the explanation behind his sudden request reasonable enough. On the other hand, as nice as Juza probably was on the inside, if he was just going to stay silent the whole time it not only would be awkward, but there was a chance he’d scare some customers away.

As soon as the thought entered your head, you felt a little awful. He literally hasn’t said a word to you?

Making up your mind, you slowly nodded in response. “I don’t mind. He’ll just be observing the flowers, right? And looking at the reference book?”

“Yes, that’s pretty much it. Thank you for accepting,” Tsumugi turned to look at his junior, patting his arm lightly, “see you back home.”

“Thank you for your patronage, Tsukioka-san.”

“… see you, Tsumugi-san.”

As soon as the blue-haired man left the building, all was silent again.

What were you supposed to do? Would he appreciate you showing him round the store? Telling him about all the flowers? Do you ask him about what he needed to know for this role? Would he prefer to be left to his own devices and do it on his own?

When he suddenly called you by your name, well, surname, you’re caught off-guard. You turned to face him, and though he still can’t look you straight in the eyes, he at least knew you were listening.

“… sorry, I’ll try not to be a bother,” he says, frown still present but voice unexpectedly genuine, “…might scare your customers away, though.”

He didn’t sound sad about it, resigned if anything, but you found that you were kicking yourself anyway despite him not knowing what was going through your head a while ago. While you couldn’t comfort him or anything, there was at least something you could do to help him.

“Juza-kun,” you said, and for the first time, his eyes met yours. Perhaps if the two of you were to lock gazes at another place and time, you would have been intimidated; enclosed at the space of your flower shop, you somehow figured you’d end up enjoying his company.

“Would you like to see some flowers?”

…

Sunday.

“… don’t really get it,” Juza muttered, the pads of his fingers carefully brushing against the petals, “why I got chosen for this role.”

You paused your previous ministrations, setting aside your spray water bottle to look at him questioningly. By the manner Tsukioka-san explained Juza’s situation earlier, he made it seem as though the latter was enthusiastic to play this role— was he mistaken?

“What do you mean?” you asked, walking over to the same spot Juza stood. Neither of you faced the other, as though you two were talking to the vibrant colours instead.

���Flowers are delicate,” the petal slipped from his index, “I’m not,” he said matter-of-factly.

Neither of you could deny that.

“… maybe you’re focusing too much on thinking of flowers generally,” you replied, the silence consuming the both of you thereafter.

The two of you barely talked the rest of the day, the only other time the two of you glanced at each other was when he said his farewell.

Monday.

Coming back from school for your shift at the shop, you didn’t expect to run into the purple-haired man on the way there.

“Juza-kun?” He stood quietly at a street corner, his stillness making you wonder how long he’d been there. Weren’t… weren’t people looking at him suspiciously? Did he notice? What was he doing?

He greeted you back, and you found yourself in an awkward stare-off with him for a few seconds. With a cough, he darted his eyes away from yours. “You weren’t at the shop,” he replied gruffly.

Oh, was he waiting for you?

You let out a little laugh as you asked him to follow you, failing to miss the small hint of surprise on Juza’s face as he walked behind you. The walk was quiet, but your mind was noisy with questions.

“Did you want to look at the flowers again?”

“… thought about what you said.”

You couldn’t react immediately, already stood at the storefront. Stepping into the shop, you greeted your co-worker and your companion quickly distanced himself, taking to the assortment of potted plants instead.

“Is that delinquent your boyfriend or something?” your co-worker whispered quietly, peeking behind you worriedly. You stopped in the middle of tying your work apron, narrowing your eyes.

“What?”

“He was standing outside a while ago,” she explained, “but he left pretty quickly. I thought he was being shady, but then he comes in with you?”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. Right, you didn’t get the chance to mention Tsukioka-san’s request from yesterday. You didn’t think you had to?

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you corrected, immediately shutting down whatever notion she had in her head, “Tsukioka-san asked me to help him with something.”

You almost giggled at how quickly she perked up at the familiar name. You bet he didn’t even realise how popular he was.

As you bid your adieus in advance, you exited the storage backroom and nearly yelped at the sight of Juza hunched over the counter, looking through the reference book.

“Are you looking for something specific?” you asked, leaning onto the counter to peer over the pages.

“… yesterday, you said I was being too general.”

You raised your eyebrows. Was he still thinking about that? “Guess I did, yeah.”

He flipped over another page, eyebrows furrowed as he skimmed through the content in front of him. You were sure he was trying his best to absorb the content, but you had a feeling it wasn’t working out as well as he had hoped.

You placed a hand over the book, and though you barely covered anything he got your intention pretty quickly.

“That’s going to take you forever,” you insisted, angling the book to face you instead as you flipped the pages over to the table of contents.

“What do you need for your characterisation, anyway?” from the corner of your eye, you could see the gears turning in his brain.

“Something happy,” he started, and you found yourself mentally listing down all the readily available flowers that fit into that meaning. Should be easy enough, there were many flowers that corresponded to happiness—

“Something calm,” he continued, and you found yourself turning around to look at him incredulously. “Something innocent.”

Was he gonna keep going?

“Something passionate, and something about new beginnings.”

“That’s a lot,” you stated the obvious, racking your brain for any flower that could possibly mean all of those. Maybe even a set of flowers from the same family? Happiness and innocence were often associated with each other anyway, and there were many flowers that meant passion anyway— though more on the love side of things. The other two, though…

“I’d need to look a bit more into that,” you apologised, eyes flitting from name to name to find a similar flower, “did Tsukioka-san say anything that could help?”

Juza let out a small hum, “he gave me a list.”

You thought he’d pull out his phone or something, so you couldn’t help the small laugh as he brought out a ripped out piece of notebook paper from his pocket. As soon as he handed it to you, you found yourself ticking off the flowers that wouldn’t work— whether it be obscurity or having a too vague meaning.

Lavender… Lily… Magnolia…

You stopped at the next flower listed. Oh, that could actually work?

“I think I have a reference for you,” you said. Unbeknownst to you, Juza subconsciously registered that as the first time you smiled at him.

Tuesday.

Why weren’t you surprised he would be at the street corner?

“Juza-kun, just wait inside the store,” you told him, a little exasperated. You understood his intentions, but he didn’t have to keep waiting outside every time for your arrival? "What if I got back a little late?”

“S’fine,” he mumbled quietly, falling into step with you, “it was only for a few minutes.”

“Ouka High is a lot closer, though,” you reminded him, “at this rate you’re gonna end up as a landmark.”

The conversation fell short again, the background noise filling up your silence. The door chime rang as you opened the door, and you checked in with your co-worker while Juza found himself with the flowers again.

“Did the delivery—?”

“Yep, it came today! Aha, he’s actually looking at some of them right now?”

Thanking her, you headed over to him and stared at the vibrant pink.

“Gentleness,” you said, loud enough for Juza to hear you, “pastel pink pansies mean something along the lines of gentleness and innocence.”

With Juza’s head bowed down, you thought he himself looked a lot like a pansy— a flower that resembled the human face, intelligent and pensive, nodding forward late in the summer as though deep in thought. The colour of his hair didn’t help diminish your imagination, either. After minutes of silence, he finally spoke up again.

“Muku,” he muttered. You tilted your head in confusion.

“Muku?”

“… my cousin,” he explained, “is a lot like this flower.”

Maybe it was your imagination, but somehow he sounded, looked a little softer.

“You must be pretty fond of him,” even if he weren’t to reply, you knew you already had your answer.

Wednesday.

You were running. Somehow you got distracted by the new cookies they were advertising at a cafe near your high school. Perhaps it was because of your ongoing situation with Juza, but as soon as you read the words “dessert” and “edible flowers” you made a bee-line for the store.

… and you ended up buying more than one, too. A whole pack of 6, actually. Really, who could blame you? The blue, pressed pansies atop the honey glazed lemon shortbread cookies looked absolutely scrumptious!

But now you were in a rush to get to work, and in your haste, you accidentally bumped into someone. You found yourself a little shocked as you looked up, familiar purple hair coming into vision.

“Oh, Juza-kun,” you greeted, “you’re actually not at the corner today?”

“Got dismissed late,” he said with a shrug, “you?”

You let out a chuckle, lifting the paper bag so he could see. “I bought some cookies after school. I thought the flowers on them were cute,” you explained, and for a split second, you swore Juza’s eyes widened slightly.

“… cookies?”

“Hm? Yeah. Do you like cookies?”

“… they’re fine,” he turned to face sideways, though that didn’t hide the pink blooming on his cheeks.

Oh?

“I’ll give you one later,” you said, doing your best to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape. How unexpected! That was kind of cute, actually. “We’re going to keep blocking the sidewalk at this rate, we should go.”

Somehow, the silence wasn’t so awkward this time, a little calming, even.

Thursday.

That was weird. No sight of Juza on the way to the flower shop— was he running late? Would he not be coming today, after all? For some reason, the thought made you a little sad. Perhaps you were starting to enjoy his company, after all.

Your co-worker gave you a knowing glance as soon as you entered the building, and any confusion immediately dissipated as you saw your purple-haired… friend? (Did he consider you two as friends?) by the yellow pansies.

“Juza-kun!” you greeted with a smile, pleased to hear him say your name as he greeted you back. Even with just this much, you were glad to have crossed a new boundary with him.

You nearly ran over to him, only stopping midway as you heard quiet laughter. You turned to face your fellow florist, holding up your work apron.

Aha, right.

“I’m only doing this as a favour to Tsukioka-san,” she mimicked as soon as you stepped in the backroom, “he’s not my boyfriend~”

How was this woman older than you?

You groaned, trying to put on your apron as fast as possible before bolting out the door. “Byeeee,” you said, hiding from her line of sight as you rushed over to Juza.

“Hey,” you greeted again, alerting him of your presence, even though he probably already knew you were there beforehand.

“Haven’t seen this one yet,” he commented, eyes a little narrower as he looked at the bouquet of yellow blotch pansies. “You said they meant happiness, right?”

The corners of your lips turned upward. “Oh, you remembered!” you said in delight, if not a little proud, “yep! Happiness in general… but,” you trailed off, causing your companion to look at you with interest.

“Is there another meaning?”

You laughed a little awkwardly, not meeting his gaze while not exactly avoiding it either. “I mean, it’s more of a personal interpretation, so it’s not really important.”

You could still feel his eyes on you, making you feel a bit self-conscious. Aha, seriously, the atmosphere between the two of you was already good— what were you doing?

“… I do think your opinion is important, though.”

You coughed, looking at him with a mixture and disbelief. Surprisingly, he didn’t retract or back down from his statement at all, further amplifying your flustered feelings. He remained unbothered, almost as if he somehow didn’t realise your reaction?

“Um, well,” you began, “you know how there’s like a dark coloured blotch within the yellow follower?”

Juza hummed in response, letting you know that he was following.

“On one hand, I think it could mean pretending to be happy even though you’re in a dark place,” you explained, “but it could mean finding happiness even though you’re battling your inner demons…”

He doesn’t respond for what seems like minutes, and you have half the mind to quickly change the topic. Your interpretation was probably a bit of a reach, wasn’t it? Too edgy, perhaps?

“… that was good,” he said, “I liked what you said.”

Though his praise was simple, you found yourself beaming anyway. It… was nice to know that he appreciated what you said.

Before you could get another word in, you heard the door swing open. You should probably attend to that.

You turned your back to Juza, about to walk away from him until you felt a tug on your arm. You stilled, wondering what could have possibly prompted the sudden contact.

“Juza-kun?” you asked quietly, voice unexpectedly shaky.

“… your apron is loose.”

“Oh! Thanks, I, uh, probably didn’t tie it properly,” you reasoned, your arms reaching back behind you to tie it, a somewhat futile attempt but an attempt nonetheless.

You failed to notice the cherry red blush on Juza’s face, to focused on trying to remove your own.

Friday.

“So how many colours are there?”

“Way too many,” you answered, “like sometimes they come in one colour, sometimes two or three; sometimes pastel, bright, or dark— all of them probably have different meanings too.”

You propped your elbows on the counter, hands cupping your face. In the past few days, you were able to accompany Juza wherever in the shop, but Fridays tended to be more busy compared to the other weekdays, causing the need to be heedful for incoming customers.

“So even more colours to learn…” you laughed out loud. How seriously was he taking this? Just for one flower?

“I mean you only really need to stay until you have enough info to flesh out your character,” you pointed out.

He didn’t reply for a while, and you had nearly worried that something had happened back there, but Juza piped back in the conversation eventually.

“So red symbolises passion, right?”

“Yep!” you said, fingers idly playing with the loose thread of your apron, “though I supposed a lot of red flowers mean passion and love, huh.”

“… and the white pansies?”

“It can mean purity and spirituality,” you started to explain, “but some say that when you give it to someone, you’re telling them to give you a chance.”

The room fell silent once more, but over the course of a week you didn’t mind it anymore. It was a little comforting, actually, having someone around— not even to help you with the shop or anything, but just a friend to talk to.

As you were about to close the shop, Juza appeared in front of you.

“I think I have my character figured out now,” he told you, and you felt yourself swelling with happiness and accomplishment.

“That’s great! Our hard work finally pulled through!”

The tiny hint of loneliness that you felt got left unsaid.

“Sorry for bothering you all week.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t bothered at all!”

Saturday.

“Huh, he’s not gonna be here today?” your co-worker asked as you arrived for your shift, “I legit thought you were joking about just helping him out of the goodness of your heart or whatever.”

You smiled a little sheepishly, “he already figured out what to do for his role. I’m sure he must be busy practising now, so I probably won’t see him around.”

You pretended to not see the look of sympathy thrown your way.

Sunday.

Two weeks had passed since you last saw him, and you chided yourself for thinking that the shop felt a bit emptier lately. At what point did you get so fond of him?

Even now, on the way to the shop, you found yourself stopping at the street corner, as though he’d be there again and was just too shy to enter without you.

Seriously, just what were you doing? Friends could go a while without seeing each other, it wasn’t a big deal.

Or at least that was what you told yourself for a grand total of three minutes, because that all came crumbling down as you saw his familiar figure standing outside the flower shop.

“Juza-kun?”

You approached him with slow steps, briefly wondering if you just went through some next level hallucination, but the closer you got the more evident that he was the real thing.

“Umm, is there something you need?”

His eyes wouldn’t meet yours, not unlike the first couple of days you spent with him. “… here,” he unloaded the two things into your hands, one of which you recognised while the other was a mystery.

You checked the envelope first, a pleasant surprise greeting you.

“A play… your play ticket?” you asked him, and he nodded as though to confirm your assumption.

“I remember you said you weren’t busy during that time and day, so…” with a gentle smile, you tucked the ticket back inside the envelope for safe-keeping.

“I’ll be there to support you, for sure.”

With the mystery item set aside, only the white paper bag with the flower logo was left. Somehow, even without opening it, you already knew what the contents would be.

“… they had other colours and flavours for the cookies,” he said as you took out the small box of 6, “the ones with the white pansies are vanilla and cinnamon flavoured, and the ones with the pink pansies are dark chocolate and raspberry flavoured.”

It took a while for you to comprehend the situation, still a little befuddled by him even appearing again until you realised what he was trying to say.

“White and pink pansies,” you said with a laugh, before ushering him back inside the shop.

You suddenly felt a lot less lonely.

“ thank you for your hard work today at the flower shop! here, feel free to take home these pansies with you~ ”

【 pansy 】 admiration, remembrance  【 pink pansies 】 gentle tenderness, innocence 【 blue pansies 】 calmness, trustworthiness  【 yellow pansies 】 happiness, bright disposition 【 red pansies 】 passion, love 【 white pansies 】 innocence, purity, “take a chance on me”

“ maybe you’d like some more flowers before heading home? ”

-ˋˏflower shop masterlistˎˊ-  |  -ˋˏfic masterlistˎˊ-

[grace-lost-in-space]

Therapy - “What a Dum-Dum”

With anxious hands, I clutch the letter to my professor which my therapist asked me to write last week. I did it. I was brave—or at least that is what people often call me. The dictionary defines B-R-A-V-E as: ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage. Courage? There is that word again, creeping up from the pits of my stomach into the back of my throat. I can almost say it, but not quite. My entire life has been spent preparing to endure danger or pain—it is what I do best. I am best defined by that very sentence. Perhaps my mom should have been more creative in naming me. 

I take a deep breath before using all of my energy to open the door to the lobby of my therapist’s office. Doing so forces my body to immediately retaliate with a loud wheeze. When people tell me to “take a deep breath”, they often forget that I have asthma and a dangerously low BMI, so this so-called simple therapeutic technique wreaks havoc on my body but, like the rule-follower that I am, I do it anyway. The door lets out a loud squeal as I concentrate all of my weight on pulling it open. A kind of foreshadowing, perhaps, of what is about to take place. 

“Hi, Grace. I’ll let Legs know you’re here.” I hear from behind the reception desk. Ms. Rita recites the exact same line every Monday and Wednesday. I smile—although, I have no idea if it is visible through my mask. I respond by waving politely because I have not truly spoken in 11 months. Through the dizziness which insists on accompanying me to each and every appointment, I make my way to my usual chair and I sit. I begin counting soon after and I get to  137 before my therapist arrives in the entryway and says “Grace.” After one year together, I still only know her by her shoes and her voice. As I stand unsteadily, I wonder about this trend with social workers wearing riding boots. Is this an unwritten rule of their ethical code? Is there some sort of advertisement during NASW conferences? “Invest in THESE fine leather boots and you won’t BELIEVE how much progress YOUR clients will make! Order now for $10 off. You may qualify for an additional discount if you have feathered hair. Offer not available in Alaska and Hawaii.”  I make a mental note that I must research this more and find an answer because it is a common theme of every social worker who has walked into and out of my life. Cue “these boots are made for walkin’…” lyrics. I stop myself before it gets too cheesy. 

I walk slowly behind her and after what feels like an hour, I make my way into her dimly lit office and find solace in my usual black leather chair. Although it squeaks, it has been faithful for the past twelve months and it has seen me through many meltdowns, remaining sturdy as I hide behind it. Like clockwork, it squeaks as I sit down and I decide to give it grace since, after all, it has been the most consistent thing in my life for the past year.  My feeding tube pump begins to beep, signaling a low battery, so I take out my charger and begrudgingly plug myself into the nearest outlet. “So, Grace,” she starts “how are you? Did you write the letter to Dr. W?” I respond by shoving the now crinkled papers into her lap, happy to rid myself of the trauma that haunts the wide-ruled pages. 

Legs and I sit in silence (see what I did there?) as she reads the letter which took me three days to write. I look to my right, at the dusty mahogany brown bookshelf which is adorned with a mixture of exactly 42 stuffed animals, toys, and action figures—my doing, of course. There was a day where an exhausted Legs decided it would be best for me to organize the shelves rather than doing any sort of processing—so I did just that and, in doing so, ruined a perfectly good pair of fishnet tights. But, I digress. 

After what feels like a less than sufficient amount of time to read this trauma-filled nightmare of a letter, she hands it back to me and says “Okay. Here you go. You can do whatever you want with it.” I look at her god-awful work boots as if I am looking into her eyes and I express obvious confusion. In true selective mutism fashion, I remain silent but my facial expression speaks volumes. I hastily shove the letter back at her and write on my note pad “you keep it.” I wait. What am I waiting for? That is a great question and one which Legs is also clearly eager to know the answer to. “So, how is pumping going?” She asks. Again, I glare at the hideous riding boots, wholly confused. Did I just spend three days writing this letter and disclosing mounds of trauma for her to read it and hand it back to me with no intention of processing it? Yes. Yes, I did. 

I look back to the bookshelf and re-count each and every item which remains beautifully organized if I do say so myself. I follow the rules again and force a deep breath before writing “Why did he do it? Why did he pick me? Why did he do this to me?” Almost immediately, she shoots back with “because it made him happy. He liked it.” I decide instantly that another deep breath is necessary and I question my insanity because surely no therapist would say what she just said to me. I remain still—a defense mechanism which I have learned is often useless. Continued silence looms over both of us like the beginning of a funnel cloud—eerily still but preparing to invoke chaos—until she asks “Why do you read Harry Potter books and watch the movies?” More silence. I begin to question how those boots do not yet have holes in them from my hazel laser pointers. She finally answers her own question, as my pen remains frozen in my hand. “Because you like it. It makes you happy.” 

My mouth gapes open which, thankfully, is hidden behind my Peppa Pig mask. I glance over to my right at the wall from which my feeding tube pump is getting its power. I realize that in order to run, I will first have to unplug myself which would surely be anticlimactic if I were to be so unlucky as to tangle the cord or trip over it. Unplugging yourself from the wall and leaving a therapy session seems simple enough but when you are accident prone and have a history of falling into bushes and rolling down hills, you learn to be cautious and question everything. I look around the room. No bushes. No hills. Only me and Legs and those atrocious riding boots. I stare down at my platform converse shoes. I wonder to myself why I choose to wear these shoes each week. These shoes are not optimal for running and I am a runner, or at least I am categorized as such in dusty medical charts which exist somewhere in what I imagine to be a damp basement of a two-star hospital. I make a mental note to never wear platform shoes to therapy again. 

As I continue with my silent existential crisis, Legs takes an early exit ramp and asks about the sucker from our last session—the one she handed me on my way out the door during my last session. “Did you practice eating the sucker?” She asks. I nod and smile, with tears beginning to form in my eyes. When I cry, my eyes turn from hazel to green. It is an easy task to recognize when I have been crying. I wonder if Legs has noticed this. She turns slightly to her right and reaches into her candy dish which sits on another dusty brown table. She grabs a pineapple flavored sucker and holds it up in front of my face. “Here” she insists. Pineapple? Are there creatures that enjoy pineapple flavored Dum-Dums? And, furthermore, why are they called Dum-Dums? Who chose that name? Who thought, “Aha! We shall call these…Dum-Dums”? Again, I digress. 

“You don’t want to be weird, right? You told me you don’t want to be called weird. It would be normal to eat a sucker. Normal people eat suckers.” Enticed by the idea of being called “normal,” (a rare occurrence in my world), I oblige. After 27 seconds, I manage to unwrap the sucker and put it against my lips. “Just eat it.” She says. Once again, I glare at The Boots. I manage to put the sucker—in all its sugary, pineapple glory—in my mouth and leave it there for exactly three seconds before the sensation becomes too much to handle. I smile as a steady stream of warm tears flows down my cheeks. I consider this progress, since it is the longest I have ever been able to keep a sucker in my mouth. My smile grows wider as I recognize this small victory and I feel truly proud of myself. 

“Eh…that was…okay…I guess. But it wasn’t a good job. You could just eat it but you won’t. When you eat the whole thing, that will be a good job.” She says. I immediately break into a full fledged sob and I wonder just how green my eyes must be at this point. I sob, and I sob, and I sob. It feels as though the tears are endless. My Peppa mask is now heavy from absorbing tears and snot. This must be attractive. 

And, at that moment, I manage to stutter over a word. “L_____.” If you are new to this circus, L is my previous therapist and a fellow boot-wearing social worker. “What?” Legs asks, obviously confused. 

My sobs grow louder. My brain wants to tell her that she is acting like L but my mouth refuses to function properly. I manage a hurried glance at my pump charger and I consider making a now-or-never break for it. I somehow sputter three words like a lemon on a used car lot. “Please…be…nice.” I say. It takes exactly 14.5 seconds for me to vocalize these three words but, again, it is progress. 

“I can’t understand what you’re saying but you are doing a good job with your words” Legs promises. 

Still sobbing, I try again. “L______.” I stutter on the L but it comes out clearly. 

“What?” She asks. 

“Mean” I say, choking back tears.

“Did you say mean?” She asks. 

I nod for “yes.” 

“Well, I’ve got another patient, so I guess—“ she starts. 

I interrupt her by yanking my pump charger out of the wall. I do so without proper planning and I let out a loud cry. I am not typically a loud crier. I am quite proficient in the art of “quiet tears.” Enduring many, many nights of various people hurting me has taught me to improve upon this skill. I try my very best to stop drowning in my own tears. I can feel it happening the same way it happened with L. 

And I run. And I run. And I run. 

Because I AM good at something: running. 

[cherryfi]

Blame it on the Bokbunja

Requested: Anon asks:  haii!!! could you please make ateez san agent au? the concept is up to youuu thank youu

 Plot: The mission objective was simple - take Choi San down by any means necessary. What you didn't expect was how it was to get him alone. You also didn't expect him to be this endearing.

A/N: I got so much inspiration for this wow, I didn’t expect it to be so long, I hope you like it anon! I hope the rest of you like it too aha!

TW: Alcohol drinking, drugging, mentions of violence

Word count: 9462

The mission’s objective was short and simple: Eliminate Choi San– make his empire crumble from the top, down. It would be like cutting the head off a snake, the body wouldn’t be able to sustain itself.

What was not simple, however, would be to actually make that happen.

Choi San was not only one of the most dangerous men in the city, He controlled at least half of the country’s black market and most of its organised crime could be traced back to his syndicate, Ateez. San had inherited this legacy from his father, Jisung, who had ruled the mafia with an iron fist.

Choi Jisung had been an orphan who grew up on the streets and who, together with seven other ‘friends’ built themselves one of the most heavily controlled and untouchable gangs the country had seen. He was highly intelligent and had an impeccable eye for detail. Nothing got past him and no one was able to double-cross him without ending up dead.

Contrary to how he ran his gang, Jisung’s family was his sanctuary and he always pandered to their every need – they wanted for nothing. This could be seen by the countless evidence photos showing family holidays; where he doted on his wife and only son, San.

According to the evidence file, San had been trained from birth to take over the leadership position from his father. And along with the syndicate’s seven other sons they were taught the skills necessary for running a ruthless and successful gang.

Taking over the ‘family’, unfortunately, came earlier than was anticipated for a 16-year-old San when his parents were murdered by a group of upstarts hoping to take over their territory. Jisung had been betrayed by one of his soldiers (Lee Sungjoo, who was paid off for information about Jisung’s whereabouts), who was quickly ‘done away with’ by the other men in the syndeo.

The Lee family were offered a rare show of kindness by San and Sungjoo’s son, Taeyong, remained a close friend. Taeyong went on to run an equally dangerous gang NCT, although both groups deferred to each other.

San’s first order of business upon receiving his crown was to obliterate the would-be rivals, making sure that any other competition knew that he would not take kindly to any threat towards his territory or family. His reputation had quickly been set and in no time,  he was known across the country as being even more ruthless than his father had been.

Whether it was his training from a young age, the need to prove to his doubters that he was as good as his father, or being fuelled by pure revenge – no one could tell but, what they did know, was that Choi San was not a man to be messed with.

And even so – he was fiercely untouchable. Despite being able to hold his own in hand-to-hand combat and knowing his weaponry, San was never alone. The other members, having been friends since childhood were all protective of each other.

So, how were you supposed to take a man like that down?

It wasn’t going to be an easy feat and that’s why they’d called you in. You were a top operative but, you were only ever behind the scenes. Part of the ‘clean-up’ crew, your job was to go in after the field operatives had done their jobs and tie up any loose ends but, every field assassin that had been sent in after San had ended up dead.

It was time for a new strategy, and they hoped that sending in a fresh face with all new ideas and a whole different skill set would be what they needed. There was also a hope that it would flush out the mole that was sending San their mission information. After all, there was no way that he could foil all their plans without inside help.

How you fit into that, you weren’t sure. Technically, clean-up was less qualified than field crew, you were all combat trained, but clean-up didn’t use it as often nor did they go undercover as often but; somehow, they expected it to work.

It wasn’t working.

You’d gone over every possible point of entry into Ateez and none were viable – you’d eventually end up dead or discovered in all of them. They’d all been tried by other operatives and had failed.

Not that the corporation cared. They were putting pressure on you to succeed.

Thankfully, after 2 months of trying to find your way in, an opportunity dropped itself in your lap – as if by magic. And who were you to turn down a good opportunity?

What does a mafioso do when he’s not being a mafioso? He runs a ‘legitimate’ business.

And San was the silent owner of an exclusive bar: ‘The Noir Lounge’.

The Noir lounge was a swanky speak-easy that was a member’s only bar. People only knew about it ‘by word of mouth’ and so, it’s customers and clientele were often very important and high-class, according to the case file even the city mayor and a few city officials were members.

Although it was a bar, the lounge also had a selection of private rooms and a sex club. So, it was important that members remained unknown to the general public. Some of these men and women were married, after all.

It surprised you that they’d be advertising a position for a new bartender but, you weren’t about to let it pass you by.

You applied.

The application process was unique, it constituted of an extensive background check and multiple interviews but, that was to be expected.

None of those interviews had been with San.

It was a Wednesday morning when you got the call.

“Hello Ms Y/L/N? Your application to join the staff at the Noir lounge has been successful. Congratulations. Your start is immediate and so we will expect to see you tonight at 7pm before the bar opens to collect your uniform and go over housekeeping. Please bring with you comfortable, black, smart shoes. You’ve been sent an email with the address. I look forward to meeting you tonight. Enjoy the rest of your day.” That was it. The voice on the other end was soft-spoken but deep and masculine. He also didn’t give you his name.

He was highly professional and curt – giving you no opportunity to respond, you barely got out a ‘hi’ before he spoke.

But that didn’t matter because you got the job. A chill ran down your back both from excitement and terror.

Now it began. You would have to fit into the bar like any other employee – naïve to what was going on behind the scenes but, also interesting enough that you would somehow be allowed to enter the inner circle .

From the outside, the bar looked like any industrial building and you would never be able to suspect that it was teeming with activity underneath. If you didn’t have intel telling you where it was you would’ve gotten lost.

You arrived at 6:45 – 15 minutes before you were required to be there and buzzed on the door 3 times slowly, just as you’d been told to do. It opened and you were wordlessly led down into the lounge.

It was beautiful and crafted in a style that you would’ve expected of Choi San, classy, expensive but, simple.

“Ah Y/N. You’re early which is a good sign. I’m Park Seonghwa, I spoke to you on the phone, it’s good to finally meet you. I’ll be your manager while you’re working with us.” You took his outstretched hand and shook it firmly, smiling.

“Hi Mr Park, Thanks for the opportunity, I look forward to working here.” Of course, you knew who Park Seonghwa was.

On the surface he appeared to normal. Seonghwa was tall, handsome and friendly. It would be easy to fall for him but, he wasn’t a man to trifled with. Seonghwa was Ateez’s resident doctor, if any of the members of the syndicate were injured, they went to him to be fixed up but, that was only the half of it. If there was a poison, best believe that Seonghwa had experimented with it and he was often called in when Ateez needed someone silently ‘taken care off’.

“Ha, that sounds so formal, just call me Seonghwa. We’ll be spending enough time together working that I’ll get to know all about you. We’ll be best friends, just you watch. It’s better that we start off casually.”

‘I’ll get to know all about you.’- I certainly hope not.

You smile shyly – “Okay.”

“Seonghwa, stop flirting with the staff, even if they are gorgeous.” You almost let yourself swoon but remember who you’re talking to -Kim Hongjoong.

Seonghwa was low-key in his work and despite his extensive knowledge of poisons – he rarely got his hands dirty. Hongjoong, on the other hand, was covered in it.

Hongjoong was the ‘answers man’. You’d been disgusted almost to the point of physical sickness when you’d seen his case file. Hongjoong was the king of sadists and incredibly thorough. When Ateez needed answers and had particularly difficult adversaries, they sent them to Hongjoong. The things that man could do with a scouring pad and some hydrogen peroxide were terrifying and he took great pride in that.

But here he was, smiling at you with an almost innocent curiosity, no sign of the sick bastard that he really was.

“I’m Hongjoong. We just had a meeting here so the rest should be filing out soon and then you can open the bar. There’s another bartender working with you tonight but, it won’t be too busy. It’s never too busy on a Wednesday.” He smiled and shook your hand.

I wonder how many lives those hands have taken.

You try not to shudder at the thought.

Hongjoong was right – things were slow that night, which was good because it gave you he opportunity to get used to mixing complicated drinks and taking orders.

Your patrons ranged from well-known politicians to celebrities to other mafia members that were known to your organisation. But no San.

As a matter of fact, over the next 2 months, the only member you saw was Seonghwa and he was often distant.

The promise of casual conversations and time spent together was quickly forgotten and Seonghwa was business as usual. You only saw him at opening and closing time – he was always in a private room at the back of the club – probably with the other members but, they had their own bartender and so, you never saw any of them.

This didn’t bode well for you. It had been 4 months since you’d been given this mission and you were no closer to completion, the bosses weren’t happy to hear this.

Your work phone rang; and it sent a shudder down your spine – you knew you were in for it now.

“Status report?” Well hello to you too…

“No change. The target is yet to be seen. I’ve acquired new work but, no further advancements have been made.” You could hear the disapproving noises from the other line.

“This is unfavourable, we would have expected some status update from you other than a bartending job Y/N. Are you sure you’re the right person for this job?” Now, you were angry, first they leave you to take care of this alone and then they question your methods.

It was true that you were stumped as to your next move but, they didn’t know that. They had no place to criticise you, given how many operatives they’d already lost.

“Am I the right person? You tell me. Given the fact that I was threatened with forced resignation if I didn’t take this job, I can assure you that I wasn’t the one that made the decision to be here. The target is dangerous. I need to play the slow game. Rome wasn’t built in a day and given the amount of lives that have been lost trying to destroy them, I’d expect a little more support.” The line goes silent.

“We’ll call you for another status report in 3 months we expect progress.” And just like that, the line was dead. If you didn’t tread carefully – you would be too.

It was another month before anything happened. It was like you’d completed some probation period because suddenly, you were being told that you would be a personal bartender.

“Y/N. Just the girl I wanted to see.” Seonghwa’s wide smile greeted from the other side of the bar where you stood, restocking it. You turned to look at him.

“Hey Seonghwa, what’s up?” You returned the friendly smile.

“I have a new position for you. We’re having a separate event in one of the other private lounges and I figured you could use the experience of being a private bartender. It’s a little different to being behind the general bar; it’s more intimate and the people you’ll be serving will expect a lot more of you but, no pressure. I’ll be there if you need some guidance.” He leans on the table, his sleeves rolled up and you catch a little glimpse of a tattoo.

“Can I ask what the special event is?” You really have no clue what it could be.

“A birthday, that’s all I’ll tell you now. Don’t look so scared, you’ll be fine.” He reaches across the bar and places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You’re scared for another reason. The realisation hits you like a bucket of ice water as your mind runs through all their files.

It was San’s birthday.

You were finally going to meet San and for some reason, it felt too soon.

They were different to how you’d expected them to be, their case files and photos had not prepared you for how normal they appeared. They were friendly and jovial.

Even Jongho, who was known to be quite cold was actually friendly, if not a little awkward.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Your thoughts became completely scattered as you came face to face with your target.

He smirked at you and laughed a little your shock, his dimples on full display.

“Uh, sorry, I was spaced-out. What can I get you?” Play dumb Y/N – you’re not supposed to know this man.

“Yeah, I could tell, it’s not busy in here so I guess you’ve got a lot of time on your hands. I’ll have a French 75.” You balk. A what?!

“Let me guess, you’ve never made one of those? It’s not a regular one to get ordered despite it being a classic. Get a champagne flute.” You do as order and automatically go to put a cube of ice.

“No, no ice. It’s served straight-up. Pour 2oz Champagne, ½ oz of lemon juice, 1 oz gin – the Santamania is the best for this one and normally it’s 2 dashes sugar syrup but, I’ve got a sweet-tooth so give me 4. Rim the glass with some sugar and you’ve got yourself a classic.” He finishes with a wink and you follow his direction, Finishing it off with a lemon slice.

You slide it across to him on a napkin and wait expectantly.

San is not the kind of man you want to disappoint.

I hope I make a good impression.

“That’s a good 75. You know it’s supposedly named after a WW1 gun. It was the Howitzer 75mm, the French and Americans used it all throughout the war. Apparently, the cocktail’s got a kick just like the gun. By the way, if it’s in a slim glass, like the flute, never put ice with it. Ruins the experience. A flute glass is used when you want to keep the texture of the drink,  you want it to keep the bubbles. That’s part of the experience.” His eyes glint boyishly; and you smile as he explains more information about the cocktails.

In another life you might have found yourself falling for a man like him, he was oddly cute.

“You know, it’s not ordered regularly but, it’s a classic cocktail, perfect for bringing in the new year or celebrating another one. I’m San by the way.” He smiles for real this time, dimples on full blast, and you can’t help but, smile back. He shakes your hand.

Damn, he was charming.

“I didn’t think I’d meet a cocktail nerd.” He barks out a laugh.

“You have to be when you run a bar.” You put on your most shocked face.

“You own this place?” He nods.

“It was mean wasn’t it? Not telling you that I’m the owner but, Seonghwa talks about you so much, I had to see what was so special about you.”

“Well, did you find what you were looking for?” You answer him, a little flirty, hoping that that would open him up to you.

He only laughs.

“I’m not sure yet but, we’ll see.”

Your next status report goes a lot better.

“Update Y/N.”

“I’m almost part of the inner circle. A rival gang offered me money to rat on them and I told my manager so, they had no excuse but to tell me what was going on. The members have been conducting business around me now so, it’s a sign of good things to come.” The line is silent again but, you’re not in fear of the response. They wanted progress, they got it.

“And what about the target?” You sigh.

“I can’t get him alone. None of the members will leave him alone, he’s always surrounded.” It was true be it Hongjoong, or Wooyoung, San was always with someone. If San was around, you could easily find Wooyoung somewhere nearby.

Besides the only times you’d been within killing distance of San was during the meetings, where you would serve drinks. You served drinks ,and they talked.  

“What’s your next plan of action?” You sigh again.

“The only thing I haven’t tried: overt flirting.”

“Okay but be careful.” The line went dead again.

You had to put your plan into action.

The only time you got to see San on his own was during select night when he would randomly enter the bar. He’d spend the whole by your bar, just taking in the scenery and occasionally talking to the patrons but, rarely did he speak to you.

To top it all off, Wooyoung or Mingi were always in earshot of you.

How am I going to pull this off?

Your mission’s completion was so close you could taste it. All you had to do now was make San want to get you alone and you’d have him but, you had to tread lightly. It was around this point in the mission that a lot of operatives had lost their lives – they got cocky or crumbled under the pressure of the corporation’s demands.

You wouldn’t end up like that.

Your chance came 2 months later.

“She was cute.” It was a Friday night, but it was at the start of service, so the bar was still quiet. A few of the bar’s members had already arrived; tired and weary from their work weeks (or from the debts they owed to San).

Like the city mayor. He was in the bar and had been downing straight vodka for the last half hour but, you knew why.

He’d just walked out of a meeting with San and Hongjoong. Hongjoong had a wild grin on his face and San was fuming. The mayor’s re-election had been an odd one. Odd because nobody expected him to win so, when he clinched it, eyebrows were raised but, no one said anything.

San had bought him the election and now he owed San.

You almost felt bad for him but, he deserved it and now wasn’t the time anyway – San was finally alone.

Well, he was, a pretty girl in a blue, velvet dress swayed up to him, taking the bar stool next to him. He made eye-contact with you and you quickly busied yourself; shining glasses. He paid her no mind.

He didn’t even respond to her flirtations. She eventually huffed and walked off.

“Yeah, she was. See that guy over there? That’s Son Hyun-woo. You don’t need to know about who he is but, that girl, is a gift from him. He’s trying to keep me sweet Y/N. I’m not interested. I’m not an easy man to buy.” His stare is intense, and you find yourself struggling to look away.

He breaks out into a slow smile.

“What time are you working tomorrow Y/N?” You don’t really know where he’s going with this.

“I’m in at 7 – same time as always.” You shrug, keeping your tone light and San looks around thoughtfully.

“You’re a good bartender but, I want you to learn some of the more unique drinks. Come in at 5. Don’t worry it’ll be paid. I’m giving you a one on one cocktail class.” He flashes his dimples at you, and you agree.

Time  to put your plan in action.

You head into the bar at 5 to find San already there.

“Y/N! You ready for your masterclass?” He clasps his hands together and rolls up his sleeves, you sit across from him – curious about the array of glasses and alcohols.

One thing was clear – San didn’t respond well to obvious flirtations so; your plan would need tweaking. Maybe you could charm him with your intelligence?

“Get behind here Y/N. You can’t make drinks from that side.”

“Alright. I’m here.” He smiles at you again.

“The first one we’re going to make is a clover club. This one predates the prohibition era in America. It was popular in Philadelphia; where it was created. It’s a classy, aromatic drink; reportedly drunk by literary experts and high-class men. That’s why it’s served in a cocktail or martini glass – so you can take in the aroma before you sip it.” You watch him expertly mix the drink.

“ ½ oz Gin, ¾ oz lemon juice, ¼ oz raspberry syrup or grenadine and one egg white. We make it thick by shaking the ingredients up in a shaker with ice but, serve it dry. Rim the glass with sugar and some frozen raspberries. Go on try it.” He nods encouragingly and you take a sip, he pours himself a glass as well and you look at him curiously.

“What? Shouldn’t I be able to savour the fruits of my labour?” You roll your eyes and he winks at you.

He’s right – you smell the gin and the raspberry syrup. It’s sweet and tart and surprisingly its thickness doesn’t take away from its enjoyability.

He takes you through other cocktails, making you try each one: La Paloma, the Penicillin, The Martinez, the Corpse reviver – you try them all and eventually you’re a little tipsy. He seems completely unaffected by the alcohol.

Bad move.

San looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I made this one myself. Have you ever heard of Bokbunja?” You shake your head, no, and try to steady yourself; giggling when San stands close to you from behind, whispering in your ear.

“It’s a wine that we make from Korean Blackberries. It’s made in the same way as wine but, it has a higher alcohol content. Its acidity makes it perfect for seafood.” You sigh when he wraps his arms around your waist, his breath fans across your ear and jaw. It smells like the last cocktail.

“It’s also perfect with fresh mint, I like to add it with sour mix and elderflower as well. You know why it’s so popular in Korea? Apparently, it’s an aphrodisiac. I don’t know about that but, I know it makes you quite hot under the collar. If you plan on getting fucked later in the night – Bokbunja is the way to go. Now that I think about it, maybe it is an aphrodisiac. Try it and tell me.” San’s lips ghost across the shell of your ear and he pulls away to guide your hands.

You haven’t even sipped it yet and you’re already hot under the collar.

“Take a sip. Do you like that Y/N? Does it make you feel hot?” You moan quietly.

You finally come to your senses when you feel his lips on your neck.

This wasn’t part of the plan – you were supposed to seduce him not the other way around.

“San, I don’t think this is a good idea but, thank you for the lesson.” You pull away from him and he only laughs. You put your hands on his chest. His grey, silk shirt feels good under your palms.

He obviously has expensive taste.

“Maybe you’re right but, you can’t say you don’t want it, want me.” He’s right and suddenly, you don’t think you can carry out the rest of your mission. If you keep feeling this way, you might end up compromised.

You almost fell under his spell and if you didn’t get a grip soon, you’d fail your mission.

Failure wasn’t an option.

But San didn’t make it easy.

Somehow, he’d only gotten worse. Before, you couldn’t get him alone but now? You couldn’t keep him away. Every time you came to work San was there.

He was sweet, he was kind, he was flirtatious.

And those damn dimples.

“Status report, Y/N.” God, where do I begin?

“In the last month, things have advanced a lot. San, I mean the target and I have spent more time together.” There is a pleased sound on the other line.

“This is good. You should complete your mission soon then I assume?” You cringe.

“There is a slight problem – the target has been pushing his sexual advances heavily. I fear I won’t be able to complete my mission without giving in to them.” There’s a huff on the line and you sigh.

“Do you know what ‘by any means necessary’ means, Y/N? We gave you a mission to complete. If that means giving into the target, then do it. Don’t be shy now – these things are often necessary and expected of our field operatives. Make yourself pretty, visit a spa if you must. But, your mission must be completed within the next 2 days or we’re pulling the plug on it and you.”

“2 days?! How am I supposed to do this in 2 days?” You’re beside yourself in anger and bewilderment.

“By any means necessary, Y/N.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“We don’t make threats, it’s a warning. Y/N if he wants you then it should be easy to strike him off. We expect you to deliver in 2 days – we will be in touch.” The line goes dead as your heart drops to your feet.

You have no choice, but to do as told.

As usual, your shift doesn’t start until 7 so, you spend your day at the spa.

You get everything, from a full body wax to a shiatzu, to a manicure – all on the corporation’s dime but, none of the treatments are enough to ease your nerves.

You’d expect that after a day of hot stone massages and saunas, you’d expect all your kinks and sore muscles to be worked out but, instead you feel like a taut rubber band; ready to snap.

It’s now or never.

You wear a new set of lingerie under your uniform for later that night. It’s lacy and rubs against your skin airily and a little rough; the colour complements your skin perfectly. It should make you feel sexy but, you feel filthy instead.

You feel like a whore.

Your hands shake as you place the gun under your clothes and it’s never felt heavier. When you get to work you put it in your bag and in your locker instead, the feeling of the metal on your body making you sick.

As if the universe wants to play a sick joke on you, all the members are unexpectedly at the bar. They’re finishing up on their meeting as you step in and they all greet you once you step behind the bar.

“How are you Y/N? You’re looking a little green.” Jongho studies you but, drops it quickly when you tell him that you’re just not feeling well.

As a matter of fact – all the members were studying you, aware that you weren’t your usual self but, San told them all to step off.

“You’re so used to people acting suspicious that you’ll give this poor girl the 3rd degree? She’s just a little unwell, right Y/N? I think something’s going around, the other bartender called in sick today.” You can only nod, scared that your voice will betray you.

“You know what’s good for that gin and tonic. Here drink up.” He makes you a single with ice and you down it quickly, trying to cover how much your hands shake.

Can you really kill Choi San?

The answer is no, no you can’t.

Your shift goes by uneventfully and you leave work, disappointed.

The ball of tension in your stomach has grown tighter and you’re thankful for your day off but, it’s also your deadline day.

You only had one day to finish your job and you’d failed – you were screwed.

Yeosang calls you in the morning.

“Y/N? This is Yeosang, San would like to see you at his home this morning, it’s to discuss your job. A car will be by your home in 20 minutes.” You nearly collapsed; San wanted you to visit him?

“Yes, thank you. I’ll be ready.” You said your goodbyes and Yeosang hung up.

Were you getting fired?

You didn’t have time to ruminate on it – you quickly got ready for this impromptu meeting placing a small blade in your shoe.

It wasn’t what you would have planned but, you had to improvise.

 The car journey was deathly silent. Wooyoung picked you up and after a short hello, he didn’t say anything else.

He knows. He has to know.

Wooyoung kept stealing glances at you in his rear-view mirror but, wouldn’t say anything, his expression was blank. There must have been a reason why he’d been the one to pick you up, given how close he was to San.

“We’re here Y/N. Just head up to the front door, the butler’s waiting for you.” Wooyoung turns to you and holds your stare for longer than expected. It makes you squirm under his gaze, while he searches your eyes. Your body’s tense with anxiety.

After a moment of you sitting frozen, he laughs shortly.

“They’re waiting for you inside Y/N.” You get out quickly, taking your bag with you.

You’d decided to pack a gun in the end as well, hopeful that you’d be able to end it all quickly, it felt heavy in your bag.

There was a lot more to Choi San than you’d read in his case file. Behind all the bloodshed and cruelty of his world, was a charming man that just wanted to live a normal life.

Could you really blame him for how he ended up, given that this was the only life he’d ever known?

You shake your head at the thought. A criminal was a criminal, regardless of how they got there.

You had a mission to complete, you steeled yourself as you walked up to the front door. Wooyoung drove away once you were at the top of the stairs.

San’s home was completely different to the bar. Where the Noir Lounge was cool and chic with its black interior and classy upholstery, San’s house was light and airy: it felt like a home. Even from the outside, the large, gated state-home looked inviting.

With its lush gardens and gravel driveway, even the wall surrounding the home was unintimidating. You could imagine San entertaining friends and gusts in his home or relaxing in his front room. You could almost imagine yourself right there beside him.

As you walked to the front door, it opened.

They really are waiting for me.

“Miss Y/N, Mr Choi is waiting for you in the dining room. I will bring you to him now. My name is Jiwon, I’m the personal butler for this home and I hope you’ll be enjoying your stay with us.” He guides you through the door, walking you across the marble floor after asking you to remove your shoes and giving you a pair of house slippers.

Jiwon is efficient and he moves fast. As soon as your slippers are on, he guides  you to the dining room giving you little time to get look at the house (or recover your knife) but, what you took in was gorgeous. The doorway led to a large staircase on your right but, Jiwon led you down back, and as promised into the dining room.

It was beautiful.

You breathe deeply to ease your panic. It doesn’t work.

The dining room was an extension of the kitchen but made completely of glass, the sun rays shone into it and you could see another lush garden outside.  In the centre stood a large mahogany dining table big enough to sit at least 20 people. But for now, it only sat one.

San.

“Mr Choi, your guest is here.” He turned to look at you, a dazzling smile on his lips, his eyes practically disappearing. Your heart sped up just looking at him.

He was dressed casually today, in joggers and a t shirt but, that didn’t take away from how beautiful he was.

“Thank you Jiwon. Y/N. Come have a seat by me. Let’s talk.” He pats the seat next to him and you take it, a shaky breath leaving your body. You were going to be alone with him.

Silently, you hoped that Jiwon wouldn’t leave.

“I will be by shortly, with today’s brunch, we have a selection of light foods, such as smoked salmon and cream-cheese bruschetta and some Scandinavian pastries for you to try miss Y/N as well some palette cleansers.” Jiwon smiles at you directly and you return it. In the little time you’ve seen him, you liked him.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“The chef is incredible Y/N, you won’t be disappointed. Thank you Jiwon, I’m giving you the rest of the day off so please, go and enjoy yourself.” You panic a little.

You’re definitely going to be alone with Choi San. Your training kicks into overdrive as you try to casually look for all possible escape routes in case things went south.

It was now or never – you’d never have another opportunity to finish your mission.

“Now Y/N. I’m really sorry to call you here on your day off but, don’t worry, you’ll be paid. I wanted to discuss how things are going with your work. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

A proposition? Your ears perked up. What kind of proposition could he have for you and what did it have to do with the job you already had? Whatever it was, you were sure that it wouldn’t bode well for you. You’d have to put your mission on hold even further, much to your own chagrin and worse - you’d have to report it back to your superiors. Would they give you the benefit of the doubt? You could only hope that you’d be able to convince them that this new job would be a good opportunity to not only take Ateez down but, to take down their associates as well. As long as you spun this roadblock into an opportunity, you’d be able to come out of this on the other side but, whether or not it was unscathed was left to be seen. Up to this point, you hadn’t actually gotten involved in the seedy underbelly of the ateez syndicate - after all you were just a bartender and aside from San’s constant flirtations and being privy to some of the more intimate details of their work, you hadn’t really been involved in dealings. Hell, the members aside from Seonghwa and occasionally Hongjoong hadn’t had more than light conversation with you. This would be a perfect opportunity.

Your musings were quickly interrupted when Jiwon came back in, followed by the rest of the staff. There were 2 other staff members, one of whom you assumed was the chef: given his uniform. “Brunch is served. We have a selection of charcuterie and sandwiches as well as the palette cleansers, as promised. I recommend the gooseberries over the hazelnut coffee for this particular selection but, I’ve put both here as I know how you enjoy your caffeine, San. Please also enjoy, the selection of cakes.” The chef bows to signal his end and San dismisses the staff with a quick smile.

“ I’m sure that Jiwon’s told you, you have the weekend off. I’ll clear the table myself. Don’t worry. Enjoy the rest of your weekend. I’ll see you all Monday morning. ”

Now you’re really scared.

The whole weekend? This must have been big. You watch them file out of the room, a sense of heavy dread filling you as they go. “Now that I have you all to myself; let’s talk business.” He rubs his hands together, smirking at you.

“As you know, you’ve been working with me for a little while and I’m impressed with your work. But,  I’m also quite fond of you Y/N; which makes me privy to a little bias, don’t you think?” He smiles a little and pours himself a cup of coffee. You watch the liquid fill the glass mug, too scared to meet his eyes. The liquid swirls disturbed by the movement and you watch as it settles.

San blows on the mug and takes a tentative sip. “I, uh guess.” you say dumbly. San Laughs. “That was rhetorical Y/N. Please eat something. I want you relaxed. You’re as stiff as a board.” You try to laugh it off when he reaches out to touch your shoulder, but the sound is weak and pathetic.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to brunch dates.” You could kill yourself. You cringe as soon as the words leave your mouth. Dear Lord, please let the ground open up and swallow me whole! Date?! Why did you say that Y/N?

“Is this a date Y/N?” He’s back to teasing you again, his tone mischievous and you know there’s no way he’s going to back down now.

You swallow your pride. “I uh, I didn’t mean to say it like that.” You cringe and turn your attention to the Danish pastries, trying to distract yourself. “Because I would like that very much. Actually, you beat me to the punch. That’s what I wanted to talk about.” You look at him in shock. You lean forward curiously and San places a bottle of bokbunja on the table in between you.

You glance between it and him, a little perplexed.

“You remember what happened when you and I had this drink don’t you? And since then, we’ve been dancing around each other, playing a very dangerous game. I don’t like games Y/N, I like honesty. And honestly, I want you and I’m no psychic but, I know you want me too.” He leans into you and rests his hand under your chin: his thumb resting on your lips.

You don’t pull away, instead your lips part instinctively. Your eyes are still downcast, looking at the pastry in your hands. “Look at me, when I’m talking to you Y/N. Let me see those beautiful eyes. You can’t hide from me anymore.” You look up at him through your lashes, his eyes are intense. They’re ablaze with passion and fondness.

He pulls away from you and your breath stutters. He was right. You wanted him but, a mission was a mission. It needed to be fulfilled.

Yet, somehow, you’re starting to think that it’s not all that important anymore.

“Now, as much as I want you, I also know how dangerous it is to mix business and pleasure. So, I have a decision for you to make. Would you like to be mine?” You gasp.

He remains unfazed and carries on. Your eyes bug out.

“If you say no that’s okay. We’ll carry on as normal and you won’t have to bother about any awkwardness between us, I’m a professional man after all. But, if you say yes, you’ll have to quit. I won’t be able to keep my hands off you at work once I’ve had a taste of you and I won’t want to. I also won’t be able to hold my tongue if one of those disgusting men flirt with you, I can barely restrain myself as it is. If only you knew how vile they were. But I promise I’ll help you find work somewhere else if you’d like. I also promise to cherish you for everything you’re worth, I’ll take such good care of you.” Your heart swells at his words. The look of seriousness in his eyes has you breathless.

“San can I, can I think about this?” Your eyes gaze at him, pleading for him to understand how hard that decision was to make.

Even harder, given that you’re supposed assassinate him, right Y/N? This wasn’t fair. Life just wasn’t fair.

Why couldn’t he be like every other high-stakes criminal? A pig who wanted nothing more than to fatten themselves up off the back of everyone else’s work. Why couldn’t he be 2 dimensional? Black and white? Just pure evil? Why was Choi San so god damned loveable?

His casefile spoke of a deeply troubled and highly dangerous man who had no issue with disposing of anyone. People were pawns to be used and boy was he good at using them. But the man before you was nothing like that. He was fiercely loyal and passionate. Driven, hardworking, and kind.

San was everything you’d ever wanted in a man and then some and it was your job to kill him. You’d been compromised. There was no way that you’d be able to do harm to him now but, there was also no way that you could go into corporate HQ empty handed.

Your mission statement had been clear: failure meant being burned. Which meant definite death for you. If you could stall San, it would give you the chance to run. You’d disappear into the wind probably somewhere where they couldn’t find you. You’d leave him a warning and disappear for good.

Yeah, you could do that… Except- San’s eyes darkened. His face set in determination “No. No Y/N , you don’t get time to think about it. This is a onetime offer. I’m not going to let you keep running from this."  He held your wrists in his hands shaking them lightly; prompting you to look directly into his eyes.

"I’m putting everything that I am out there, I’m offering you my heart Y/N. I don’t think I can sit around and wait while you decide whether or not I’m worth it.” This was new. San looked so vulnerable as he held your hands in his.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him no. Screw your mission - somehow, you’d make it work.

Eventually, you’d have to tell him that you were a plant but, that could wait.

“Okay San, I quit. I’m all yours.” Your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper. But he hears you. San pulls you forward, wrapping his arms around you and trapping you with a kiss. You taste the hint of coffee left in his lips and the sugar from your pastry: sweet and bitter, just like the situation you were in now.

Your lips move against each other slowly, San takes his time with you, running his hands over your body; caressing every inch that his hands touch.

When San pulls back, he looks like a dream. His dimpled smile stretches across his face, eyes almost disappearing, his hair tousled from you running your hands through it. His lips are spit-slicked and swollen and the prettiest shade of cherry red.

You feel like a teenager experiencing their first kiss all over again, except this time it’s not disappointing. You’re giddy and you can feel your face heating up.

“I’m really happy that you’re here with me Y/N. We should celebrate. How about a drink?” He holds up the bottle of Bokbunja and shakes it.

“Yeah, let’s celebrate.” You sigh, the gravity of your decision finally settling in on you. There was no way you were going to be able to get through this. If you ran now, the corporation would find you and if they didn’t you were certain that San would.

“Let me get us some wine glasses.” He pats your thigh and gets up, taking the bottle of wine with him.  Being alone with your thoughts for that short time was driving you crazy.

How were you going to get out of the situation you’d put yourself in? You’d been trained for almost every possible situation but, there was no training for what to do when you fell for your target.

You’re pulled out of your stupor when San returns with the 2 glasses of wine, placing 1 in front of you.

You try to smile convincingly but, it felt more like a grimace but, you still try to play your role. “What should we toast to?”

San thinks for a moment.

“We should toast to something cheesy like, ‘new beginnings’ or to ‘us’.” He laughs at how cheesy it sounds and your heart swells at his sudden shyness

“Okay, to us it is. To us.” You both raise your glasses together, clinking them and then you drink.

You chug the wine, hoping that a little liquid courage would help you relax.

“Woah slow down there Y/N.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, it’s a really nice wine.” You smile sheepishly and rapidly blink – your vision going a little hazy. You try to hide how nervous you are as you pour another glass for yourself.

San pulls his chair back from the table and sits across from you. You try to reach out for him, but your arm feels heavy.

San just watches you, his expression distant.

“I’m glad you liked the wine, I added something a little different to yours though. Can you feel it Y/N? Seonghwa said you would, he said it was fast acting. It really looks like it’s working. I’ll have to thank him.” You look at him quizzically and try to shake off the brain fog, but  you can’t. Your mind is hazier than ever.

You didn’t drink that much, what did Seonghwa have to do with the wine?

It clicks in your mind and you watch as San’s sombre expression. Your mind runs back to your fact files. Seonghwa was a chemicals expert. He played around with poisons.

You try to convey your alarm, but your head and eyes are too heavy.

“whaid you doo tme?” Inside your head, you’re panicking but, outside you can’t move, you’re slowly losing consciousness.

“I didn’t do anything to you Y/N. You did this to yourself.” You try to fight back as San picks you up bridal style but, your body isn’t working with you. Mounting panic gives way to artificial indifference and your vision narrows down to a pinhead. Everything goes black.

You came to, slowly. The first thing you noticed was that you were sprawled out on your back and that your arms were aching. Trying to stretch them out, you realise with a start that they’re bound to bed posts. Your body slips on black satin sheets as you try to sit up. “Keep calm Y/N, keep calm.” The panic is setting in, freezing your body and you know if you let it take you over that logic will leave.

“Yeah Y/N, stay calm. I’m sure this will all blow over.” In taking stock of your current, bound state, you didn’t even realise that San was watching you. He regards you silently but, coldly. His eyes holding none of the previous love and softness.

You’ve been had. You realised it too late. And now you’re going to die. But you don’t want to die.

Your breath comes in short puffs, quickly increasing and your head is beginning to spin. The feeling of pins and needles travels across your fingertips. Tears start to prick at your eyes.

San quickly gets up from his seat in the middle of the room and sits next to you on the bed. “Calm down Y/N, I need you to breathe slowly. Especially because I need you to be coherent for what I’m going to say."  You try to do as your told and flinch when San reaches towards your face and wipes away your tears.

"I don’t like games Y/N but, that doesn’t mean that I’m not good at playing them. I always win. You’ve been playing a slow game with me and I’m really not happy about it.” He leans in close and you try to back away from him, but the sheets aren’t on your side, you’re still groggy.

“I know who you work for. I’ve always known.” Your heart rate picks up at that. You’d had a feeling that he would’ve found out but, not that he had always known.

“Now, before you go getting yourself into a panic. I’m not going to kill you. No, you could be of some use to me. I’m going to ask you some questions honey and if I think you’re lying, I might have to send you to Hongjoong and we both know what will happen if I do. But, if you’re good and you tell me the truth, I might just let you off the hook.” San’s hand grips your inner thigh and then he pulls back; getting up from beside you and pulling his chair to the end of the bed.

You can only watch him, your mind running through all the possible ways you could get away from him. Your mind comes up short.

“The corporation put another hit out on me, yeah? It doesn’t surprise me but, what does is why they would send a lower level spy so, why you? And remember princess honesty is the only thing that will keep you safe.” He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms and looks at you expectantly.

“They couldn’t figure out why every assassin they sent was getting killed so they figured you must have insider info on who they were sending. Lower level means less clearance so they sent me in because it would be hush hush. Less people to get permission from, meant less people involved, lower chance of failure.” He nods and furrows his brows.

“So, was the aim to still kill me?” “Yes.” You’re surprised to see the flash of hurt pass by his features but, it surprises you even more that it affected you so much.

Killing someone was one thing, telling them was another.

“When.” He watches you carefully, daring you to lie to him. “My deadline was today.” He sighs, nodding.

“What stopped you?"  You can’t answer him. Because I fell in love, was such a cliché response and it would’ve sounded 2 dimensional given the situation you were in now.

San was clearly hurt so most likely wouldn’t believe anything that sappy but, it was true.

Even after being mildly poisoned and tied up your feelings didn’t waiver and even before this, you’d been planning on how to leave him unscathed.

"You’re taking too long Y/N, don’t li-” “I fell in love with you.” You blurt it out before you can second guess it. He looks at with a blank expression, his lips pressed tightly together.

He doesn’t believe you.

“You wanted honesty so here it is. I started doubting my ability to carry out the mission as soon as you guys started letting me into your inner circle. I didn’t get that close to your business, but I got close to you guys; I have so much in common with Yunho and Jongho showed me all his tech stuff and I had lunch with Hongjoong and his mum. His mother, San. The closer I got to all of you the more I didn’t want to carry this out. I was meant to do it yesterday but, I just couldn’t. I can’t hurt you. ” A fresh wave of tears flow from your eyes.

San gets up, wordlessly and walks away, shocking you. It’s over.

“Don’t look so panicked.” He sits by you, tissues in in hand and wipes your tears. “I’m not going anywhere but, I don’t think you want tears drying on your face.”   He’s smiles at you tenderly.

“Untie me San.” The smile drops off his face.

“Why would I do that? Thank you for your honesty but, that doesn’t let you off the hook just yet. Do you have any idea who, exactly, you’re working for Y/N? Because I do.  Your boss has been living on my dime for years, he was even on my father’s books.”  

“For what exactly?” You’re shocked but, not exactly sure what this has to do with you.

“Let’s just say that your boss has a few extra-curricular activities that would put a damper on his career goals. He wants to run for government one day and there’s no way he can do it if the info I have on him gets out.” The cogs are turning in your head, hearing what he’s saying.

“You’re telling me, that Kim Jinyoung, the same Kim Jinyoung who’s been strait-laced his whole career, who’s been responsible for removing some of the worst careered criminals off the streets, who has a doting wife and 4 kids; is in the back pocket of your gang? That’s not possible San and I’m not playing your game. Just hurry up and kill me.” Oof, you don’t know where that came from, probably the frustration of being tied up and realising that you’ve been had the entire time.

But think about it, Y/N, if San can be good despite what his casefile says then, Jinyoung has every possibility of being vile.

San gets up and reaches for a manila file in the bedside table.

“I thought you’d say that. I normally have these files stored away but, I bought this one just for you. Let me show you what he’s been up to. Here’s one of him doing cocaine. Here’s one of him drinking with Taeyong at one of Taeyong’s parties; I’m sure you know who Taeyong is. And, this one’s my favourite: him being spanked by a girl at Mingi’s strip club. So, tell me again that I’m lying.” You’re left speechless, unsure of what to say and having no clue where to even begin.

San pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs again. You only look at him in bewilderment.

“Look, I’m not going to kill you Y/N. If I’d planned on doing it, I would have killed you already.” He pulls the key from his trousers and undoes the cuffs around your wrists. You rub them gingerly and flex your fingers – trying to get the feeling back into them.

He unties your feet as well and sits back in his chair.

“I’m also not letting you leave. I’ve had a mole in the corporation for a while, I’ve known this was coming. But I wasn’t expecting to get feelings for you. The plan was to play with you and Jinyoung, make him think he’d finally gotten the one-up on me and once he’d gotten comfortable or you thought you were close enough, I was going to send you to him in pieces.” Your body runs cold and you start to shake.

San had planned on mutilating you?

“Well what stopped you?” You want to look defiant; you want to appear strong but, the question comes out in pathetic whisper.

“You were only doing your job. As were all of the assassins. They were given choices. Stay or die. 4 stayed and they work for Ateez now and 1 was disposed of. You’re the only one I’ve fallen for and trust me when I say that I love you. My proposition still stands Y/N, although in a different way. I want you by my side but, obviously that means quitting your job – your real job. If not, I’ll let you go; I can’t hurt you and I won’t let anyone else, not even your boss.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb lovingly.

You lean forward, closing the distance and kiss him slowly.

When you pull back, his cheeks are dusted with pink but, he still looks unsure.

“Choi San, I quit.”

[gochasethesunset]

From Concept To Patent To Successful Product

What To Do With Your Invention Idea

Eventually in your life, you have possibly had among those "aha" moments.

You understood there was an imperfection, something missing out on, or a possibility to develop a much better means of achieving something.

Although every person has these moments, few latch onto their suggestion and recognize that there is an invention trying to reveal itself.

Also, much less aim to create that suggestion and patent it.

All that to say: Developers are individuals.

They're not superheroes. They're not always abundant to start and also they're not necessarily of some intergalactic INTELLIGENCE degree that makes your above-average knowledge seem equivalent to a rock.

No ... innovators are just individuals. Like you.

No matter of background, IQ, or superpowers, successful creators do have certain typical natural high qualities.

Among those high qualities is drive.

They have the drive to be relentless as well as follow up non-stop with each step in the invention procedure.

Successful inventors are hungry for success - they envision it and press themselves to discover the path toward it.

The daily ideator who puts action and also intent behind his suggestion with this level of drive is most likely to become a successful capitalist (given the item is feasible, of course).

It takes place constantly on Shark Tank right in the public eye, and it takes place thousands of thousands of times per year somewhere else.

If you believe you're simply the "daily ideator" and also do not have what it takes to press your concept via to success, take a look at the video clip listed below, "From Suggestion to Cash," an interview with Rick Receptacle.

Rick is among Shark Storage tank's most successful business owners. He created viewers, a magnetic clip that safeguards analysis glasses onto your individual. also check out the help of invention help

It was a basic suggestion created from the truth that Rick kept shedding his analysis glasses. Invention concepts are commonly ideal in front of your face - in this instance, essentially.

Taking Invention Suggestions To Success

If you have ever before googled anything related to patenting an invention suggestion, you were most likely inundated with advertising and marketing messages and advertisements for days, weeks, and maybe even months following your search.

Just remember this: You can not patent a suggestion.

Gasp! Yet wait ... I maintain seeing ads as well as firms that inform me, "Patent your invention idea quickly!" and more.

Yes, proper, but it is not this first idea that you would certainly seek to immediately patent.

The initial idea about how you will produce, fix, or improve something requires to morph to become a real invention. You'll have to do some job ... you'll require a few of that drive to get there. You can also get help with invention

The truth is that your preliminary idea could be an invention as well as it could be patentable, yet you require to do some surrounding as well as a thorough study to ensure a couple of things:

Initially, That your idea addresses a problem and works;

Second, nobody has already invented it (by carrying out a prior art patent search);.

Third, your suggestion is not apparent. This is tricky and also a specialist who is experienced in the art or field of your invention idea has to eventually identify if your idea is "nonobvious"

The Adversary Remains In Your Suggestion's Information

When you can define your idea in wonderful enough information, the suggestion after that goes beyond to one more level. It comes to be the start of your invention.

Rick Receptacle's suggestion was easy: "I need to stop losing my analysis glasses.".

He included information to that idea, enough to ultimately think of readers, his invention. Now I'm not Rick, yet allow's go through what that may have appeared like.

One night, Rick was being in his love seat catching up on "Freeway To Sell.".

A commercial came on, and that was Rick's sign to pick up his tablet computer as well as catch up on the information of the day.

As he clicked the CNN application he understood he didn't have his reading glasses.

He frisked his lap fruitless.

He viewed on the coffee table; absolutely nothing. Nightstand; no-go. Where are those checking out glasses?

Inventors, this is what's called a "pain point.".

If you're actively seeking concepts for brand-new inventions, they are all over - you simply have to maintain your eyes peeled for the discomfort points.

Exactly how do you recognize it's a discomfort point?

Great concern, easy solution.

If you feel annoyed incidentally something functions or by something that maintains happening (like shedding your analysis glasses while you're viewing TV), think of your concern on a larger scale. Do you believe more people are shedding their glasses? If indeed, after that continue!

What's next?

Well, Rick needed to detail the issue as well as consider just how to solve it. He did this with solid documentation as well as a thorough focus being paid to it daily.

In his case, the solution was magnetized. Currently, did Rick invent the magnet? No, not.

An additional idea: You can utilize existing items or inventions as an item of your remedy. Yet as you are detailing your idea, you must specify precisely just how it is utilized and why your invention is still one-of-a-kind.

Documenting Your Invention Concept.

The recording is a vital component of the creating procedure.

At some point, you may need to count on your documentation throughout situations such as legal process or establishing or preserving legal rights to your invention.

You have to record your activities correctly - your paperwork may someday need to be valued in court and you must keep that in mind as you're working on it.

Due to the implications of your idea documentation, the most effective technique - and essentially a should - is to record whatever in an innovator's journal. This ought to be a bound publication with phoned number pages and every web page and also note need to be dated

Advantages Of Invention Idea Paperwork.

There are some benefits to recording your suggestions as you relocate through the stages of the invention process.

1) Evidence - Every patent should divulge the innovators of the concept, and also your journal can show your "inventorship".

2) Expedite the patent procedure - A well-documented invention idea aids improve the process when you fill in your patent application. This is a means you can conserve time and money in the future - 2 very important assets.

3) Assume and re-think your idea - Writing forces you to analyze your tasks and concepts to clarify what it is that you have developed. This process can evoke further ideas on how to change or enhance your preliminary vision.

4) Sanity - Documentation aids you remember what you have done and also considered in the past and also prevents unnecessary redundancies in your job.

5) Taxes - If the moment you have invested ideating and creating is part of a company, you may have the ability to look for tax reductions for the expenses that you incur. You ought to speak to your accounting professional concerning whether or not this relates to you.

File Your Idea With this Information.

The objective of describing out your suggestion for an invention is to broaden so deeply right into the concept of why your idea is such a fantastic invention, as well as what it addresses, that any individual that reads it will completely understand the description and agree with you that your suggestion requires to be an invention; it can much better the world, even if in some small way.

When you have sufficient information to accomplish this, you are after that going to be ready to patent your concept ... or your invention ... it's a type of both at this moment.

Here are some of the information you'll require your concept. Make this you are 'at minimum' checklist as well as, based upon your invention as well as category, increase upon it as essential: also check https://www.glassdoor.com/Reviews/InventHelp-Reviews-E152162.htm

1. A stellar description of what your suggestion is and what it does (you will require this for the Requirements part of your patent application so it isn't for naught or flair - do a fantastic work). Below is a fantastic rundown of what your summary can include: Title or name of your suggestion; the technological field as well as the group it falls under; background information on prior art, previous licenses or licenses pending (in various other words, just how have others attempted to resolve something like this); the trouble or test your concept will certainly attend to as well as just how you will certainly address it in different ways and effectively (because your suggestion requires to be one-of-a-kind); an example or two of usage situations for your suggestion.

2. Illustrations, layouts, as well as illustrations of exactly how it functions and also what it resembles. Measurements are good right here too so all can imagine and also conceive the size of the real-life model. You can describe your invention's representations in your description. As well as remember this suggestion: Even more is more. The even more pictures and also representations you have, the far better you will certainly see your idea, as well as the much better someone else can translate what your suggestion is and does. (By law, you will certainly need a minimum of one attracting to request the patent).

3. Try to list products in as much deepness as feasible. Talk concerning the details of each part and also exactly how they fit together as well as function together.

4. Various "personifications," or versions, of the invention idea. The hard truth is, not everyone will see points your method. Your concept, albeit proprietary to you, can be changed. You'll intend to account for the potential variations of your invention. The main factor is simple: If you do not describe variations of your invention and someone else has essentially the very same invention however various means of creating it, after that it is no more your invention (particularly with the First to Submit (FTF) laws).

5. Days. Every little thing needs to have a day. Every suggestion, every representation, every idea, and also every time you go back as well as erase believed from a previous day - sign as well as date whatever.

6. The target market of your invention. You'll intend to think about your end-users, your customers, as well as any individual else in the circle of impact. If you have developed a kind of apparel, you're listing out that wears it, but additionally, that might produce it, that may buy it for the individual who wears it, what it takes on - any person you assume your product pertains to.

If you've completed this listing for your suggestion, you're well on your means of filing a patent as well as having an invention of your very own. If you would certainly like to assist with obtaining a patent or submitting your application, allow us to recognize what we can do to sustain you.

My tip is not to hurry this part of the process.

Complete the workouts, take some time away, and after that revisit what you created. Your detailed summary and layouts must make your idea implementable by anybody that uses it.

Keep in mind, when you file your patent you can't make changes. The application you submit becomes your patent.

You want to be double and also three-way certain you have the information you require around your concept in that application.

[birdkoskincare]

hey ieva i was wondering if physical exfoliation is just as good as chemical? i feel more comfortable with physical exfoliation, do you happen to have any good recs for someone with dry/a bit sensitive skin? xx

physical exfoliation is a bit more tricky — and less multifunctional — than chemical exfoliation, but if done safely it can also offer good results. that’s why celebs go for dermaplaning and microdermabrasion procedures on the regular! but those are usually done by professionals, who really know well how much pressure to use, which tools are safe, etc.

what can you do at home, then? a few safe options include:

powder enzyme cleansers — my fave, possibly, these cleansers come in dry grains that dissolve when they come into contact with water, but still provide a gentle scrubbing action when applied nearly-dry on wet facial skin. the enzymes offer a tiny bit of gentle chemical exfoliation, too. i use the one by tosowoong.

peeling gel/gommage gel — these are products like the body shop drops of youth/drops of light peels, that ball up into little polymer balls when you rub them into the skin; these gently lift and incorporate dead skin cells and flakes. you can also find them from korean brands like dr. g, iope, mizon, floria, holika holika, pyunkang yul or mamonde.

scrubs with very finely milled soft particles — no salt, sugar or crushed kernels! opt for products with things like oat or rice grains, which are soft and have no harsh edges that can cause micro-cuts that irritate your skin and create entry points for bacteria.

quality exfoliating tools — these should be used sparingly as well, and i’m referring to tools with bristles that vibrate (like the clarisonic or foreo) rather than tools that spin (like those cheaper brushes that used to get advertised everywhere by youtubers). you need to make sure they’re very clean, and they are pricy for the results that you can expect, but they can be fun to use and feel like a little facial massage. very bougie

but is it as good as chemical exfoliation, you ask? well, it’s different...

it’s very easy to overdo either, but with physical exfoliation people tend to get carried away more. most underestimate how little pressure and speed as well as scrubbing time they need to actually exfoliate their skin. this oftentimes ends up causing redness, broken capillaries, inflammation of acne spots, loss of elasticity, etc etc.

physical exfoliation should also be done only once or twice (at most!) per week, whereas, depending on the product, you can use acids every day once your skin is used to them.

chemical exfoliation is very good at addressing dullness and texture, but it does more than that: AHAs target acne directly and also interfere with pigment production mechanisms, so they act on hyperpigmentation/scarring/dark spots. BHAs are capable of dissolving the oil plugs that form inside pores, where physical particles cannot reach.

physical exfoliation, however, is better at dealing with macro-scale things: large flakes of skin you can see with the naked eye and the likes. just be gentle with it!

with either type of exfoliation, you need to be extra zealous about wearing SPF!

this is why i prefer to do chemical exfoliation on a more frequent basis and only supplement it with physical methods when needed. chemical exfoliation is nothing to be scared of, and it’s one of the best tools in one’s arsenal for almost all skin types! but although it gets a bad rep in current skincare culture, you can safely physically exfoliate, too. i hope this helps!

for my overview on chemical exfoliants, budget recs and a beginner’s method, click here! another option if you’re wary of acids is the stratia soft touch AHA, formulated specifically to be super gentle to the skin.

[super-success-core]

Tips for Living the Life of Your Dreams

When I ask this question, I'm not inquiring why you are in the location you're in, or why you are in the city you're in, or even why you are in whatever country you're in.

I ask the question, because I'm wondering why you exist at all?

In the fall of 2003, I released a book I wrote called The Why Are You Here Café. It is a fiction story of a man who wanders into an all night café and is surprised to find three questions on a menu. Why Are You Here? Do You Fear Death? Are You Fulfilled?

I am not so arrogant now to think that I have the answer to how anyone except for me should live their life. I do know though, that there are certain things I've learned that help me think about life in a different way. There are things that I wish I had learned earlier in life, things that I reflect on often and that continually give me a boost and help me on my journey to achieve the life of my dreams.

My hope is that in sharing those things with you, they will in some way assist you on your journey to live the life of your dreams.

1. Know your Purpose For Existing (PFE), or at least be looking

Your Purpose For Existing is exactly what it says. It is the reason you exist, the reason you are alive. It is the answer to the question I asked you at the start of this article. Why Are You Here?

Your PFE is like your own personal compass for life. Should you go to New York City and become a commodities trader? Go back to your PFE. Why are you here? Should you travel the world as a peace corp. volunteer? Go back to your PFE. Why are you here? Should you stay in a relationship you've been questioning? Go back to your PFE. Why are you here?

In addition to taking a great deal of the stress out of decision making, it also takes a lot of the anxiety out of everyday life. You don't have to justify to yourself or anyone else why you do what you do. You know the answer. You meet someone and they say, "Hi, what do you do?" You respond, "Oh, I teach yoga," or "I'm an insurance salesperson," or "I'm a chiropractor." "Interesting," they say, "what made you go into that line of work. "Well, it helps fulfill my Purpose For Existing," you respond. Wow! That is a powerful statement. You do what you do because it helps you fulfill the exact reason you exist. It doesn't get much simpler, or more powerful than that.

2. Fear is a terrible thing; don't let it control your life.

Someone once told me a great quote about trying something new. He said he had been battling with fear for a long time until one day his friend told him, "Listen, realistically what's the worst that could happen." I think that is great comment to remember. We are often paralyzed into non-action by the concern that something drastic might happen. But the reality is that almost any decision we make or action we take can be changed if we don't like the outcome.

We can almost always go back to whatever it was we were doing before we tried something new. Furthermore, what are the odds that the "worst thing" will happen? It probably isn't likely at all, and yet that remote chance keeps us from doing the things we want to do.

My major "Aha" moment which enabled me to get past my fears, came one day when I suddenly realized that there are very few things that have not already been done by at least one, and probably thousands of people. Certainly everything I was attempting, other people had already tried and succeeded at. Well heck, I thought. If they could do it, so can I.

It is likely that whatever you are trying to accomplish in life, someone, at some point in history, at some spot in the world, did it, and proved it could be done. If they could do it, so can you.

3. Either we can live as a speck of meaningless existence, or we can live a life of meaning

Have you ever been somewhere on a very clear night when you could get a great look at the stars? You were in a place nice and dark without any local lights distracting your eyes. How many stars do you think you could see with your naked eye when you looked across the whole sky? It seemed like millions I bet. The sky seemed just packed with stars. Well, the reality is that the immense quantity of stars you see on a totally clear night when there is no outside light is actually about 3,000.

To put that number in perspective, keep in mind that in our galaxy alone, there are 100 billion stars. Now, our star, which is the sun, has 9 planets and 54 moons that rotate around it. Using our star as a proxy, that means there are 6.3 TRILLION stars, planets, and moons floating around in our galaxy. So what you see on a perfectly clear night, that immense amount of stars and space, is around .00000005% of everything in our galaxy. Amazing isn't it. Now consider this. That is just our galaxy. Do you know how many galaxies there are? Scientists estimate there are over 500 million of them.

So with all that as perspective, how important are our individual lives in comparison to the entire universe? It is pretty easy to see how someone could think that they are just a speck of meaningless existence. Certainly we are all just specks in the big picture. But suppose we aren't meaningless. Suppose there is a specific purpose that each of us is here, a reason that we exist right now that goes beyond just sperm met egg and nine months later out popped a little you or me.

I believe there is a reason. I believe we each have a specific Purpose For Existing, or PFE as I like to refer to it. My suggestions is, find that purpose. Fulfill that purpose.

I've had people say to me, "But what if you are wrong?" "What if I think I have a PFE, and I live my life like I do, but I really am just a speck of meaningless existence?" My reply to that is always the same. If we find what we think is our very purpose for being alive, our purpose for existing, and we live a life to fulfill it, then by default, we will have given meaning to our life. What has meaning, can no longer be meaningless.

4. Realize something is fulfilling because we decide it is fulfilling, not because someone else tells us it is.

There are a lot of people out there trying to get you to buy things, and they will tell you almost anything to get you to do it.

Do you know how much money was spent on advertising in the United States last year? The answer is a staggering $124 billion dollars. The goal of those expenditures is to get you and me to buy things, and advertisers are getting more and more savvy about how to do it.

For example, they have learned that memory and emotion are significant factors in whether or not a customer has brand loyalty to a product. So they review brain responses of test subjects who are shown advertisements, to see if a particular advertisement invokes a reaction from the emotion center or memory center of the test subject's brain. That way they can tell if the advertisement will stimulate long term brand loyalty for a particular product. Can't you just see that? Someone is walking down the street, they pass a billboard, and suddenly have this tremendous, compelling, yet unexplainable urge to buy lottery tickets.

Are we to that point yet? No, I don't think so. Will we get to that point? I don't know. The point is, marketers and marketing technology are, and will continue to, make it harder and harder to sift through all the noise so that we can form our own perspective on things.

The challenge is to realize something is fulfilling not because someone tells us it is, but because we individually determine it is fulfilling. Does love really come in the form of diamond earrings, which say "You love her and would marry her all over again"? Does self worth and empowerment truly lie in owning a particular automobile? I personally don't think so in either case, but don't listen to me anymore than you would listen to the advertisement. You decide.

5. Be thankful for and leverage the advantages that come from living in this country

We have some amazing opportunities at our fingertips simply because we live in this country. Now, I don't know about you, but all I did to get these opportunities was pop out of the womb in what turned out to be a very fortuitous spot.

Do you know how much the average college graduate in Myanmar (formerly Burma) makes? They make 10,000 Kat per month. That is about $12.00 U.S. How about the average college graduate in China? How much do you think they make per month? That number is 1500 Yuen, which is just under $200.00 U.S.

Now salaries of that magnitude are enough for those people to function in their country's respective economies. In all likelihood though, those people will never be able to travel and see the world. They just can't afford it. But we can. We have the financial benefit of a strong currency compared to the majority of the world.

In this country we can get an education, and we can go out and get a decent paying job. We think unemployment is really getting bad when it hits 6%. In places in South Africa it is over 40%.

As a country we have our fair share of problems. When you get outside the borders and travel to other places, you see things that make the U.S. look like paradise. We have freedom. We can say what we want, buy what we want, become what we want, travel where we want, and for the most part the only thing we did to get all this, is pop out of the womb in the right geographical area. We shouldn't take it for granted.

6. Look at the little picture, but with a big perspective

People often say, look at the big picture. I say look at the little picture, but with a big perspective.

Do you know what life is? Life is actually a day multiplied by about 27,500. Sometimes it is less, hopefully more, but usually around 27,500. The easiest way to make sure we have a life we enjoy is to make sure that each day we do something we enjoy. I'm sure this sounds simple to you. It took me decades to figure this out.

Doing something you enjoy each day is an example of looking at the little picture. But keep in mind the big perspective, which is what is your PFE? What is it that you want out of life? Why are you here?

Here is an example of little picture and big perspective. Do you do some form of work for at least 20 minutes each weekday? Do you go to a job, work from home, something? How about this. Do you wake up each weekday and stretch for at least 20 minutes?

Ok, different question. What is more important to you, health or money? Would you permanently trade the ability to walk up a flight of stairs in exchange for money? Would you permanently trade the ability to take a bike ride along the beach, garden, lift up a grandchild, play sports, or go fishing in exchange for money?

Then be careful about how you spend your time each day, because making the decision to head off to work 20 minutes early, or spending an extra 20 minutes at work, instead of taking 20 minutes per day to stretch, is a slow version of trading those abilities.

We have a propensity as a society to spend all kinds of time on other things, and when we are good and tired and barely have the energy to say hello, then we go interact with those who mean the most to us, or spend time on ourselves. This is the fast track to finding yourself feeling like a complete stranger with the people who mean the most to you, and yourself.

7. Seek out near life experiences

At the age of 28 I began to have near life experiences. Have you heard the term near death experience? That is when people survive a heart attack, or almost get hit by a car and they get this tremendous sense of lucidness about how short life is and how they should give some thought to how they really want to live it before they don't have a life to live.

Well, at 28 I started to have those revelations without the potential for a trip to the emergency room. I started to have near life experiences.

Near life experiences are the times when you are doing exactly what you want. You are enjoying life, you are having the exact experience you want out of life, and because of that you feel truly fulfilled with the life experience. Near life experiences (NLE's) can come from something as simple as hugging your significant other or as complex as achieving a particularly difficult goal you set for yourself. They come when you are fulfilling your PFE.

When you are having a near life experience, you are absolutely and completely happy. It is the most amazing feeling in the world.

Find those moments for yourself and figure out how to get more of them into your life every day. Experience so many of them that you get to the point where you insist on having a life full of them, a life where you fulfill your PFE.

Have them as soon as possible, because the fantastic thing about experiences, especially near life experiences, is that the sooner in your life you have them, the longer you have to reap the benefits. What you learn at 20, 35, or 50 can be applied for a lot more time and to a lot more situations than what you learn at 85. Even better, the experiences build upon each other. Once the insights start coming, they create this fantastic foundation of knowledge upon which everything else rests.

8. Choose your own metric of success in life

When you have spent time in other countries, and then you come back to the U.S., you realize just how strongly our culture equates success with money. How much do you make? What kind of car do you drive? How big is your house? These are all money based metrics.

If we choose that as our metric, that's fine, just so long as we make sure that we chose it. And when we are deciding what our metric will be, we should keep in mind that money is not the only one. The amount of time we spend each day doing what we want, our degree of fulfillment with life, how happy we are, how much love is in our life, and many others, are also metrics for success in life.

Evaluate them closely because the metrics we choose become the driving force for our actions.

9. Act like your life depends on your decisions, because it does

Have you ever been in a discussion where you were debating what to do, and someone said, "Well what would you do if your life depended on it?" It really puts things in a different perspective doesn't it? Now all of a sudden it is more important. MY LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!!!

Well, in reality, our life depends on the decisions we make every day. Whether or not we achieve and experience what we want out of life is entirely dependent on our daily decisions.

Have you ever heard the term "The Big Five"? The big five is something that you hear all the time when you are on safari in Africa. It stands for rhino, elephant, buffalo, leopard, and lion. People are always asking, "Have you seen the big five? How many of the big five did you see? Where were the big five?"...

I think we should adopt this term for our lives. The Big Five for Life will be the five things we absolutely want to do, see, or experience in our life. The things that on our deathbeds, we will look back on and go, yeah, I did my Big Five for Life.

Wouldn't that be a great conversation starter? "Hi, I'm John, and you are?..." "Nice to meet you. So, what's on your Big Five for Life list and how can I help you fulfill them?"

Although they can be, items on the Big Five for Life list don't have to be things that are one time events. For example, number one on my list is to have a lifelong loving relationship with my wife. It is something with a non-defined end date. As long as I am here, it is on the list.

The reason I think this would be so fantastic is because we often forget to act like our life depends on our decisions. We get into a pattern and pretty soon we have all these reasons why we can't go do the things we want.

Make your daily decisions as if your life depends on it, because it does.

10. Choose to work on things you are passionate about and you will always be passionate about what you are working on

Here is a statistic you may find shocking. It shocked me. In an average week, including the two days of the weekend, a person will spend over 52% of their awake life either at work, getting to work, or on work related activities at home.

Over half of our awake life is spent on work. Now that is something to keep in mind when we are making decisions about what type of work we want to do. "I am choosing to give half of my life to the pursuit of whatever this job is."

If you are going to spend 52% of your awake life on work related items each week, you might as well choose to work on something you are passionate about. I know this can be challenging. We live in this interesting world where people value experience at something over much more important skills like aptitude, general intelligence, drive and many more.

Nonetheless, think of it this way. If there is something else that you have always wanted to do, but lack experience in, every day you don't go do it is a day less of experience you will have. You might as well get started right away.

John Strelecky is the international best selling author of 'The Why Are You Here Café.' In its first 10 months his book had sold in 14 countries and set the world record for the fastest sales on all seven continents. Through his book, articles, speeches, and appearances on television and radio, he has positively impacted the lives of millions of people.

[krystalkoya]

Ad Hoc| 02

Summary: Landing your dream job as an advertising exec at Kim Entertainment straight out of college was nothing like you imagined. Mostly due to the fact that your college rival, Jung Hoseok, sits ten feet away from you and never misses an opportunity to make your life a living hell. When a position opens up at the firm to be chief of advertising, you jump at the opportunity, but not without having to go up against Hoseok who is also vying for the position. In a dirty game of deception and betrayal, the last thing you expect to come out of it is love.

pairing: coworker!hoseok x reader

genre: enemies to lovers (the superior trope!), future angst, future smut (18+), humour

rating: nc17

word count: 8k

chapter warnings: none 

. . .

Chapter Summary: Things were looking up... but that never lasts long, now does it? 

Series Masterpost

. . .

_______ 

The sound of a pot clashing to the floor reverberates through your tiny apartment, the sound traveling and no doubt giving your neighbors yet another reason to complain. You turned your music up loud one time and the next thing you know your getting a noise complaint from your landlord. Nevermind coming to you to address the problem, no they went straight to that rotten woman upstairs.  

You sigh. “I still don’t understand why I’m the one cooking and your supposed to be the world-renowned chef.”

“World-renowned chef-to-be, ___. I’m still in culinary school. And what, do you expect me to cook you meals every time we’re together? A chef deserves to be catered to too you know.” You roll your eyes at him, though it’s fruitless because he can’t see you from his sprawled out position on your couch.

“Fine, but if I hear even one complaint about how my noodles aren’t ‘al dente’ or whatever the fuck, I’m never cooking for you again.”

Seokjin mulls it over for a second. “That’s fair I guess. We can’t all be culinary experts. Most of your  talents lie elsewhere anyway.” He says, tone condescending and you’d almost be offended, but you know that’s just Jin.

You've known him for years. Too long really. You're not even sure how you put up with him for so long, but deep down you know it’s because you care for him deeply. He was a couple years older than you but ever since he moved in to the house next door to yours when you were in nine your bond stuck stronger than Elmer's glue.

Believe it or not, he'd actually been much more reserved as a child, yet there was still a lightheartedness to him that made him easy to get along with. You hate to admit it, he loves to boast about it, but his corny jokes won you over, the dad jokes he cracks even to this day being as annoying as they were endearing. When he'd hit his teenage years though, that's when he truly blossomed. He had always been charming but around adolescence is when he'd truly come into himself. Yet he hadn't dropped you for prettier, more popular friends as is the cliche. You chock it up to the fact that Jin was a leader not a follower. It's why your friendship had lasted so long into your mid-twenties. You also take that as the reason why he refused to let his own dreams be crushed in favor of pleasing someone else, even blood.

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. "Thanks, I guess? Only you could find a way to compliment me and insult me in the same sentence," you say.

You look up just in time to see Jin shoot you a thumbs up over the back of the couch in acknowledgement.

"Speaking of culinary school, when are you gonna tell your dad about it?" you query, looking over at his horizontal form splayed across your couch.

Seokjin sighs and rolls over onto his side, propping his head onto his hand to peer at you.

"I told you, when the right time comes. I need to be completely, absolutely, 100% sure he's going to be okay with me using the money he gave me for a business degree on culinary school instead. And if that doesn't happen in my lifetime... I'm okay with that."

You laugh, looking up from your poorly diced parsley leaves to say, " He's gonna find out eventually. Especially when you don't end up taking over the company for him when he's ready to retire. My advice? Bite the bullet, yank the bandaid off or whatever they say, but tell him now. What lie did you even tell him about college anyway?" You ask, gesturing wildly with the knife in your hand, and Seokjin recoils fearfully despite being ten feet away from you.

"Told him I took a year sabbatical." He sighs.

"And he was okay with that?!"

"More okay with it than if I told him I dropped out and used the money for a cooking degree."

You nod in understanding but then realize he can't see you. "Makes sense."

Jin rolls back over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling in thought. There's a pause before he says, "Trust me, I'd like to postpone that conversation for as long as possible. Thank you...for the advice I mean, but don't worry about it. I'll tell him... eventually."  He waves his hand dismissively but you sense the uncertainty in his voice.

You don't press any further however, choosing instead to lighten up the conversation, for his sake at least. "Okay, if you say so. I couldn't imagine you as my boss anyway. Don't want to really."

He just at the opportunity of a much lighter conversation, tacking on a statement of his own. "And as much as I like to boss you around, I don't think I'd enjoy being the CEO of an ad company. Not my thing. Too business-y, doesn't allow enough room for flair. My talents would be wasted. It'd be a shame really."

You nod in agreement at each other, only to break contact when your hand slips and the knife knicks your index finger. You curse, bringing your hand up to inspect the cut as you faintly hear Jin's voice in the background.

"Don't get any blood on my food."  

"Keep talking and it won't just be my blood," you mutter lowly. Thankfully, it was just a little knick. No blood made an appearance today and perhaps it was because your knives weren't sharp enough to inflict any serious damage. Bad for cutting actual food but good for a klutz like you. You hurry up and wash your finger off anyway, grabbing a bandaid from your kitchen first aid drawer to plaster on the wound.

As your nursing yourself back to health you hear the noise of a phone ringing in the distance. It can't be yours because you were sure it was abandoned at the bottom of your purse in your room somewhere. Too far away for you to hear it this close.

Seokjin reaches over to grab his phone off the coffee table, swiping right to accept the call.

It's not even on speaker yet you hear the resounding "Seokjinnieee!!" blare through the phone. Dear god, yet another thing your neighbors can complain about.

Seokjin reels back from the phone, only returning once the voice on the other line subsides.

"Hello, Jimin."

By now, Jin has put the phone on speaker, the three of you comfortable enough with each other to talk freely.

"Well, I was actually trying to get to ___  and I figured she was with you..." comes Jimin's voice. You knew you weren't crazy when you thought that Seokjin was over at your apartment too much lately. At this point he should just move in.

"She has a phone you know. Call her." And he hangs up.

You look at him incredulously. At this point dinner is never gonna get done with all your stopping to regard your companion in disbelief.

"Why?" you exclaim.

Seokjin mirrors your expression as if you were in the wrong here.

"What? He called me asking for you. I'm not gonna sit here and be the middleman. It's belittling."

You barely have a chance to respond before you hear the phone chime again.

This time Jimin is facetiming.

Jin taps accept hastily. "Yes Jimin?"

From your place behind the couch you can see the blank look on Jimin's face as he comes into frame.

"I going to explain that ___ never answers her phone before you so rudely hung up on me."

You snatch the phone out of Jin's hands ignoring his protests as you escape back into the kitchen.

"Ignore him Jimin, he’s just cranky right now. What d'you need?" you say cheerily.

Jin rolls himself off the couch, finally getting up to join you in the kitchen. He takes a seat in one of the barstools in front of you, his hand propped up under his head on the counter.

"Nothing really. I just wanted to know if you had any ideas for your project yet?"

Jin's demeanor changes, suddenly sitting up straighter in his seat to listen in on your conversation.

"Project? What project? ___, why haven't you told me anything about this project?" he questions excitedly.

You roll your eyes. "It didn't come up," you say curtly.

"And no, I haven't come up with anything yet." You sigh, turning back to Jimin. "It's eating me up. I need an idea but I don't want to rush into anything, you know? It has to be perfect. This is a huge opportunity. I don't wanna mess this up."

Ever since Minho made the announcement on Friday of the new job offer opening up, you had been spending quite a bit of your weekend agonizing over what you should do for your big assignment. You had been fearful Hoseok had already started working on his the moment he got back to his desk that day, but you were just being dramatic. He was probably having just as much trouble as you were coming up with an idea. Right?

"Alright, somebody tell me a what's going on here. This sounds exciting and you know I hate being left out of the loop." Seokjin complains from his seat on the other side of you.

Jimin's soft chuckles fill the room, followed by the sound of his voice. "___ here is applying for the new Chief of Advertising position here at your daddy's company." A smirk pulls at your lips when you see Jin visibly wince at Jimin's words.

Jimin, not being able to see the other man, treks on, "But get this, they're requiring a 'personal project' as part of the application process and guess who else is gunning for the position?"

Jin squints his eyes at you, appraising your sour expression. "Ah," Seokjin claps his hands in excitement, having a true aha! moment right here in your kitchen.

"College boyfriend! What was his name again? Hoseol?"

You try your best to talk over Jimin's giggles. "Not my boyfriend, number one. And two, it's Hoseok, but I could care less what you call him."

"Ok, boyfriend, maybe not. But that doesn't detract from the fact that you still wanted to jump his bones all throughout col-"

You slap a hand over Jin's mouth, effectively shutting him up for the moment. "Could you shut up? We have a very impressionable Jimin on the line and I don't want him to be corrupted by your lies."

"Oh. please continue. I'm okay with being lied to. Anything is better than the scraps ___ feeds me," he calls.

Seokjin manages to pry your hand off his lips and all too soon he's opening that large mouth of his to speak again.

"What? It's true. And I don't see what the problem is, he likes you, or at least, he did at one point."

"The problem is he stands in the way of becoming C.A.O," apparently Minho's acronym had caught on. "I'll excuse Jimin cause I didn't know him in college but Seokjin, I knew you. Come on, you know what happened between me and Hoseok back then." you whisper lowly.

"I don't know! Tell me!" There's Jimin again.

Your eyes are pleading with Seokjin not to reveal too much, and sure he's a blunt guy, but he's not an asshole (entirely). So he sighs, appeasing your silent wishes.

"Nothing. Sure, they were friends – very briefly. And ___ may or may not have had a crush on him," he ignores the glare you throw his way but you let up once you realize that this is him going easy on you.

"But they had a falling out and never spoke to each other again. Until they both ended up at the same company after uni. How crazy is that? You must of done terrible something in a past life to make the universe treat you like this. This is insane, it's like you're life is a movie... or a badly written YA novel."

You had thought the same thing when you turned up on your first day at Kim Entertainment to see that you would be working with none other than Jung Hoseok. He had been hired about a month prior to you in the same department. Truth be told, after that fateful day in uni where you swore you would never speak to him again, you hadn't thought about him much since. You had thought similar majors in college would have resulted in you running into each other in classes, but when you started seeing less and less of him you realized your schedules hadn't aligned at all. He did morning classes, you preferred evening ones. Apparently, mismatched schedules seemed to be the only bone the universe had thrown you.

You turn back to your phone when you see that Jimin is pouting in his reclined position on his sofa. "You guys never tell me anything. Am I even your friend?"

"Nice try Jimin, but put the puppy-dog face away. Of course your our friend. But some things deserve to remain in the past. This especially."

You changed the subject quickly. "Let's talk about what I should do for my advertisement." Jimin sobers up quickly, his sour expression replaced with enthusiasm at the chance to gossip. "Good. I suggest you come up with something quick. Word in the office is Sally, Brenda, and Nayeon have already started on theirs. Hoseok too." He adds quietly. Probably not wanting to alarn you but too late, you’re alarmed.

"What? It's been two days!"  

"Yeah, well some people are productive like that. Can you blame ‘em? This job is a dream compared to your silly little title of "ad crew member" no offense."

You shrug. "Eh, none taken. Thanks for filling me in I guess."

"No problem. Let me know if you come up with something! This is the most excitement the office has had in a while."

"See you Monday, Chim."

You both say your goodbyes and once you hang up you drop Jin's phone on the counter and lean against it. You don't even realize Seokjin had gotten up to turn the boiling water off and strain the noodles behind you.

"It'll be fine, you're great at this, trust me. Just relax and create something meaningful to you." It's times like this where you really admire Seokjin's easy approach to life. When you're stressing and agonizing over every little detail he can come in and say two words that'll automatically calm you down.  

You sigh, taking several deep breaths to compose yourself before you try speaking again. "You're right. It'll come to me eventually. I just have to calm down and think."

Jin nods at your understanding, then says,"Go sit down, I'll finish up."

You look at him wondering if its a joke or not. "Seriously, go sit. I'll call you when it's ready." Thank god, cause you had no idea where you were going with this meal. At your pace, he was going to get a plate full of spaghetti and diced parsley and you'd be tolerating zero complaints.

Its when Jin sits a delicious looking plate of chicken alfredo in front of you that you realize how hungry you are, thoughts still wrapped up in work.

However, Jin must be fed up with feeling like he's talking to the equivalent of a brick wall, if his next words are any indication. "Alright, talk." he says sternly.

"What?" you splutter out around a mouthful of creamy white sauce and linguini.

"It's obvious you're not gonna rest until you come up with a project idea. So talk about it. Run some ideas by me, I might not know much about advertising but I'm still CEO's son. I could help you."

As if a dam has burst inside you, you start rambling.

"I don't get it? It's like, all this time I have been swamped with creative ideas for what I could do for previous projects, but now that it matters the most, I can't come up with anything."

Jin hums in understanding, swallowing a piece of chicken, before he speaks.

"You feel more pressured than before, it's understandable. Can't you just pull from past ideas that never got to see the light of day? Revamp them a little and develop your pitches into the vision you always saw for it?"

You're quiet for a moment, halting all action including chewing because Seokjin might've been onto something.

You ask to clarify. "You mean revisit one of my old ideas for a client?"

Seokjin shrugs. "Yeah. I don't see any problem with it. It's not like you can plagiarize yourself. I mean you can – did that one to many times in college – but not in this context. Just revisit one of your old ideas and show everyone what could've been. You're really creative, and smart, and your messages have meaning. You can do this."

You're quiet yet again, simply taking in Seokjin and his words, but he's not looking at you, suddenly very interested in the linguini swimming in white sauce on his plate. But, regardless he's all to aware of your eyes on him anyway.

"Thank god you're good at this at least. Once you get this job I'm gonna have to start charging you for my services. At least you'll finally be making enough to afford it." He comments.

The smile is sliding off your face because... ah, there's the Seokjin you know and love.

"You know, I was feeling like hugging you just a second ago but 'hugging' is quickly turning into 'smacking' and I'm not sure which I'd enjoy more. I take that back – the latter, definitely the latter."

Despite his inability to remain serious for all of five minutes, Seokjin's words reassure you enough that your back to yourself, finishing up your meal now content that you had a plan of approach for deciding on a project idea.

.

.

.

When you wake up the next morning you feel refreshed, ready to tackle the day's issues head-on. You weren't a morning person but today you went about your morning routine with a pep in your step, a dumb ghost of a smile on your lips. You had attributed it to the fact that you had finally, finally decided on your project idea. It had come to you sometime between last night and early morning, when you had been mulling over your past pitches that were never developed all the way through to the end.

When you stepped into work that day nothing could put a damper on your mood because you were a woman on a mission. Not even the first sighting of Hoseok for the day trampled your spirits, like it usually did. That familiar feeling of disgust didn't immediately coil in your gut when you passed by him in the break room, making his routine cup of black coffee.

You expected a snarky comment from the man when you passed him by, but he was more likely shocked by your sunny disposition as opposed to the scowl that usually graced your features whenever graced by his presence.

Oh well. You walk past him without saying a word. You walk past your desk and Jimin's desk, which alerts the younger man's attention to you. You continue to stalk forwards however, your sights set on a destination near the back of the office.

When you get there you slam your hands down on the desk in front of you, a little more forcefully than needed but it felt right at the time. You feel bad, however, when the man in front of you jumps at your actions.

"Sorry," you cringe remorsefully. "But now that I have your attention, can I talk to you for a second?"

You manage to lure Jungkook into the conference room with you. He was slightly startled by your initial outburst but once you assured him of your intentions he followed you in here, slightly wary but still intrigued.

"So Jungkook," you begin, "I'm sure you've heard of the new position in the ad department that's opened up." At his nod of confirmation you press on,

"Well, I'm applying and I have very specific plans... plans that involve you."

Jungkook was a relatively new hire in the graphic design department of your office. He was young, the youngest there, but don't let his age fool you. He was one of, if not the most talented in that department and you were glad he was here. You've seen his work – he had an abundance of talent at photoshop, video editing, and even drawing. If you were going to get this job you needed Jungkook and you'd settle for no one else.

But for all his talent, he was still just a kid in your eyes (if you said that to him you had no doubt he'd protest vehemently). Granted, he was only a couple years younger than you but by the way his large doe eyes regarded you with an emotion you think could be fear, you decide to dial it back a bit.

"Relax," you say placating him. "I'm not gonna, like, murder you or anything." You laugh and Jungkook visibly relaxes at that.

"Oh. Well, good." he nods. "What do you need me for then?"

You smile before explaining your plans for the talented graphic designer. "Well, as you know I have to submit an advertisement of my own and I want you to help me with all the design details. Jungkook, I've told you this before but you're talented... like super-fucking talented. I can't think of anyone else I want to help me with this."

Jungkook blushes at your words, a hand coming up to rub at his neck awkwardly. "Ah- t-thanks ___. Sure, I'd be glad to help. What is it that you're doing exactly?"

You run over the idea that had come to you sometime last night.

A couple months ago your team had taken on a client who wanted to promote their makeup line. They hadn't made a name for themselves yet, a small brand looking for some much needed promotion. You saw potential there, but the team you had been assigned to work with on this particular client had a much different vision from yours. Whereas you saw a product that could reach a wide audience, your much older, (and whiter) male colleagues had a much more... narrowed perspective.

The resulting social media campaign depicted the makeup line as a product specifically catered to the fairer skinned female demographic. You and the small number of people in your camp had a similar vision so it was unsurprising that you were all disappointed with the final product. The client, not knowing any better, had accepted what they thought was the informed opinion of her promotion team.

Although you make fun, you thank god for Minho because the last manager had no idea what he was doing.

He assembled a team of a handful of minorities and an abundance of narrow minded men together on an task to market makeup. Makeup. For you, this had confirmed that fact that your old manager either a) didn't give a fuck or b) was truly that dense. You had sensed it was a combination of the two, given the way the older males in the office and your manager all seemed to be buddy-buddy.

Either way he was incompetent at his job and you were glad he was gone.

Revamping this project and molding it to fit your vision was almost like a second chance. Since you last checked, the brand was doing well for itself but you had no doubt it could be bigger. If it was marketed better it could've reached a wider audience, one that wasn't limited to the fairer-skinned female demographic, or females in general. If there was one thing you learned through personal experiences, and in college was that representation matters – people tended to support things that they saw a  reflection of themselves in – and this was your concern in almost every endeavor you took on at work.

You fill Jungkook in on all the details because he hadn't been hired yet when this occurred. He listened, fascinated not only with the story, but also with the way passion seemed to ooze from you with every word. It was obvious to Jungkook that you cared about your work, and he could understand that because he felt the same way about his. Jungkook had already agreed to help you, but by the end of your spiel he was even more sold, vowing to do you justice by giving whatever you needed from him his all.

Your smiling in gratitude, thanking him prematurely for his help and you're just about to run through more of the details with him when you hear a rap on the open door of the conference room.

"Knock, knock. Oh, hey," You peel your eyes away from Jungkook to the man in the doorway and you immediately recoil.

"Jimin, out." You seethe because you know that look. It's the look he's been giving Jungkook for the past two months since he's been here.

"What?" he exclaims, inviting himself further into the room, to your dismay.

"We're all friends here. What'cha discussing?"

He's talking to you, but not really because his eyes are glued to the younger man beside you. Jesus christ, it's like watching a hunter stalk its prey. Don't worry Kook, I'm gonna get you out of here.

"Nothing that concerns you. Now if you don't mind Jungkook and I have work to do. He's helping me with my project."

Jimin's ears perk up and he finally tears his eyes from Jungkook for the first time since he got here. "Oh? So you decided on what you want to do? Good, cause I was starting to worry, Seokjin told me you were stressing the other night."

"Yeah, well, no need to worry. I've got it. I'll tell you the details over lunch but right now Jungkook and I really have to-"

"So, Jungkookie... I don't know if ___ mentioned this but I'm applying too. I could use some help on my project. How about we discuss it over dinner sometime, there's this really nice Italian restaurant nearby and-"

"Oh my god, Jimin leave!" you yell covering your ears. At this point you're not entirely sure who's more uncomfortable, you or Jungkook, but one look at Jungkook tells you it's him because he's red all over, ears tinged an adorable pink as his eyes dance around the room, landing anywhere but at the horndog of a man you call your friend.  

Eventually though, Jimin does leave the two of you to work, but not before making you both more uncomfortable (if that was possible) by winking at Jungkook and innocently waving you goodbye, as if he hadn't just barged in and done what he had done.

The next day had started off just as good as the last. You stepped into work much like yesterday, only this time you were antsy, finally ready to get down to business. When you step away from your desk to take a much needed break you immediately make your way to Jungkook's sector of the office. You're literally jumping out of your skin at the thought of discussing your latest ideas with him but when you reach his desk, he's not there. Weird.

More often than not, Jungkook was at his desk, headphones on, intently editing a video clip or a photo or something of the sort. Point being he was a hard worker, so much so that you had to physically pry him away from his desk one time to get him to go to lunch with you. Maybe he was in the break room? You think, already making your way there but once you arrive you're met with Barbara in all her morning glory, face upturned in a frown as she fiddles with the Keurig that she can't seem to figure out how to operate. You back away slowly, ready to give up on locating the man as you make your way back to your desk.

You're just settling into your seat when you pick up on something, hushed whispers coming from one of the cubicles nearby and you peak your head up in curiosity. You follow the sound, the voices sounding more and more familiar as you get closer and you stop short when you realize the voices are coming from Hoseok's cubicle. You peak your head inside and no surprise, there's Hoseok but the real surprise is that Jungkook's there with him, sitting on a chair Hoseok must've pulled from one of the empty cubicles.

"What are you doing?" you query suspiciously, startling both men with your sudden appearance.

Hoseok shoots Jungkook a look as if apologizing for your interruption before turning to you exasperatedly.

"Talking. Do you mind?"

"No not really. About what?" you ask, not liking this in the slightest.

"None of your business?" Hoseok says as if its common knowledge. "Please, you're bothering me and my companion, so if you'll excuse us-"

You cut him off, turning to Jungkook instead because you know he'll give you the answers you're looking for.

"Jungkook," you ask sweetly, "What were you guys talking about?"

Jungkook looks hesitant, as if he's not sure what he says is going to get him in trouble or not. He probably should be scared. Contrary to popular belief, you didn't think anything good could come out of talking to Jung Hoseok.

"Uh, well," he stammers, "Hoseok wanted to know if I could help him with his project for the new job."

"And?" you press.

"I said yes?" At the exasperated toss of your head, Jungkook elaborates. "I'm still going to help you! I'll help both of you!" Jungkook swears he can see steam coming out of your ears now, so he tries again. "He offered to pay me!" he says as if that justifies why he was helping the enemy.

You shoot Hoseok a look because of course, of course he would go that route.

You were so blinded by happiness that things were finally starting to go your way that you that you forgot how far Hoseok would go to one-up you.

Hoseok refuses to dignify your glare with words, his only response is folding his arms across his body and staring you back just as intensely. A challenge. You end up keeling first this time, rubbing your hands down your face tiredly.

"Jungkook, he's my competition." you say in effort to explain your frustration at this sudden turn of events.

"I know that. I still want to help you," he apologizes, eyes soft. Then he turns to Hoseok, "I'll help you too."

Almost at the same time both you and Hoseok are blowing up at him.

"It's me or him!"

"Anyone else but her please!"

Jungkook looks like a lost puppy, looking between the two of you hesitantly before he's finally rising, throwing his hands up in defeat.

"You know what, I take it back! Have fun navigating photoshop yourselves, I'm done!"

He's storming off and you can only stare because you managed to make the calmest man in the office pissed off at you.

"You just had to ask Jungkook didn't you? There's plenty other graphic designers in the office but it just had to be Jungkook didn't it?" you say bitterly.

"They're not like him. His style really suits my vision. Besides, why should you get the best designer in the office all to yourself?" Hoseok counters.

You shake your head at him tiredly but then another voice is piping up to share his (unwanted) opinion.

"He's not a tool guys. He's a person, with feelings. And you're his friends, at least, that's what he thought. Maybe he was wrong." Jimin is poking his head over Hoseok's cubicle to give his two cents on the situation and though you didn't want to hear it, you definitely needed to.

He was right. Jungkook, as sweet as always, just wanted to do something nice for you, and all you did was treat him like a resource to use at your own expense. That's not how it had been at first, but once you found out Hoseok was also soliciting Jungkook's help, that's what it turned into.

You stand there disgusted with yourself and one look up at Hoseok's expression tells you he feels the same way about himself. Who knew he had a remorseful bone in his body after all. Just none of them were reserved for you apparently.

You sigh, you seriously needed to apologize and quick.

.

.

. You give Jungkook ample amount of time to cool off, waiting until your lunch break to beg your forgiveness.

"Hey," you appear at the entryway of his cubicle, food from the Vietnamese place he loves so much in your hands. It wasn't exactly in the area, but the drive was worth it considering how you treated him this morning.

"I brought you lunch." you say meekly, gesturing to the bag of food in your hand. He's not looking at you though, headphones on and typing away at his computer. But he does pause long enough to let you know that he's listening. You sigh, pulling up a chair next to his and setting the food down on a clear area of his desk.

"Look, Jungkook, I'm sorry. You were nice enough to help me and I took you for granted. You can help Hoseok if you want, I don't care." It was a lie you did care, but Jungkook could make his own decisions, you didn't own him. "Just know that I'm really sorry, and you don't have to help me if you don't want to." You're met with more silence.

"Pleaaase," you pout. "I just want my friend back."

The click, click, clicking of Jungkook's pen as he taps it against the table is eating at you.

You're starting to think you should just trudge back to your cubicle defeatedly, but then he's speaking.

"Did you order pho?"

You smile, thanking the heavens you had the last minute idea to pick up food to accompany your apology. After all, a shortcut to Jungkook’s heart was through his stomach.

"Of course," you say, digging in the bag to take out two orders of pho, one for you and one for him.

You two have just settled in, digging into the food messily before Jungkook's speaking again.

"I'm still going to help you ya' know."

"Really? Thank you so mu-"

He cuts you off. "But I'm also helping Hoseok."

The smile disappears from your face for a split second but you plaster it back on again. "Right. No problem. You're good but my project will just have to be better than his, no problem." You say understanding.

"See that's the spirit. You guys are my friends and I want to help you. But I'm also doing this for me. It'll be a good way for me to expand my portfolio. Plus, corporate is gonna see this right? Please, when they see the finished product they'll be all over me."

You look at him surprised but snap out of it quickly. Jungkook was smart, of course he took this as an opportunity to showcase his talents.

"Smart," you nod in approval. "I raised you well, of course there was something in it for you." He nods along with you.

"But one question though," you furrow your brow in contemplation.  "If Hoseok's your friend," you shudder and in the corner of your eye you spot Jungkook trying to contain his laughter, "Why is he paying you?"

Jungkook slurps up the last of the broth, giving a satisfied sigh before he regards you.

"He offered before I could tell him he didn't have to and besides..." he lowers his voice as if about to tell you some huge secret, "I like you a little better anyway, he doesn't buy me food nearly as much as you do..." he looks around before adding "but don't tell him that." .

.

.

"Can you make it any more obvious that you're spying on me?"

Hoseok backtracks, stopping at the entrance of your cubicle. "Who me?" He asks and he has the audacity to look dumb, glancing around before pointing a finger at himself in question.

You wheel around in your office chair to face him. "Yes, you. I don't have enough fingers to count how many times you walked past my desk today. Is there something you need?"

"Don't be so self-absorbed. Sure I walked past once or twice but its strategy. If you were smart, you'd keep tabs on your competition too."

"Oh, so you think I'm competition now? What happened to that confidence Chief?" you say mockingly.

Your satisfied by the flash of annoyance that crosses his face.

"Still here, don't you worry." he glances behind you. "And judging by that word file you have up I have nothing to worry about. I'll leave you to it. Looks like you have a lot of work to do."

You turn around in horror. The screen you had left up displaying what you had typed up so far for your project outline. You're wheeling around again to tell him off, you had a plan, it just wasn't typed up yet, but he was already gone, probably out to wreck havoc on some other innocent soul.

A few hours later Minho is calling a meeting in the conference room, a much needed distraction from the work you were supposed to be doing and the (personal) work you were actually doing.

You take a seat in your usual spot next to Jisoo.

"Any idea what this meeting's about?" you whisper.

"No idea," she sighs, "don't get me wrong, I'll take this guy any day over that  last idiot in a suit they put in charge of this branch but his meetings are becoming more and more unpredictable. I feel like he's calling them just to get his daily dose of social interaction these days." You snicker. Jisoo could be frank but you didn't mind. She was one of the few people that kept you sane in this office and you were thankful for it.

"Alright guys, thanks for coming on such short notice." Minho calls meekly from the front of the room to get everyone's attention. It takes a minute for everyone to quiet down, but Minho, like always waits patiently for the crowd to settle.

Once it’s quiet he begins, "As some of you may know we took on a new client last week. A high profile client. Their willing to pay big money for us to promote their new swimsuit line. We can't risk upsetting them. I want us to be the Vacanti family's first choice when they want to advertise their products again. And they'll need an ad company, trust me, they've got a number of business ventures to keep them busy for a lifetime."

"Rich kids. If my daddy had that much money I'd start my own business too." Jisoo mutters under her breath to you.

She was referring to the Vacanti family, probably bitter over the fact that the youngest daughter had the enough money and influence to start her own swimsuit line. It was already successful, but if you knew anything about the Vacanti family it was that they were greedy. So far that greed has served them well. They probably wanted help promoting their product so it could not only be successful domestically, but globally as well.

They were exactly the type of clients Jisoo hated working with, too demanding and ignorant to let you do your job, preferring to have things their own way. It was why she opted out of this assignment, but you on the other hand had expressed interest that you'd be willing to take on the client. You liked a challenge, finding yourself bored with the mundaneness of a routine.

Apparently so did other people in the office.

"Jihyun, Susana, ___, and Hoseok. I want you four on this assignment. You all have the some of the highest client retention rates in the office and conveniently some of the only few who didn't opt out," Minho says, squinting as his list of coworkers.

"Um-" you start.

"Wait a minute-"

Both you and Hoseok are in agreement about one thing, you presume. Neither of you wanted to work with the other.

"Yes, ___, Hoseok, is there a problem?" Minho inquiries, genuine concern marring his features.

There's a pause in the room, everyone's attention zeroed in on you and Hoseok. But then, there's a shift in Hoseok's demeanor, a complete one-eighty from the anger that was radiating off him just a moment ago.

"No, not at all. When do we start?"

You're just staring at Hoseok, mouth agape because what the hell just happened? You expected him to be livid and he was for a fraction of a second. You had been sure he would be demanding that either you or him be reassigned to a new team just a second ago.

Sure you and Hoseok had worked together before, but on a lot larger teams, with more people that could act as a barrier between you and Hoseok. There were arguments here and there but generally you two didn't have to speak to each other unless absolutely necessary. In a group of four it was inevitable that you'd have to interact with one other.

You don't understand Hoseok's sudden mood swing and you're about to go ahead and express your displeasure but then it clicks.

He was such a fucking kiss-up. This new angle? It was all part of his ploy to stay in good graces with the boss, just in case he had any influence in who would get the promotion. Insubordination wouldn't look good on a job application, now would it?

You take a moment to examine Hoseok again. He's trying his best to look curious, interested, a friendly smile on his face the perfect cherry on top. But the smile is strained and you see right through his facade. Underneath that mask he's just as frustrated as you are with the new assignments. But that's okay. Two could play at this game. You clamp your mouth shut, settling back into your seat again contentedly.

Minho looks to you. “__? Everything okay?”

“Perfectly fine, just clearing my throat,” you smile.

Jisoo shoots you a look. You're behavior is out of character, but she doesn’t comment on it.

Now that Minho has settled that you two are content, he turns back to Hoseok, contemplating his earlier question.

"I guess I want you guys starting as soon as possible if you can. Sofia Vacanti is expected to drop by this week to go over the details but I'd like you all to get together and brainstorm if possible.” Susana shoots Minho a thumbs up and Jihyun blurts out a "no problem" in response. You and Hoseok follow suit, smiling and nodding like an uncomfortable set of penguins. .

.

.

4:03pm

Just 57 more minutes of this and then you were free. Was this what eternal damnation felt like? If so, you'd be hightailing it to the nearest church tomorrow to repent for every sin you ever committed in all your 26 years of living.

Okay, you were exaggerating. These last few minutes weren't that bad if you were being honest, considering that for a change Hoseok was silent. Must have been just as upset as you, so much so that he was shocked into silence.

You chance a glance over at him, his expression was neutral, elbows up on the table and hands clasped in front of him.  

Susana brilliantly suggested that you Jihyun, and Hoseok hang back after everyone left the conference room to run over the Vacanti assignment.

Promotion of a swimsuit line was easy enough, you'd all done clothing before, numerous times. No, the main problem here would be getting over the obstacle that was Sofia Vacanti, but that bridge could be crossed once you got to it.

Susana's cheery tone was usually tolerable to you but today you were just not in the mood. To your credit, you tried hard to keep the scowl off your face.

"So anyone have any ideas they want to share? The type of medium they want to use? We'd have to run it all by Sofia of course, but it can't hurt to get some ideas out there!"

Good god did she eat pixie sticks and jolly ranchers for breakfast? How was someone this happy all the time? You really weren't mad at her, but in fairness, you couldn't help but be mad at the world right now.

When it’s apparent that neither you nor Hoseok are going to speak at the moment, Jihyun jumps in.

“We could do a commercial. Commercials are always good." He says helpfully.

"A commercial, nice thinking Jihyun!" Susana high-fives him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

She writes it down on her blank sheet of paper and asks, "Any other ideas?"

Silence. "Alright, commercial it is. Good job coming to a consensus everyone, we're off to a great start." She says circling the word on the page.

"Although," she contemplates for a moment, "a social media campaign seems like a good route to go, especially for a client like Sofia. So I'll put that on the list too, just in case."

Thankfully, the meeting goes by smoothly, with Susana doing fifty percent of the talking, Jihyun about forty and you and Hoseok share the remaining ten.

The meeting is just about coming to a close when you all can't go any further, needing to wait on the approval of the client for the go-ahead. You're closing up your notebook that you scrawled two notes of chicken scratch in when Susana gives her closing remarks.

"So there's not much else we can do for now. But I think it'd be smart to split up the work a bit. Jihyun and I can work on overall cinematography and casting and Hoseok and ___, why don't you guys draft up a script?"

That stops you in your tracks because not only did you have to work with Hoseok but now you had to work with him with him?

"How about no?" Hoseok murmurs, beating you to it.

"Huh? Why not?" Susana, sweet girl, is lost, confusion marring her pretty features as she looks between the two of you.

"I just figured that since you two are the most creative when it comes to this that you'd have no problem drafting up a script in no time. Listen,  if you're worried about not coming up with something good me and Jihyun are will be here to give you feedback. Minho said this was an important client so I thought if we strategically used our talents, it could work to our benefit." Susana was rambling, not trying to come off as pushy but also not realizing the real reason you and Hoseok didn't want to work together.

At that moment you drop your broody bitch act, taking pity on the poor girl who was just trying to do her job.

"It's not a problem for me. We can work on the script together. Like adults, right Hoseok?" you ask and pointedly turn to him, challenging him yet again. You're almost sure that was the last straw, if the annoyance that flashes in his eyes is any indication. But he surprises you for the second time that day, tearing his gaze away from you and muttering a dissatisfied “fine" under his breath.

Despite not wanting to work with him either, you find satisfaction in the fact that you managed to piss him off yet again. And he couldn't do anything about it. Not with witnesses present, at least.

"Great! This is great! Alright, meeting adjourned guys. Good work today."

Susana says upbeat, her pep returned to her almost instantly.

You're shoving your too-large notebook into your too-small tote bag aggressively, ready to go home and call it a day. You hear Hoseok shift next to you and when you look up you realize it is just the two of you left in the conference room.

You're concerned now because... Hoseok’s free to kill you now – your witnesses were gone.

But he doesn't kill you, only looks like he wants to when he says, "I don't know what you think you're doing but stop. I don't want you jeopardizing my position at this company, or the one I'm going to have in a couple of months." He says patronizingly.

Your smile is sweet, but your tone is anything but, "Don't be so self-absorbed Hoseok," you echo his words from earlier, "the world doesn't revolve around you."

Hoseok is clenching his jaw tight with anger, shocked you managed to somehow use his words against him. For a moment you think he's going to argue back, but then he's simply shaking his head in defeat, pushing past you and out the door.

When he's  gone you finally let the stifled smile you'd been holding in take over your features.

Oh, this was going to be equal parts amusing as it was infuriating.

[dr-awo]

sentimental valium | trial 3.4 | re: ken, bellamy, suguri, shou, jirou :”(

The look Satoshi throws at Ken is nothing short of nasty -- but he smiles, wants to match his energy.

“Well, that certainly does sound like something you’d do. I mean, you so proudly announced you were a serial arsonist, such a crass accusation is hardly out of left field for someone like you!”

He lets out a short laugh before waving his hand dismissively.

“But do I think Ishida-san did this? I dunno. I just know that I was pretty certain -- until just a bit ago -- that she was in the jungle. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Didn't say it to stir the pot or whatever, sorry! I don't get my kicks being a controversial guy, y'know?"

He doesn’t verbally acknowledge the list Ken has so helpfully given him, but he commits it to memory nonetheless. So out of those people, whose alibi is the weakest...

“Huh?”

He stops at Bellamy’s comments and lifts a hand to touch his face, like he’s totally forgotten about how fucked up he is at the moment. Oh boy... oh boy.

He clears his throat and takes a second before he starts wigging out over his poor face in front of all these people.

“Oh, no I see your face just fine. Every time I see it, it’s like seeing it for the first time -- kinda nice, y’know?”

Dude focus.

“As for your questions, uh... well, I dunno, wasn’t really checking the time to be honest. Just know it was after 21:00 for sure. 22:00 was ... kind of an estimate? Look, I wasn’t paying close attention to the time. As for, um... the other stuff...”

He lets out a frustrated sigh. His poor fucking face... ... ... -- dude. Focus.

“Nah, didn’t get attacked by the tiger, but wouldn’t be surprised if this happened while we were running away. Got whacked by branches and shit, but also, uh... Jesus, is it that bad? Ghh... anyway...”

He moves his collar a bit to show that he’s got similar scratches around his collarbone.

“I got lots of these, there’s some on my arms and whatever... would be easier to show if I could roll up my sleeves, but you need two hands to do that aha ha... And, uh, whoever shoved me just.. kind of pushed me. No scratches or anything. Like I said I was... taken off guard. Wasn’t even facing whoever did it.”

He then turns towards Suguri, blinking like this is the first he’s heard of anything she’s saying.

“Mm... well, that’s... a little weird, isn’t it? To want to ‘take credit’ as you mention. I mean, there’s not much in the means of a reward for this one. Killing to escape, killing to prevent another murder, to save us all from starvation -- cool motive, still murder, but still... cool motive. What’s in it for the perp this time? Getting rid of the tiger? Yeah, I’m not the kinda guy that’s willing to go through all this to deal with a problem that’s more or less avoidable.

Say that to the people who got injured thus far, basard,

He then turns towards his dear roommate.

“Look, my prosopagnosia’s got dick to do with any of you. You’re talking like there was a deliberate attempt to deceive me -- there wasn’t. I made a mistake regarding the identity of the person I saw. That's all there is to it. 

"And, y'know, Takashima keeps saying it: we’re in a killing game, it’s not something I’m gonna advertise openly which is why I haven’t mentioned it until absolutely necessary -- it’s easy to exploit, and, uh, sorry for not being more openly upset about it, but I’m not really here to entertain, y’know? I’ll freak out about it in the privacy of our room where you can catch me at my most despondent, promise.

“As for why the killer didn’t look for me: whatever happened to Tsukino happened while I was knocked out cold in the water; by the time I dragged myself as far as I could towards the jungle she’d already been stabbed. Like I said before, I didn’t see our perp at all. It’s different for Tsukino-san who would’ve been facing the killer at the time. They left me alone because I didn’t see ‘em, or they figured I was dead, or, maybe, they had the foresight to realize how suspicious I’d look in trial and they let me live. Seems like a pretty sound strategy to me.”

He then listens as she talks about the footprints, trying to visualize, remember if --

“Dunno what to make of all of those, but I can tell you right now that the prints going towards the residential area? Dunno if I wanna say those are mine. I’ll just ask: if those prints are mine, what business do they have going towards the residential area? I haven’t been there in a hot minute and I’m pretty sure I would’ve run into someone if I’d been there. I’ll just be honest with you, Shikabane-san -- the booze at the steak and whiskey place doesn’t really cut it for me.”

Then, to Jirou... all he can do is shake his head.

“Again, I’m not trying to say you did it. All I’m saying is that I saw someone with long hair running around in the jungle. It wasn’t you, I get it. I’m just being honest when I say that at the time I really thought it was you... and it really does look like Tsukino thought it was you as well.”