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thisisnotmeta · 9 months

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Million Dollar Man

Chapter 1

Sent.

There it was—my very first music contract signed.

My hands swiped back and forth between the 'sent' and 'draft' inboxes, confirming the reality of the moment. The air shuddered with anticipation as I blankly stared at my inbox, silently praying for a reply in the mere 1.4 seconds since I hit 'send.'

Fresh out of university last year, I found myself grappling with the realisation that I needed to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. Studying history had its limits—teaching or diving into more debt for a specialised master's degree were the conventional routes. However, nestled in the corners of my life was my little secret—I'd always been a songwriter. It wasn't something anyone really knew about until 3 months ago. After a drunken night in with my mum, I mustered the courage to share one of my demos with her. Her insistence that it was the greatest piece of music she'd ever heard, albeit the expected maternal praise, boosted my confidence. The morning after, armed with nothing more than my shitty Amazon mic and GarageBand, I sent three of my best demos to four different music labels across the country.

In the agonising months of waiting for a reply from any label, hope slipped through my fingers with each passing day. Just when despair threatened to engulf me, a glimmer of possibility emerged two weeks ago. Emails from two labels requesting in-person meetings to discuss my music further landed in my inbox, a lifeline amid the silence. Navigating a whirlwind 24-hour trip to London, I juggled the meetings, fueled by a mix of nerves and excitement. Having returned to my parents' home post-university, my part-time receptionist job became the financial anchor for one day moving out and starting my own new little life.

The journey from the North to London felt long, god it was so long, yet the promise of these potential signings kept me going. The meetings with both labels exceeded expectations, but Dirty Hit held a specific pull on me. They not only understood my musical aspirations but, to my disbelief, I met specifically with the label's founder, Jamie Oborne. A stark contrast to the very very lovely but somewhat underwhelming talent scout at the other label, Dirty Hit resonated with me on every level—the sound, the artists, the team. It felt like a perfect fit, a musical home where my compositions seamlessly blended with their illustrious discography.

The dream was a reality when Jamie extended the signing offer. Without hesitation, I accepted. The train ride back, though again, immensely long, was some of the best fun I’ve ever had. Amidst the clatter of the tracks, I scribbled down fragments for future songs, mapped out my imaginary world tour, envisioned albums, and even planned my Met Gala outfit. The euphoria of realising a lifelong dream had just basically become a reality in a matter of months hadn’t given me any time to process anything. But I was absolutely ready to potentially start something absolutely amazing. And here I was sitting in front of my MacBook, staring blankly at my Gmail.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind, a lot of online meetings, emailing and future discussing. Jamie liked my demos and wanted to get them produced and mixed professionally as well as teach me how to do it myself. I travelled back to London a few times in the weeks prior to practice and test with different producers the team thought I’d mix well with. My most successful session was my most recent, as Dirty Hit expensed a hotel for me for two nights in London to focus on my time in the studio. Ben Gleason, one of Dirty Hit’s leading producers, was someone who truly understood my music and shaped it in a way that I could genuinely hear one of my demos appearing on the radio, it was crazy. His vision and expertise were admirable to anyone. My demo, over the past 15 hours we worked on it, had turned into a real, titled potential single – ‘Million Dollar Man’.

Before I was sent to travel back home, we sent it off to the team to listen to and give feedback. It was a success, thank god. Waiting for the train to come in at Kings Cross, the sound of my ringtone filled my headphones. As I looked at my phone, I wasn’t fazed by the ‘unknown’ number and filled my boredom by answering it anyway.

‘Hello?’ I said in a slow voice, totally expecting some type of phone provider or accident scam, which usually came with answering unknown numbers.

“Hi, is this Camille?” A chirpy, womanly voice replied back to me.

“It is, yeah,” I replied nonchalantly. “Who is this, sorry?”

“Perfect! It’s Holly from Dirty Hit,” She replied. My breathing hitched, okay this phone call was important then and not just fun. This must be Jamie’s assistant, who I met a couple times through our Zoom meetings. “Thought I’d give you a little ring, so you can get my number saved and so I can update you on some things! We’ve just had a meeting today about what we want to do with you in the next few weeks and we went through everything you talked about, and we were thinking about potentially focusing you more on studio time right now, and we are wanting you to build on the songs you are in the process of and create one really really strong song that we can put out as your debut. What are your thoughts on that?”

“I think that’s a great idea! Ben and I were brainstorming a lot of songs that had great potential, so it would be cool to work with him again,” I practically begged through the phone. Ben is most definitely my favourite producer in the three I’d worked with in the short time. As much as I think Million Dollar Man is perfect, there are so many that might even end up better.

“Yeah, Ben is one of the best, especially for your sound,” she agrees, pausing for a second as she clicks what sounds like a pen and takes time to write something down. “We were thinking of sending you and a couple of our producers on a work getaway and maybe taking the time that you are there to write some songs and find your own dynamic with them, what do you think?”

“Of course, I’d love to!” I exclaim through the phone. Walking through the station to get to my soon departing train back home. Amazing, more studio work, more song writing - I have been dreaming of getting phone calls like this for years.

I have so many ideas in my head and written in my notebook just waiting to be explored with real professionals like Ben. I just prayed silently in my head that my quick praise of him would lead them sending him on the getaway along with whoever else they wanted to send with me - probably Joel or Vanna, the other two producers I had worked with in the time I’d been here. Joel’s sound was old school and he loved that classic drum in the background. Of course I didn’t hate it; he always made it sound gorgeous, but I loved the more earthy, tender sounds - songs that you could sit in the bath and vibe/pour your eyes out to. Vanna’s sound was cool, she worked a lot with the 1975, Dirty Hit’s biggest signing. Working with her was very fun, hearing about her stories with them and lots of other big musicians she has produced allowed me to have a little fangirl moment a couple times in the studio.

“Do you have an idea on which producers are coming along?” I continued.

“I’m just gonna give Ben a call and see when he’s available,” she replied. Yes! Thank god. “Thought I’d give you a call first before I called anyone else… but I know you haven’t met yet but Jamie thinks it would be a great opportunity to work with Matty aswell.”

“Matty… Healy, from the 1975?” I stutter. Surely not, I know he worked with Baebadoobee and a couple others on their latest work but surely he wouldn’t take the time to work with someone who’s just starting, would he? I wasn’t a huge 1975 fan, but I knew of their songs and Matty’s work and I admired them a lot. I’d kill to get to the level they are, but all in good time.

“Yeah, actually!” She laughed slightly through the phone. Woah. “He actually works a lot with our artists to establish their sound, you know what I mean? and he’s really talented, I promise. He was a part of our meeting today and he’s got a lot of good ideas that I think you’ll like, not to mention all the advice he can give you with starting out and he can talk you through his own experiences as well.”

“That’s amazing, I love his work!” I smile to myself, probably looking like an idiot in front of all these serious, fast walking Londoners. It seems so unbelievable that Matty Healy would take any time out of his busy schedule to work on my music, he must be bored. “If that’s something he is interested in, then I’d absolutely love to work together on something.”

“Okay, that’s perfect!” She replied. “No, he’s very interested, don’t worry. He went with Beabadoobee on a work getaway a few months ago, working on some new stuff and they made some gorgeous music - think he just wants the bragging rights again really. But, honestly he’s a star, you'll love him.”

As I was settling myself down on the busy train, Holly was writing down my best dates for the trip and ended the phone call pleasantly soon after. A Sunday to Wednesday a few weeks from now was the time they had written down for Matty’s availability and that worked with me! God knows where they were going to take us, but I couldn’t help but get excited. Me, Ben and sexy Matty Healy. I just hope he’s not a dick.

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mareenavee · 1 year

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Fic Authors Self Rec!

Tagged by the indominable @kookaburra1701! Rules:

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

I love this. OKAY LET'S GO. Tell me about how proud you are of your work, friends. You've come so far <3

Tagging: @paraparadigm, @polypolymorph, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @dirty-bosmer, @thequeenofthewinter, @gilgamish, @archangelsunited, @throughtrialbyfire, @expended-sleeper, @ladytanithia and YOU yes if you see this, talk kindly about your writing journey and TAG ME BACK <3

Below the cut because I do be ramblin' (: They're not really in any particular order, I just love them all for different reasons.

1) If We Knew Anything At All

This one was a hell ship prompted by a list that Topsy shared with a bunch of us and I had a brainwyrm, then ended up crying while I wrote the end of it. Quite possibly one of my favorite ever pieces. This one is both the inevitable end to my fic universe and something completely outside time. How did I manage this? Via Sheogorath's voicing. I don't think it gets more unreliable than that.

2) Metempsychosis

A very dear friend and fantastic teammate I met through Skywind sent me this prompt and it gave me such an excellent challenge not only to flex on weird god voice stuff again, but also to bust out some spoken word poetry tricks. I did end up recording myself reading this one too and it felt like old times. I loved all the layers of references I shoved into 1,000 words. It is also my first Morrowfic. And also one that reminded me what I am capable of even more strongly than some of my other projects did. 🥰

3) Serpens Caput

This one is newer, yes BUT OH MY GODS what a flex it was. ANOTHER Morrowfic but it's set in Ceth's fic universe featuring not only major character death but the mindset of a villain in his final moments. And we get to see Danger!Josh through his eyes. It was WEIRD. WEIRD WEIRD but so much fun. I don't think I've yelled so much about a fic whilst writing before. Ceth threw me this prompt, but I don't think was expecting this to end up...being this way (: Borrowed the description of Teldryn and Nerevar from her universe and just RAN WITH IT.

4) Little Dragon

This was written as part of my cute, happy LDB!Athis polycule AU where nothing is quite as horrifically messy as my main fic universe. It is a different kind of catharsis to write, often fun and humorous and a flex in that direction, since I didn't know what i was capable of—I always write pining and heartbreak lol. This came about as part of a fic writer's duel with AU (judged by Poly) which was honestly one of the coolest fandom experiences I've ever been in. It has become its own thing now with multiple other stories and I've been in yet another fandom duel since then. So it's all cute fuzzy feelings and happy memories and I love it to bits.

and last but certainly not least:

5) The World on Our Shoulders

My longfic which throws characters into extremely tough situations, handles horribly difficult themes and topics, shows people being messy and still finds ways to show it all with grace. It's what got me out of my multi-year writing slump and truly, truly brought me back to myself. So yes maybe some of the characters have some of my irl nonsense. Some scenes are far too relatable and it's a little scary sometimes how horrible that is, but it's a different kind of Catharsis. I love also the support its gotten so far for its specific type of storytelling structure as well as all the weird details that sprawl into other stories (Like my honorable mention written for Para, Recurse) and sequels and spin offs. It's been a great joy to be writing this and it's continued to inspire me. From draft one, which I wrote in challenge mode, posting every day this last February to now, where I am mid-ground-up-edit, I love this project to bits and will do all I can to see it through to the end. I see how much I can accomplish in this project. I see what can be done with common tropes and themes and even Fic in general. It's unalienated labor that I do for the sheer hell of it because I can and it's mine and I don't have to follow The Rules. There's something beautiful about that. It's one reason I get up at the crack of dawn every day -- to write for the sake of writing. Out of spite sometimes for all the ways the world tries to crush this kind of self expression out of us. This is my gem of a project. And I am proud of it and how far I've come since I started it. (:

So now it's your turn, if you got this far. Why do you write? How have your favorite fics you've written changed your perspective on the craft so far?

#AskMareena #Fic Authors Self Rec #The World on Our Shoulders #Dragonborn and Far-Star Marked #skyrim #skyrim fic #Nyenna #LDB/Athis #LDB/Teldryn #LDB/Teldryn Sero #Nerevarine Teldryn Sero #Nerevarine Teldryn #Nerevarine #elder scrolls #tes #tesblr #fanficblr

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nomanslannd · 2 years

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..... incoming from another dimension. Reestablished Dec, 2022

# NOMANSLANND : Private and selective Ian Rogers also known as Nomad from Earth-616, loved and curated by Laura. The mun of this account is over twenty-five and does not interact with those under the age of eighteen, and does not do nsfw with those under the age of twenty-one.

..... enter the void

✘ Carrd - Rules and About for Nomad ✘ Interest tracker - Fill out to show interest ✘ Headcanons - More on Ian ✘ Memes - Stuff to get things going ✘ Discord - Mutuals only, just ask ✘ Draft count: 0 (26/05/24) ✘ Asks: 0 (26/05/24)

..... more information

✘ Unable to access carrd? See guidelines, character profile and verses below the cut

✘ Guidelines

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the character of Ian Rogers, he belongs to MARVEL. However, I do own my original take on the characters and any head canons I have written. I also own all the graphics used, including the icons. They were made by me.

MATURITY: For the safety of all those involved this account is 18+ and also writes NSFW content with those over the age of 21. Please don’t take it personally but the mun of this account is 25+ and as such does not wish to write with minors. If you follow, and are under 18 you will be blocked; you’ve been warned.

BLOG: This account is private and selective and only roleplays with mutuals. However, more often than not if you follow me, I will follow you back – unless I cannot see anyway for our characters to interact. This blog is also OC friendly.

PLOTTING: You can always message me if you’d like to plot; however I do have an: interest tracker. I would appreciate it, if you have the time that you fill it out, because it’ll give me a better idea of what you know about my character, and how its best to contact you and interact.

FORMAT: I use XKIT rewritten trim reblog to keep my dash tidy. I don’t expect you to do the same, but I’d appreciate if there weren’t 4+ replies in one post because its overwhelming for me. However, if you don’t have any access to these sorts of tools, just let me know, it’s fine I understand we all have different accessibility levels. I use icons, however, I have no issue with gifs/icons or even iconless accounts.

ETIQUETTE: Please don’t leave me on read. I understand if you’re no longer feeling the conversation or plot; I just ask you come to me and let me know. I have no problem dropping a thread – I just hate waiting for a reply, and not knowing if it’ll ever come or not. You also don’t have to match my length. Let’s just agree to make the same amount of effort; if my replies are too long just let me know and I can match you. No stress.

MEMES: Like everything else, memes are mutuals only. However, if you’re a mutual you can send as many sentence starters, memes as you’d like there is literally no limit, please don’t feel shy.

FOLLOWING: I tend to follow an account for around 24-hours, or until I see activity, if the person hasn't followed by then I usually unfollow no hard feelings! I just don't follow people who don't follow back because at the end of the day this is a rp account.

GODMODDING: Godmodding is taking control of another player's character during rp. It's frowned upon and with good reason: you only control your character and no one else's.

REPLIES: I rarely reply instantly, just because I work part-time and I'm also studying. So everything goes into the queue. So it may take a few days for it to be posted. If I haven't responded in 3+ days feel free to message me, especially since tumblr can be glitchy I just might not have seen your reply or know I'm tagged in something.

✘ Basic

Name. Ian Rogers (Zola) Alias. Nomad Age. mid-late 20s (main), younger on request Species. Human, mutate Origin. Dimension Z Parents. Arnim Zola (biological father), Mary Zola (biological mother), Steve Rogers (adopted father) and Sharon Carter (adopted mother) Identity. Secret Citizenship. Zolandia

✘ Indepth

Created in Dimension Z by Arnim Zola for an as of yet unknown purpose, Ian was rescued from his test tube by Captain America and was thought by his "father" to be dead. He and Cap were captured by the locals of the dimension, the Phrox, and were sent to be executed because they were thought to be servants of Zola. Ian was put on a chopping block, but Cap was able to break free of his shackles and managed to save Ian, being quickly struck down by the tribe's leader later. A member of the tribe took pity on them and begged their leader to let them live, saying that Cap didn't serve Zola because he had seen him fight his minions shortly before they captured them for trespassing. Their leader grudgingly agreed to let them live. Eleven years later, he and Cap were still trapped in Dimension Z. After a battle between Captain America and Ian against Zola's army, Captain America was blasted off a cliff by Zola's daughter, Jet Black, and Ian was taken to Zola. Ian refused to serve Zola, but was brainwashed to hate Cap and love the will of Zola. Ian fell into Zola's bio-mass tank, which contained the same material Zola used to make him. Since it was coded to regenerate, Ian was healed from Sharon's attack. After Cap and Jet Black left Dimension Z, he acquired Captain Zolandia's shield and began leading the Phrox against Zola's Mutates along with Sharon, who raised him like a mother. Legends of him grew and he became known as a Nomad: a man with no name, no face, and no home. During one of their raids at Zola's fortress, Sharon apparently died, but was actually captured. Nomad later resurfaced in search of his adopted father so that they could stop Zola and his invading army from conquering New York City. After a long struggle, Captain America succeeded in breaking Ian's terrible brainwash as well, making him finally realise that Cap was the good one and Zola only wanted to conquer. During this reunion, however, Ian was shot through the throat by the newly arrived Sharon Carter, who thought Ian was a threat to Cap. Many think Ian died; however he survived, and is ready to stop Hydra for good.

✘ Verses

v: man out of dimension (main)

Based on Earth 616, follows mostly comic book canon with a few teaks

Most people in Ian's life think he died trying to take down Hydra, only a few know he survived. Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes and a few higher ups at S.H.I.E.LD. Currently Ian's working cases, as well as fighting alongside Sam. He goes by the alias of Nomad. He has a reason for not wanting to tell his parents his alive and it has everything to do with Zola and the people who left behind.

v: stuck in another world (MCU)

Ian fell through the cracks, so Doctor Strange is not aware that he is from the multiverse

When Doctor Strange's spell goes awry, people from the multiverse are transported to the marvel cinematic universe Ian is one of them. Not knowing anything about the world; Ian is in search of Sam Wilson, the only person he believes he can trust.

v: stuck in no mans land

This verse is selective, and is used on occasion.

Ian is still stuck in Dimension Z, his father is gone and he's on the run from Zola just trying to survive while also running a resistance against the evil dictator. (in this verse Ian is 16-18-years-old.)

v; take on me (the last of us au)

This universe is completely separate from marvel and takes place in the last of us universe

Ian is a recently defected Fedra agent, turned Firefly. Ian joined Fedra to try and be of service after losing his parents and not knowing if he sister (who he hasn't seen in years) was alive. He had felt aimless and wanted a purpose in life. However it became increasingly clear that Fedra could not be trusted. That was when he defected to the Fireflies, because he realised it was the only way to take them down.

v; chasing cars (greys au)

This universe is completely separate from marvel and takes place in the greys anatomy universe.

Ian is a resident at Greys Solan Memorial hospital -- he's backstory is this: his father was a gang leader; who was abusive towards his mother. After falling pregnant she ran away; however ended up dying in child birth. Sharon, her mother's childhood friend, and her husband Steve ended up stepping forward and agreed to raise Ian as he didn't have any other living family and he couldn't be put back into his father's care.

#pinned post

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mxssromanoff · 3 years

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II. I Won't Say I'm In Love

part one | part three

pairing/s; isabela x fem!reader

warning/s; language, mentions of death, not proofread

wordcount; 2.5k

a/n: so this ended up becoming more than a two-shot lol. i'll write the third part after i post some of the other drafts i have so it miiight take a while for part 3? i might also re-write this in the future as i'm not too happy with how this turned out but for now you guys get this, so enjoy!

“Isabela, mija.”

The dark-skinned beauty immediately turned to her mother holding a pair of ripped pants, presumably from her father, with a smile on her face, having just walked downstairs that morning. “Yes, mama?”

“Can you please fetch me the sewing kit from the L/N’s? Your sister forgot to bring it home again.”

Isabela’s smile faltered as she let out an awkward laugh. “Can you repeat that again? I’m pretty sure I just heard you say—”

“I did mean the L/N’s, Isa,” her mother gave her an apologetic smile. Isabela wasn’t one to back away from any of her mother’s requests but...

“How about Mirabel?” she suggested.

“She went to run some errands for your abuela.”

“Dolores?”

“She has a date with Mariano,” her mother replied.

Isabela tried to keep her smile even. Who goes on a date at 8am in the morning!?

“Camilo?”

Her mother shrugged her shoulders.

“Luisa?”

“She’s busy with the village.”

“Busy!?” she exclaimed. It was supposed to be her sister’s day off!

Her mother sighed. “If you can’t do it, it’s fine.”

Oh no, she was using that tone. Isabela had always hated that tone—the one where her mother sounded sad and defeated that made a crashing wave of guilt wash over her and seep through her bones.

But no, no she was absolutely not going to relent. She did not want to see your face, not when her tia Pepa was particularly happy that morning.

You woke up with the worst headache of your life—and no, it wasn’t in the form of your longtime rival, you woke up with a literal headache accompanied by colds, a fever, and everything feeling like burning sandpaper against your skin.

You wished you hadn’t convinced your papi to leave for work and played your sickness off as nothing more than the common cold because it wasn’t and it’s only gotten worse since then.

You lay cocooned in layers and layers of blankets on the couch, hugging the old stuffed toy your late papa gave you. It was the only comfort you had at the moment as you patiently waited for Mirabel’s arrival, though you were quite certain she wasn’t going to arrive until two hours later.

For the meantime, you could just doze off.

Except the moment you closed your eyes, a series of impatient knocks erupted from the front door.

Groaning, you rolled and fell towards the floor before standing up on your feet, shrugging off the extra blankets on your shoulders and made your way to the door, clutching the only single blanket you had on closer to your body.

The knocks didn't stop, growing even more impatient with every passing second and each one sending your head in a frenzy of throbbing pain.

You wanted nothing more than to strangle whoever was on the other side of the door and you were sure it wasn't your apprentice. Mirabel would have walked in unannounced like she owned the house.

You nearly ripped the door off its hinges as you swung it open out of annoyance.

“What do you—” but the words got caught up in your throat as your eyes beheld Isabela freaking Madrigal at your doorstep, nearly looking as surprised as you, raised fist frozen in the air.

Up close, you could see the distinction between the old Isabela and the present one. Where her hair had once been perfectly combed and well-kept, now with strands sticking out of place yet not enough to make it look too messy, while all the pinks and pastels she once wore were now replaced by vibrant colors, from the streaks on her hair down to her dress.

On any other person, you would have screamed bloody murder with the color choices, but it suited her. It was charming. You wouldn't admit that out loud though.

“You look like shit.”

And of course, Isabela just had to say that.

Your face twisted into a scowl, suddenly remembering the relationship you shared with Señora Julieta's eldest.

“What do you want?" you asked, cold enough to freeze the fires of hell over.

Out of all the days this hell spawn had to visit you, it just had to be the one you weren't physically prepared for a bitch-off.

“Don't worry, I didn't come here to ruin my day,” she said, pushing you off to the side to let herself in but not before flipping her hair over her shoulder. You caught a whiff of flowers just before it hit you on the face.

The absolute audacity of this bi—

“I came here for Mirabel's sewing kit,” Isabela said just as you were about to scream at her to get out.

You gave her an incredulous look. Isabela's face was begging to be elbowed at that point, and it was an effort not to.

After insulting you to your face, hitting you with her hair, and walking in uninvited, this girl just really expected you to hand over her sister's sewing kit? She was lucky you were sick, otherwise you would have her clean every inch of your house, mow the neighbor's lawn, milk the cows, and run around the Encanto on ten inch heels before you'd give Isabela what she wanted.

Was it petty? Absolutely, and did you care? Of course not.

Unfortunately, you were sick and you wanted nothing more than to lie down and get rid of the insufferable presence that was Isabela Madrigal.

So with a roll of your eyes and a wave of your hand, you said, "Follow me."

Isabela really tried her best to stay nonchalant, pretending to check her nails when she wanted to steal glances your way or pretending that she didn't want to be beneath you and would walk next to you just so she could be a step closer to your blanketed figure in case you fell.

When she said you looked like shit, she meant it but not in the way you were hideous.

Your eyes were hollow, skin deathly pallor, and she was almost certain that you somehow managed to shed some weight the last time she came face to face with you around a week ago.

Worry gnawed at her stomach. She may 'hate' you but she wasn't a monster.

"We could go see my mom after this," she said, only briefly looking at you as you turned to her. Then she added, "You look like the walking dead." If only to let you know that she hadn't gone soft just because you were sick.

"Well, I'm sorry for making you worry, señorita," you scoffed. "But no need, I'd rather die than go with you."

Isabela's head snapped towards you, exasperation written clearly on her features. You were really choosing your pride over your health?

Yet before she could mouth you off, you've already spoken, only noticing then that you two have come to a halt in front of an iron door with frosted glass and detailed with bronze accents.

It might have been a questionable design choice for the interior but it was beautiful.

"They didn't know where else to put it," you explained as you twisted the key that was already there on the door. Isabela looked at you questioningly to which you replied in annoyance, "My dads, Isa. You know, when the other one was still alive?"

It was unsaid but Isabela knew that the anger you held was no longer there, buried beneath years of healing and slow acceptance, though she still felt like you still blamed her for it—like it was her fault that her mother's magic never worked on your father's.

She didn't answer, choosing to stay silent as she watched you struggle to push the door open.

"Some help would be appreciated."

Shaking out of her stupor, vines sprouted on the ground with a flick of her wrist and pushed the heavy door open, making you stumble forward but Isabela caught your arm just in time.

You glared at her.

"Ask and you shall receive," was her only answer before you pulled your arm away from her and entered the dark room.

Isabela rolled her eyes. Not even a thank you.

She trailed behind you as you walked down the stairs, making sure to watch both of your steps.

It was dark. The only source of light being the one spilling through the doorway and Isabela could just make out unmoving human figures, among many other things, through the darkness.

Some part of her mind told her that she was probably going to be murdered. It was silly...but she wouldn't really put it past you to keep her in whatever dungeon you kept in your house.

As soon as you two reached the bottom of the staircase, you went ahead to open the lights and the moment you did, Isabela found herself stunned.

The room was filled with a variety of things that would have been considered ostentatious by their village's standards. Rows upon rows of mannequins filled one side of the room, wearing dresses and suits that were far too flamboyant to be worn so casually with accessories that were easily as extravagant. They all looked weird yet Isabela found them all beautiful.

Then on the other side were more things she's never seen before, less colorful yet obviously foreign to her village—like that slightly curved sword displayed atop an antique wardrobe or that weird doll behind a glass cabinet.

"Don't touch anything. Wait here," you said before walking away.

Why you even kept Mirabel's sewing kit in a place like that was beyond her. Your basement looked like a museum and she was just in awe at everything. It served as a reminder that there was a whole world out there beyond the mountains.

Isabela watched as you disappeared from the shelves and only then did she let herself wander around to admire every treasure you hid in your basement.

A broken ice chandelier, a glowing green pebble framed in glass, a glass slipper, a beautiful dried up lily-like flower she's never seen before, the broken pieces of a dragon statue, an old photo of little you and a pig with the name Isabela written atop it—she wasn't quite sure whether to be flattered or insulted that you apparently named your old pet after her.

Yet she couldn't help the smile that slowly made its way to her lips, suddenly remembering all the quarrels and fist fights you two had ended up in as children.

She moved onto the next item, only to realize that she arrived to the more personal items of yours. Old frames of photos lie discarded on the ground, photo albums collecting dust in one corner, little items and toys that some Isabela recognized from when you both were younger.

You always bragged about them, telling her that your papa or aunt brought you toys from overseas, only for you to end up crying afterwards because little Isa would throw them over the roofs.

Then her eyes landed upon the open trash bag hiding in the shadows, nearly invisible had it not been for the plethora of papers littered around it.

Closing in, Isabela realized that they were old sketches of yours judging by the color of the papers.

You said not to touch anything but...Isabela kneeled down to get a closer look, reaching for anything that grabbed her interest. A dahlia flower. Casita. Mariano. Your pen dragged repeatedly over one of the crumpled papers.

She couldn't make out the person, your pen ruining the portrait beyond recognition.

Then when she moved onto the next paper, there were only four words written.

Dear Isabela, it said. Fuck you.

Dear Isabela, I hate you so much.

She rolled her eyes at that. Not surprisingly, those were the words you'd write to her. She was more surprised that you didn't actually send it to her.

Then she grabbed another paper—yet another letter addressed to her.

Then she grabbed another.

Dear Isabela—incomprehensible scratched over words—fuck.

And another.

Isabela Isabela Isabela Isabela—her name scratched over and over and over again with the angriest handwriting she's ever seen, filling up the whole page, until written in small letters were, why can't I get you out of my head?

Isabela dropped that one and quickly grabbed another. This time, though, she managed to grab an envelope that seemed much more recent than the others, this one vaguely smelling of your sweet perfume. She checked the recipient of the letter.

Her, again.

She carefully opened the envelope and grabbed the letter—except there wasn't just a single letter as another piece of paper fell down on the ground.

She dropped the envelope to take hold of the other paper and upon opening it, she saw a well drawn portrait of her and below were words written in the prettiest handwriting,

To Isabela, the wildest flower in the village.

Signed by you and dated...a week ago.

She checked again to make sure, and indeed it was a letter. Addressed to her. Written by you. A week ago.

Dearest Isabela,

Her heart fluttered. She hated how it did that, yet she couldn't help but anticipate what you've written for her.

Setting the portrait down, the dark-skinned beauty carefully peeled your letter open.

I will never send this letter to you. I hate you with all my heart, have hated you since we were six, and I'll continue hating you 'til the day I die...but I especially hate that I think Mirabel might be right—

But Isabela wasn't able to read the rest of it as a hand snatched away the piece of paper in her hands. Startled, Isabela turned to look at you, a more than displeased expression written all over your face.

"What did I tell you about not touching anything and to wait where you were?"

"What was in that letter?" she asked, completely ignoring what you were just saying, as she stood up from the ground.

"What?" you asked in confusion.

"That letter, Y/N," she demanded. It could just be her, maybe it was a genuine letter of hatred.

But what kind of person would draw someone else so beautifully just to write a letter of spite?

You raised the letter in front of you and Isabela swore your already pale skin had turned several shades down when realization settled in.

"So what was Mirabel right about?"

You brought the letter down, crumpling it in your hand as you glared at her. "It's none of your business."

"My name is written on it so I think it is," Isabela said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I wrote it, I didn't give it to you so it isn't," you replied, angrily shoving her sister's sewing kit to her chest. "Now get out, Isabela."

She'd seen this anger before—the time you told her how her family's magic was a load of bullshit for not being able to actually help yours, but perhaps it was unfair to compare it to that, perhaps it wasn't.

However, Isabela could tell that you were near your tipping point, and over one letter at that.

"No, I don't think I will," she stood firmly on her ground just as the door shut close with a firm 'click' that bounced off the walls, her vines doing its work.

"You did not just—"

"Lock us in?" she said as a smile slowly grew on her face. "Oh, I did and we're not getting out of here until you tell me what's in that letter."

#isabela madrigal x reader #isabela x reader #disney x reader #encanto x reader

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 3

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,320

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: I don’t know much about starship mechanics so probably nothing in this is accurate but it’s fanfiction people so cut me some slack please, reader gets a nickname 🥳, plot plot plot, discussion of loss of loved ones, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, this is a slow burn but it’s also ridiculously self-indulgent so I’m including as many cute getting-to-know-you scenes as I can, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: Thank you anyone and everyone who has read even a sentence of this story! Special thanks and love to @dindja for creating this stunning, fantastic, amazing piece of fanart for me 💖💖💖 I still can’t believe how perfect it is. I mean, I’m such a sucker for pinky promises it’s not even funny and this is just beautiful 😍😍😍

Part 2

Cross-posted on AO3

For as grand and wide-reaching as the Galactic Empire has become in its ten years of existence, it had relatively small beginnings. A group of radical Force-wielders banded together under the leadership of an old, beady-eyed man named Sheev Palpatine who believed it was his divine destiny to seize control of the entire galaxy, rewriting the ancient laws to match his own beliefs. His cult, the Sith Order, gained attention by attacking Jedi temples, capital cities, places with large populations until every corner of the galaxy had heard of them. Most regarded them with fear, but over time they began garnering a startling amount of followers who were discontent with the status quo and willingly drafted themselves as soldiers in Palpatine’s fight for control.

At first everyone in your village thought Palpatine and his cult of followers weren’t worth worrying about—after all, Shili was a peaceful planet that never drew much attention to itself. But within the first year of its inception, the Sith Order captured Ryloth and the similar peaceful characteristics between the Twi’lek planet and Shili were too glaring to overlook. A seed of anxiety took root in every Togruta’s mind after that, and continued to grow with every planet seized as the years progressed.

The Decimation of Alderaan didn’t start as a tragedy, believe it or not. The Mandalorians, Jedi, and Alderaanians combined their numbers in an all-out fight against the Sith Order. It was the largest battle ever fought in the history of the galaxy, thousands of souls willing to die to defeat Palpatine’s followers. For the first three days of warfare, the fight seemed to be in favor of the allies with many noteworthy Sith members reportedly killed in the fray, such as Palpatine’s second-in-command Dooku and lethal Zabrak assassin Maul. You remember there was a sense of hope felt within your village as everyone listened to the news reports blaring across the Holonet. A belief that things were finally, finally going to return to normal after so much chaos.

But on the fourth day, the Sith Order brought their own ally onto the battlefield.

At the time there wasn’t a name for the droids that slaughtered every opponent they faced. They were described as indestructible, unharmed by blasters and the intense heat of Mandalorian flamethrowers. Not even lightsabers could damage them. The allies didn’t stand a chance, brutally murdered one by one, their dying screams echoing across the Holonet, forever haunting listeners far and wide.

The Dark Troopers were unleashed upon Mandalore afterwards and out of the ashes rose the Galactic Empire, except, in a twist nobody—not even the Sith Order—saw coming: Palpatine died before taking on the title of emperor, passing away in his sleep. A mediocre ending for the monster who permanently altered the foundations of the universe. One of his loyal followers from the cult’s early beginnings took control in his place, a vile man with a penchant for spilling blood and a deceptively bland name: Gideon.

Only seven years-old then, you didn’t understand the unbalance in the Force your aunt kept referencing. You didn’t understand the meaning of the word genocide either. But you did understand the galaxy would never be the same ever again, and the lesson was only further established as truth when the Imperials seized your village.

There is no normalcy to return to anymore.

And as long as Emperor Gideon remains in control, there is no future to hope for either.

Silence reigns in the aftermath of Maar’s explanation as the long list of tragedies hangs heavy over the four occupants. There is tension in the air as you await the Mandalorian’s response to the extinction of his people, whether that be an outburst of anger or tears, and each passing minute only intensifies the nervous energy thrumming through your veins. Your leg starts to bounce restlessly, a bad habit you have had since childhood.

The Mandalorian stands eerily motionless. Your eyes keep flicking from your lap to his visor though you know it is rude to stare. His helmet hides his expression, but you don’t need to see it to know he is floundering right now, mind scrambling to piece together all the details thrown at him. From personal experience, you know the loss of a loved one hits like a tidal wave, hitting you over and over again until you must decide if you are going to stand up or surrender to drowning. Grieving the loss of your parents is the hardest experience of your lifetime to date.

But this...this is vastly different. The Mandalorian didn’t just lose his loved ones. He has lost his friends, neighbors, comrades, acquaintances, everyone all at once. This loss isn’t a tidal wave. It is a kriffing avalanche, burying him ten feet under in total darkness, and there is no one he can count on to save him.

Finally, after the longest five minutes of your life, he shifts, resting his hands upon his belt with an unexpected air of seriousness. “I need to go.”

You frown, head tilting. That is his reaction?

“Go?” Ahsoka echoes, sounding as incredulous as you feel. “Go where?”

“To look for survivors,” he answers, blunt and harsh, the words forced through clenched teeth.

Ahsoka is struck silent, and you feel your heart break on his behalf. Your mother’s stories about the Mandalorians had always included, one way or another, their lifelong bonds with each other. You had felt those ties when you had connected with the Mandalorian, believed for a moment as strongly as he did that his fellow warriors would come search for him, that his absence would be noticed and missed amongst them. And here he is now, still desperately clutching to them, unable—or, perhaps unwilling is more apt—to believe a stranger telling him those bonds have been cruelly severed.

“What you need is to rest,” Maar says, gentle yet firm, letting her authority as the eldest in the room seep into her tone.

He shakes his head, not backing down. “I’ve been asleep for ten years. I don’t need any more rest.”

“Your ship, it, uh,” your shoulders hike up defensively when his visor snaps in your direction, pinning you with its blank stare. Clearing your throat, you continue with a slight grimace, “It’s going to need some repairs before it can take off. I can help you fix it.”

Ahsoka looks over at you in surprise, and then in worry. You don’t blame her, especially since the offer had slipped out without you consciously meaning it to. Once again, the Force is calling the shots and you are just along for the ride, a passenger in your own body.

He considers you for a long moment, then asks, “What do you know about the mechanics of a gunship?”

If anyone else had asked you that same exact question, you would have bristled at their condescension and retracted your offer in the next breath. But with the Mandalorian, there isn’t even the slightest hint of patronizing courtesy. It is a serious question prompted from genuine curiosity.

You sit up straighter, smiling at him now. “Enough to confidently say I’m your best shot at getting off the ground.”

“What’s your plan, exactly?” Ahsoka asks you, braced against the wall with one eye on you and one on the Mandalorian across the garage, patiently waiting for you to finish assembling your tool kit.

“Huh?” You reply distractedly, trying to decide if you should bring your carbon chisel or not.

“You don’t have one, do you?”

Not. There are bigger concerns than a bit of carbon scoring. You move to grab your favorite screwdriver with a tapered socket, only for Ahsoka to snatch it away, holding the tool hostage.

“Hey!”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks slowly, staring you directly in the eyes. “Once you fix his ship, he’s gone. And he’s taking our best chance at escaping Shili with him.”

A quick glance over your shoulder shows the Mandalorian studying the scattered BB unit parts on your workbench. You are missing a few vital components needed in order to bring the little droid back to life after a stormtrooper shot a plasma bolt through it for accidentally bumping into his leg, and haven’t had any luck convincing the village traders to track them down for you when they went to the capital.

“We can’t keep him here against his will,” you manage at last, turning back to your sister. “Otherwise we’re no better than the Imps.”

When Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, you shrug a shoulder, adding, “Besides, I think I’m supposed to fix it for him. The Force seems pretty insistent about it.”

She makes a face at that. “I liked you better when you ignored your Force instincts. You didn’t make me worry as much.”

A laugh escapes you, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet space, and your cheeks immediately start burning. Ahsoka’s lip twitches like she wants to smile, but instead she schools her features into a blank expression when the Mandalorian’s head turns at the sound. Only once he diverts his attention elsewhere again does her stare lose some of its intensity, looking less like she wants to dissect him beneath a microscope. You can practically see her protective-older-sister-instincts buzzing, reacting to the warrior’s presence.

As much as he is a chance at providing an escape, he is also first and foremost a complete and total stranger. Even worse, he is a complete and total stranger who knows how to handle weapons.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours. You’ll be so busy smoothing the Elders’ ruffled feathers you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ahsoka finally relinquishes the tool, exhaling a quiet sigh. “You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.”

Walking side by side with the Mandalorian in silence isn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely isn’t comfortable either. He is close enough your arm keeps accidentally grazing against his, the cold brush of metal against your skin startling you each time. You would have considered his nearness strange if you hadn’t heard Ahsoka threaten to castrate him if you wound up hurt before she sent him flying at the juni tree branch outside your window with an unnecessarily strong push of Force.

To his credit, the warrior handled her rough treatment with the same ease he has handled everything else thrown at him. You are beginning to think Mandalorians don’t just wear beskar—they are made of it too. Other than the few glimpses of frustration earlier in Maar’s office, he keeps his cards close to his chest, impossible to read.

He watches everything though, reacting to the slightest of movements and sounds. Constantly alert. You are certain he is watching you right now, despite the fact his helmet is facing forward, your nerves prickling in response to the sensation of eyes upon you.

To your surprise, he is the one to break the silence first. “You sneak out often.”

It is a statement, not a question.

You suppose the dots are easy enough to connect to reach that conclusion. Still, the certainty in his voice has your heart skipping a nervous beat. He hasn’t even known you a day and yet he is privy to secrets no one outside your community is aware of. “Yeah,” you nod your head after a brief lapse of silence, “Ahsoka can’t train in the village. Not with the stormtroopers around.”

“Has your village tried to run them out? Fight back?”

It is only because you know he is just trying to understand your village’s predicament with the little bits of information he has that you don’t snap at him for being so insensitive. He has no idea what these past five years have been like for you all. No idea the amount of losses and sacrifices the community has suffered.

Your grip on your tool kit tightens. “I was twelve when they came. The community is mostly traders and hunters, not trained fighters. The few weapons we had were nothing compared to their blaster rifles, but some of the adults tried to defend the village, including our parents. They...” You swallow, or try to, at least, your throat suddenly dry as sand. “Our aunt looked after us until last year we woke up one morning to find a note she’d left to join the rebellion. We haven’t had any contact with her since.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand brushes against your knuckles. This time you think it might have been on purpose.

“I lost my parents as a child, too. There was a riot and they died protecting me,” he offers his own private details with the same reluctance as one volunteering to have their teeth pulled out. “The Mandalorians took me in, raised me as one of their own.”

You say nothing about the way his breath slightly hitches when he says Mandalorians, appreciating his openness as it puts you both on somewhat equal footing with each other.

“I owe it to them to look for survivors,” he tells you, and your montrals detect the quietest hint of a plea in his voice.

“I understand,” you answer, keeping your tone light to preserve the fragility of this moment. This kind of situation doesn’t happen often—two strangers on the same wavelength, exposing their vulnerable underbellies, desperate to be heard and yet skittish at the same time—and it is oddly therapeutic.

A decision is made right then and there in the span of a heartbeat. And even more significantly, it is 100% your own choice without any intervention or manipulation from the Force.

You stop walking, causing the Mandalorian to halt as well. He scans the area for a threat, then visibly jerks when he turns back to find you have your hand held out towards him, pinky raised high, reacting as if you are pointing a weapon at him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, blunt and almost suspicious sounding. Are you just imagining it or can you actually hear him frowning? “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise with someone before?”

“...A what?”

You snort, ducking your head to hide your smile, and then reach for his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest your touch.

“A pinky promise,” you repeat as you make his hand form a fist, curling his fingers towards his palm, and then adjust his pinky so you can wrap yours around it. He watches the whole process wordlessly. “It’s a sacred vow shared between two people. The Elders say once it’s sworn, the promise can never be broken.”

He cocks his head, skeptical. “Never?”

“Never,” you reaffirm with a nod. Licking your lips, you look at his visor, right where you instinctively know his eyes are staring back. “I promise I’m going to help you. No matter the odds.”

And something leaks into your voice then, something resolute and binding and otherworldly. A tremor shoots down your spine, too quick for you to make sense of it.

Your sister’s words echo in the back of your mind, ‘You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.’

You try to pull away, self-doubt gnawing a hole in your stomach, only for the Mandalorian to wrap his pinky tighter around yours, holding you still. A gasp escapes your lips, muffled by the bleeding sincerity in his voice as he swears:

“I promise I will be there when you need me. No matter the odds.”

And although your sister could undoubtedly provide you with a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t, you believe his promise to be true.

The Mandalorian heaves a heavy sigh at the sight of his crashed ship.

“I can’t do much about the landing gear,” you inform him, believing honesty to be the best policy for cases like this. “And I brought some foam-jet for the cockpit viewport, but it’s not a permanent fix. You’re going to have to find someone offworld to replace them.”

“Right,” he agrees absently without turning his eyes away. It occurs to you then that this ship is the closest thing to a home he has now. One of the few precious relics from his past he can still physically cling to.

“Does your ship have a name?” you ask.

He looks at you, as if coming back to self-awareness, and answers, “Razor Crest.”

A good name, you think. Strong. A bit mysterious. Just like its owner.

You nod decisively. “I like it.”

His modulator crackles faintly, a quiet noise produced from a sudden exhale of air. You blink at the unexpected sound, surprised to realize you recognize it. A laugh. The Mandalorian just laughed at something you said. What is next in store for you? Are akul going to sprout wings and start flying?

He steps around you, heading for the side entry door still open from yesterday with its ramp laying on the ground, pebbles shifting noisily beneath his boots with each step. You don’t realize you are staring, oddly entranced by the swish of his cape and his purposeful strides, until he calls out your name to ask if you are coming.

You nearly drop your tool kit in your haste to follow after him into the Crest’s interior, ignoring the flaring heat radiating from your cheeks.

For the next few hours, you and the Mandalorian work in companionable silence, engrossed in rerouting wires and welding damaged components with your trusty hand torch. The gunship is older than you initially assumed, perhaps even as old as yourself, and you idly wonder if the Mandalorian found it in a scrapyard somewhere or maybe inherited it from another Mandalorian. You notice the way he handles each piece with an experienced and respectful touch; the same kind of care someone reserves for their most cherished possessions. Anyone with eyes can see how much he loves the Crest just by watching him.

Once you have finished sealing the numerous cracks dissecting the cockpit’s viewport like a spiderweb with foam, you approach the Mandalorian to see his progress on returning power to the dashboard. He is on his back beneath the steering controls, rearranging a mess of wires, and barely acknowledges your presence when you squeeze yourself into the tight space next to him.

“The red wire goes before the white one,” you point out, noticing the mistake immediately. “Fire hazard.”

He pauses, looks at where you have gestured, and corrects his error without criticizing your intervention. You bite back a smile, pleased to be heard. Within your community, even though you have proven your skills time and time again, some of the villagers, usually men, don’t always adhere to your advice, thinking you are too young and too female to know about technology, until they inevitably make their problems worse for themselves and come back to you with their metaphorical tail between their legs.

You help him reattach the cover plating once he has finished, screwing the bolts back into their corners, and then watch, fingers crossed, as he attempts the ignition sequence, flipping a series of switches.

None of them light up with even the faintest flicker of life.

“Dank farrik,” he growls under his breath, slamming a fist upon the console.

You take a tiny step forward, hesitant to direct his frustration your way. “Can I try?”

He tilts his head, probably thinking he knows this ship better than anyone and if it doesn’t work for him then you aren’t going to have any luck either.

Eventually he steps back with a shrug, uttering a simple, “Sure.”

Although you can’t remember the last time you were on a ship, it doesn’t take long to refamiliarize yourself with the various controls and screens once you take a seat in the pilot chair. When your hobby for fixing broken machines changed into a passion you wanted to pursue as a future career, you started memorizing any reading material you could find on the Holonet, including the flight manuals for different classes of starships. You flip through the stored information in your mind about gunships as you press a few buttons on the panel overhead, trying out different sequences for a response.

When your third attempt fails, you bite your lip, racking your brain for a solution. You think about Huno’s kitchen droid and how you had been on the verge of ripping off one of your head-tails trying to repair it after one of its fuses blew, causing it to malfunction. Your tools and knowledge hadn’t been able to fix it in the end. It had required a special remedy to bring it back to life.

You lay your palms flat on the console, just as you had held onto the droid’s square torso. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian fidget, as if he wants to come closer but is hesitant to crowd you. You ignore him, pressing your fingertips harder against the metal, visualizing in your mind the unseen gears, cables, and components stiff and powerless. You imagine the parts working properly, a current of electricity running through each wire, life ultimately returning to the entire ship, and whisper under your breath a request to the Force.

“Please work, please work, please work…”

An invisible pulse of energy burns down the length of your arms and discharges through your fingertips, strong enough you jerk backwards against the seat. Every button and screen on the dashboard lights up all at once, beeping with alarm at being so rudely resurrected.

You sit there helplessly, stunned and breathless, hands twitching in your lap. The kitchen droid hadn’t required even half as much energy to restart, barely a pinch. Now your body feels like you have been thrown against the electric fence a dozen times. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian comes to your side to help, punching buttons and turning knobs until the alarms quit blaring. A distant part of your brain thinks the Razor Crest as a whole seems strangely soothed by his presence, not quite as cold and dark, but it is hard to follow that train of thought due to the distracting pain throbbing along your temples.

“That’s quite a spark you’ve got,” he says, not unkindly or accusingly, just a statement of the obvious. He looks down at you, not outright asking for an explanation, but giving you the opportunity to open up if you wanted to.

“Yep, that’s me,” you reply, forcing a cheerful smile, praying it doesn’t resemble a grimace. “Sparks Tano at your service.”

He chuckles again, oblivious to how your heart stutters at its raspiness. “Thank you, Sparks. I appreciate it.”

“Well, we’re not done yet.” You rub at your temples under the guise of adjusting your headband. “I need to take a closer look at the engines before we attempt flying out of here. I—”

“I’ll do it,” he cuts in, already heading for the ladder. “You stay here, see if you can update the navicomputer settings.”

You know he knows that updating the navicomputer is child’s play for you. Clearly you aren’t as great at concealing your pain as you thought you were and this is his way of giving you a break. A small part of you is irritated at being treated like a porcelain doll, but you push those negative feelings aside as quickly as they develop. Your aunt always used to remind you and Ahsoka it was okay to accept help when it was offered, that needing support didn’t in any way make you weak.

“Hey, wait a second,” you call out as you spin around in your seat, freezing him right before he disappears from view into the hull. He holds onto the ladder, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Back at Maar’s place you didn’t introduce yourself and it’s weird just calling you Mandalorian in my head,” you say, awkwardly drumming your fingers on top of the armrests. He doesn’t answer, eliciting a sigh from your mouth after a drawn-out beat of silence. “What’s your name? You do have one, right?”

“I do, but I can’t tell you it,” he admits at last. “By Mandalorian Creed, only other Mandalorians or my riduur—my spouse,” he corrects, seeing your confusion, “are allowed to know my name and see my face. This is the Way.”

He doesn’t linger to hear your response, dropping down into the hull with a resounding thud. You slowly turn back around, staring absently out the glass. Every culture is unique, including your own, but you think there is something especially interesting about the Mandalorians’. It sounds like a lonely existence, only able to show your face while in select company. What would have happened if he had been unconscious and you had slipped the helmet off his head? What consequence would he have faced?

And if there truly aren’t any Mandalorians left besides him, his spouse will be the only one to ever know him completely. It almost sounds like a love story, if not a little bit heart-wrenching.

Two high-pitched dings from the console jerk you out of your thoughts with a wince. You look for the source, finding the radar lit up and actively scanning the area, and bristle when you see a pair of red dots moving across the screen.

Not even a minute later you are sprinting out of the cave, ignoring the Mandalorian’s alarmed shout from the roof of the Razor Crest. They’re early, you think with panic, looking towards the sky where two starships with Imperial logos are heading straight for your village. Why have they come back so soon?

You push your legs to run faster, your surroundings a blur beyond the trail in front of you, but the effort is meaningless. You won’t make it back home before they land.

And when your absence is noted, bloodshed is not a possibility.

It is a guarantee.

Series taglist: @pedro4ever @cannedsoupsucks

Din Djarin Taglist: @a-skov @pedrosbisch @quica-quica-quica @stevie75 @iamskyereads @banga-sama @dincrypt @ohlawdthebirds

Permanent taglist: @promiscuoussatan @vintagesaph @over300books @chibi-yuki @theocatkov @oh-no-a-whovian @absurdthirst @freeshavocadoooo @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @lin-djarin @happiestsparkleofall @randomness501 @gallowsjoker @coaaster @captain-jebi @leilei-draws @disgruntledspacedad @melobee @stilllivindue2spite @pointy-sharp @artsymaddie @waywardmando @asta-lily @thisshipwillsail316 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @grogusmum @sherala007 @mejswho @uncle-kenobi @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @tacticalsparkles @mandocrasis @littlebopper96 @you-got-me-starry-eyed @kiss-evans @writeforfandoms @pbeatriz @anaaaispunk

#my fic #my writing #Mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic #Din Djarin #din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #togruta reader #ahsoka tano #the last mandalorian #pedrostories #art

81 notes · View notes

i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years

Text

Diary found in K---D--- : Part 2

So, here's the next little part of this :D

Imagine by @lathalea is indented!

Enjoy <3

Taglist: @shrimpsthings, @mulasawala (so you see where I'm going with this lol)

(Yes, there will be MORE artwork coming, stay posted...)

Fandom: Hobbit

Characters: Ori x OC

Rating & Warning: Fluff and silliness

His name was Ori and he was a scribe in Erebor. It turned out he visited the forest often to sketch the animals and plants. You spent the rest of the day together. In the evening, you exchanged campfire stories, sharing a meal. At one point, he shyly asked about where you came from. Blushing, he admitted, almost whispering, he never saw a person with such beautiful hair before.

You told him that you came from another world, from a region called East Asia, where many people looked similarly to you. He was very curious about your homeland, your culture and your world. You spent hours telling him everything about it and he listened to you in awe.

“Ori.” He replied, his lips quirking a tiny bit as if he was not used to speaking his own name. “I’m a scribe. In Erebor. The Mountain.” He pointed to a tree beyond the clearing.

Thankfully, I was familiar with the Lonely Mountain and did not think that he didn’t know the difference between a living organism and a pile of minerals.

“I have never seen you, neither here nor in that Mountain.” I replied, for I went into the halls sometimes to translate for travellers, but for the most part, I let the king be his grumpy, glorious self.

“I come here often, to sketch, but I seem to have lost my way.” He admitted with a tiny frown. Ah, a real dwarf. They only knew up and down seemingly and if there was no way into a hill, they’d stubbornly trek up until they tumbled off the other side again.

As if to prove to me that he was not lying – dear reader, he had a face that was utterly devoid of malice or dissimulation – he showed me rather good sketches of the fauna and flora of the dense forest surrounding us. “That is really good, Ori, the scribe, from under the Mountain.” I commented which made him blush with a fierce and, apparently, unexpected pleasure.

In an expression of indescribable cuteness, he literally wiped his face with his sleeve as if he could clean away the rosy hue like a stubborn ink stain from under his skin.

“What are you here for?” He then asked, pushing out his chest heroically. As a reminder, he was the one who had lost his way, but apparently, he wanted to defend either the forest from me or the other way around.

“I am here to think…in silence.” I replied; he retreated a few steps. “Oh? I’ll leave you to it then, I guess. It was great to make your acquaintance…”

I gave him my name, after all, he had given me his, and he chewed on it for a few moments before his face split into a smile that was like the sunlight breaking through the cloudy afternoon sky: tentative, warm, and strikingly beautiful.

“Stay. I like your face.” I heard myself saying. Maybe, it was my teasing, mischievous streak acting up, but I had liked his embarrassment so much that I couldn’t help wanting to coax more of these blushes out of him.

“My…face?” In that weird dance he had been engaged in for the last few minutes, Ori stepped closer again, shuffling his feet in the heavy boots dwarrows insisted on wearing.

No, your ass, I thought, but bit my tongue; Ori the dwarf looked like someone who would die on the spot if I said anything even remotely inappropriate…as I was wont to do when nervous.

My sarcastic thought spurred my own interest though and I examined him a little closer: he was indeed swaddled like a babe, beads of sweat pearling down his temples on account of the steep climb and the stubborn blush powdering his nose and cheeks with pink blotches.

“Sit down, you’ll get a heat stroke.” I invited him and pointed to a patch of moss beside me while rummaging in my pack for the flask of ale I had brought.

“Thank you ever so much.” He plopped down in a cascade of earthen-coloured wool and awkward limbs. He did smell warm, I noticed, a blend of cinnamon and comfort.

Also, he had one of those faces that only became better when seen up-close, I admit freely; there were golden stars dancing in the depth of his dark eyes and he had the most adorable freckles as if some outlandish fairy had sprinkled gold dust over that heart-wrenchingly handsome face.

“Are you thirsty, Mistress?” He asked, nodding at the flask in my hand.

Handing it to him rather abruptly, I realised that I had spent the last moments intently staring at his face as if I had never seen a male dwarf before in my life.

“I have work to do.” I snapped, feeling immediately guilty for taking my own embarrassment out on him, but he merely nodded and pulled his sketching supplies into his lap.

Strangely enough, Ori did not disturb me. If anything, the silence felt fuller, richer, deeper with him by my side. As I translated a letter, as a spinster I had to support my family and my insufferable sisters as best as I could, I felt like the chirping of the birds and the vibrancy of the colours around me were even more enjoyable now that I shared them with someone else.

…

The sun crept along its never-changing arc slowly and yet, much too fast.

As I looked up, I wished I was a better painter myself, for this dwarrow was made for sunsets.

The way the last golden hurrah of a perfect day exploded in a halo of warmth around his figure, the way all the greys and the blues seemed to bleed out of the world to leave nothing but warm tones behind, and the way his smile was the perfect expression of this mellow, unhurried mood…it struck me deeper and more violently than a thunderstorm in all its booming rage would have.

“Will you join me for dinner, Ori?” I asked gently, “I shall escort you back down.”

“It would be my honour.” He nodded, tearing out a page of his notebook and handing it over.

“It was an invitation; I do not demand payment.” I said seriously, for the sketch of the doe was so good, it might have been worth actual money. “Oh…” His nose crinkled at little at that.

“I wanted you to…have something beautiful. I have seen you work very hard.”

Of course, he was a scribe as well, he would consider the scribbling work, I thought and gave him a thankful smile. “You’re beauty enough for one day.” I shrugged.

He gasped, bringing his notebook up to his face as if to shield himself from my words.

“You’re having me on, aren’t you? Dori has warned me that girls do that sometimes.” He sounded utterly dejected. “I am not having you on. Has nobody ever told you that you’re handsome?” It was my turn to be wide-eyed with shock.

“And who is Dori?” I followed-up when he didn’t really reply to my question even though I thought I had seen his braids move like strings of pearls in a draft. The minutest of shakes of the head, a quiet admission of inadequacy that sunk ugly, ragged claws into my soft heart.

“He’s my brother. I have two of them. Dori…and Nori. They’re…” – “Older than you.” I completed. “Protective.” He supplied.

He was still holding his drawing out to me, and, after a moment, I took it gingerly and put it between the pages of my own writing supplies. I would hang it in my room and look at it daily.

Nowadays, there were but very few gifts for me; all the money went to my two younger sisters who were still nubile and would, if Mahal willed it so, be able to make a good match.

Busying my hands with making a fire, I asked him to tell me about his brothers.

“Oh, Nori is…agile. He’s…funny and brave and resourceful.” Ori started, his voice warm with affection and admiration. He sounded like a proper rogue to me, and as it turned out, he was, but he also deserved every single ounce of the deep-felt care Ori held for him.

“Dori is…fussy. He’s polite, he’s very caring, and he’s exceedingly proper.” Ori went on as I waved a hand for him not to stop. I enjoyed hearing about the life of other families than my own.

“So, is he the one who raised you to be this…warmly clad and gentle?” I asked, turning to place the foodstuffs I had brought up and stored in the cool lake water on spits to roast over the fire.

“Warm? Oh yes…I was a sickly pebble and he’s been worried ever since. I hope I have behaved in a way that would not make him disappointed in me.” Again, he worried his lip.

“Let’s see, you’ve startled a bird and an unsuspecting dwarrowdam.” I listed with a wicked gleam in my eyes; his face fell, and he looked properly guilty.

“Then, you’ve kept me company, and the best company I’ve ever had, it has been, on my grandmother’s grave, I swear.” I went on and that treacherous blush was back with a vengeance.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He then said in a low voice. “Great beauty is always startling.”

“I am hardly Thorin Oakenshield.” He laughed. Readers, you cannot imagine that sound just by reading my words. If flowers blossoming had melody, if the sun setting on the eternal sea had a song, if autumn leaves dancing on a gale had a tune, they would have sounded like nails on scree, like cats having their tails trampled, and like kettles going unheeded compared to Ori’s laughter.

“There’s beauty in the doe as much as in the wolf.” I replied gently.

“May I…can I ask where you’re from? I don’t seek to be rude, but I’ve never seen anyone quite like you; your hair looks like those fabrics the Elves weave. It…seems so soft, so liquid, so smooth.” He blushed a darker shade yet.

This might well have been the first time that someone had asked me about my origins without making it sound like an accusation; there was honest fascination in his demeanour.

“My family and I have come from the Far East. I have travelled a lot, Ori, I have seen landscapes entirely made up of rock and sand, I have walked forests so stiflingly hot and moist it felt like being underwater, and now, I am here in the land of tall trees and taller mountains.”

I said, surprised by my own frankness.

“That sounds amazing.” He took the food I offered readily enough, and I told him about the people I’ve left behind to be stranded at the other end of the world.

“This is good, is that a recipe of your homeland?” He asked, looking down on the piece of meat I had seasoned with herbs I had grown myself in our small backyard.

“It actually is. I’m glad you like it. I had not planned to have company, otherwise I’d have brought something more palatable to the local tongue.” I apologised quickly.

“No, I like it. You should definitely trade some recipes with Dori…and Bombur…oh, and if any of your delicious herbs are medicinal, Óin.” He laughed again when he saw my dumbfounded expression.

“I make a good honeycake, if I can interest you in that? Maybe…” He fell back into silence.

…

A look at the sky told me that it was too late to go down in the inky darkness.

“We’ll have to stay here for the night.” I mumbled, slightly uncomfortable at the idea of spending the night with a dwarrow who had not lost a single word about a wife.

“Are you married, Mistress? Will that endanger your wedlock?” He asked shyly.

“No, I am not and I have no name to lose…It’s a long story.” I didn’t feel like blurting out my disgrace, lest it give him strange ideas after all, especially as he would easily have been able to overpower me if he so chose.

“Neither am I. I don’t know about my name…Doesn’t look like I’m going to be married either. There’s not enough dwarrowdams as it is, and I think the royal line has a prerogative there.” There was no resentment in his tone; he seemed to accept this as a fact.

How could someone that sweet not be married, I wondered. He was courteous, he was cute, and he would have made the fortune and happiness of someone.

“Well, in that case, I think we can risk our reputation rather than our necks.” I grinned, rolling out a blanket I kept tied to my pack for emergencies and stretched out next to the fire on the moss.

“Erm, yes…Good night…” He mumbled, fidgeting around with his different layers of clothing. Apparently, he was deciding which one he needed least on his body to use it as a bedroll or blanket.

I eyed the proceedings with interest and a good deal of amusement.

“I can offer you my cloak to lie upon…the ground will grow very cold and wet soon.” He said in a low voice, not sure if I had already fallen asleep or not.

“Alright, I can offer you a spot under the blanket then?” I extended my own graciousness.

“With you?” No, with the red bird, I thought, rolling my eyes internally.

“Yes, Ori the scribe, with me. I will not eat you, as you have witnessed, I have had dinner.” Not that he did not look good enough to devour, standing there with his cloak in his hands and his face all crunched up in embarrassment.

“Hmmm…I guess.” He muttered doubtfully, spreading out the cloak and sitting down on it carefully. Impatiently, I scooted over and spread my lousy blanket over the both of us with a flourish.

“Sleep!” I commanded as I turned around only to find him staring wide-eyed at the spot where the back of my head had been only a second ago. Now that he was presented with my face, only inches away from his, his eyes grew even rounder and bigger in wordless distress.

“Friend…Have you never lain with a woman? And I literally mean, lying next to one?” I laughed for there had been friends and cousins aplenty in my own life and the feeling of having another body so close to mine was not a new experience for me.

“Well, I fell down on the battlefield once, next to a foe…I’m pretty sure that was a Lady-Orc. She was dead. There was a…” He gestured, indicating a spear or a lance sticking out of his chest and brushing against my own with the back of his hand. Dear reader, he flinched back as if I was a tiny Durin’s bane wreathed in flames.

“A Lady-Orc, indeed…” I mused; no doubt, he could hear the smile I hid in my voice for his face crunched up in embarrassment.

“I am sorry.” He sighed, rolling his eyes, and thinking – there was not a shadow of a doubt about that much – of his brothers who would have mocked him mercilessly for his stammering.

“There’s no need to be sorry” I tried to reassure him, but I admit now that there were things that I did not tell him right away then. We had only just met, and he was blessedly unaware of my shameful past.

How could I have made him understand – without hurting his feelings – how much I enjoyed that air of purity about him that I had squandered myself on an undeserving fiend? As a daughter amongst others, I had been used to dwarrows coming to court or to seduce, their eyes ablaze with greed and their hands wandering.

He would not have comprehended how much the absence of that voracious hunger that had plagued my youth and had ended up destroying my promising future meant to me.

“Sleep.” I repeated, unable to put into words how miraculous and precious the things he seemed to be most ashamed of were to me.

“Good night, Mistress.” He breathed with a soft smile that was nowhere near the wolfish baring of fangs I was used to and so, it was easy to return it.

You who may or may not have stumbled upon this ludicrous account of the most important story in an otherwise unimportant life, you shall hear another confession I did not make at the time.

I was fiercely aware that – had I but leant forward a little – I might have pressed my lips upon his; I was young still at that time and, despite what had happened, parts of me, that should have withered and died in the aftermath of my botched engagement, were much alive.

He smelled like our dinner and warmth, and the gentle reticence of the curve of his smile was more inviting than any flashing grin I had ever seen before.

Yes, in that very moment, on this very first evening, I had already been conscious of the shrewd attraction this self-effacing dwarrow held for me…and it scared me half to death.

…

Part 3

#Fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ori the dwarf #Ori #OC #Fluff #Diary #1st person

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haokyeom · 4 years

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all the stars | kim mingyu

ミ★ synopsis: in which you fall in love with your rival, kim mingyu.

ミ★ genre: sin of envy!mingyu, ceo!mingyu, ceo!reader, enemies to lovers!au, angst, fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: mentions of blood and broken glass

ミ★ word count: 8,764

ミ★ pairings: mingyu x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! it’s lila, aka, @viastro ! this is my last post for the lucky 7 collaboration </33 this one is actually so fucking long for no reason i am so sorry HAHAHA this was so exciting to be a part of even tho i kinda procrastinated and made all of the oneshots ten million years long </33 this one was really exciting to write tho. think it might be one of my favorite works along with my minghao oneshot for this collab :o i hope you guys like it ! make sure to give mingyu lots of love <3

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They say to live the life you dream of, you have to work hard. Some people can start from the bottom and work their way up to the top. While others are fortunate enough to start directly from the top due to the resources that are available to them.

Unluckily for you, you are not one of the latters. You worked hard to get where you are now, being the CEO of Bloom. You didn’t earn the status of CEO through being the heir to the company, no. You built Bloom on your own, and now you’re one of the youngest, as well as the richest, in the business of the gaming industry.

However, as it was said before, you’re one of the youngest and richest. There’s another that you’re currently ahead of in the business, some claim to be your rival in the industry. The two of you are always clashing on the charts, always competing at the same time. Since you just recently launched a new update for your game, you’re higher on the ladder than him. For now.

Kim Mingyu, the CEO of Ainsoft. At the age of 19 he inherited the money to start up his own gaming company, which ended up being incredibly successful. As he is now 23, and one of the youngest and richest in South Korea. Right beside you on the charts, but you started from the ground up, while he had a bit of help.

What you don’t know is that Mingyu is truly out of this world. Tall, handsome, and rich, yes. However, he is actually not a part of this world. For he is one of the seven deadly sins,

The Sin of Envy.

And you, yln yn, are at the top of his list.

“Nah, he’s a villain. If you wanna make him look the part, he should look less soft. Taller, broader, dark hair, nice tan skin. Yes! Perfect.” You clap your hands once your game designer makes the changes you requested. Minghao turns to glance at you with a look that basically says, ugh! this bitch.

“... What?”

“You literally just had me draw Kim Mingyu.” You purse your lips once you see the resemblance, and turn your head away, letting out a whistle tune. Minghao chuckles, deleting the edits he made so that the drawing is back to its original rough draft.

“You know, it’s not my fault that he looks like the perfect villain.” You say to Minghao, and he waves his hand away at you, flashing you a grin. “I’ll work on this and show you the draft when I’m done, deal?”

You smile, giving the black haired beauty a thumbs up. “Deal.”

And with that, you turn and stroll back to your office. You check in with your other employees on the way there, seeing how the design and coding is going for the upcoming game you plan to discuss with investors in a month or so.

With a smile and wave of your hand, you step into your office, shutting the door behind you and walking over to your desk. You sit down, letting out a breath and closing your eyes as you rest your head on the back of your seat.

You quickly get interrupted by a knock on your door, and you call out that they can come in. Sitting up straighter in your seat, you watch as your COO, Chan, steps into your office with a straight face. You raise an eyebrow, knowing that he brought news you must not like.

“What is it?” You ask as Chan sits down in the seat in front of your desk, and he lets out a sigh. He places the small envelope before you, and you purse your lips, reaching out and taking it. You carefully open up the red paper, and pull out what seems to be an invitation.

You immediately frown at what you read, and you glance up at Chan to see him also looking at the piece of paper as if it were cursed. You place it back down onto the table, letting out a sigh and slumping in your seat.

“Why is Kim Mingyu inviting me to his gala?” You ask, pointing to the invitation in disgust, and Chan shrugs in response. He looks rather tired as well, and you feel a bit bad for your friend.

His black hair isn’t as put together as it was in the morning, showing that he must’ve been running his hands through it a lot during the day. His tie is a bit loosened as well, and he’s more hunched over. You know for a fact that once he leaves your office, he won’t be showing any sign of fatigue to your employees. You don’t blame him for being tired though, it’s a stressful process trying to create a new game.

“I think he might be planning something.” Chan mutters, squinting at the invitation from his seat. You tilt your head, wondering what Mingyu could possibly be scheming. You’ve never met him before, as you’re not one to go out to galas or many public events, and he’s never invited you to one of his galas before. Chan is usually the one who attends those things because he knows you’d much rather work on new game developments or on updates for any existing games than waste time at a party.

“Of course he is. He never invites me to these things, and I’ve also never met him, yet we’re each other's biggest competitor. You’re the only one who has spoken to Mingyu before.” You say, pointing to Chan, who is now rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. Once he’s done he glances at you, giving you a shrug of his shoulders.

“All I can remember is that he’s really tall, and pretty cocky.”

“Only a little bit?”

“Nah, like. The type that knows everyone loves him and can get anyone he wants without trying.” You purse your lips, turning your head away with a scowl. From what you’re hearing, Kim Mingyu is the worst type of man.

“I’m not going.” You state with finality, turning back towards your computer. You begin typing away for a minute, only to pause when you realize that Chan is still sitting in your seat, staring at you. Your eyes immediately widen and you shake your head, while Chan stands up and raises his hands towards you. “Absolutely not!”

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!”

“Because I already know what you were going to say!” You exclaim with a baffled expression on your face, and Chan gives you a defeated look in return. He purses his lips and you squint back at him. After a moment Chan finally says, “I think you should go.”

“Give me one good reason why.” You tell him and Chan grins, having already expected you to say that.

“It’s an opportunity to get information on the enemy.” Chan states, and you raise an eyebrow. Leaning back into your seat, you signal for him to go on.

“Listen. Mingyu is known to hold these big galas when they’re planning on launching a new game, right?” Chan glances at you for your reaction, and you nod your head. “So, you can go to try and get information. You’ve never met Mingyu, and he’s never met you. What if you managed to even swoon him?”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your stapler to throw it at your partner’s head, and he raises his arms in surrender, letting out giggles at your reaction. You place the almost weapon back down on your table, and bite your finger, a habit you do when you start to think heavily about something.

Chan has a point. It’s a dirty way of playing the game, but hey, you’re in the gaming industry. What you and Chan are planning on doing isn’t that bad anyways. You’re just going to see what his next game may be, report it back to your employees, and make sure your new game release will be a thousand times better than his.

Which is why you turn back to Chan, a newly formed smirk on your lips, and he grins evilly back. You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, “Guess I have plans this Saturday.”

“Ms. yln, the CEO of Bloom, has just arrived at Kim Mingyu’s gala. This is her first time attending Mr. Kim’s gala since they are the two biggest competitors in the gaming industry. She’s wearing an emerald green…”

You ignore the voices of the reporters as you step out of your bugatti chiron with a knowing smile on your face. You hand your keys to the valet, giving them a nod as you walk down the red carpet. You flip your hair over your shoulder, before walking up the steps and into the grand venue.

You feel the eyes on you when you step in, and you bow to those around you. You walk further into the ballroom of the hotel, running a hand through your hair as you walk up to one of the tables. You take out your phone from the strap on your leg, sending Chan a quick text that you’re going to curse him for not coming with you. To which he replies,

chan: love you too sexci :D

“Champagne, Ms. yln?” You turn to glance at the voice, to find a young waiter standing before you, holding fancy glasses filled with the expensive alcohol. You give him a small smile, and watch as a blush rises to his cheeks when you take one. “Thank you so much.”

He bows, before turning and walking away. You take a tiny sip and let out a pleased noise once you taste the unexpected sweetness to it. You ponder your luck on your favorite alcohol getting served at the gala you dreaded going to, only to receive an answer from the voice beside you.

“Montaudon Brut, your favorite.” You turn your head to find none other than the Kim Mingyu standing close beside you, a knowing smirk on his face as he stares at you. You raise an eyebrow, turning your body to face him as you look back into his eyes.

“How’d you know?” You ask with a small smile, and he shrugs, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, damn you kim mingyu, before giving you a mischievous look. “Did a little bit of research.”

You let out an, ah, before turning your head away to sweep the room. You lock eyes with a few onlookers, but they quickly glance the other way, making the corner of your lips tilt upwards a bit. You take in the decorations on the ceiling, from the bright pink and white flowers, to the green leafy plants hanging next to the fairy lights. What used to just be a golden ballroom inside a hotel now resembles what you’d consider a great option for what heaven may look like.

It’s rather ironic actually, considering that the Sin of Envy is standing right beside you. Mingyu watches you with fire in his eyes, having not expected you to be more gorgeous in person than in pictures, let alone when the fairy lights cast an iridescent glow over you.

“The decorations are lovely, did you pick them out yourself as well?” You ask, turning to glance back at Mingyu, just to feel your breath get caught in your throat when you catch the intense look in his eyes. He tilts his head at you, opening his mouth to say something when the sound of the mic turning on catches both of your attention.

Mingyu flashes you a mischievous smile, “That’s my signal to go and greet everyone. I’ll see you later?”

You find yourself smirking, nodding your head and waving off the handsome man with your hand. “You know where to find me.”

And with that, Mingyu turns and walks off the stage. All while you head off in the opposite direction to go and get some info on his upcoming game. You notice a group consisting of a few women and men who are eyeing you, and you walk over to them. They seemed to not have expected you to go up to them due to their eyes widening slightly, and you let out a grin when you reach their table.

“Ms. yln, what an honor it is to meet you.” The tallest male says, and you extend your hand out to shake his. Only to bite the inside of your cheek when he raises your hand up and presses a kiss to the back of it instead. He leans back and you glance at the rest of the people around him, just for them to immediately bow to you. You bow back, before giving the man a smile. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Cha Eunwoo, I’m Mingyu’s game designer.” You nod your head, mentally patting yourself on the back for finding one of the main people in charge of making Mingyu’s newest release. You run a hand through your hair before turning to ask, “What got you into game design?”

The two of you spend the next hour talking about Eunwoo’s experience working with Mingyu. You find yourself enjoying the pretty man’s company. He’s nice, witty, charming, and rather funny. You wish he could be a part of your team, but alas. At least you found out small bits and pieces of what could potentially be Ainsoft’s next release.

What you’ve gathered so far is that there’s mentions of a dystopian universe, and a team. You’re worried that may be all you’re able to get, but you think that it could be enough. You wave bye to Eunwoo, and he tells you he was happy that he got to speak to you, before you turn and walk back over to your table.

You raise an eyebrow when you see that your table is now full, so you decide to walk around. Other than doing the occasional bow, you don’t feel like talking to anyone else for now, so you continue to roam around. You tilt your head when you find a hallway close to the stage, so you walk down it. Taking in the hanging green plants on the ceiling, finding the interior decoration of the gala to be impeccable. You see doors leading to a balcony once you’re closer to the end of the hallway, and you step out.

You take a sip of your champagne when you find Mingyu looking over the ledge, staring out at the city. You raise an eyebrow and walk over, but he doesn’t seem startled by your presence. He just continues to look at the skyline, taking in deep breaths of the cold, night air.

“Thought you said you’d find me?” You joke after a moment, and Mingyu turns to glance at you. He lets out an amused grin, shaking his head at you. “Wanted to give you a little adventure.” Is all he replies, and you find yourself smiling.

The two of you stare out at the skyline together in silence, and you feel that you’re the calmest you’ve been in months as you stand beside Mingyu. Glancing up at the night sky you notice a shooting star, and you nudge the man. He turns to look at you, and you point up at the sky with a glimmer to your eye, “Look! A shooting star.”

Mingyu looks up at the sky, and he catches the very last second of the shooting star. He chuckles, knowing that means one of the stars is on their way to fulfill a quest, but of course, you don’t know that. So he turns to glance at you, just to find that your eyes are closed, and your hands are clasped together as you make a wish up to the shooting star.

Mingyu feels something in his chest at the sight, and he wonders whether he may be having a heart attack, but then he remembers that he’s immortal. You open your eyes and turn to glance at Mingyu, and that’s when he feels his heart stop.

He realizes that your eyes outshine all the stars in the sky with the way they brightly bore into his, and he finds the visual so enchanting, that he forgets to speak. You tilt your head to the side at his silence, and you take the last sip of your champagne, before placing the empty glass onto the ledge.

“So quiet now. Have you just realized how pretty I am?” You tease, and Mingyu snaps out of his trance. He leans in closer to your face, and your eyes widen when his nose almost touches yours. The handsome man lets out a smile, “I’ve always known you were stunning, yn. However, I didn’t expect you to be even prettier in person.” And with that, he leans back at his full height, chuckling at your surprised expression.

You squint at him, “Shut up.”

“Awe, is my biggest rival shy now?” Mingyu asks, and you roll your eyes. You nudge him with your shoulder, and he hides his smile behind the glass of champagne, taking a large sip of it. You feel your phone vibrate in the strap on your thigh, so you stick your leg out of the slit of your dress. Mingyu glances down and his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you taking your phone out of the strap.

“You kept… your phone there?” You nod your head without looking at Mingyu, seeing that Chan needs you to come home so he can discuss one of the character designs for the game you’re creating. You place your phone back in the strap, before hiding your leg from view. Turning towards Mingyu, you give him a grin.

“I have to take my leave now. Thank you for inviting me to your gala, I had a wonderful time.” You tell Mingyu, and he purses his lips at the fact that he feels the slightest bit of disappointment in his chest from you leaving already.

“So soon?” Mingyu asks and you nod your head, muttering that duty calls. You’re about to turn around to leave when you feel a hand grasp your wrist, and you glance behind you to see Mingyu staring at you with a small smile.

“Will I see you again?”

Your eyes widen at the question, having not expected for there to be a next time. While Mingyu continues to look at you with a glint in his eye, and you wonder why he wants to initiate a relationship between the two of you. However, you also enjoy Mingyu’s company, so it really has you thinking.

“Maybe. Depends on what the Gods have in store for us.” You answer, and Mingyu finds it so painfully ironic that he lets out a laugh, to which you find yourself smiling back. He nods his head, letting go of your wrist so that you can leave the gala.

“I’ll see you, yln yn.” You flip your hair over your shoulder, waving bye to Mingyu. “See you, Kim Mingyu.”

And with that, you walk off the balcony. Leaving Mingyu alone underneath the night sky. He lets out a breath, turning back towards the ledge as he decides to head back into the gala after a few minutes.

Mingyu glances up at the stars, and he comes to realize that you’re all he can think about as he does so.

“Minghao!” The black haired beauty turns in the direction he heard you call, just to find you quickly walking over with an excited smile on your face. He raises an eyebrow, about to open his mouth to ask how much espresso you got in your coffee, just for you to slam your journal onto his desk. “Someone’s excited.”

“I had a dream.”

“So did Rapunzel and Flynn Rider.” You squint at Minghao, and he gives you a smile that convinces you not to reach out and smack the back of his head. So you instead open up your journal, showing the drawing you made at four in the morning the night before, and Minghao’s eyes widen slightly in awe.

“These are…”

“Perfect.”

“An incredibly different vibe from the characters we had drawn out before.” Minghao points out, and you nod your head. Running a hand through your hair, you give him a grin. “Don’t you think they suit the game so much better though? I was unsure of the direction we were going in, but after what I learned at the gala, I think these characters will be better.”

Minghao nods his head in agreement, turning back towards the drawing. You stare at the drawing as well, “I had a dream last night and as soon as I woke up I just had to draw the characters I dreamt of. This is what I got. I want you to show this to the team and make these characters come to life by the end of next week.” You tell Minghao, and he purses his lips. He grasps the journal and raises it up towards his face, taking in the detail of their outfits, the brightness of the hair, and their varying facial expressions.

“What kind of dream did you have?” Minghao asks after a moment, and you tilt your head at the thought of it. Perhaps you had that bizarre dream because you watched that one alien episode of buzzfeed unsolved to try and stop thinking of Mingyu, but you’re not sure.

“These weird aliens kept trying to peg me with their tentacles.” You mutter with a look of unease displayed over your features, and Minghao just stares at you in concern. You snap out of the memory, turning back towards Minghao and giving him a small smile.

“You can create these by the end of next week, right?”

“You dreamt… of tentacle porn?” You let out a laugh, reaching out and resting a hand on Minghao’s shoulder. “Remind me to not watch anything involving aliens before I go to sleep.”

Minghao nods his head, “Noted.”

And after he confirms that he’ll be able to have the characters drawn out and will show them to you as soon as they’re done, you walk back to your office after checking with your other employees. You’re about to turn the corner to your office when Chan stops you, a bright smile on his face that has you suspicious.

“...What?”

“You want coffee?”

“I don’t like coffee.”

“Well, let’s make you like it! Let’s go!” Chan says quickly, hooking his arm with yours and pulling you in the opposite direction of your office. With a frown you pull your arm away, squinting at Chan. “Why are you stopping me from going into my office?”

“Why… not?” You stare at Chan with a bored expression, before turning around and opening the door to your office, promptly ignoring Chan’s sounds of protest. You find yourself staring at the back of Mingyu’s head, who is sitting in the seat placed in front of your desk.

“Kim Mingyu.” You state, and the man turns around, flashing you a smile. His black hair is up in the style he had at the gala, revealing his forehead and strong eyebrows. He’s wearing a black dress shirt, the top buttons being unbuttoned, revealing a bit of his chest, and you raise an eyebrow. You take notice of his sharp canines for the first time as he smiles at you, and for some reason, you’re intrigued.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of having you in my office right now?” You ask as you walk up to your chair, feeling Mingyu’s eyes on you the whole way there. You sit down in your seat, and look up into his eyes, finding the same intense look that he had at the night of the gala two weeks prior. Mingyu smiles, leaning his head back into the chair, and your eyes trail down to his Adam's apple, watching it move as he swallows.

“You weren’t making any moves to come and see me again, so I decided to pay my rival a visit and ask her out for coffee.” You choke on your saliva at the end of his sentence, and Mingyu smiles at that. You stare at him with wide eyes, and he rests his chin on his hand, looking at you with amusement dancing in his deep brown eyes.

The two of you weren’t supposed to meet again. By you going to the gala it was simply for your own gain, to learn more about his upcoming game. However, you ended up learning more about the enemy himself. You know that you shouldn’t entertain him like this, but here you are, wanting to get to know your rival more.

And so you regain your composure, and tilt your head to the side, now grinning back at Mingyu. “After your research on me, I thought you’d learn that I’m more of a tea person.”

Mingyu bites his finger, letting out a smile at that. “Guess the internet isn’t always that reliable.”

You nod your head, before standing up from the chair and heading over to the door. Mingyu raises an eyebrow at you moving to leave without another word, and you turn your head to look at him. You smirk, “Are you coming or what? I know a good tea place down the street from here.”

Mingyu laughs, standing up from the seat and grabbing the maroon jacket that was laid over the back of it. He puts it on, and you find that he looks like the epitome of a God as he walks up to you. Once he’s standing in front of you, the two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a moment.

Mingyu thinks that emerald green complements your eye color as he stares at you, curious as to how he didn’t notice it when you wore that emerald green dress at the gala. While you wonder how cursed you have to be for your rival to be one of the prettiest people you’ve ever laid eyes on. So you grin, opening the door for him and pointing out with your arm. “After you.”

Mingyu chuckles out, “How sweet of you.” as he steps out of your office.

The two of you walk over towards the elevators, and you glance over to see Minghao staring at you with a small smirk on his face, while Chan looks like he’s shitting himself. You raise an eyebrow at them, and Minghao makes his hands look like they’re kissing, and Chan just makes the motion that looks like he’s praying to the Gods. You roll your eyes, before turning back towards Mingyu to see him bowing his head towards your other employees that are looking at the both of you.

at least he’s respectful.

“Are you gonna pay for my tea?” Mingyu asks once the two of you enter the elevator, and you smile, turning to look at your rival. You reach over and press the star button, and the elevator makes its way down. After a second of silence you respond,

“Sure, I’ll pay for your tea as a celebration for the fact that I’m in the #1 spot right now.” You answer, giving Mingyu a cheeky smile, and he rolls his eyes.

For now, Mingyu thinks to himself bitterly once the elevator doors open.

“You fucking suck at fall guys.” You mutter to Mingyu once you hear him yell out beside you. He chooses to ignore that comment so that he can try and make it into the qualifying round, and you let out a squeal once you take the last spot. Mingyu glares at the screen, seeing the word eliminated flash across it while you celebrate.

Mingyu removes his headset, and turns to glare at you on the other side of your gaming room, clapping your hands happily. He lets out a groan and rests his head on the back of the chair, causing you to let out a laugh at his reaction.

“Who would’ve thought that the CEO of Ainsoft is so terrible at fall guys?” You tease, and Mingyu rolls his eyes. He stands up from the seat without another word and walks over to you. You open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, only for your whole world to be flipped upside down when he throws you over your shoulder. You let out a laugh, “Put me down!”

“No.” Mingyu states, smiling as he spins around, hearing you let out a squeal as he does so. You threaten that you’re going to throw up onto the back of his shirt if he doesn’t set you down, and he laughs. “Then apologize and tell me I’m the best player ever.”

“Lying is a sin, Mingyu.”

“Bruh…” And so, Mingyu spins you around a few more times before setting you down onto the couch with a laugh. The two of you freeze once you realize the position you’re in, with him hovering over you and you laying flat on your back.

It’s been a couple months since the gala, and you and Mingyu have gotten close. What started out as you trying to beat him, led to you wanting to get to know him, and now you can’t help but think how nice it must be to kiss him as you stare down at his soft, pink lips.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Mingyu thinks as he stares into your eyes. He didn’t even think he was capable of feeling this way towards anyone. But it’s when he lifts up his hand and rests it on your cheek, and he watches as your eyes glance down towards his lips that he realizes,

“I want you.” Mingyu murmurs, and your breath hitches at his words.

And so the two of you stare at each other for a moment in silence, before you let out a small smile.

“Only if you can beat me at fall guys.” Mingyu squints at you, and you giggle at his reaction. He rolls his eyes before leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss for the first time.

“Fuck!” You hear Mingyu yell as you step into his office. It’s already late at night, almost one am, and yet Mingyu is still here working at his desk. He glances up at you when he hears the sound of the door close, and he turns off his computer when you walk towards him.

His hair isn’t perfectly put together anymore based on the way it’s falling over his forehead now. His tie is loosened and is just hanging around his neck, the first few buttons now unbuttoned on his shirt as well. You take notice of the bags under his eyes, and you realize he’s been lacking sleep.

“Yn, how did you get in?” Mingyu asks tiredly, standing up from his desk and walking over to you. You chuckle, holding up the spare keys that he left at your house a week prior and dangling it in front of his face. He opens up his hand, and you drop the keys onto the palm of his hand. Mingyu lets out a small, “Ah.” and you chuckle.

You wrap your arms around his waist, rubbing his back and he finds himself smiling softly at the feeling. He lets out a breath of relief and cradles your head, pressing a kiss to the top of it. After a moment you pull back and give him a smile, “Let’s take you home, mm? You’re overworking yourself.”

Mingyu opens his mouth to protest and you shush him, shaking your head. He stares at you for a moment, not used to anyone taking care of him when he stays late at the office, and he feels his heart warm slightly. He lets out a sigh, before giving you a smile and nodding his head. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, “Just let me pack up, okay? I’ll be out in a sec.”

You walk out of his office and wait by the door for a few minutes, just scrolling through your phone when Mingyu finally walks out. He reaches out for your hand and you intertwine your fingers with his, and the two of you talk about your day as you head to his car.

“Eunwoo choked on tteokbokki?” You ask, and Mingyu laughs at the memory of Eunwoo choking in his office. He starts the car and backs out of his parking spot, and begins driving out of the parking garage. “He absolutely did. I wish I got it on video.”

You giggle at the thought of the pretty man turning red in the face and choking on the small rice cake. Mingyu smiles at the sound, finding it to be one of your best qualities. The two of you drive in relative silence the rest of the way to his place, as Mingyu’s sleepy, and you’re also tired.

When you both finally arrive, you step out of his car and walk into his house. Mingyu makes a beeline for his room, taking off his dress shirt and belly flopping onto his bed. You laugh at his antics, sitting on the edge of his bed and slapping his back. “Go and change into your pajamas at least.”

“Can you do it for me?” Mingyu asks teasingly, lifting up his head to glance at your reaction. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you glare, reaching out and slapping his back. He lets out a whine, before getting up from his bed and walking over to his closet.

He comes back after a moment, changed into fluffy pajama pants and an old t-shirt. He throws one of his t-shirts at you for you to change into and you chuckle. He climbs back into bed and looks at you with a confused expression, wondering why you haven’t changed.

“I’m not staying the night Gyu.” You mutter, pushing back the strands of hair that are falling into his eyes. He frowns, “Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“Mingyu, I have a meeting at work in the morning.”

“And I’ll drive you there.” Mingyu offers and you giggle, shaking your head at him. He whines, making a grabby hand towards you, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

Mingyu has come to realize that he sleeps a lot better when he’s holding you after the first time you let him spend the night a couple weeks ago. He realizes he shouldn’t have let himself get so attached to you, but he just wants one more night. One more night with you.

“Please?” Mingyu asks in a softer voice, and you sigh. You nod your head, grabbing the shirt and walking into his bathroom to change, before waddling back over to the bed and climbing in. It’s like second nature to you and Mingyu when you both go into your cuddling position. With you draping your arm and leg over him, and Mingyu wrapping his arm and leg around you. He rubs your back, and you slowly find yourself falling asleep.

“Don’t forget that you promised to drive me to my meeting tomorrow.” You mumble before you fall asleep, and Mingyu nods his head.

Mingyu watches as your breathing evens out, and he knows that you’re asleep. He stares at you for a moment, finding that you look so pure when you sleep. There’s no frown to your forehead, no tiredness to your eyes, you’re just at peace. He presses a kiss to your forehead, before letting out a sad smile.

“I’m sorry, yn.”

“You hear that your boyfriend is releasing a game tomorrow night?” Chan asks as the two of you walk back to your office from the meeting on how far along your guys’ game development is going. You giggle at the term, and nod your head, feeling a sense of pride at the sleepless nights Mingyu has spent on working on the release of his game.

“Yeah, he’s been working hard on the last minute touches. I had to drag him out of his office at like, one am last night. I plan to surprise him after his launch party.” You tell Chan as you enter your office. You sit down in your seat, placing your notes down by your keyboard, and Chan takes off his blazer and hangs it on the back of the chair before sitting down.

“Has he told you anything about the game?” Chan asks, and you shake your head with a smile. “I told him I wanted him to surprise me, so I don’t know anything about it other than the little pieces of info I got from Eunwoo at the gala a few months ago.”

Chan nods his head, letting out a grin at the happiness radiating from you as you login to your computer. Chan chuckles, “Who would’ve thought that by you going to the gala to get intel on the enemy, you ended up falling for the man?”

You smile, shrugging your shoulders in response. You mutter how life works in mysterious ways, and Chan agrees wholeheartedly based on how life has turned out for you.

Everything is going great so far. The development of your new game is on its last stages, and you’re so happy seeing your characters come to life on the screen from what your employees have shown you. It’s one of your best works yet.

And you’re finally dating after years of just dedicating all your time into work. Chan hasn’t seen you so happy before, and he’s so glad to see you glowing. So Chan reaches over and rests his hand over yours, giving it a small pat, and you let out a smile.

“I’m proud of you, yn.” Your eyes fill with fondness as you stare at your best friend who has been with you since the very beginning, and you feel your heart swell with love. “Thank you Chan, I love you.”

Eunwoo and Mingyu eat silently as they look over the game character designs and the gameplay. Mingyu can’t help but feel a sense of guilt as he stares at them, and he mentally slaps himself for feeling that way. Eunwoo glances at him, taking in the furrow between Mingyu’s eyebrows, and he lets out a sigh. Mingyu turns to look at him, “What?”

“If you feel guilty, then why did you suggest to even do this?” Eunwoo asks, and Mingyu scoffs. “I don’t feel guilty.”

Eunwoo rolls his eyes, reaching out and poking the prominent furrow that’s been hanging out between Mingyu’s eyebrows the whole day they’ve been working. The game release is tomorrow night, and they’re still here at the office working. Mingyu whines, rubbing the area that Eunwoo poked, and Eunwoo lets out a grin. “Lying is for sinners.”

Mingyu lets out a cocky grin, eyes turning red for emphasis, “Good thing I’m not a virtue.”

Eunwoo lets out a tired sigh, pushing Mingyu’s face away, causing the sin to let out a laugh at his friend’s antics. Eunwoo is the only one who knows of Mingyu’s true form, it was an accident honestly.

“I’m so sick of this fake love! Fake love! Fake love!” Eunwoo raises an eyebrow at the sound of Mingyu’s singing, and he steps into his friend’s room to see the tall man dancing in front of his mirror. His eyes are glowing a bright red rather than the deep brown he’s known him for. Mingyu pauses, slowly turning the sound down on his phone when he locks eyes with Eunwoo, and he turns his eyes back to brown.

“Eunwoo, let me explain-”

Eunwoo passes out onto the floor.

Mingyu’s just lucky that Eunwoo’s his best friend and didn’t have any plans on outing him for being one of the seven deadly sins. However, he’s both blessed and cursed on the fact that Eunwoo can read him better than an open book.

“You love her, don’t you?” Eunwoo watches as Mingyu turns rigid, and he tilts his head at him. Mingyu turns back towards the screen, choosing to ignore the way his heart throbs at the thought of you and him slow dancing in the kitchen the other night. Eunwoo decides to press him a bit more, “Gyu?”

“I’m the Sin of Envy, there’s no such thing as love for me.” Mingyu mutters, making himself look like he’s staring intently at the gameplay on the screen. Eunwoo runs a hand through his hair, taking a sip of his water. “But you love her.”

Mingyu bites his lip, choosing to stay quiet as his response. The silence is everything Eunwoo needed to know, and so he leans back into his seat and stares at Mingyu a bit longer. Mingyu turns to glance at him after a moment of silence, and he sees the judgmental expression on his best friend’s face. “What?”

Eunwoo just shakes his head, glancing over at the journal full of notes about the game before saying, “You could live a hundred lifetimes, and never deserve that girl.”

Mingyu turns back towards the game, seeing the characters come to life on the screen, and he bites the inside of his cheek. He nods his head slowly, knowing what he’s going to lose as he quietly mutters, “I know.”

Mingyu takes a sip of water as he looks at himself in the mirror, deciding that he looks good. He glances down at his phone when he hears a ding, letting out a smile when he sees your text on the screen.

yn: good luck !! i’m so proud of you, can’t wait to beat you at the game stinky >:D

Mingyu looks back up when he hears that it’s almost time for the game to launch, and he stands up from the seat. He turns around to see Eunwoo standing there, and he tries to ignore the disappointed expression on his best friend’s face.

“You know you can still stop this, right?” Eunwoo insists, and Mingyu shakes his head at his friend. He bites the inside of his cheek, ignoring the feeling of guilt that’s building up in his conscience. He finds that emotion annoying, guilt. He’s the Sin of Envy, how is he able to feel that?

“Because you fell in love.” Eunwoo states. Mingyu’s eyes widen, turning to Eunwoo and wondering how he could hear his thoughts, who briefly explains that Mingyu said it out loud.

“You can stop this, Mingyu. You’re going to ruin something you’ve been blessed with. Just listen to me-” Mingyu raises his hand up at Eunwoo, stopping him from speaking. Eunwoo lets out a tired sigh, and Mingyu gives him a smile.

“Let’s go celebrate our game launch.” Mingyu says, and walks out of the room. Eunwoo bites the inside of his cheek, before following after his friend.

While you hangout with Chan at his house, staring at the TV that displays OGN. They’re about to announce Ainsoft’s game launch and show the commercial for it as well. You let out an excited smile, seeing that Chan is staring at the TV expectantly.

“Oh! It’s 8:00!” You exclaim, and right as you say that, you see Mingyu’s pre-recorded announcement of the launch of the game. “He looks so handsome…”

“Okay we get it, you have a boyfriend.” Chan jokes, and you let out a laugh. You watch as Mingyu gestures to the large screen beside him on the TV, and it zooms into it as the commercial begins to play.

Your smile slowly drops from your face when the main character shows up on the screen, and Chan squints at the TV. “Wait a minute.”

You raise a hand to your mouth when the other characters start coming in, hearing the voice in the back of the video explaining the gameplay and the adventure the characters have to go on. You stand up from the couch with shaking knees, and Chan looks over at you.

This is your game. This is your creation. This is the game you’ve spent months working on.

It’s gone.

All of it is gone.

“Wait, yn-” Chan begins as you grab your car keys from the table. You walk towards the door, ignoring Chan’s calls as you hurry to get to your car. “Yn, you’re not in the right frame of mind to drive.”

You feel Chan grasp your arm and you shake it off, pointing at him with a shaking hand. The anger that Chan feels is not even close to the betrayal you must be feeling as he notices there’s no trace of happiness to you anymore. “Let me go.”

So Chan lets go, and you step out of his house. You quickly walk to your car, pushing back the tears so that you can be able to see as you drive. Millions of thoughts flow through your head as you back out of Chan’s driveway and speed down the street towards Mingyu’s house.

Was that his agenda all along? When did he get the info on your whole game? Is that why he spent so much time with you?

You bite your lip when you think,

Did he ever even love you?

“Great job on the game guys, it’ll be a big hit.” Mingyu tells his employees over by the glasses of champagne. They all smile and tell them their thanks, and he waves his hand at them, saying that this wouldn’t have happened without their help.

Eunwoo stares from across the room, drinking the sweet champagne that he knows you enjoy so much. However, it just tastes bitter once it goes down, reminding him of the sin he’s committed as he watches Mingyu act like everything’s fine.

He stands up straight when he hears the front door open behind him over the chatter, turning around to see you walking in. Eunwoo’s eyes widen, and he reaches out to stop you but you push his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

You walk over to the glasses of champagne, and grab one. Mingyu’s employees stare with wide eyes when they take notice of you, wondering what you’re even doing at their launch party. Mingyu raises an eyebrow at their sudden silence, and he turns in the direction that they’re staring in, only to get a face full of champagne.

“What the fuck?” Mingyu growls, wiping his eyes so that he can see who did it. Only for his heart to drop when he locks eyes with you. You’re standing there, eyes full of rage as you stare at the man that you love, the one who betrayed you.

“Yn.” Mingyu breathes out, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

“You fucking BITCH!” You scream, slapping Mingyu across the face, and the whole room turns silent at your outburst. You reach out to start shoving him, but he grasps your wrists to stop you. Mingyu glances around at his employees, and he gestures for them to leave, to which they slowly do. Once the living room is empty except for Eunwoo, he finally lets go of your arms, and you shove him away.

“You stole my game. You stole my fucking work!” You yell, and Mingyu just stands before you, face void of any emotion as he lets you scream at him. You tightly squeeze the glass between your hand, and Mingyu’s eyes widen when the glass shatters within your grasp. He tries to reach out to remove it from your hand but you step back, the blood from the wound dripping down your wrist as you stare at him.

“Was this your plan from the beginning? Since the gala?” You ask, and Mingyu stares. You bite the inside of your cheek, reaching out to grab another glass, but Mingyu steps forward and blocks your view of the table so that you can’t grab it. You throw the remainder of the broken champagne glass in your hand towards the floor, hearing it shatter into thousands of tiny pieces.

“Answer me!” You shout, and Mingyu slowly nods his head. You stare down at the floor, and you feel nothing but betrayal running through your veins. You look back up into his eyes, and you wonder how you allowed yourself to be so naive.

“So you just used me.” You mutter, and Mingyu just stares as he watches you break right before him. His hand twitches at his side as he holds back from falling onto his knees to beg for forgiveness, because this was all his fault.

“How did you even do that? How did you even find out about my characters? The plot-” You pause when you remember the nights he spent at your house, the days he’d surprise you at your office to go get lunch. They were all just a ploy to get more information. You let out a pained laugh when you realize he must’ve gone through your stuff when you were asleep, while you were thinking he was holding you at night.

how pathetic.

You open the palm of your hand, staring at the tiny pieces of broken glass that have edged themselves into your skin. The blood continues to trickle down, and you know that you’ll have to get stitches, but for some reason, you can’t feel any pain.

Mingyu takes a step forward when he sees the severity of your wound, “Yn, let’s go to the hospital so you can get stitches-”

You push him away, pointing directly at him with your other hand. You press the area where his heart is with your finger, and you bite your bottom lip harshly when you feel it beat beneath your finger. The familiar pattern is something you’ve gotten used to from the times the two of you have cuddled.

“You made me trust you, fall in love with you, just so you could steal my game? My work? Just to get on top? Just to be above me? Were you that envious of me?” You ask, and Eunwoo glances down at his feet when he hears how fragile your voice has become. Mingyu just stares at you, and he feels his heart break within his chest when he notices the glassiness to your eyes. He no longer sees anger or rage, he can only see the pain and betrayal in your gaze.

There’s no trace of all the stars that he once saw.

“Did you even,” Your voice cracks, and you don’t realize the tears have formed in your eyes until you can only see Mingyu as a blurry blob. You blink, and Mingyu watches as the first tear escapes from your left eye, and falls onto the floor. “Did you even love me?”

Mingyu stares at you in silence, the answer on the tip of his tongue as you look up at him with tears silently falling from your eyes. He looks down at the floor instead, breaking eye contact with you, and you have your answer. You let out a pained laugh, taking a step back as you stare at the man you love.

The one who betrayed you.

The one who broke you.

The one who lied.

“Fuck you, Kim Mingyu.” You state, before turning away and walking out of his house. The sound of the door slamming echoes through the home, and that’s when the tears finally fall from Mingyu’s eyes. He watches as they fall to the floor, mixing with your blood.

Eunwoo leans against the wall, and he runs a hand through his hair as he watches Mingyu just stare at the floor in silence. He stands up at his full height, and he claps his hands. Mingyu glances up at the sound, finding Eunwoo just standing there, applauding him.

“Well. Was it worth it, Sin of Envy?” Eunwoo asks, pulling out his phone and turning the screen around to show that Ainsoft is now above Bloom in the market. Mingyu watches as the numbers keep rising, and he just stares at it.

A few months ago, Mingyu would’ve been ecstatic to see that he was above you. The craving to beat you and earn your spot would’ve been fulfilled.

But now, all Mingyu feels is pain.

And so he smiles at Eunwoo, and his friend takes notice of the tears falling from Mingyu’s eyes as he responds,

“No. No it wasn’t.”

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mithrilwren · 3 years

Text

Fanfic ask game for procrastinating on writing, which as of this week is actually accurate, since I’m finally writing again! (or, more specifically, editing what I wrote two months ago so I can get back to writing.)

Tagged by @essektheylyss! Thank you, this is exactly the kind of activity my brain needed tonight.

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

72! I was hovering at 69 for quite a while, sad to break the streak haha

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

~550K, which is somehow both more and less than what I expected

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Many, lmao. According to my Ao3 (omitting any blanket tags) I’ve got 22 there, plus at least two more over on ff.net from back in the day, and probably a couple more just on Tumblr. Most of them I’ve only written one fic for, though. I think the only fandoms where I’ve written more than one are Critical Role (35), Supernatural (15), Haikyuu!! (3), The Exorcist (2), Dimension 20 (2), and Yu-Gi-Oh! (2)

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

Pick a Number, Any Number

Surprisingly, my number one is NOT a Critical Role fic, nor is it even one of my longer multi-chapters! It’s actually a one-shot I wrote for Haikyuu!! back in the day that took off far beyond what I expected. I wrote it for DaiSuga week, which was a ship I (to be completely honest) wasn’t even terribly invested in, but I had a fun idea and people seemed to like it! (It’s also much fluffier than what I usually write, which might be part of its broader appeal ;))

A Winter’s Ball

Unsurprisingly, the next four are all CR ;). This one was a M9 x VM crossover that I primarily wrote between the hours of 3-8am over the course of two insomnia-wracked nights and honestly, I think it shows in its uncharacteristically unstructured format (compared to my typical style, which tends to favour shorter scenes with very intentionally-placed breaks between, as opposed to scenes that flow into each other without pause). That’s not to say I think it’s a bad thing! The story, which follows Beau as she drifts through a party in Whitestone and observes the interactions between the various guests, actually flows better without that kind of interruption. This was also my first Beaujester piece. I started writing it right before Beau’s confession aired, and published it the week after, which definitely pushed me to make what had been only subtextual in the first half of my draft into the emotional lynchpin of the story.

Only the Nightingale Sings

I’m really glad this one still ranks as high as it does, because this story is absolutely my pride and joy. At one time (though I’m not sure that’s true anymore) it was the longest gen fic in the fandom, which is pretty cool! Plot-heavy, twist-heavy, angst-heavy, with seven points of view to follow and multiple interwoven storylines, it was a beast of a thing to write, and took almost exactly a year to finish, but the long process was oh-so worth it. Literally nothing makes me happier today than seeing a new comment or kudos on this story.

Closer Still

One of my earliest shadowgast fics, this one asks the question “how can you make the ‘stuck in an elevator trope’ fantasy?” The answer is, as always, demiplanes. This fic, perhaps more than any of my other shadowgast fics, is interesting to revisit, because it was written before the ep 97 reveal, but literally everything Essek does in it would suggest otherwise. It reads like I already knew he was a spy working with Trent, and yet I was firmly in the “Essek is NOT the spy” camp at the time. Gotta chalk that up to Matt telegraphing his growing guilt into the preceding episodes - even if I couldn’t see it, it was clearly there.

your dust from mine

My other novel-length CR multichapter, this fic brought me so much joy in the otherwise bleak summer of 2020. Most of my best memories of those four months come from working on this story. A Fjorclay adaption of The Goose Girl (my favourite fairytale) this story is about healing, growth, and figuring out what happiness means to you. While I know most people don’t read stories for this pairing anymore, for obvious reasons, I still cherish your dust from mine for how much of my heart I poured into it, and I look back on it with a huge amount of fondness.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do my absolute best to respond to every comment someone leaves on a story of mine, even if it occasionally takes a month or two. Replying to comments is one of my favourite parts of the fic-writing process - it gives me a chance to revisit peoples’ kind words and (often, incredibly insightful) observations, and I hope it also shows how appreciative I am of each and every one.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Though I write a lot of angst, I honestly tend more towards bittersweet endings than straight-up sadness. The only one I can really think of is What You Own - mind the tags if you follow the link, this is definitely one of the gnarlier things I’ve written for CR - whose ending is, admittedly, bleak. But this story so far removed from canon that I don’t think it’s the kind of angsty ending that lingers with you, as much as it packs a punch and then lets you go on your way.

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I tend to enjoy thinking about crossovers moreso than actually writing them. I’ve brainstormed a few, but none have ever made it much farther than the first page.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

A few times! Not often, thankfully. Only one time in particular really sticks out to me, mostly for how it rocked my confidence in a way that I don’t think any comment could now, since I’ve had a few more years to build up faith in my own writing.

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Very, very occasionally.

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not!

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Oh man, back in the Glee days... yeah. Yeah, I have. Nothing that ever got published, though ;)

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

Not sure I have one! Ships come and go with the seasons, and sometimes they’re best left in the era you found them.

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

The Shadowgast figure skating AU. It’s never going to happen, but I wish it had.

15) What are your writing strengths?

I would say probably structure, in terms of constructing narrative arcs and through-lines. I’m organized with my writing in a way that I am in few other areas of my life, haha. I’d also say my sense of place - I think I’m pretty good at constructing living, breathing settings and exploring how my characters interact affect/are affected by them.

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

I have a tendency to be wordy (which you might surmise from the length of this post, lol) and repeat myself, usually by going over emotional beats that don’t need the extra reinforcement. On the other hand, I tend to underexplain certain elements (particularly, important plot details in fic, and character motivation in original writing), which can lead to confusion.

A couple years ago I would have said dialogue, but I’ve put a lot of practice into it and I honestly think I’ve improved a lot, which is pretty cool!

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’ve never done it myself, and it’s not generally my favourite thing to read (like @essektheylyss said, it makes me hyper-aware that I’m reading words on a page, especially if I have to follow a footnote somewhere). That said, I’ve definitely also seen it used effectively, so I think it’s more down to whether it suits the particular story!

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Yu-Gi-Oh!

19) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

As mentioned above, Only the Nightingale Sings.

#tag meme #this took me about an hour and i dont regret a minute of it #personal

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silkylious · 4 years

Text

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!!

I'd like to dedicate a post to all the wonderful people that I've had the absolute privilege and pleasure to befriend this year! I feel very thankful for having the chance to talk to each one of you and I just want you all to know that I love you so, so much, you've helped me get through this year and make it that much more bearable. So I'd like to say thank you to:

@lady-bakuhoe I still remember in May when you replied to my message and reblogged my first fanfic, I almost went into cardiac arrest. You're one of the very first people I knew of and admired on here, way before I even started this blog. You kickstarted my blog in more ways than one, you first inspired me to share my writing out there and you helped me gain my footing when I first started out. Idek how I can explain how grateful I am to you, I honestly wouldn't even have this blog without you.

@sassi-sunflower i hopped into your dm's almost exactly five months ago, and my god that is the best decision I've made all year by far. I never, ever would have thought that that first time I slid into your inbox and said "you're cute" would spark such a beautiful friendship but holy shit I wouldn't trade it for the world. We just clicked so well in our first conversation and I still remember it very vividly, I remember gushing to my older brother about this adorable, hilarious friend that I made online, I remember messing up my already shitty sleeping schedule so that our time zones sync up and we could talk. You literally make me so happy whenever I get to talk to you, I'm so fucking glad I decided to check out the blog that kept popping up in my notifications, so fucking grateful I sent you an ask that one time, because fuck you're such an amazing, close friend to me.

@dimplesum and @tamasoft y'all are my very first mutuals fr you're my day 1. I remember when 'tsunami' first blew up and I was so overwhelmed with the positive feedback, I get this dm from ellie and it just warms my fucking heart, and then I see faye's reblog and almost faint. your words meant so damn much to me, you gave my the courage to keep writing and posting, you gave me this security that even if my shit flops, if I'm overwhelmed with my personal life I'd still have two phenomenal mutuals to turn to if I needed guidance, especially since I was so fucking new to tumblr. Your writing on its own has brightened my days in so many times it's crazy. I'm so happy I had you guys to support me when I first started out, it means the world to me.

@sugacookiies I hit you up in dm's back when your url was still bnha-homeroom, and I don't regret it one bit!! You're literally the sweetest person ever, it made my whole fucking day when I saw you on my dash or in my dm's. You're one of the first people I reached out to on here and I genuinely get so elated whenever we talk. Your writing is some of the fucking best I've ever read like sometimes I just go back to specific pieces of yours to read them for the nth time and still be in awe of each word.

@fanfic-me-up and @vannahfanfics I love you guys to the moon and fucking back. Both of you are so fucking supportive omggg Bria whenever I see you in my notifications or dm's I beam. your comments on my writing literally mean so much to me, they fucking boost my mood into the stratosphere, I love love love every conversation I have with you babe. And vannah I admire you so. Fucking. Much. The way you manage to always put in so much hardwork and consistency in your writing while balancing a heavy academic life is fucking unfathomable to me. And you deserve all the credit for it, like you're so damn underrated it hurts. You're such an inspiration to me dude, I strive to be like you fr.

@keeijiakaashi (edited in later bc tumblr hates me and didn't save my first draft 🤡) Clio my online sister, I'd like to thank you for unknowingly stopping so many breakdowns I almost had. Your advice is absolutely priceless, I'm so fucking happy you stumbled upon my blog a couple months ago because you legit make me feel like I have a cool older punk rock sister that I can talk to about anything and everything. Just seeing you in my notifications makes me smile, even if I'd been crying over biology two seconds before lol

@marilags uh hey hi hello goddess of writing I'd like to first say that I grovel at the feet of every piece I read from you. I just... How is it so good??? I legit spend SO much time analyzing why I like each work of yours and honestly that inadvertently makes me improve too. I've loved your writing from afar for a while now but then I started interacting with you recently and ??? You're such a sweetheart???? Like ma'am this isn't fair, you get to pick one, either be super talented and hardworking or be the most adorable person ever, not both. Hands down my biggest writing inspiration, immaculate immaculate immaculate.

@honeykeigo Erika please you're like my main source of serotonin at this point. Your writing is so fucking good, and seeing your character anon interactions in my dash makes my day. Every now and then when I'm hit with a depressive episode, reading your stuff or just seeing you on my dash elevates my mood a lott you don't even know. Please keep doing what you're doing because it brings a smile to my face.

@khionne ❗❗ UNDERRATED WRITER ALERT ❗❗please if you haven't read anything from khione yet, I'm telling you right now: go do yourself a service and binge her entire masterlist I'm begging you. There are so many gems in this fandom it's unreal, and khione is one of em. Bro I love talking to you so much, we share the exact same academic pain LMAO I've only known you for short bit of time and I'm so excited to get to know you better. Also our first interaction almost made me cry lmfao

@mypimpademia @sophie-writings @todosweetheart @burnedbyshoto @miriossunshine @mrs-atushiro @raes-ramblings I am not so close with any of you guys but reading your works has helped me get through this year in some way or another, either by inspiring me to write myself, or just being my comfort when I needed it, thank you for putting out such great content <3

@chitziburn @lucyheartfilias-wife @bluemonochromes @howcanibreathewithnozaire @msngyu I see you guys in my notifications frequently! Thank you for supporting me it really means a lot <3

#appreciation post #merry christmas everyone <3 #silky talks

49 notes · View notes

eldritchw1tch · 4 years

Text

i don’t want you like a best friend: a tswift-pimms playlist

link

this is the pimms playlist i spent more than a year working on from like, 2018 to the end of 2019! as such, it only contains music up through lover, not anything from folklore or evermore. @permets-2 finally poked me into posting the liner notes, which I gave up on because tumblr formatting was fighting me, so please know i haven’t actually looked at them since 2019 and there might still be missing things? idk.

this playlist is absolutely dedicated to my beloved @faiasakura, who did her own version of an all-tswift pimms playlist completely independently (we actively avoided comparing notes, lol), which can be found here!

i don’t really go here lately but i hope this is of interest to someone!

Prologue

1. Don’t Blame Me (reputation)

for you, I would fall from grace

Just to touch your face

If you walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay

…

Lord save me, my drug is my baby

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

Act 1: The Q

2. Gorgeous (reputation)

a crush

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine

I feel like I might sink and drown and die

…

You're so gorgeous

I can't say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

But what can I say?

You're gorgeous

3. Treacherous (Red)

something magnetic, pulling them both in

And I'll do anything you say

If you say it with your hands

And I'd be smart to walk away

But you're quicksand

…

Your name has echoed through my mind

And I just think you should, think you should know

That nothing safe is worth the drive

And I will follow you, follow you home

4. Dress (reputation)

a shared and precious secret: love, desperate and messy and everything. But also: the scrutiny, the frenetic anxiety, the fear.

I’m spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we're both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about—

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you

5. Tied Together With a Smile (Taylor Swift)

the pressure builds; jack’s anxiety gets worse

Hold on, baby you're losing it

The water's high, you're jumping into it

And letting go, and no one knows

That you cry, but you don't tell anyone

That you might not be the golden one

And you're tied together with a smile

But you're coming undone

6. Long Live (Speak Now)

the glory, the playoffs, the memorial cup: the golden boys of hockey, on top of the world

Long live the walls we crashed through

All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

I was screaming, long live all the magic we made

And bring on all the pretenders

One day, we will be remembered

…

Hold on, to spinning around

Confetti falls to the ground

May these memories break our fall

7. State of Grace (Red)

the 34 days, inside kent’s euphoria

This is a state of grace

This is the worthwhile fight

Love is a ruthless game

Unless you play it good and right

These are the hands of fate

You’re my Achilles heel

this is the golden age of something good and right and real

8. Cruel Summer (Lover)

(that golden season and its dark underbelly)

So cut the headlights, summer's a knife

I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

And if I bleed, you'll be the last to know

Said, "I'm fine," but it wasn't true

I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

And I snuck in through the garden gate

Every night that summer just to seal my fate (Oh)

And I scream, "For whatever it's worth

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?"

9. Haunted (Speak Now)

the overdose: kent finds jack on the bathroom floor

Whoa, holding my breath

Won't lose you again

Something's made your eyes go cold

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this

I thought I had you figured out

Something's gone terribly wrong

You're all I wanted

10. I Know Places (1989)

kent in the waiting room, holding on hope

Something happens when everybody finds out

See the vultures circling, dark clouds

Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out

It could burn out

…

Lights flash and we'll run for the fences

Let them say what they want, we won't hear it

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time

Not this time

Act 2: The Fallout

11. The Story of Us (Speak Now)

kent goes to the draft; jack won’t answer his calls

Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room

And we're not speaking

And I'm dying to know

Is it killing you like it's killing me?

Yeah, and I don't know what to say

Since the twist of fate, when it all broke down

And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now

…

The battle's in your hands now

But I would lay my armor down

If you say you'd rather love than fight

12. Last Kiss (Speak Now)

jack and kent, the same realization from opposite sides

So I'll go sit on the floor

Wearing your clothes

All that I know is

I don't know how to be something you miss

I never thought we'd have a last kiss

Never imagined we'd end like this

Your name, forever the name on my lips

13. Death By A Thousand Cuts (Lover)

Starting to live with the devastation and the broken heart

Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts

Flashbacks waking me up

I get drunk, but it's not enough

’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

I look through the windows of this love

Even though we boarded them up

Chandelier's still flickering here

’Cause I can't pretend it's okay when it's not

It's death by a thousand cuts

14. If This Was A Movie (Speak Now)

regrets and memories

Last night, I heard my own heart beating

Sounded like footsteps on my stairs

Six months gone and I'm still reaching

Even though I know you're not there

I was playing back a thousand memories, baby

Thinkin' 'bout everything we've been through

Maybe I've been going back too much lately

When time stood still and I had you

15. Cold as You (Taylor Swift)

the grief and pain become anger and bitterness

And when you take, you take the very best of me

So I start a fight cause I need to feel something

And you do what you want cause I'm not what you wanted

…

You put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray

And I stood there loving you and wished them all away

And you come away with a great little story

Of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you

Interlude 1: Jack

16. I Almost Do (Red)

kent doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does (but jack doesn’t either)

I bet you think I either moved on or hate you

‘Cause each time you reach out, there’s no reply

I bet it never, ever occurred to you

That I can’t say hello to you

And risk another goodbye

…

Oh, we made quite a mess, babe

It’s probably better off this way

And I confess, babe

In my dreams, you’re touching my face

And asking me if I want to try again with you

And I almost do

Act 3: Coming of Age in Vegas

17. New Romantics (1989)

vegas; teammates; living in the moment; drinking, dancing, and self-destructing

We're all here, the lights and boys are blinding

We hang back, it's all in the timing

It's poker

He can't see it in my face

But I'm about to play my Ace (ahh)

We need love, but all we want is danger

We team up, then switch sides like a record changer

The rumors are terrible and cruel

But honey, most of them are true

…

Heartbreak is the national anthem

We sing it proudly

We’re too busy dancing (yeah) to get knocked off our feet

Baby, we're the new romantics

The best people in life are free

18. Begin Again (Red)

kent starts to move on

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid

I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did

I've been spending the last eight months

Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

But on a Wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again

19. The Way I Loved You (Fearless)

all the drinking and dancing and dating still feel empty and hollow; he just wants to feel again; he just wants that love back

I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

It's 2 AM and I'm cursing your name

I'm so in love that I acted insane

And that's the way I loved you

Breaking down and coming undone

It's a roller coaster kind of rush

And I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you

…

He can't see the smile I'm faking

And my heart's not breaking

'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all

And you were wild and crazy

Just so frustrating

Intoxicating, complicated

20. The Lucky One (Red)

kent parson: the loneliest boy, so alone at the top of the world

You had it figured out since you were in school

Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool

So overnight, you look like a sixties queen

…

And they tell you that you’re lucky, but you’re so confused

'Cause you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used

And all the young things line up to take your place

—

Another name goes up in lights

You wonder if you’ll make it out alive

21. Come In With The Rain (Fearless)

(starting to move on is not the same as letting go)

I’ve watched you so long, screamed your name

I don’t know what else I can say

…

But I’ll leave my window open

'Cause I’m too tired at night to call your name

Just know I’m right here hoping

That you’ll come in with the rain

Act 4: Implosion

22. Out of the Woods (1989)

memories he can’t escape of a love like a car crash

The night we couldn't quite forget

When we decided, we decided

To move the furniture so we could dance

Baby, like we stood a chance

Two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying

And I remember thinking

Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet?

…

You took a Polaroid of us

Then discovered (then discovered)

The rest of the world was black and white

But we were in screaming color

23. Red (Red)

Kent decides to go to epikegster

Loving him is like driving a new Maserati

Down a dead-end street

Faster than the wind, passionate as sin

Ending so suddenly

…

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go

But moving on from him is impossible

When I still see it all in my head

In burning red

Loving him was red

24. The Last Time (Red)

didja miss me? (something tentative; something a little bit hopeful on both sides)

Find myself at your door

Just like all those times before

I’m not sure how I got there

All roads they lead me here

I imagine you are home

In your room, all alone

And you open your eyes into mine

And everything feels better

25. The Archer (Lover)

kent tries to extend an olive branch but it’s still covered in thorns

Combat, I'm ready for combat

I say I don't want that, but what if I do?

'Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

…

I've been the archer, I've been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling

But who could stay?

…

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then I hate my reflection for years and years

26. Bad Blood (1989)

jack’s answer to kent’s wounded lashing out

Oh, it's so sad to

Think about the good times

You and I

…

’Cause baby, now we've got bad blood

You know it used to be mad love

So take a look what you've done

’Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

27. Breathe (Fearless)

kent, driving away from epikegster

I see your face in my mind as I drive away

'Cause none of us thought it was gonna end that way

People are people and sometimes we change our minds

But it's killing me to see you go after all this time

…

And we know it's never simple, never easy

Never a clean break, no one here to save me

You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand

…

And I can't breathe without you, but I have to

Breathe without you but I have to

28. All Too Well (Red)

despite all the pain, there’s an irresistible nostalgia for what they had all those years ago—for when things were so much simpler

Maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece

'Til you tore it all up

Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'Cause I remember it all, all, all

Too well

…

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

I'd like to be my old self again

But I'm still trying to find it

Interlude 2: Kent

29. Fifteen (Fearless)

a memory, a reflection

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you

You're gonna believe them

And when you're fifteen and your first kiss

Makes your head spin 'round

But in your life you'll do things greater than

Dating the boy on the football team

But I didn't know it at fifteen

…

When all you wanted was to be wanted

Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now

Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday

But I realized some bigger dreams of mine

Act 5: Moving On, Growing Up

30. Clean (1989)

finally learning to be his own person, separate from that shared past

There was nothing left to do (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

When the butterflies turned to

Dust that covered my whole room

So I punched a hole in the roof (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you

…

The water filled my lungs, I screamed so loud

But no one heard a thing

…

Rain came pouring down

When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe

And by morning

Gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean

31. 22 (Red)

friends and freedom, and real joy in that this time around

It feels like a perfect night

To dress up like hipsters

And make fun of our exes, uh-uh, uh-uh

It feels like a perfect night

For breakfast at midnight

To fall in love with strangers, uh-uh, uh-uh

…

Yeah

We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time

It's miserable and magical, oh, yeah

Tonight's the night when we forget about the deadlines

It's time, oh-oh

32. So It Goes… (reputation)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

'Cause we break down a little

But when you get me alone, it's so simple

'Cause baby, I know what you know

We can feel it

…

And all the pieces fall right into place

Getting caught up in a moment

Lipstick on your face

So it goes…

…

I'm yours to keep

And I'm yours to lose

You know I'm not a bad girl, but I

Do bad things with you

So it goes…

33. Dancing With Our Hands Tied (reputation)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

I, I loved you in secret

First sight, yeah, we love without reason

Oh, twenty-five years old

Oh, how were you to know?

…

Could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets

Picture of your face in an invisible locket

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it

I had a bad feeling

…

I'd kiss you as the lights went out

Swaying as the room burned down

I'd hold you as the water rushes in

If I could dance with you again

34. Wildest Dreams (1989)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

He's so tall and handsome as hell

He's so bad, but he does it so well

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is

…

Say you'll remember me

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your

Wildest dreams, ah-aah, haa

34. Shake It Off (1989)

At the top of his game, at the top of his sport, and actually happy at long last

I never miss a beat

I'm lightning on my feet

And that's what they don’t see, mm, mm

…

But I keep cruisin'

Can't stop, won't stop groovin'

It's like I got this music in my mind

Saying it's gonna be alright

…

'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play

And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break

And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

35. Holy Ground (Red)

Remembering with enough distance and experience to appreciate what was, not ache from it

Spinning like a girl in a brand new dress

We had this big wide city all to ourselves

We blocked the noise with the sound of, "I need you"

And for the first time, I had something to lose

And I guess we fell apart in the usual way

And the story's got dust on every page

But sometimes, I wonder how you think about it now

And I see your face in every crowd

…

'Cause darling, it was good

Never looking down

And right there where we stood

Was holy ground

Act 6: Reunion

36. ME! (Lover)

reconnection, reconciliation, re-appreciation

I know I tend to make it about me

I know you never get just what you see

But I will never bore you, baby

(And there's a lot of lame guys out there)

…

'Cause one of these things is not like the others

Livin' in winter, I am your summer

Baby doll, when it comes to a lover

I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e

37. This Love (1989)

an unexpected reawakening

Tossing, turning

Struggled through the night with someone new

And I could go on and on, on and on

Lantern, burning

Flickered in my mind, only you

But you were still gone, gone, gone

…

Been losing grip, on sinking ships

You showed up just in time

…

This love is good, this love is bad

This love is alive back from the dead, oh-oh, oh

These hands had to let it go free, and

This love came back to me, oh-oh, oh

38. End Game (reputation) (ft. ed sheeran as jack)

After all this time, there are things they aren’t ever going to let go of again, no matter the trouble they bring

I got a bad boy persona, that's what they like (what they like)

You love it, I love it too 'cause you my type (You my type)

You hold me down, and I protect you with my life

…

I don't wanna touch you, I don't wanna be

Just another ex-love you don’t wanna see

I don’t wanna miss you (I don't wanna miss you)

Like the other girls do

I don’t wanna hurt you, I just wanna be

Drinking on a beach with you all over me

I know what they all say (I know what they all say)

But I ain't tryna play

…

I wanna be your end game (End game)

I wanna be your first string (First string)

I wanna be your A-Team (A-Team)

I wanna be your end game, end game

39. You Are In Love (1989)

something real; something sacred; something to build a life on

You can hear it in the silence (silence), silence (silence), you

You can feel it on the way home (way home), way home (way home), you

You can see it with the lights out (lights out), lights out (lights out)

You are in love, true love

You are in love

…

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

One night, he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says "You're my best friend"

And you knew what it was, he is in love

40. Change (Fearless)

when the two biggest hockey players of their generation come out of the closet—together—are in love with each other—it changes more lives than just theirs

So we've been outnumbered, raided, and now cornered

It's hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair

We're getting stronger now, finding things they never found

They might be bigger but we're faster and never scared

You can walk away, say we don't need this

But there's something in your eyes says we can beat this

…

'Cause these things will change

Can you feel it now?

These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down

This revolution, the time will come

For us to finally win

And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah

Oh, oh

41. Call It What You Want (reputation)

When it stops mattering what anyone else thinks

All my flowers grew back as thorns

Windows boarded up after the storm

He built a fire just to keep me warm

All the drama queens taking swings

All the jokers dressing up as kings

They fade to nothing when I look at him

And I know I make the same mistakes every time

Bridges burn, I never learn

At least I did one thing right

I did one thing right

I'm laughing with my lover, makin' forts under covers

Trust him like a brother

Yeah, you know I did one thing right

Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night

…

My baby's fit like a daydream

Walking with his head down

I'm the one he's walking to

So call it what you want, yeah

Call it what you want to

42. Lover (Lover)

love

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

And this is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

…

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close?

Forever and ever, ah

Take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

43. New Year’s Day (reputation)

love

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi

I can tell that it's gonna be a long road

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe

Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

…

Don't read the last page

But I stay when it’s hard or it’s wrong or we're making mistakes

I want your midnights

But I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

44. Daylight (Lover)

Building a new life in the daylight

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in

Everyone looked worse in the light

There are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven

I'll tell you truth, but never goodbye

…

I once believed love would be (burning red)

But it's golden

Like daylight, like daylight

Like daylight, daylight

…

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

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beastars-takes · 5 years

Text

Zootopia Takes: Darker’s Not Better

The Shock Collar Draft

So, it sounds like people are largely positive on me doing some Zootopia posts on this blog, and I wanted to talk about this tweet I saw the other day:

I’ll punt on explaining why Beastars isn’t “Dark Zootopia”--that’s a great topic for another post. But I would like to talk about why this popular yet stridently uninformed tweet is so, so wrong. Why the shock collar draft was not better, actually.

And obviously, I’m not writing several pages in reply to a single tweet--this is a take that’s been around since the movie came out, that the “original version was better.” It’s been wrong the whole time.

Let’s talk about why!

Part 1: “Because Disney”

Let’s start with this--the assumption that the film’s creators wanted to make this shock collar story and “Disney” told them to change it.

That’s not how it works.

I try to keep stuff about me out of these posts as much as possible, but just for a bit of background, I’ve worked in the animation industry for about half a decade. I know people at Disney. I have a reasonable idea of how things are there.

There is this misconception about creative industries that they’re constantly this pitched battle of wills between creative auteurs trying to make incredible art and ignorant corporate suits trying to repress them.

That can happen, especially in dysfunctional studios (and boy could I tell some stories) but Walt Disney Animation Studios is not dysfunctional. It’s one of the most autonomous and well-treated parts of the Disney Company.

The director of Zootopia, Byron Howard, isn’t an edgelord. He made Bolt and Tangled. He knows what his audience is, and he’s responsible enough not to spend a year (and millions of dollars in budget) developing a grimdark Don Bluth story that leadership would never approve. It wouldn’t just be a waste of time--he would be endangering the livelihoods of the hundreds of people working under him. Meanwhile, Disney Animation’s corporate leadership trusts their talent. They don’t generally interfere with story development because they don’t need to. Because they employ people like Byron Howard.

Howard and the other creative leads of Zootopia have said a dozen times, in interviews and documentaries, that they gave up on the shock collar idea because it wasn’t working. They’ve explained their reasoning in detail. Maybe they’re leaving out some of the story, but in general? I believe them.

But Beastars Takes, you say, maybe even if Disney didn’t force them to back away from this darker version, it still would have been better?

Part 2: Why Shock Collars Seem Good

I will say this--I completely sympathize with people who see these storyboards and scenes from earlier versions of the movie and think “this seems amazing.” It does! A lot of these drawings and shots are heartbreakingly good, in isolation.

I love these boards. They make me want to cry. I literally have this drawing framed on my wall. Believe me, I get it.

But the only reason we care this much about this alternative draft of Zootopia is that the Zootopia we got made us love this world and these characters. You know what actually made me cry?

Oh, yeah.

So let’s set aside the astonishing hubris of insisting Zootopia’s story team abandoned the “good” version of the story, when the “bad version” is the most critically-acclaimed Disney animated feature in the past SIXTY YEARS.

“But Beastars Takes!” I hear you say. “Critics are idiots and just because something’s popular doesn’t make it good!”

Fair enough. Let’s talk about why the real movie is better.

Part 3: The Message (it is, in fact, like a jungle sometimes)

This type of thing is always hard to discuss, in the main--a lot of people don’t want to feel criticized or “called out” by the entertainment they consume, and they don’t want to be asked to think about their moral responsibilities. But it’s hard to deny that Zootopia is a movie with a strong point of view. Everything else--the characters, the worldbuilding, the plot, grows out from the movie’s central statement about bias.

And the movie we got, with no shock collars, makes that statement far more effectively.

To dive into the full scope of Zootopia’s worldview and politics (warts and all) would be a whole post on its own, so I’ll just summarize the key point of relevance here:

Zootopia's moral message is that you, the viewer, need to confront your own biases. Not yell at someone else. No matter how much of a good or progressive person you consider yourself to be--if you want to stand against prejudice you have to start with yourself.

That’s a tough sell! For that message to land, we need to see ourselves in the protagonist.

Judy’s a good person! She argues with her dad about foxes. She knows predators aren’t all dangerous. She’s not speciesist. Right?

Ah fuck.

Let’s fast-forward to the pivotal scene of this movie. In an unfortunate but inevitable confluence of circumstances, Judy’s own biases and prejudiced assumptions come out, and she shits the bad.

Nick, who’s already bared his soul to her (against his better instincts), is heartbroken. But not as heartbroken as he is a minute later when he tries to confront her about what she’s said, and she makes this face:

Whaaaat? Come on, Nick. I’m a good person. Why are you giving me a hard time?

People like to complain about this scene. That it’s a hackneyed “misunderstanding” trope that could be easily resolved with a discussion. They’re wrong. Nick tries to have a discussion. She blows him off.

This isn’t Judy acting out of character, this is her character. Someone who identifies as Not A Racist, and hasn’t given the issue any more thought. This is not only completely believable characterization (who hasn’t seen someone react this way when you told them they hurt you?) it’s the film’s central thesis!

Yes, Nick somewhat provokes her into reaching for her “fox spray,” and her own trauma factors in there, but she’s already made her fatal mistake before that happens.

(As an aside, people also make the criticism that the movie unrealistically deflects responsibility for racism onto Bellwether and her plot. It doesn’t. All the key expressions of prejudice in the film--Judy’s encounter with Gideon, her parents’ warnings, the elephant in the ice cream shop, Judy’s early encounters with Bogo, Judy's views on race science--exist largely outside of Bellwether’s influence. She is a demagogue who inflames existing tensions, she didn’t invent them. Bogo literally says “the world has always been broken.”)

So, anyway. But we love Judy. She’s an angel. She also kinda sucks! She’s proudly unprejudiced, and when her own prejudice is pointed out to her she argues and doesn’t take it seriously. This is bad, but it’s also a very human reaction. It’s one most of us have probably been guilty of at one point or another.

Look at Zootopia’s society, too--it’s shiny and cosmopolitan, seemingly idyllic. Anyone can be anything, on paper. But scratch too deep beneath the surface and there’s a lot of pain and resentment here, things nobody respectable would say in public but come out behind closed doors, or among family, when nobody’s watching. It’s entirely recognizable--at least to me, someone who lives in a large liberal city in the United States. Like Byron Howard.

Wow, this place is a paradise!

Wait, what’s a “NIMBY”?

Part 4: Why Shock Collars Are Bad

So, with the film’s conceit established, let’s circle back to the shock collar idea. Like I said, it’s heartbreaking. It’s dramatic. It’s affective.

It also teaches us nothing.

If I see a movie where predator animals are subjected to 24/7 electroshock therapy, I don’t think “wow, this makes me want to think about how I could do better by the people around me.” I think “damn that shit’s crazy lmao. that’d be fucked up if that happened.” At a stretch, it reminds me of something like the Jim Crow era, or the Shoah. You know, stuff in the Past. Stuff we’ve all decided couldn’t ever happen again, so why worry about it?

The directors have said this exact thing, just politely. “It didn’t feel contemporary,” they say in pressers. That’s what it means.

If anything, the shock collar draft reifies the mindset that Zootopia is trying to reject--it shows us that discrimination is blatant, and dramatic, and flagrantly cruel, and impossible to miss.

And...that’s not true. If you only look for bias at its most malicious and evil, you’re going to miss the other 95 percent.

The messaging of this “darker version” is--ironically--less mature, less insightful, less intelligent. Less useful. Darker’s not better.

Part 5: Why Shock Collars Are Still Bad

So what if you don’t care about the message? What if you have no interest in self-reflection, or critical analysis (why are you reading this blog then lmao)? What if you just really want to hear a fun story about talking animals?

Well, this is trickier, because the remaining reasons are pretty subjective and emotional.

The creators have said that the shock collar version didn’t work because the viewers hated the cruel world they’d created. They agreed with Nick--the city was beyond saving. They didn’t want to save it.

The creators have said that Judy was hard to sympathize with, not being able to recognize the shock collars for the obvious cruelty they were.

Fuck you, Judy!

But we haven’t seen the draft copies. We haven’t watched the animatics. We have to take their word for it. Anyone who’s sufficiently invested in this story is going to say “well, I disagree with them.” It doesn’t matter to them that they haven’t seen the draft and the filmmakers have. The movie they’ve imagined is great and nobody is going to convince them otherwise.

But the fact remains that the shock collar movie, as written, did not work. And, if behind the scenes material is to be believed, it continued to not work after months and months of story doctoring.

There’s even been a webcomic made out of the dystopian version of Zootopia. It’s clever and creative and well-written and entertaining and...it kind of falls apart. The creator, after more than a little shit-talk directed at Disney, abandoned the story before reaching the conclusion, but even before then the seams were beginning to show. How do you take a society that’s okay with electrocuting cute animals and bring it to a point of cathartic redemption? You can’t, really. The story doesn’t work.

Does that mean people shouldn’t make fanworks out of the cut material? That they shouldn’t be inspired and excited by it? Hell no. This drawing is cute as hell. The ideas are compelling.

But I suppose what I’d ask of you all is--if you’re weighing the hot takes of art students on Twitter against the explanations of veteran filmmakers, consider that the latter group might actually know what they’re talking about.

See you next time!

#zootopia #zootropolis #zoomania #zootopia takes #judy hopps #nick wilde #disney #chief bogo #byron howard

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